Gray Bridgeport and a bright Oz
STAMFORD — I’m seasick. Or rather, sick of seeing.
We’re somewhere that appears to be a netherworld; the intersection of a suburban, litterfree hipster Brooklyn and an artist’s version of a future Bridgeport Harbor, without the asthma inducements of that city’s huge, belching PSEG power plant.
I’m getting a tour of a place called Harbor Point, in a vestigial location I grew up calling the South End. It seems to be a crane operator’s dream, as yet another apartment building is under construction. I could call it a neighborhood, but to me, a neighborhood has to have some kind of soul beyond fresh paving, silver buildings and conspicuous consumption.
We have a good view of the latest building binge, up here on the rooftop of a watering hole named for a threatened marine mammal. But aren’t we all under the gun, in a way? Judging by the singlesbar vibe, I think a more likely moniker for this place would be What’s Your Sign? But I suppose it’s nice to see some millennials in the wild who seem able to talk facetoface, challenging their texting skills and social isolation.
Next to the construction site is a raised, fencedin swath of bright green, with people relaxing in beach chairs. It’s a late summer afternoon and they are enjoying the private backyard of their adjacent apartment building.
The membersonly lawn is as big as a soccer field. On closer inspection, it’s phony grass, which may say all you need to know about this neighborhood of overpriced rentals and what some call a lively nightlife.
Around the corner is an Austrianstyle pastry shop. Huh? Across the way is a burger joint. McKinsey & Company, the rogue consultants, has an outpost nearby, of course. A row of maybe 25 highend motorcycles, immaculate Harleys mostly, are parked outside a Mexican restaurant.
Having grown up in Stamford, I know the milelong gut of water — where the Rippowam River meets West Branch and the harbor — used to be the city’s old manufacturing and shipping heart. There are a few barges filled with sand parked along the river, but mostly it’s multimilliondollar yachts that are tied up along the banks. Across the channel to the west is Davenport Street and Southfield Avenue and the rows of lowerprofile apartments that have literally taken over this part of the city during the last decade, and where only a few houses remain in this massive urban makeover.
To the left a half mile or so is the East Branch, which narrows to the old waterway that gave Canal Street its name, back when Yale and Towne, the famous lock innovators and manufacturers, started business here in the years after the Civil War. Onebedroom lofts in their old factory now rent for $2,400 a month.
There are thousands of new to newish apartments in the South End. In the drive here, after passing Holy Name Church, I totally lost any sense of where I was, until Washington Boulevard literally petered out at the corner of South Pacific Street, and there was the Ozlike Harbor Point.
Stamford, with its nice parks, walkability and proximity to New York, is Connecticut’s fastest growing city with more than 130,000 people now.
It seems logical, what with the endless apartment construction, the yuppies walking their wirehaired coco spaniels, the Austrian pastries.
So why can’t Bridgeport, gritty, racially and ethnic diverse Bridgeport, finally turn the corner and get a piece of this action? Seaside Park and Beardsley Park formed the core of what was once called The Park City.
Well, maybe Bridgeport can start by finally and completely abandoning hopes for a damn casino and focus on some real economic development.
Maybe the Bridgeport Police Department can finally, after 10 years of various types of obfuscat
So why can’t Bridgeport, gritty, racially and ethnic diverse Bridgeport, finally turn the corner and get a piece of this action?
ing mayors, adopt some real transparency.
Maybe the troubled city’s schools, where every kid is entitled to a free breakfast and lunch under federal income guidelines, can finally turn around, despite a revolving door of superintendents and an historically dysfunctional Board of Education.
One of Bridgeport’s saving graces over the last 40 years has been its ability to retain the distinction of having the state’s largest population. Stamford, with lower taxes and a 21st Century quality of life, is breathing down Bridgeport’s neck.