Develop or preserve? The choice is clear

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 horsedrawn 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

PATTI WOOD Earth Matters

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 prop- erty. 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.

It is an indictment of Jennifer DeSena’s failed leadership and incompetency as North Hempstead’s supervisor that the Great Neck Historical Society is appealing to the National Park Service to withdraw the town’s stewardship of the historic Stepping Stones Lighthouse, which the town has had since 2008, and find a more responsible steward.

My problem with DeSena is not only her lack of competency, her willful ignorance and fecklessness, but her intentional sabotage of an earnest, decade-long effort by the historical society and Great Neck Park District, and her contempt for Great Neck altogether.

(Full disclosure: As of this writing I am a Great Neck Historical Society board member and member of its Lighthouse committee, but my remarks are solely my own opinion.)

It is more than DeSena’s claim that she was unaware of the issue months into her tenure. Or, according to Councilwoman Veronica Lurvey, DeSena asked her to pull from the agenda approval for a contract, almost entirely funded from grants ($547,000), to build a dock the town deemed critical to even begin the preservation project.

That meant the loss of a full year of work (now two) to shore up the structure from battering storms.

Indeed, in advance of publishing, on July 5, I asked DeSena directly if she intended to save the Lighthouse, and she actually said that 18 months into a two-year term, she still needed to study the issue, but intends to hold a meeting of “stakeholders.”

It is more than the gross incompetence of the town’s Public Works Dept. for failing to even file for the necessary permits from the Corps of Engineers or the mandated annual reports to the National Parks Service as a steward is required to do, resulting in the town having to give backgrant money won by the Bosworth administration that would have paid for the dock work and emergency repair.

It is the deception, essentially stringing along the Great Neck Historical Society – ostensibly the town’s “partner” in preserving the Lighthouse and its major advocate for restoration – with claims she was “studying,” ‘learning,” “considering” – when in fact she had/ has no intention whatsoever of saving the lighthouse.

She likely hopes the delays would result in the Lighthouse collapsing into the Long Island Sound altogether, so that the 19thcentury brick structure would be replaced by the U. S. Coast Guard with a metal pole. Problem solved.

Her antipathy is related to a general hostility to Great Neck epitomized by one man’s frequent appearances at town meetings: Why spend town money on a Great Neck landmark reached from a park that is exclusive to Great Neck Park District taxpaying residents? (The answer is that preserving the landmark benefits the entire town and community, and that the ultimate goal would be to make access to the Lighthouse available to the public, which would also be an

FROM

If you compiled the names of the most impactful Long Islanders in our history, you’d surely start off with the likes of Theodore Roosevelt, Marie Colvin, and Walt Whitman to name a few – and in my estimation, Harry Chapin is a fitting fourth candidate to complete any proverbial Mount Rushmore of great Long Islanders.

In just nine years as a recording artist, he released 12 albums that embodied his distinctive style as a musical storyteller. Thanks to timeless melodies and stirring lyrics that vividly told stories of everyday life, songs like “Taxi,” “W.O.L.D,” “Circle,” “Sequel,” and of course, “Cat’s in the Cradle” became embedded into the soundtracks of our lives during the 1970s and beyond.

Using those remarkable gifts, he pursued his philanthropic calling and his mission to eradicate hunger in the United States in particular.

As one of the world’s highest paid entertainers at the time, he gave generously to charitable causes, hosted numerous benefit concerts and used his platform as a springboard for economic boon for the Peninsula and the town.)

DeSena, as recently as this week, complained that saving the Lighthouse was never supposed to be at town taxpayer expense. Well, the vast bulk of cost was supposed to be borne from fund-raising as well as grants.

The town could have been more aggressive in seeking grants, but has not, and now the unprecedented pots of federal, state and local infrastructure funding will be emptied by the end of the year, while interest and bond rates are more than triple from historic lows.

Out of its own fund-raising efforts, the Great Neck Historical Society in 2017 paid for a study to determine the feasibility, cost estimate and work schedule to shore up the Lighthouse. But after nothing was done and season after sea-

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son of restoration work was lost, GNHS funded another study in 2022 to counter the “rumor” being spread that the Lighthouse was not salvageable (to justify a claim that spending town money would be fiscally irresponsible). The study found that while the Lighthouse needs extensive work, it can be preserved and ultimately restored.

“The present Town administration has clearly and repeatedly demonstrated opposition to the restoration project; has shared no information, including permit issues with the Historical Society; has effectively and unilaterally killed restoration of the Steppingstone Lighthouse; has allowed promotion of an anti-Great Neck atmosphere within the Town; fails to appreciate the benefit to future generations and has missed an opportunity to preserve a valuable piece of history and its legend,” the Historical Society said in a press release calling for the Town to be removed as steward.

Lurvey said she presented a resolution in April, supported by the Great Neck Historical Society, to advance the restoration process, with costs covered by grants, but was ultimately defeated when the supervisor surprisingly produced previously undisclosed correspondence regarding the rescinding of a Maritime Heritage Grant.

“Why this information was not shared earlier with the Historical Society or other members of the Town Board remains a mystery,” Lurvey wrote in an emailed response. “Regardless, the supervisor’s wish was granted: the resolution failed to pass, the restoration efforts

W. DRUCKER

advocacy such as his involvement in launching World Hunger Year (now known as WhyHunger) and establishing the Presidential Commission on World Hunger during the Carter administration. However, the food bank that now bears his name is perhaps his greatest innovation. When Harry Chapin launched Long Island Cares in 1980, he created Long Island’s first food bank, and in doing so revolutionized our regional approach to addressing food insecurity and hunger.

In 2021, Long Island Cares distributed 14 million pounds of food – the equivalent of 11.5 million meals – and now has a half-dozen, brick-and-mortar storefront locations across Long Island. The agency was instrumental in addressing crises like Superstorm Sandy and the economic disruption caused by the COVID-19 pandemic. And because no member of the family – included the fourlegged and feathered ones – is spared from hunger, their seventh location, Baxter’s Pet Pantry, is dedicated to gathering and distributing pet food and supplies to families in need.

In this oft-derided age of the celebrity candidate, Harry Chapin would have been a natural to run for the House of Representatives or another elected office, but not because he was a star. He would have been ideal because he did the work and cared deeply about the future we shared. Sadly, he never got that chance – on July 16, 1981, while driving to a benefit concert at Eisenhower Park, Harry’s Volkswagen was hit by an 18-wheeler on the Long Is- came to a grinding halt, and now we find ourselves in a state of uncertainty as the structure continues to deteriorate.”

Lurvey added that by withholding crucial details, the supervisor effectively obstructs any possibility of collaboration with those who are advocating to save the Lighthouse.

“This administration has shown no inclination towards fostering partnerships. Progress was admittedly sluggish under previous administrations, but at least there was positive momentum. Now, unfortunately, we find ourselves at an impasse,” she said.

Lurvey pointed to the irony that the Town’s official website extols the significant historical value and rich heritage of the Stepping Stones Lighthouse. “It is a compelling testament to its importance and should not be overlooked. I also extend this suggestion to our supervisor, who has had 18 months to educate herself on the subject.” Town Website — Lighthouse Information.

If DeSena decided she was unable or unwilling to preserve the Lighthouse, she should have been honest about it and more aggressive in finding a worthy successor to be its steward, instead of leading on preservation advocates (as she is doing even today), hoping the next storm would be the one to finally topple it altogether.

Now the Historical Society has taken up the mantle to try to recruit a steward who actually cares.

And the town should find a new leader as well.