Growing Up Suburbia…

I am thankful for having lived the era in which we all grew up – the post-war years. When I was a kid growing up in the 1960s, America was on the rise, we were headed to the moon, and there seemed no end to the great things we could achieve together.

One of those great American achievements was Suburbia, which enabled families to get out of the cities and into safe and secure communities. It gave most of us a nicer place in which to grow up. Aside from a few neighborhood bullies, it could be considered safe. Most suburban areas brought us new well-maintained schools, playgrounds, parks, community centers, and places of worship.

Crime was considered an “urban” problem.

Acres of vacant land became newly erected shopping centers with retail stores we grew to know and trust. Many are gone today. Shopping was a family tradition. Grand openings were routine. We never had to want for anything because it was all provided in abundance, with easy access within a few minutes of the house.

I was born in Northwest D.C. and grew up around the district line. I did a horrible D.C. commute for work in the 1970s, entered the USAF, and left D.C. behind. The irony is I couldn’t wait to get out of D.C., which is strange considering I find myself homesick for a place that no longer exists.

The great American pastime growing up was driving around suburbia touring model homes and apartments. Developers were everywhere, seeking out their slice of the American Pie – which was either profitable or a huge bust.

There were weekends where we’d visit my aunt, uncle, and cousins over in Wheaton one hour away. There was that tedious drive over to Arlington to see my grandparents before the freeways were built. We’d head down U.S. 50 to New York Avenue and follow a bizarre path into the District around the Lincoln Memorial, across Memorial Bridge to Arlington to Washington & Lee Apartments.

My grandparents were retired and shared friendships with retired blue hairs at the apartments – which was where I cultivated a deep love of old people. at such a young age, I loved their stories and felt such profound sadness at their eyes, wondering what happened in a life suddenly behind them.

Today – at 70 – I can relate to their emotions.

Washington & Lee Apartments at the intersection of Arlington and Washington boulevards is a charming period apartment complex that came of the Federal Housing Act enacted in WWII. It has been a safe home and harbor for untold thousands of tenants for 80 years. It was home to my family long ago.

When we were living in Lanham/New Carrollton, Maryland in the early 1960s, my folks decided to drive out to the country for a look at a new Levitt & Sons community – “Belair At Bowie” – which was little more than seven model homes along Maryland’s Route 50 (now 450) near Bowie, Maryland.

Developer William “Bill” Levitt of Levittown fame knew what he was doing. What seemed a forgotten place in the middle of nowhere was opportunity waiting to be realized. Levitt purchased 17,000 acres of rich farmland that included the iconic Belair Mansion and stables that Levitt left untouched.

Levitt’s Belair was located where the new John Hanson Highway (Route 50) would unfold as the Washington-Annapolis Expressway at the intersection of Maryland’s Route 3/301 North to Baltimore. You could jump on the new Route 50 and be in D.C. in 30 minutes. Ditto for Baltimore and Annapolis.

Image Courtesy Sue Emery Manganaro, circa 1961, in the Somerset Section of a new Belair At Bowie community by Levitt & Sons.

The quiet and innocence wouldn’t last long. By 1966, Bowie was the fastest growing city in the United States, with more than 9,000 homes before Levitt wrapped in 1969. Belair was where I grew up and came of age in the 1970s. Those who never left Bowie wonder what happened to the relative peace and quiet of suburbia.