I've said it before and will say it again: Cambridge is
going. The new version will not be an interesting landing place for new
immigrants and their culture, which might revitalize the city. That can and
does happen elsewhere. But it's not how Cambridge changes.
Cambridge changes by going ever more upscale.
The next Cambridge will be an even higher priced version of
the high priced version that exists.
It will be reconstructed by landlords looking for more rent
(what was Carberry's, then Lyndells, for example, is being held hostage until the
owners of that space get whatever astronomic return they are holding out for, from,
perhaps, a really friendly place, such as a bank); by boutique merchants
looking for the obvious: and, most of all, it seems, by universities seeking
more space, at the expense of what remains of any vestiges of community space.
What surprises me more than the transformation itself is the
lack of response to it. That proves the Cambridge I once identified with is
already long-gone.
The latest insult is that Harvard, which is repossessing the
Au Bon Pain in Holyoke Center, will be cutting down the trees that provided
shelter in that venue — yes, cutting down the trees — and, astonishingly,
demolishing the chess tables that, even if you didn't play, provided a spot of
liveliness in the mall that is now Harvard Sq. for tourists and for natives.
Harvard Sq. was once a notable place for street artists and
musicians. That brilliant moment has been regulated out of existence. It seems
Harvard Square reduction to dead zone will soon be complete.
And, for sure, expensive.
. . .
Drove by Holyoke Center last night. Yes, Harvard has neatly denuded
the place of trees, uprooting and removing them. Where are all the pigeons who
roosted there to do their business going do it now? Is there a way to direct
them to the proper offices of the Harvard administration?
The stone chess tables that have been there since before the
Easter Island megaliths remain, but temporarily. Harvard has declared them threatening
and dangerous. Corporate lying is an art form of its own. I'd love to compose a
book of corporate lies, volume of hilarious anti-truths.
But back to business at hand: anybody ever hear of a stone
chess table in Holyoke Center hurting anybody?
. . .
. . .
There is good news, though. In a heated discussion among
Harvard trustees, the idea of using Agent Orange on the trees of Holyoke Center
was shot down. Nor did the idea of using napalm on chess players and street
musicians get much support.
Good to get this done at tail end of winter, don't you
think? Before chess players and street musicians could really come out of
hibernation.
such sad news... have you considered a petition run?
ReplyDeletefor me, as seems to be the case for a bunch of folk I have met there, this corner of the sq was the last refuge of sane-somethnig in the whole hsq area... the trees in their leaves and color so welcoming, shading and inviting of life... revolting to imagine the place without them, without the chess players, the funky tables, or the alternative people gathered along, spectators and advice givers and visitors and tourists and families, and the in/out cafe, and all of that life-mix and flux altogether... I will certainly miss this special corner.