Pilsen smiled politely. “First of all, let me apologize for the lack of space. We didn’t expect this kind of turnout. What we have managed to do is pipe the PA system out to the hall, so at least everyone will hear the proceedings. We’ll find a larger location for the next meeting. Please bear with us.” He started to read from a paper.
“The role of the Planning and Zoning Commission is to make recommendations to the Board of Trustees on specific planning and zoning issues. Tonight, we begin a series of hearings on the parcel of land at the southeast corner of Waukegan and Willow Roads. The Commission will hear from the applicant, SGF Development. Then we’ll take comments.”
Stone forced himself to pay attention.
“Let the record reflect the presence of the applicant’s architect, lawyer, and traffic expert, as well as the Executive Vice-President of SGF Development. You take it from here, okay?”
Pilsen looked over at Ricki. A silver-haired, well-dressed man on her right rose from his chair, walked to the podium, and placed some papers on it. He scanned the crowd.
“Good evening, Mr. Chairman, members of the commission, and residents of Northview. I’m Paul Landon, architect for SGF Development. I’ll begin with a brief summary of our plans for the proposed Northview Center.” He launched into a description of the mall: a ten-acre complex with approximately six hundred thousand square feet of commercial space, three major anchor stores, fifty to seventy five smaller retail outlets, and twelve hundred parking spaces.
Twenty minutes later, Landon was still taking the crowd through the plans. Stone got up to stretch. He wandered to the back of the room, nearly colliding with a middle-aged woman and a younger man leaning against the wall. The woman, who looked to be in her fifties, had blond hair with dark roots. She was gazing at the Feldman woman as if trying to memorize her features.
Stone didn’t recognize her, but he was surprised at how many others he did. Only a year had passed since he’d moved in with Deanna, but the number of nods he exchanged made him feel settled, a part of the community.
When Landon finished, the commission members peppered him with questions about height restrictions, setbacks, and ventilation systems. Landon seemed prepared and answered smoothly, including some thorny questions about fire lanes and visual sight lines.
Next was the traffic consultant’s turn. A tall man with a pinched face, he promised there would be no new congestion in the area. Stone knew the man was headed for trouble.
“Excuse me, sir.” Christine Renfrow, a commissioner whose over-sized glasses gave her an owlish expression, interrupted. “How can you possibly claim that rush hour traffic, which is already a nightmare on Willow Road, won’t be affected by the mall?”
The traffic expert said the two egresses, one on Willow, and one on Waukegan, would prevent additional tie-ups.
“But you’re going to have hundreds of cars feeding into a two lane road,” Renfrow went on. “Cars that aren’t there now. Your conclusions were drawn from a study that was conducted at mid-day when traffic is minimal. That makes it virtually useless.”
The traffic engineer tried to parry, but a buzz went up from the audience. “Why don’t you re-do your traffic study during rush hour?” Renfrow said, “Then let us hear the conclusions.”
The traffic engineer scowled. Mumbling something off-mike, he looked relieved to sit down.
“That concludes the applicant’s presentation,” Pilsen said. “After a ten minute break, we’ll hear from members of the community.”
During the break, someone placed a microphone stand in the center aisle and a line of people queued up at it. Once again, Pilsen gaveled the meeting to order. An elderly man with a shock of white hair and a green ribbon pinned to his jacket was first. “I’d like to go on record —” he said in a raspy voice.
“Excuse me, sir,
“The role of the Planning and Zoning Commission is to make recommendations to the Board of Trustees on specific planning and zoning issues. Tonight, we begin a series of hearings on the parcel of land at the southeast corner of Waukegan and Willow Roads. The Commission will hear from the applicant, SGF Development. Then we’ll take comments.”
Stone forced himself to pay attention.
“Let the record reflect the presence of the applicant’s architect, lawyer, and traffic expert, as well as the Executive Vice-President of SGF Development. You take it from here, okay?”
Pilsen looked over at Ricki. A silver-haired, well-dressed man on her right rose from his chair, walked to the podium, and placed some papers on it. He scanned the crowd.
“Good evening, Mr. Chairman, members of the commission, and residents of Northview. I’m Paul Landon, architect for SGF Development. I’ll begin with a brief summary of our plans for the proposed Northview Center.” He launched into a description of the mall: a ten-acre complex with approximately six hundred thousand square feet of commercial space, three major anchor stores, fifty to seventy five smaller retail outlets, and twelve hundred parking spaces.
Twenty minutes later, Landon was still taking the crowd through the plans. Stone got up to stretch. He wandered to the back of the room, nearly colliding with a middle-aged woman and a younger man leaning against the wall. The woman, who looked to be in her fifties, had blond hair with dark roots. She was gazing at the Feldman woman as if trying to memorize her features.
Stone didn’t recognize her, but he was surprised at how many others he did. Only a year had passed since he’d moved in with Deanna, but the number of nods he exchanged made him feel settled, a part of the community.
When Landon finished, the commission members peppered him with questions about height restrictions, setbacks, and ventilation systems. Landon seemed prepared and answered smoothly, including some thorny questions about fire lanes and visual sight lines.
Next was the traffic consultant’s turn. A tall man with a pinched face, he promised there would be no new congestion in the area. Stone knew the man was headed for trouble.
“Excuse me, sir.” Christine Renfrow, a commissioner whose over-sized glasses gave her an owlish expression, interrupted. “How can you possibly claim that rush hour traffic, which is already a nightmare on Willow Road, won’t be affected by the mall?”
The traffic expert said the two egresses, one on Willow, and one on Waukegan, would prevent additional tie-ups.
“But you’re going to have hundreds of cars feeding into a two lane road,” Renfrow went on. “Cars that aren’t there now. Your conclusions were drawn from a study that was conducted at mid-day when traffic is minimal. That makes it virtually useless.”
The traffic engineer tried to parry, but a buzz went up from the audience. “Why don’t you re-do your traffic study during rush hour?” Renfrow said, “Then let us hear the conclusions.”
The traffic engineer scowled. Mumbling something off-mike, he looked relieved to sit down.
“That concludes the applicant’s presentation,” Pilsen said. “After a ten minute break, we’ll hear from members of the community.”
During the break, someone placed a microphone stand in the center aisle and a line of people queued up at it. Once again, Pilsen gaveled the meeting to order. An elderly man with a shock of white hair and a green ribbon pinned to his jacket was first. “I’d like to go on record —” he said in a raspy voice.
“Excuse me, sir,
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