I Must Go Down to the Sea Again
Thursday, April 22nd, 2004 02:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rolanniThis has been something a recurring theme in my life, so much so that we've recently begun exploring the possibility of actually moving house to the coast, saving thereby a small fortune in gasoline.
Tuesday, then, we betook ourselves to Old Orchard Beach. It was a warm and brilliant day, with just the very thinnest edge of cool on the breeze. We walked the beach for a bit, then up into town. Not much open yet in late April, though the painting and refurb crews were out in in force.
Old Orchard Beach has always been something of a puzzle to me. I grew up in Maryland, where Ocean City clawed its way up from sleazy resort town to year-round destination, complete with Luxury Condos and a Convention Center. OOB -- Old Orchard Beach doesn't seem to understand that it's on the ocean; a resort beach destination not only for the state of Maine, but for many Canadians. The stores are old -- not antique, old -- and many stand empty, even in the height of The Season; the public pier is ramshackle and the amusement area is in need of paint. The Season runs from July 4 through Labor Day, and many of the businesses are closed by October 15. By Thanksgiving, everything pertaining to tourism, excepting a couple of stalwart open-all-year motels, is boarded up.
Not only that, but the town has a sea of ordinances that seem designed to make it very difficult for a seasonal business to survive. Last year, while we were in town for a week, the Code Enforcement Officer slapped a hefty fine on the only kite shop in town. Why? Because the town has an ordinance that makes it illegal for a store to hang anything more than three inches from its storefront. The kite store had festooned its door and window with flags, kites, and whirligigs -- and the fine was stiff enough to drive it out of business. Another business was smacked with a fine for flying an American Flag off its storefront. Needless to say, there are no "Open" flags in OOB.
Not to put too fine a point on it, from an outsider's perspective, it looks like the town is run by Pod People.
Still, I do love the ocean, and I especially like the flow of seasons through the town -- the sounds and smells of the exuberant summer; the hush of winter. And interwoven with it all, the sea murmuring secrets to the sand, and the tang of salt in the air.
So, Tuesday -- there we were, walking down the boarded up and dreary main drag, shaking our heads at the empty buildings, wondering for the eighty-millionth time what dynamic kept the town from profiting from its location. From understanding that there is profit to be made from its location -- with a little effort. A couple of brainstorming sessions, maybe, a few grant applications; some feelers out to a couple of the big casinos in Atlantic City, to see if one or the other can see profit in establishing an outrigger Up Nawth.
Steve figured the real estate was held by folks from Away, who benefit from the properties standing empty -- half of Waterville is like that; the so-called "loss" is more important even than the over-inflated rent. Myself, I figured it was complacency -- folks figure the Maine seashore will sell itself, by itself, and anything to advertise or gussy the place up is wasted money.
Debating, we came to the corner of the railroad tracks and Pier Fries, and on a whim followed a "for rent" sign down the sorta-alley, both of us wondering if the beer garden at the back was the victim. It wasn't; another, previously unnoticed door between the corner and the garden was. Standing in the doorway admiring the day, was an older man, part-owner of Pier Fries, which owns the entire block-long three story building.
We got to talking, the way people do in Maine when its just-Spring and the snow's gone and the hard work of summer has yet to begin, and we learned many astonishing things.
The three floors above Pier Fries? Empty. All of them. It used to be a dance hall, but when the accessibility laws were passed in the 80's, which would have required the owner to install a people elevator and a freight elevator, it was cheaper to close the hall and hold the building empty.
The town, according to our informant -- by which he means the town manager and council -- doesn't want to be a resort, it wants to be a town. To that end, it has already closed one arcade, and at the end of the '04 season it will close the hugely popular Dream Machine, and the carnival games which fill the area between it and the foot of the public pier. What our informant calls "apartments for the elderly" will be built in high-rise where the Dream Machine is now and the pier will be open. The amusement rides and the third arcade are due to be closed soon after.
"All the honky-tonk, all the noise -- they hate that stuff," said our guy.
We asked what the town was going to do for money, and he shrugged.
We talked a little more, about the train, and about the "missing street."
"Surf Avenue -- it was there when I was a kid. Ran all the way from Pine Point out to Camp Ellis. The town buried it back years ago, to make more beach. But you look on any old map, you'll see it."
It was still warm, though the breeze was picking up, so we said our good-byes, stopped at Pier Fries for a couple of Cokes and took another slow stroll down the beach before going back to the truck and starting off for home.
"So," said Steve, "what do you think about Belfast?"
Tuesday, then, we betook ourselves to Old Orchard Beach. It was a warm and brilliant day, with just the very thinnest edge of cool on the breeze. We walked the beach for a bit, then up into town. Not much open yet in late April, though the painting and refurb crews were out in in force.
Old Orchard Beach has always been something of a puzzle to me. I grew up in Maryland, where Ocean City clawed its way up from sleazy resort town to year-round destination, complete with Luxury Condos and a Convention Center. OOB -- Old Orchard Beach doesn't seem to understand that it's on the ocean; a resort beach destination not only for the state of Maine, but for many Canadians. The stores are old -- not antique, old -- and many stand empty, even in the height of The Season; the public pier is ramshackle and the amusement area is in need of paint. The Season runs from July 4 through Labor Day, and many of the businesses are closed by October 15. By Thanksgiving, everything pertaining to tourism, excepting a couple of stalwart open-all-year motels, is boarded up.
Not only that, but the town has a sea of ordinances that seem designed to make it very difficult for a seasonal business to survive. Last year, while we were in town for a week, the Code Enforcement Officer slapped a hefty fine on the only kite shop in town. Why? Because the town has an ordinance that makes it illegal for a store to hang anything more than three inches from its storefront. The kite store had festooned its door and window with flags, kites, and whirligigs -- and the fine was stiff enough to drive it out of business. Another business was smacked with a fine for flying an American Flag off its storefront. Needless to say, there are no "Open" flags in OOB.
Not to put too fine a point on it, from an outsider's perspective, it looks like the town is run by Pod People.
Still, I do love the ocean, and I especially like the flow of seasons through the town -- the sounds and smells of the exuberant summer; the hush of winter. And interwoven with it all, the sea murmuring secrets to the sand, and the tang of salt in the air.
So, Tuesday -- there we were, walking down the boarded up and dreary main drag, shaking our heads at the empty buildings, wondering for the eighty-millionth time what dynamic kept the town from profiting from its location. From understanding that there is profit to be made from its location -- with a little effort. A couple of brainstorming sessions, maybe, a few grant applications; some feelers out to a couple of the big casinos in Atlantic City, to see if one or the other can see profit in establishing an outrigger Up Nawth.
Steve figured the real estate was held by folks from Away, who benefit from the properties standing empty -- half of Waterville is like that; the so-called "loss" is more important even than the over-inflated rent. Myself, I figured it was complacency -- folks figure the Maine seashore will sell itself, by itself, and anything to advertise or gussy the place up is wasted money.
Debating, we came to the corner of the railroad tracks and Pier Fries, and on a whim followed a "for rent" sign down the sorta-alley, both of us wondering if the beer garden at the back was the victim. It wasn't; another, previously unnoticed door between the corner and the garden was. Standing in the doorway admiring the day, was an older man, part-owner of Pier Fries, which owns the entire block-long three story building.
We got to talking, the way people do in Maine when its just-Spring and the snow's gone and the hard work of summer has yet to begin, and we learned many astonishing things.
The three floors above Pier Fries? Empty. All of them. It used to be a dance hall, but when the accessibility laws were passed in the 80's, which would have required the owner to install a people elevator and a freight elevator, it was cheaper to close the hall and hold the building empty.
The town, according to our informant -- by which he means the town manager and council -- doesn't want to be a resort, it wants to be a town. To that end, it has already closed one arcade, and at the end of the '04 season it will close the hugely popular Dream Machine, and the carnival games which fill the area between it and the foot of the public pier. What our informant calls "apartments for the elderly" will be built in high-rise where the Dream Machine is now and the pier will be open. The amusement rides and the third arcade are due to be closed soon after.
"All the honky-tonk, all the noise -- they hate that stuff," said our guy.
We asked what the town was going to do for money, and he shrugged.
We talked a little more, about the train, and about the "missing street."
"Surf Avenue -- it was there when I was a kid. Ran all the way from Pine Point out to Camp Ellis. The town buried it back years ago, to make more beach. But you look on any old map, you'll see it."
It was still warm, though the breeze was picking up, so we said our good-byes, stopped at Pier Fries for a couple of Cokes and took another slow stroll down the beach before going back to the truck and starting off for home.
"So," said Steve, "what do you think about Belfast?"
