Sharp eyed readers let us know that Framingham's fight for control of the growth of the social service industry has reached the national media. Following is an article that appeared in the Wall Street Journal on December 14, 2005. You can also see a scanned image of the article (147 KB file).
Town Resists Expansion of Antipoverty Agency
By Joel Millman
The Wall Street
Journal
FRAMINGHAM, Mass. -- This Boston suburb of 67,000 calls itself America's
largest town. The biggest city in the U.S. administered without an elected
mayor, Framingham instead prefers New England's traditional Town Meeting
format. An immigrant destination since refugees from the Irish potato
famine started arriving in the 1840s, newcomers to Framingham today tend
to be super-educated professionals from the area's many universities and
high-tech firms.
Its real-estate market is booming, with homes in its leafy "bedroom" streets selling in the $500,000 to $600,000 range, with equally strong demand for rental properties, co-ops and condominiums.
Yet class harmony has strained recently, mainly because of aggressive real-estate accumulation, in the name of Framingham's poorest residents, through a community-action agency called the South Middlesex Opportunity Council Inc., or SMOC. SMOC, with 500 employees overseeing 50 programs including homeless shelters, half-way houses, energy assistance, job training and subsidized housing units, is now one of Framingham's biggest landlords, with nearly 50 buildings contributing about $170,000 a year to the town in property taxes. But it is the untaxed properties many residents object to. With an annual budget of $50 million, SMOC has pulled dozens of properties off Framingham's tax rolls when they are converted to nonprofit use, some townspeople complain.
Then there is the SMOC's "wet shelter," where drunks can sleep it off, on downtown's Irving Street. It is a persistent source of ire. Framingham natives say the old building has become a dumping ground for other towns looking to get rid of their own transients and homeless people. Framingham's police add that offenders had given the wet shelter as their "home" address when apprehended.
The simmering community resistance to SMOC hardened into hard-ball politics this past summer over the nonprofit group's plan to take over a century-old mansion, the former Dorr Estate, a 12,000 square-foot Mediterranean-style building at 517 Winter Street.
SMOC hopes to convert the old mansion -- built by heirs of Boston's old Raymond's department-store fortune -- into a home for people with substance-abuse problems in recovery, and their children. Residents are picking up the Not-in-My-Back-Yard rallying cry. Framingham officials hoped to see the estate, which had been turned into a nursing home, converted to luxury condos. But SMOC outbid a local contractor for the estate this year, paying $2 million, financed in part with an $800,000 state grant to run it as a rehabilitation center.
"They're taking our tax money to do something that will bring down the value of my house," complains Christopher Titcomb, a physical therapist who last summer bought a three-bedroom house, today assessed at $355,000, that now faces the former Dorr Estate.
Jim Cuddy, SMOC's executive director, says the shrillness of the debate has poisoned any dialogue between SMOC and the town.
"If neighbors could see how our programs actually work, they wouldn't oppose us. They'd probably want to volunteer," Mr. Cuddy says.
In August, Town Meeting members approved a change to Framingham's zoning bylaws that, for the first time, would require groups such as SMOC to submit to planning-board view before converting property. SMOC cried foul, and the matter went to the state's attorney general, who ruled in favor of the town, but insisted any oversight would have to be expeditious, and not used as a pretext to stall conversion.
The issue of housing the homeless, especially those with substance-abuse problems, has roiled suburbs across the U.S. In the 1980s, residents of mental-health institutions began to be released into the community and many ended up on the streets. Some communities, and some landlords, welcomed the chance to fill vacant properties in fading downtowns.
That is how SMOC grew in Framingham, even occupying the site of the town's old Dennison Paper factory, a large employer that closed in the early 1990s. The agency also bought property in neighboring towns including Marlboro, Natick, Ashland and Hudson, but usually only single buildings. Today nearly half of SMOC's 887 housing units are located near Framingham, mostly downtown near a commuter railroad station. During the 1980s, when Framingham's downtown was dying, SMOC's willingness to buy and rehabilitate properties was considered a boon to the area, which has since recovered.
Now that the area has improved, however, the Dorr Estate conversion has incensed neighbors, who lined their yards with signs blaring, "Stop SMOC" and "Enough is Enough."
SMOC counters by citing Massachusetts law, which gives social services carte blanche on property use, so long as it is for religious or educational purposes.
Both SMOC and its adversaries claimed the attorney general ruling as a victory, opponents confident the planning board will reject SMOC's conversion plan, and SMOC confident that a negative decision -- which is expected soon -- can be overturned on appeal.
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