Your Delray Boca

I found this old newspaper from January 1995 chronicling Delray’s Decade of Excellence.

Thirty-six years ago, I fell hard for Delray Beach.

Like so many others, I moved here to start a new life; attracted by the sunshine and the promise of a new hometown.

I was fortunate to find both.

In 1987, Delray Beach was a very different place than it is today.

The city was known as “Dullray Beach” in those days because the downtown was dead and everything new and exciting seemed to be happening in Boca or elsewhere.

But Delray was anything but dull in the 80s.

The politics were—to be kind—“lively”, crime was through the roof and there was no shortage of things for a young reporter like me to write about.

So, write I did. At least five stories a week for a decade.

From the back of a police cruiser, I rode with our officers through neighborhoods that were open-air drug markets and marveled at the scope of despair. Late at night, I saw small children on bikes working as look outs for drug dealers. When they spotted police, the kids would signal the corner drug dealer who would scatter into the night. People lived in fear—they had lost their streets to the crack dealers.

On Atlantic Avenue, I went into a bar one warm summer evening and saw a woman take off her shoe and stab someone with her stiletto because the victim glanced at her boyfriend.  At City Hall I watched elected officials do the same thing (metaphorically speaking) to each other.

But despite the crime, the grime, and the slime, it was an interesting time.

My new town was aspirational.

You could feel the momentum building toward positive change. It was an electric time, a transformational era. I had a bird’s eye view and I loved every moment of the ride.

In those days, there was a strong desire to make the downtown vibrant.

There was a passion to preserve historic districts.

There was also a thirst to bring stability to local government because the leaders at the time understood that a well-run city was essential to success and that government could partner with others to bring dreams to life. Bad government stifles investment and innovation, good government facilitates. Our leaders understood that and made it happen.

Our citizens at that time were active and engaged—there were multiple opportunities to connect, to volunteer, to have your voice heard. Things were happening.

The rusted chain link fence that surrounded the property on Atlantic and Swinton came down and a new cultural arts center came to be thanks to a visionary named Frances Bourque.

Frances came up with the idea and worked closely with citizens and city government to bring the dream to life.

In 1991, a new City Manager came to town and hired a new police chief and almost overnight we had stability at City Hall and a new focus on making our city safe.

Two years before in 1989, voters went to the polls and approved the Decade of Excellence bond which financed $21.5 million worth of projects that citizens asked for as part of a visioning process called Visions 2000.

A year after the bond passed, a new era in politics dawned with the election in 1990 of a new mayor and two commissioners who ran on a promise to promote stability and civility.  They delivered and our town changed.

From that point forward— and for a good long time– a lot of important things happened. Delray went from “Dullray” to All America City, Best Run Town in Florida and Most Fun City in America. There was a lot of civic pride, a lot of collaboration. Ties were formed and some barriers that had been built up over the years began to crumble.

Of course, not all was perfect or smooth. It never is.

There were challenges, speed bumps and events that nobody could ever foresee.

Yesterday, was the 18^th anniversary of the loss of Jerrod Miller, a 15- year- old teenager shot to death by a rookie police officer outside a school dance.

You think you understand pain, you think you are prepared for anything until violent tragedy visits your city.

You quickly learn that you are not prepared. You learn the importance of building a reservoir of goodwill before tragedy strikes, because trying to build it after is too late. You have nothing to drawn on if you start engaging after the fact.

You also discover that there is no “how to” manual to guide you when you learn that several of the 9/11 terrorists were biding their time in your town, preparing for an attack that would change our world.

There were hurricanes, development controversies, a few scandals and the normal squabbles over bike lanes, parking and the merits or demerits of traffic circles. But for the most part it was a happy and immensely proud village.

Civic pride is a real asset because when people fall in love with their city they give back, they act with kindness and care. They become stewards and evangelists and a virtuous cycle takes root that enables progress; great, lasting, and meaningful progress.

But the last several years feel different; to me and many others I speak with.

We’ve gone off track.

We’ve stopped working together, we’ve stopped consulting the public and consequently we gave back a lot of what we worked so hard to achieve.

Yes, I know the sun is still shining.

The Avenue is still rocking.

The beach is still beautiful.

But our neighborhoods have changed—big money has come to town and knocked down some old houses.  Many longtime residents are cashing out, especially in our eastern neighborhoods. We ought to stop long enough to understand what that means. Will these newcomers vote? Will they volunteer? Will they send their kids to school? Will they care about this place? Do we value the character of neighborhoods?

Young families and essential workers are having a hard time finding a place to live in our community. We need to understand how that impacts our city, schools, and business community. Every apartment complex voted down is an opportunity lost for a nurse, teacher, police officer or firefighter to get a toehold in our community so that maybe they can make a life here.

And I remembered….

There was a lot of protesting against Mallory Square when it came time to vote on that project years ago. The stylish and beautifully landscaped townhomes on U.S. 1 were going to replace a Chevy dealer and some residents thought it would add too much traffic to Federal Highway.

Planners will tell you that residential uses generate less trips than commercial uses but some people didn’t believe that. Still, people don’t move to a downtown to drive, and the dealership had a lot of employees who came and went, a lot of customers and a slew of test drives.

The project was approved.

I think it worked out.

I thought about that mini controversy the other day when I went to dinner with a Mallory Square resident who is quietly changing lives in our town. He works with kids who need a hand up, not a handout.

Might he have moved elsewhere had that project been denied? Might another community have benefitted from his generous heart if that opportunity to put down roots here didn’t exist?

What other game changers might move into our town if we create more opportunities for our workforce to live here?

Other things have changed as well.

Public engagement—long Delray’s secret sauce has left the building.

And as much I despise Covid, it can’t all be blamed on the virus.

The annual town hall meeting is AWOL.

City Commission meetings begin at 4 p.m.– during the workday for a large swath of the population which means they cannot participate.

Government has taken over our highest profile non-profit: Old School Square.  And it looks like volunteerism went the way of the Blackberry—fondly remembered by a few diehards but no longer ubiquitous; no longer a way of life. At one point we had over 1,200 volunteers at our Police Department, we had hundreds of people who participated in crafting the downtown master plan, volunteers resurrected Pineapple Grove, read to kids in local schools and showed up at countless charettes to share their vision of their city.

Has it all moved online?
Is that a good thing?

Facebook is a fine invention, great for scoping out old flames (or so I’m told), favorite former teachers (that’s you Mr. Romanelli) and college buddies. It’s also terrific for looking at pictures of babies and furry friends, but it’s a poor substitute for community.

The best things about the All America City Competition was the community building aspect of the effort. Same with festivals, Friday night concerts, community pot-luck dinners and study circles, which looked at issues relating to race relations.

This entire city was focused on trying to get citizens involved and engaged.

In a few weeks, you will be asked to vote on two General Obligation bonds totaling $120 million. I can’t find anyone who knows much about it.

Where are the specifics? Why now, when interest rates are climbing, and inflation is raging? Did the public have input into these projects?

Where was the promised public education campaign? A Town Hall meeting a few weeks before the election seems inadequate for what will be the largest bond issue—by far—in the city’s history.

And I can go on and on.

But let’s just say these are symptoms of a larger disease.

Here’s what I’m seeing; just one guy’s opinion based on 36 years of immersion in all things Delray.

The public is being removed from the public’s business in a town that re-invented itself and met its challenges through civic engagement. If you don’t consult the community, you can’t serve the community.

Dedicated volunteers are being sidelined and replaced by more government; sometimes that means your money is being used to settle political feuds: the prime example is Old School Square, which was an 80-20 partnership, with 80 percent of the money it costs to run the facility raised privately. That was a good deal and it worked. Until now.

Why? That’s the question posed by signs I see around town. And it’s a good question.

Lies and harassment are taking the place of dialogue in a town that once prided itself on trying to have honest conversations, even if, especially if the subject matter, wasn’t pretty.

Vote accordingly.

We can do better than this.

We must, because so much is at stake.