It wasn’t suspenseful Monday evening, watching at village hall as the trustees moved ever so slowly toward approval of the Comcast housing proposal. They went in rounds through multiple layers of questions and comments — the planning process, the demographics of the likely residents, the financing — and trustees started dropping in portions of their closing statements as they went.
It was perfectly clear that support for this affordable, supportive housing project was sincere and even passionate.
So by 11:58 p.m. when the final vote turned out to be 6-1, there was no surprise, only resignation by quieted opponents and enthusiasm from the project’s backers.
“This is what makes Oak Park so great,” said Trustee Ray Johnson as he left the council chambers.
So if there wasn’t suspense, what is the takeaway from this long evening of grindingly elegant governance? For me it was an underlying debate that wove through the long monologues, the prepared comments, the off-the-cuff remarks.
It was about fear.
Is it an acceptable emotion? One to always be tamped down? Denigrated as weak, translated into racism? Or recognized as inevitable and talked through, walked through?
In this long evening, there were two universals. Everyone thanked everyone else. Thanks to the staff, to the applicants, to the Plan Commission. A few trustees also thanked the neighbors/critics. The other theme was trustees saying that Oak Park was long past due for a “community conversation” about something vaguely referenced as the future, the past, diversity, race.
Village President David Pope, who in almost every instance talks too much and did so again on Monday night, also spoke the most directly about this complex housing proposal and the range of emotions it surfaced. While some other trustees ultimately seemed to have their backs up over criticism of the project and thereby supported it more fiercely, Pope tried multiple times to reflect the worries of some neighbors of the project.
“This is a substantively different project than anything else in Oak Park,” he said. “We need to be able to talk about it. … It is a concentration of low-income individuals in one building. That’s what it is. We should talk about it. A lot of this comes down to fear.”
There is no question but that Pope enthusiastically supports this project. He didn’t want to be village president to turn this burg into Wilmette, which has recently battled over affordable housing. But to me his view seemed realistic.
“The neighbors who live adjacent are more concerned about the potential downside,” he said, calling the 400 block of South Grove “the area of greatest impact.” Those opposed to the Comcast project “have raised some legitimate concerns,” said Pope.
He lost his repeated effort to get a cul-de-sac installed on the block as a “compensating benefit” for neighbors. And in making that fight, he actually began a community conversation that was less interesting for talk of traffic studies and due process — and altogether fascinating for Trustee Glenn Brewer’s visceral take on the 1970s blockades constructed along Austin Boulevard.
“As someone who grew up on the other side of the cul-de-sacs along Austin, I have an entirely different perception of why they are there,” Brewer said.
Fear is powerful. It can be stoked and the early hurling of comparisons between Comcast and CHA highrises, speculation on plummeting property values and rampant crime were not Oak Park at its best. Those views have moderated as the conversation continued, as people actually visited supportive housing operated by the partners. Engaging fear is a powerful response. Denying it is not.
