Most know that small towns are facing struggles to stay economically viable.
Let me start in the first of two small towns that I have lived in and got to know very well.
The first town was in California. The "other" California as I always called, it. The California in the Central Valley where it feels like your brains will be baked by noon. Where the pollution is high, not from smog, but from all the pesticides in one of the largest agricultural sectors in the entire world.
A place that sometimes tied summer temperatures with Death Valley. I won't mention the name of the town. It would serve no purpose. But it was and is a real town of about 5,000 souls.
A river runs through the outskirts of the town. But the town itself was semi-unremarkable except for two things: Some of the most genuine people I'd ever met and also a crop that it led the state in producing. I won't mention the crop, because a quick web search would reveal there is only one town in US that is the capital or king of this crop.
Now the crop is a good one. Not as sexy as garlic in Gilroy. But close. A nice upscale crop that most everyone uses regularly.
I ended up in this town accidentally. I accidentally landed a job as a photographer and newspaper reporter. But I also sold ads when the adman was fired. I had no idea how to sell ads or layout ads, but I figured it out until I could talk the editor/owner into hiring him back. I also ran the subscription department when someone went out on maternity leave. Same thing. Didn't know how to do it--figured it out.
But I mainly wrote news stories.
My editor, who also owned the newspaper, was a remarkable woman. She was one of the first female editor/publishers in the country when she started in the 40s or 50s. She was my boss during the end of her career in the 1980s. She was a committed alcoholic, as were most of the people who worked there. It made for interesting times.
But that alcohol problem also gave me a unique advantage. Once the townspeople realized I was not a daytime drunk (or nighttime for that matter) and did not write with a "poison pen" as they put it--I was welcomed into most every aspect of the law enforcement, city government, the chamber of commerce and the merchants' worlds.
Today my workplace would have been considered hostile and toxic. It was. But the townspeople embraced me, a blundering idiot at first. Even the town judge called me into his chambers one day and kindly told me he could tell I did not understand legal terms. So he schooled me, so I could write about legal matters semi-convincingly.
If I made an honest mistake, everyone assumed it was just that, and told me the right information--politely. I paid them back by staying up late at night many times, until I got things just right. I owed the town that much and more.
Due to the actual newspaper being a total chaotic dump with NO swamp cooler, even in 100 degree plus summers--I spent most of my time in the town, getting to know what was going on.
This town had been failing economically for years. Decades.
The editor/owner used to have temper fits. She once fired me for no reason. The adman got my job back for me after weeks of convincing her. Then during another temper fit, she fired him. And though I filled in for him--it took me months to convince her to hire him back. But I did learn a bit about publicity, ads and marketing.
This town had very little industry, except agriculture. It was on I-5 but hardly anyone ventured past the truck stops or gas stations, into the town.
I used to hang out with the chamber of commerce office manager and then was invited to all the merchants' meetings. Like many American small towns, people were trying to figure out NOT how to get their town bigger--but how to attract tourists. Growing a town is great if there is diverse industry, but with that comes more infrastructure and budget concerns.
The owner of a local feed store came up with the idea of donating ALL the supplies and flower seeds to make hanging baskets to beautify the town. Like many small towns, it has a strip of grocery stores, gas stations and other solid businesses that cater to locals and people coming off the freeway. But the historical downtown with its theater and cuter shops was only three or four blocks long. Certainly not overwhelming to beautify with some flower baskets.
Remember, this was the mid to late 1980s. This was before that was the trend. Agritourism? Farm to table? Real efforts at historical preservation in small-town America? These concepts were barely coming to most people's consciousnesses.
I was only in my 20s, but I knew a good idea when I heard it. As I always told people: I don't have that many inborn talents, but my main talent is recognizing the talents and good ideas of others and I LOVE cheering them on.
Being in small-town journalism was the perfect fit for me. A great opportunity to recognize and champion the efforts of others, without being the center of attention.
I sat in that meeting and marveled at the feed store owner (who was barely making it financially) but was willing to donate all the supplies for the good of the town. The response? Someone whined,"Who will water all those baskets?"
I felt the air leave the room. Back then I was fairly shy and wouldn't have dreamed of being part of the story and responding," Are you stark raving mad? Take turns watering the damn baskets! Even though many days I work 12 to 15 hours covering all the meetings in town--I'll help, you damn ingrates!"
Well, that project died before it got off the ground.
Remember my alcoholic boss. Even though she was temperamental, she let me have my own column where I was able to write my own opinions. I did NOT mention the flower basket fiasco, but after that I did go on a slight crusade to get SOME people in town to realize they were sitting on a treasure and hiding their lights under a proverbial basket. I did it in a nice way.
After all this town has a crop that ships all over the world. But in an industrial capacity. Even though I did NOT use words like farm to table or agritourism, because those were not in common usage at the time, I wrote about those things. I suggested the town have a festival celebrating this crop. They did do that, but it turned into a locals-only party. It was fun, but did nothing to get the rest of the county or state to realize the amazing agriculture in this tiny, almost forgotten town.
There was only one business in town that was slightly ahead of its time and marketed its products in a appealing way. And one other business that I started working with to help them develop the genius they already had in their business.
I suggested this town celebrate and develop what they already had.
I eventually moved to Colorado and went back to big-town living for several decades. Flower baskets and people celebrating away and no one whining over who was going to water the free flower baskets.
I did check up on the little town, online, years later. And I'll be darned! They finally did it. But only after more businesses became boarded up, according to a friend of mine who drove through the town and was appalled. Yes, it took the threat of derelict boarded up buildings. But they finally came to the conclusion that people want and need good old-fashioned crops and products done up with a flourish and creativity and beauty.
For years they missed one of the essential reasons people will drive for miles to a small-town. It's not only the fresh agricultural products--it's stepping back into time to a simpler time. It's strolling the streets in relative peace and safety. It's getting back to most all of our roots. It's about seeing how other people live and thrive in a rural setting.
So, I learned how NOT to promote small-town America decades ago: Don't whine about the flower baskets.
Only about 20 percent of Americans live in rural areas or small towns. It's a dying proposition at times. But wherever there is a downside, a good side can emerge.
I was actually raised in New York the first few years of my life and even MANY decades ago my mother (a native New Yorker) used to tell me there were many children who had never really seen a lawn or many trees. I didn't believe her as a kid, because we were living on Staten Island (considered the country or rural area of New York back then) and there were plenty of trees and lawns. But she was talking about Brooklyn where some of the other relatives lived. My mother was trying to teach me to be grateful and not think that if I took something for granted that kids a few miles away were as fortunate as I was.
Yes, some of my relatives lived in those squalid areas in Italian tenements around the turn of the century and beyond not seeing much of nature. They emerged, thankfully. But I guess it's in my DNA that even people decades ago were yearning for nature and the country.
Let's not let it die. Let's preserve it.
And after years of living in the big cities I returned again to a small town in another state. I briefly told the tale of one of the cities. What about the second city? Am I going to learn more lessons how NOT to promote a small American town? You bet.
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