The pristine qualities that make Nantucket a distinct place, and somewhere “far away,” both geographically and philosophically, also make it a refuge, an attractive haven and resort with less traffic, pollution and people than the mainland thirty miles away. Nantucket’s popularity is beginning to catch up with her. No longer just a summer place, Nantucket is now an active year-round community, with a tourist season that stretches from late April until well past Columbus Day. The most visible manifestation of Nantucket’s increased popularity is a building boom that is fast chewing up the island\u27s open spaces and threatening its rural character

Sheppard, Steve

Virtual Commons - Bridgewater State University

Bridgewater ReviewVolume 4 | Issue 3 Article 7Jan-1987Conserving NantucketSteve SheppardThis item is available as part of Virtual Commons, the open-access institutional repository of Bridgewater State University, Bridgewater, Massachusetts.Recommended CitationSheppard, Steve (1987). Conserving Nantucket. Bridgewater Review, 4(3), 11-13.Available at: http://vc.bridgew.edu/br_rev/vol4/iss3/7Photos by Robert Benchley IIISteve SheppardI t's February in 'Sconset, the smallvillage at the eastern end of Nan-tucket. Most of the "summer na-tives," who six months before packedthis community, are long gone. Now,the sounds of summer are replaced bythose of the other season: the distantrumble of surf, the whistling no'theastwind beating the shingled cottages. Ifyou want solitude, this is the time andthe place. But listen. In the near dis-tance another sound splits the quiet--the steady rhythm of hammer hittingnail.The pristine qualities that make thisisland a distinct place, and somewhere"far away," both geographically andphilosophically, also make it a refuge,an attractive haven and resort with lesstraffic (there isn't a single traffic lighton the island), pollution and peoplethan the mainland thirty miles away.Nantucket's popularity is beginning tocatch up with her. The same thingspeople come here to escape are quicklybeing introduced as more and more"off-islanders" discover the island. Nolonger just a summer place, Nantucketis now an active year-round communi-ty, with a tourist season that stretchesfrom late April until well past Colum-bus Day. The most visible manifesta-tion of Nantucket's increased popular-ity is a building boom that is fastchewing up the island's open spaces11Nantucket continued12and threatening its rural character.A decade ago, only 100 houses a yearwere being built. Today, the annualfigure approaches 300 and, despitezoning controls, appears to be gainingmomentum. "The pace has certainlybecome more rampant in the '80s,"agrees William Klein, executive direc-tor of Nantucket's Planning and Eco-nomic Development Commission."We're subdividing 500 lots a yearconsistently. Commercial develop-ment has also increased. There are200,000 square feet of shopping cen-ters on the drawing boards right now."Klein came to the island in 1974,shortly after town meeting voters estab-lished the Planning Commission, aresponse to the island's first condo-minium development in the west-endvillage of Madaket. "People felt theywanted something with more controlthan a Planning Board," Klein says."Nantucket was always known to haveavoided suburban sprawl, but the is-land's eighteenth and nineteenth cen-tury settlement pattern was becomingcompromised by a haphazard develop-ment pattern. It was causing us tobecome like everywhere else, and ifthere's one thing Nantucketers hatemore than anything else, it's to be likeeverywhere else."Since its inception, the PlanningCommission's work has included thedrawing up of more stringent zoningregulations (most of which pass attown meetings) and a growth plan forthe entire island. (One aspect of thegrowth plan is a push for subdivisionsto be arranged in clusters, with lots ofgreen space.) These measures are waysin which the town has worked withinestablished systems to have a say inwhat can be built and where it can bebuilt; but Nantucket has also been inthe vanguard in growth control.The most notable invention is theLand Bank, an agency established byisland voters in 1984. As its nameimplies, the Land Bank, the first suchmeasure of its kind in the country, wasset up to buy desirable properties forconservation and recreational uses. Itsfunding, generated by Nantucket'shealthy real estate market, comes froma two percent tax on most propertytransactions. This money is depositedinto a Land Bank account and is han-dled by five elected commissioners. Todate, the Land Bank has purchased 511acres, land that will be protected forfuture generations."The Land Bank concept is spread-ing," notes Klein, the Land Bank'sprime architect. "Land Banks havebeen established on Martha's Vine-yard, in Little Compton, Rhode Islandand on Block Island."By entering its own real estate mar-ket, Nantucket can afford to buy un-spoiled acreage, rather than rely oneither a conservation organization or abenefactor to keep lands forever wild.As Klein points out, however, the LandBank is not enough to save the islandfrom development."The Land Bank is averaging$80,000 a week," he noted, "and whenyou mention that to people they can'tbelieve the figure. But when you con-sider that house lots on the water areselling for a few million dollars, thatfigure becomes less impressive."The single greatest land conservatoron Nantucket is the ConservationFoundation, a private organizationestablished in 1963 that is dedicated topreserving the island's most beautifuland unique landscapes. The Conserva-tion Foundation now oversees 6,000acres, or 20 percent of the island.These lands include a great chunk ofNantucket's moors, former sheep pas-tures and undeveloped valleys on thepicturesque south shore. Because theFoundation owns these properties, italso imposes controls over them, lim-iting vehicle use in an effort to protectthe fragile environment.Nantucket's aggressive conservationmovement, coupled with an even moreaggressive housing market, has putland at a premium, however. A halfacre plot can run anywhere from$80,000 to nearly $400,000, depend-ing upon the view. This economicreality is squeezing out many nativeswho had the misfortune to grow upafter land prices skyrocketed."The only way I can ever live here isto move into my parents' place," saysRon Duce, a 1981 Nantucket HighSchool graduate. "Just to buy a two-bedroom house here would probablycost me close to $300,000."Despite Duce's lament, the effectson land prices from this tug of warbetween conservation and develop-ment are hard to gauge. "It's difficult tosay the degree to which conservationeffects land prices," said Klein. "Ifthere were no conservation effort, we'dstill have an incredible demand forland. We're still an island, that's ourreal problem."The problem is compounded by thenumber of people who have no diffi-culty buying a piece of the rock.There's a common saying on Nan-tucket that if you have to ask howmuch something costs, you can't af-ford it. Klein speaks of a scenariowhere one summer home is built on theisland. The house guests invited in justone season all fall in love with the placeand, being upwardly mobile, buildsecond homes of their own. Althoughthis outline may seem far-fetched, it infact describes the reality of the island'sreal estate market.The transportation factor must alsobe considered. The Steamship Author-ity's three boats a day in the summerare no longer the only way to travelacross Nantucket Sound; many preferthe quick, 15 minute trip by plane. Theisland's airport is the third busiest inNew England, year-round. "In the'60s, it was kind ofa pain in the neck toget here," Klein notes. "Now, we're 40minutes from New York. It's some-times easier to get here from Man-hattan than to the Hamptons."All this begs the question: WillNantucket be developed until no houselots remain? The answer from Klein is aresounding, "Yes."We're right in the sights of being amajor vacation development," he pre-dicts. "There are approximately 7 ,000houses on the island now, and there'sroom for 7 ,000 more. The dwellingunits are going to double. It's hard forsomebody born and brought up in arural community like Nantucket toimagine that it's going to happen."Island historian Edouard Stackpolehas lived on Nantucket a good part ofhis 81 years. He has seen the fields heonce played in disappear, and haswatched development grow far beyondthe fringes of the downtown's cobbledstreets. Like the depression spawnedby the demise of Nantucket's whalingindustry over 100 years ago, Stackpolesees increased development as the newthreat to the character of the island.Stackpole, who feels the lessons of thepast should guide present decisions, isdistraught by what he terms "the nib-bling process" that he sees.In an editorial written last year forthe Nantucket Historical Association,Stackpole decried the changing face ofthe island."During the summer season of1985," he wrote, "Nantucket has be-come an overcrowded, bustling, un-comfortable town ... Too many people;too many automobiles and mopeds;too many motor vehicles invading thebeaches and destroying many sanc-tuaries ... Does this represent a trueprosperity?"Stackpole believes the island is nowat a crossroads, and that efforts mustbe made to keep Nantucket's historicalintegrity intact. "Ifwe do become just atourist town," he says, "even the tour-ists won't come here." At the root ofthe problem, he says, are the devel-opers who are "only looking for thequick buck.""When you get people who own theland, and who care so damn little aboutthe land, and rip it up with theirbulldozers, tearing away vegetationthat took centuries to grow, it showsthey haven't got much interest in Nan-tucket," he said. "The greed is soevident it's terrible, because they'returning their backs on something thatexists only once."Still, even with the rapid buildingrate, Nantucket remains a desirableplace to live. For 7 ,600 year-roundresidents, adapting is a way of life: toboth the harsh winters and to the evenharsher demands of surviving in aspiraling economic market. The bestway to overcome a limited island bud-get, some have found, is to do ityourself.Rob Benchley, a summer resident allhis life and a year-round resident forthe past four years, figures he's saving$70,000 by building his own home.Benchley is luckier than most: he inher-ited a piece of land. "The thing thatsaved my life was that I had a piece ofland my grandfather bought in theThe same thingspeople come here to escapeare quickly being introducedas more and more ttoff~islanders"discover the island.No longer just a summer place,Nantucket is nowan active year~roundcommunity,with a tourist seasonthat stretches from late Apriluntil well past Columbus Day.1940s," he said. "I'm also lucky be-cause I have some of the skills that areneeded to build a house."When he first decided to build hishome, Benchley had no intention ofleaving his full-time job, and lookedInto the construction costs ofhaving abuilder do the job. He quickly dis-covered why Nantucket is called "arich man's paradise.""I saw the deals builders were givingisland people and it was no deal at all,"he said, pointing out "the realities of$100 per square foot, minimum -- andthat doesn't include appliances."To justify taking a sabbatical, Bench-ley figures he's "paying himself to dothe job. But the hard economics of itare I'm taking the pay cut of leaving thejob."The hard economics of island life arealso what moved Benchley to build apermanent residence. Unlike most ofsoutheastern Massachusetts, where alandlord will scratch his head if aprospective tenant asks if the apart-ment is 'year-round,' there are fewsuch luxuries as 12-month leases onNantucket. Many residents, especiallythose who comprise the young work-ing force, have to move twice a year:once in the spring, when their winterrental soars from $300 a month to$300 a week, and again in the fall, whenthe unheated cottage they rented with12 other people is closed for the win-ter. "The moving thing, that's whatreally cast it in iron," Benchley said,"the annoyance of moviT'g twice a year.Sometimes I had to move four times ayear. "So why do people live here, and callthis outpost home where electricityrates are among the highest in thecountry, where a cheeseburger ap-proaches $5, where a simple delightlike Chinese food has to be flown infrom Hyannis?"Because it's like what America usedto be, at least it is in January," saysKlein. "Because there's enough con-sciousness to protect the harbor andthe land so you can still go scallopingand clamming and fishing and have areasonable belief that the food won'tbe polluted," notes Benchley. "Be-cause ofconservation, you can still findan uninhabited beach in the off-season. "The delicate balance between natureand man is, happily, working for thetime being on Nantucket. The busysummer season is offset by the solitudeof winter. There is a time to recharge,to dream up ways of protecting thisplace."This is a good planning lab," Kleinsays. "The eco-systems are pretty welldesigned, and because we're a town anda county the political set-up is con-ducive to planning growth. From theoutside, people say we're doing a greatjob. But when you're here seeing somethings disappear before your eyes, itcan get pretty depressing."Benchley takes a slightly more opti-mistic view: "It's just that there has tobe some common ground between thepeople who are rushing down here andwhy I insist on staying."Steve Sheppard was graduated fromBridgewater with a BA in English in 1980.He is sports editor and assistant editor ofThe Inquirer and Mirror on Nantucket.He also worked as a reporter for ThePatriot Ledger in Quincy. He and his wifeKarin (Ganga), BSC Class of 1979, are therecent parents of a son.13

Conserving Nantucket

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