Planning Too Hard

I live on the watershed of the Merrimack and Connecticut river valleys. Out for a country stroll at the crest of the Old Stoddard Road, the processed early morning coffee may, with proper aim, be directed to both the Atlantic Ocean north of Boston, and to Long Island Sound, between New London and Mystic. This is not a daily ritual to be sure, but I must note that the rural isolation that accommodates such roadside relief is changing, and I am increasingly cautious about listening for the sound of a car coming up the dusty road, or worse – a jogger!

Nelson once housed over 1,500 citizens. After declining to just a couple hundred in the early part of this century, the population is now about 650. City Hill, which graces my view to the south, is said to have had , in the 1840’s, over 50 farms and homes, as well as at least one small “factory” (a clothespin mill), and a school. Sheep farming and the need for fuel had created mostly open fields – this was the case throughout southern New Hampshire. Population declined to under 200 in the early part of this century.

When I first moved here in the early 1980’s I expect I was cited as an example of a population explosion that was threatening the rural values of the community. Like most newcomers, it didn’t take me long to want to shut the door behind me. I helped to shape the town’s Master Plan (1984), and did a term on the Planning Board. In 2001 I was asked to come back onto the Planning Board, with a very specific agenda: folks felt that there should be a growth control ordinance, and having an updated Master Plan was a prerequisite to that. For several years I pursued this, reading, going to workshops, conducted a community survey, and started drafting the new Master Plan (which remains a work in progress).

Other personal priorities eventually caused me to leave the Board, but during my tenure I developed a much different perspective on how communities evolve, how growth can (and can’t) be managed, and how sometimes in the “planning” process there are unintended consequences. Just as we are seeing on a global level now, market forces are really a great determiner, and they are the hardest thing to manage. In the early days of Nelson three graphite mines supplemented the livelihood of farmers (which was pretty much everyone), then later sheep, and some manufacturing took over. When the folks in the “Harrisville section” of Nelson wanted the railroad to come in, the rest of the town wouldn’t hear of it, and Harrisville was forced to ceded. The railroad provided local stimulus, but also provided the means for a mass exodus to the more fertile farmlands of the Midwest. Though the textile mills remained a part of the economy well into the last century, the development of steamships allowed wool from Australia and New Zealand to be shipped to the US, and it could be sold at prices competitive to locally grown wool. By the time of the Civil War population had already begun to decline, and the Civil War itself drew away large numbers of men, many of whom never returned; those who survived had seen a larger piece of the world and often opted to seek new fortunes elsewhere. The eventual repopulation of the town was facilitated in part by the arrival of “summer folks”, and then, during the depression, summer folks who came to live here permanently. All of these (and this is just the tip of the iceberg) were a result of market forces that were way beyond the control of the local community.

As recently as 2001 when we were in growth control panic mode (even though Nelson never seen a spec house, let alone a development), one of the arguments here (and throughout the state) was that increased population would burden the schools. In these few short years the demographics have shifted (again statewide, for the most part). The Nelson School which was once bursting at the seams with 65 kids is now operating with less economic efficiency because there are only 35. If the downward trend continues the community may well be wanting to encourage families to move to town, or else face sending our kids out of town to go to school.

My point is not that master plans and growth ordinances are bad – they aren’t. But the functions that these tools can perform are often compromised, and our expectations of them tend to be short sited.

The amount of solitude I can enjoy during a walk down the road has indeed diminished. I pass more houses, more cars pass me, and the road is much more decorated with discarded foliage from the Anheuser bush and other specimens. But that is how it is right now. I recently saw an advertisement for a new “planned community” in a nearby town, which was seeking “like minded” people. One of the things that I find appealing about Nelson is that there is a great tolerance for non-like minded people. With such diversity of raw materials, the fabric of the community is ultimately much stronger. There probably are too many people here, but as long as I'm one of them, I'll just have to make the best of it.