By Patti Wood

An old school building sits atop a hill near the town once known as Cow Neck, where fishermen brought in their catch from the bay and horse-drawn carriages and trolleys plied the streets. The school was originally built as a high school, but eventually became the elementary school. Main Street School was a grand building, with high ceilings in bright classrooms, secret underground passageways, a top floor cafeteria and a large playground and field for outdoor fun and sports.

Eventually the school board decided the facility was too expensive to maintain, and in 1984 the school was closed. Developers eyed the property with intense interest, imagining all kinds of commercial ventures. In a stroke of vision and great fortune, a broad coalition of civic, business, government and non-profit groups quickly formed to preserve the school and its grounds for the benefit of the community. Today, Landmark on Main Street represents the triumph of community spirit over the insatiable appetite for development, which seems unfortunately to characterize so much of our society.

On my way to work, I often walk through Blumenfeld Park, the preserved playground of Main Street School named in honor of the legendary and influential Myron (Mike) Blumenfeld, who led many environmental and anti-development fights during his long and productive life. I was fortunate enough to count Mike as a good friend, and I know how pleased he would have been to hear the sounds of happy children enjoying the playground and the small water park that has been constructed on the south side of the property . Blumenfeld Park is a jewel in our town, plucked from the jaws of developers and preserved for the benefit of all.

Sadly, the story of Landmark on Main Street stands in sharp contrast to the norm. It’s much more common for developers to get their way – to hire lawyers and lean on zoning officials to change zoning laws to allow for more building. Our American ethos – “This is my property and I can do what I want” – has resulted in a slow but steady loss of open space and natural habitats.

In the nearby Village of Plandome Manor, a new house has been constructed on the edge of Leeds Pond. It’s a large house, and after it was constructed, the developer decided that more property was needed. How do you make more property when your property is on the water? Simply dump hundreds of yards of fill into the water until you have more property. Then hire teams of lawyers to argue your case to the zoning board. That case is currently underway, and the outcome is not clear. But the precedent it sets is unmistakable. If you’re a developer and you have money, you can pretty much do what you want.

The street where I live was lined with large houses when we moved here. They were older, stately homes, swings hung from the branches of mature shade trees, and there was plenty of space for gardens and for kids to race around outdoors, which they did. Most of the lots were 100 feet wide, as the original planners of our community intended. It was an elegant, broad street with Manhasset Bay spread out in all its glory at the bottom of the hill.

But it didn’t take developers long to realize that there were a few properties at the Eastern end of the street with only 50 feet or less of frontage. That meant that they might be able to get a variance to split larger properties into two parcels. Who cared if 100-year-old trees had to come down? Who cared if a historic house had to be demolished? Who cared if the new houses would have no yards? If you could make more money by leveling the property and building two new houses than you could by restoring and renovating one older home, it was a no-brainer.

Our street looks very different now than it did when we moved in. Just recently, another old Victorian house has been demolished, its beautiful mature and environmentally critical trees have been felled and ground into wood chips and sawdust. Two new mostly plastic houses have been built on the property and sold – for a tidy sum – even before they’ve been finished.

The houses have just a few feet between them, with no space for a tree to grow to maturity in either front or back yards, but they likely have made space for large media rooms, where kids can watch shows about nature on giant screen TVs, insulated from the world in their air tight, temperature-controlled house. And the developer, who lives in a nearby community where this type of development is prohibited, has made his money.