The Hartford Courant

Turning The Corner In Bridgeport

Tom Condon

October 22 2006

If I told you that a Connecticut downtown had some cool new housing under construction, major new restaurants, an art cinema coming, a new transportation center and in general a positive buzz, would you in a million years think I was talking about Bridgeport?

Do I mean our Bridgeport, the state's largest city and leading punch line, the throwback to Chicago in the 1930s, the pyrite patch along the Gold Coast?

I do. Bridgeport has endured decades of corruption, bad luck and inept management. Everything you ever heard about it was largely true. But the cosmic pendulum is swinging back. Things appear to be turning around.

The revival effort is led by a mayor making a personal comeback, Democrat John M. Fabrizi. Fabrizi admitted earlier this year that he used cocaine in his first year in office. But Fabrizi cleaned up, and to prove it allowed the Connecticut Post to supervise his drug test. He's found an economic development strategy that's gaining traction. He is working relentlessly to resurrect the city and, it would follow, himself.

As a reporter, I had many occasions to visit in Bridgeport in the 1970s and early 1980s, and it was on the skids. The great manufactories of the past - Remington, Singer, GE and others - were downsizing and leaving. Some joked that it was called "The Park City" because the cops could be counted on to fix parking tickets. Mobsters such as Francis "Fat Frannie" Curcio plied their trade with minimal interruption.

I stopped in federal court one day when tax rebel Irwin Schiff was selling copies of his book during his trial for income tax evasion. Schiff insisted he had discounted the price, calling it a "trial offer." In Bridgeport, that was downtown entertainment.

P.T. Barnum was mayor of Bridgeport in 1875. Most of the mayors over the past three decades more resembled Barnum's midgets. There was serious talk of bankruptcy. Mayor Joe Ganim grubbed his way into a nine-year stretch in the federal snoozer, and former state Sen. Ernest E. Newton II is doing five slow ones for taking bribes.

Ganim was replaced in 1993 by city council president Fabrizi. When Fabrizi tearfully admitted having abused cocaine and alcohol, it looked like more of the same, more disappointment and lost time, for Bridgeport.

But not so fast. Some positive things were happening. Gov. Lowell Weicker's insistence in the early 1990s that Housatonic Community College locate in downtown Bridgeport was paying off; it is one of the fastest-growing community colleges in the country (with a remarkable art gallery, go figure).

Also, some of Ganim's projects, however accomplished, were helpful. The downtown minor league baseball stadium and adjoining basketball/hockey arena brought suburbanites into Bridgeport who otherwise wouldn't have come. "They didn't get mugged, their cars weren't stolen and they had fun. They began to think differently about Bridgeport," said Paul S. Timpanelli, head of the Bridgeport Regional Business Council.

Also, say people who know him, Fabrizi was working hard all along, regardless of how he relieved tension. The city remade parks (Olmsted-designed Seaside Park is stunning), rebuilt sidewalks and installed new lighting.

Bridgeport was always surrounded by money; the challenge was drawing it in. Fabrizi may have hit a daily double.

For years the city had been trying to bring back manufacturing and land Class A office tenants, with little success. This strategy was a loser, but it turned out there were other opportunities. Some large corporations were looking for sites for back office operations. When the city opened the door, Royal Bank of Scotland and Pitney Bowes moved hundreds of jobs in.

The other opportunity was housing.

The price of housing in surrounding towns is obscene. There aren't many housing options for teachers, cops, bus drivers or even mid-level corporate types in Fairfield County. It occurred to Fabrizi and others that Bridgeport could be the bedroom town for the tonier stops on Metro North.

Fabrizi went for it. He adopted a take-no-prisoners attitude with blighted property and unpaid taxes: fix up, pay up or I'm taking it. He blew up the housing authority and appointed a new one. He brought in former DOT deputy commissioner Nancy Hadley, a top-notch administrator, to run planning and economic development. They've got rehab completed or underway in downtown buildings that have been closed for decades. Part of the appeal is that these buildings are all within short walking distance of bus, rail and ferry service, and thus are alternatives to the rush-hour sludge on I-95.

The prospect of transit-oriented redevelopment attracted New York developer Eric Anderson to Bridgeport. He's turning the Art Deco City Trust Bank and the former Arcade Hotel (a good use of eminent domain here), and several others into downtown housing and retail. He's a very bright young man, a devotee of urbanist Jane Jacobs who likes to "get people out of their cars." He said he saw downtown Bridgeport and asked: "Where do I sign up?"

Another bright and committed developer, Bridgeport resident Phil Kuchma, is rehabbing a block that contains the Bijou, the oldest movie house in the country built as a movie theater and still a movie theater. It will show art films when the renovation is completed. Downtown has the bones of a very nifty neighborhood.

The years of corrupt and inept leadership have left Bridgeport lagging behind the state's other large cities in many areas. To get many of these development projects started, the city had to fight itself. Officials brought in a team from the Urban Land Institute headed by former Indianapolis Mayor William Hudnut in 2005. Hudnut discerned that the city's land-use policies didn't reflect either the market or the city's goals. For example, waterfront areas that cry out for mixed-use development are zoned industrial. Outdoor dining, which would work downtown and along the waterfront, is prohibited.

The city never went much for plans, preferring the big-bang deal (a tendency not unknown in Hartford). There is no plan of conservation and development, though it is required by state law. But now there will be, as officials madly work to create or update plans and zoning regulations.

I drove around the city with Fabrizi. I hadn't seen him in about a year, and he is noticeably thinner. "I haven't had a drink in more than a year, that may be part of it," he said, a little ruefully. He's a city native and former schoolteacher, a straightforward, hands-on, what-you-see-is-what-you-get guy. People like him. He's not trying to be governor.

He's made at least one step to confront the city's recent history. Prospective developers get a business card in the economic development office with the phone numbers of the U.S. attorney and the state's attorney on the back and the statement: "Nobody pays to play in Bridgeport!" Yet the old days fade slowly; the Connecticut Post recently reported that most of the Democratic town committee members worked for or were connected to city government.

Fabrizi is on the streets all the time; someone said he'd attend the opening of a fire hydrant. People waved to him in the East Side and in the tough Marina Village housing project. He seems focused; he senses that his housing strategy is working and he's trying to make it happen tomorrow. He knows there's much to do. Taxes are still too high and the schools need work. His city was late getting into the magnet and charter school movement, but seven new schools are in the works.

City residents have given him a chance. He's trying to make the most of it. The business community is behind him. Unlikely things do happen. The Red Sox won the World Series in our lifetime. Despite everything, it may be Bridgeport's time.

Tom Condon is the editor of Place. He can be reached at tcondon@courant.com.
Copyright 2006, Hartford Courant