Until I attended the Angry Villagers Roundup last Thursday night, I was mildly unsympathetic towards the Monster on the Hill. While I was dismayed to see my generally placid neighbors devolve in to pitchfork wielding vigilantes, I was certainly not in the pro-Monster party. But I hadn't established myself as firmly anti-Monster either, because I have found myself in need of a three hole punch or nail polish remover or cheap film developing.  These are all services that are sure to be provided at the Monster's Lair, also known as Walgreen's.

 

Today after lunch I walked by the construction site where the Monster's Lair - I mean Walgreen's - is being built. As I was looking through the sliding glass doors, a stout man in a work clothes and a baseball hat came out and invited me in. "Do you want to see the store?" he said. "Come on in, I'll show you around." His cell phone rang just after I walked in, so I hung out on the main floor while he talked on the phone. "Sorry about that," he apologized, and then introduced himself and shook my hand.

 

He took me to the back of the store first and showed me where the restrooms and the office space were going to be. We walked out across the main floor back to the loading door and then up the stairs to the storage room. "There's going to be a conveyer belt here that runs goods up from the loading area to be stored up here. It'll wrap around the back wall here," he pointed out where it would go, "and then continue to here where the goods will get unloaded."

 

"The neighborhood is having a fit, you know, don't you?" I asked. I couldn't help it. He'd invited me in, after all. It turns out that my new friend John, a developer who's been in construction for over 20 years, a guy who's built four Walgreen's, felt like talking.

 

"Everything is up to code, you know. I've been working with the city from day one on this project. The city has been out here over and over, and I tell you what, they've been here almost every day for the last three weeks. Seems there's some kind of a phone tree, some kind of an email list or a phone tree or something and they (jerking his thumb towards the back wall, behind which are the homes of some of the Angriest Villagers) all get calling the city. They get, what, 20 complaints in a day, and then a guy from the city comes out."

 

"One time I had a noise inspector out here. No, actually, twice. The first time I was out of line. I had one of my guys loading up a dumpster at six am. I knew the pickup was coming and I wanted to get the bin filled up. I was out of line, I knew it, and the guy from the city said that since it was the first time he'd been out, he'd just ask me not to do that again. But they came out again. The guy was wandering the site, real quiet like, kind of keeping to himself and he comes up to me and he says, you know, everything is okay here. After an hour, 45 minutes of walking around the site he says I'm in compliance as far as the noise goes."

 

"Those freaks over there, they're giving me a terrible time. They're swearing at my guys, they show up on the site to work and they're just shouting at them, abusing them, and it's not fair. I mean, they just have a job to do and they got to put up with these insults from the neighbors. I've talked to a lot of people here around the neighborhood and most of them are glad we're here."

 

"When we moved in this place was a dump. The homeless people were living in here, they'd sprayed stuff on the walls and there were needles everywhere and they'd been doing their business in here, it was disgusting, I tell you. We got all that cleaned up before we started tearing in to things."

 

"They say I'm out of line, but we're totally compliant with the city code. I wish they'd come over here and have a look, I'd be happy to show them around. They said we did full demolition and that's just not true. That back wall is still the original and the wall over there, and look up at that ceiling, you can see it's old. And before we put this concrete down, you could see that we're building on the original slab."

 

"If they'd come over and talk to me, they'd see that I'm not an asshole, I'm just a regular guy, but instead they just keep calling the city and the city comes out here and I say to those guys, those city inspectors,  man, you sure are patient with the people that live around here."

 

I asked him about some of the things the neighbors were complaining about, the loading dock, the lighting, the parking lot.

 

"You know, we talked about a variance on the parking lot so that we could get some kind of barrier or redirection of traffic so they wouldn't have headlights shining in to their houses. I thought that was a good idea, we could build a variance. But we'd have to get the permitting changed for that. I said I'd be happy to update the plans and do that but that they'd have to do the legwork on it. But nothing happened. It'd be a good idea."

 

"And now they're complaining that I didn't do that. And the loading dock, well, we're using the same loading area that the pizza place uses and the other stores along the alley; they get their deliveries back there too. You got to realize that this isn't a 24 hour store, it's not like they're going to be taking deliveries 24 hours."

 

I told him a little bit about the history of the neighborhood. I told him about how the people living in the apartments next to the Walgreen's had spent a parcel to buy condos that have been in a construction zone for over a year. I told him how sad we were about losing the hardware store that was the cornerstone of our neighborhood.

 

"I talked to those people, the hardware store people, and she was, what, 60? She said to me, I've worked all my life and I just want some time to relax. That's fair, she just didn't want to run the business any more. Hey, I lost my neighborhood hardware store too, and we just had to get over it. Times change. You got to make way for something new."

 

We talked for about an hour and his message was consistent. "I wish they'd just come and talk to me. I'm not a bad guy. There are things we could work out. It's just a shame they have to be so, I mean, abusing my guys when they come to the site and they call me a bad neighbor? I had to hire security for the weekends, they keep tagging the building, I come back to find graffiti on my brick work and I'm worried about the glass panels. If they get my windows with that acid they use, you know that stuff? They etch graffiti in to the glass with it and I don't know what I'll do if that happens. It costs me 3000 dollars to have security here on the weekend just so I don't get tagged with graffiti."

 

We went out front and he pointed out the new brick facade. He's especially proud of that. "That's not your standard Walgreen's store there. We did that special for this location. And it looks real nice. Check it out, it's just as good as the brick on that apartment that's giving us all the trouble. I wish they'd come and have a look around like you did. It's going to be a nice store."

 

Well. I'm not sure I feel any differently about the Walgreen's even after all that quality time with the developer and I certainly wish my guide hadn't referred to my neighbors as freaks.  Still, I'm totally inclined to agree with him on one thing:  I wish the neighbors had gone over to talk to him. I'm a decent judge of character and I don't think he was lying to me. He was certainly defensive, that's for sure. I didn't criticize - or praise - the project. All my comments were along the lines of "I've heard this" and "that must be a lot of work."  I just let him talk.

 

It's worth pointing out that the community did not let the DCLU or the broker talk. I have no idea if John the builder has tried to communicate with the neighbors, but if he did, I'm pretty sure they didn't listen. Call me Bride of Frankenstein if you like, but I went away sympathetic towards the builder. This doesn't mean I'm sympathetic to Walgreen's or the City. It just means that if I have the chance to hear what they have to say, I'll listen. I don't have to agree with the Monster on the Hill, but it's somehow reassuring to learn that he has a human heart.