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A bit of History: How green was my Rehovot
"Somewhere along the fress'n'dress strip of Herzl Street in Rehovot, a rotund, bearded jeweler named Aharon Meir talks obsessively, passionately, about a color. Not gold or silver. Green.
Not as in emeralds. As in grass.
"The municipality is promoting what it calls 'New Rehovot,' and it has the chutzpah to put up posters of beautiful green parkland. Problem is, there isn't any: they had to go to the Weizmann Institute and take pictures of grass over there."
Meir was perfectly happy with Old Rehovot, the way it used to be, when it was known as the Garden City. Now, it reflects its real name in its most literal sense: Roads. It's not that bad, really: any time Meir gets the urge to see foliage, he can walk a block and gape through the window of the florist.
"Ach, it used to be beautiful here. Trees and grass, little parks all over the center of town. And on the outer perimeters, farmlands, orchards." A consortium of locals, the Rehovoti'im, has banded together to do something about it; and says one group activist, Yehuda Efroni, it has the sympathies of two city councilors, Yisrael Azrieli and Rabbi Moshe Buxboim.
According to studies done in American urban centers, "an area the size of central Rehovot must have 300-400 dunam of greenland," says Efroni. "All we have left now is one [34-dunam] plot."
And that's about to vanish too: the city has decided to build on this last refuge: five 15-story apartment blocks. That galvanized a dozen outraged residents to act. Responding directly to the municipality's hunger for green -- as in money, that is -- the Rehovoti'im came up with an alternative.
"We offered a solution: that public money could purchase the plot to keep the park intact," Efroni says. The municipality did not think much of the idea. "The mayor said, 'OK, for $25 million you can have it.'" Meir snorts derisively. "Twenty-five million!"
"Maybe we should ask the UN to debate the matter," injects a man browsing in his shop. Efroni, a former city councilor, explains that half the plot was leased to the city in 1948 by Agudat Maccabi. That 49-year lease is set to expire in July. Both Efroni and Meir stress the volte face of councilors Azrieli and Buxboim, who now admit it was hasty to give the green light to build there. "They now want the issue reexamined," says Efroni. Kobi Bookay, spokesman for Mayor Ya'acov Sandler, sees red when the subject of green comes up.
"It's not green! It's a garbage dump, a haven for hookers and drug addicts. We're clearing a dump and building homes, sports fields, a cultural center, a garden, cafes. It's going to be lovely. But these Rehovoti'im are opposed. They were opposed to the mall, which I think is the nicest in Israel. They're opposed to all development in Rehovot. They want to see Rehovot as a village.
"This is a matter of progress versus stagnation." Bookay admits the center is overdeveloped, but that's the fault of former mayor Shmuel Rechtman -- whose dealings with developers in the 1970s landed him in jail for three years. "Twenty-two gardens were built in the center in the last two years," says Bookay, "but this isn't enough for them, they say the gardens are too small."
This matter has been in the courts for 10 years, he says. "If we wanted to build a park there, we'd have to give Maccabi $8 million, and a park would cost another $3 million. We don't have that kind of money. "Everybody approved the plans, everybody but two of 21 councilors and these Rehovoti'im. I don't see them doing anything positive for the city, all they do is sit around and get passersby to sign petitions." Even in the unlikely event of a victory, the activists have already lost a lot of ground. No building will be torn down to put up a tree. Over where the old bus station used to be, resident Edythe Friedlander casts a forlorn look at a new building. "There was a bit of grass here, and some park benches. It was a nice, quiet spot where the old men used to come and sit, get some sun, talk politics. For some of them, this was a precious spot, their only reason for getting up in the morning and getting out of the house. You don't see those old people anymore, anywhere. They have nowhere to go."
Care to guess what was built in its place? You got it: Mc-you-know-who. "
Source: Sam Orbaum. How green was my Rehovot. Jerusalem Post (1 June 1997) [Search FullText]
Not as in emeralds. As in grass.
"The municipality is promoting what it calls 'New Rehovot,' and it has the chutzpah to put up posters of beautiful green parkland. Problem is, there isn't any: they had to go to the Weizmann Institute and take pictures of grass over there."
Meir was perfectly happy with Old Rehovot, the way it used to be, when it was known as the Garden City. Now, it reflects its real name in its most literal sense: Roads. It's not that bad, really: any time Meir gets the urge to see foliage, he can walk a block and gape through the window of the florist.
"Ach, it used to be beautiful here. Trees and grass, little parks all over the center of town. And on the outer perimeters, farmlands, orchards." A consortium of locals, the Rehovoti'im, has banded together to do something about it; and says one group activist, Yehuda Efroni, it has the sympathies of two city councilors, Yisrael Azrieli and Rabbi Moshe Buxboim.
According to studies done in American urban centers, "an area the size of central Rehovot must have 300-400 dunam of greenland," says Efroni. "All we have left now is one [34-dunam] plot."
And that's about to vanish too: the city has decided to build on this last refuge: five 15-story apartment blocks. That galvanized a dozen outraged residents to act. Responding directly to the municipality's hunger for green -- as in money, that is -- the Rehovoti'im came up with an alternative.
"We offered a solution: that public money could purchase the plot to keep the park intact," Efroni says. The municipality did not think much of the idea. "The mayor said, 'OK, for $25 million you can have it.'" Meir snorts derisively. "Twenty-five million!"
"Maybe we should ask the UN to debate the matter," injects a man browsing in his shop. Efroni, a former city councilor, explains that half the plot was leased to the city in 1948 by Agudat Maccabi. That 49-year lease is set to expire in July. Both Efroni and Meir stress the volte face of councilors Azrieli and Buxboim, who now admit it was hasty to give the green light to build there. "They now want the issue reexamined," says Efroni. Kobi Bookay, spokesman for Mayor Ya'acov Sandler, sees red when the subject of green comes up.
"It's not green! It's a garbage dump, a haven for hookers and drug addicts. We're clearing a dump and building homes, sports fields, a cultural center, a garden, cafes. It's going to be lovely. But these Rehovoti'im are opposed. They were opposed to the mall, which I think is the nicest in Israel. They're opposed to all development in Rehovot. They want to see Rehovot as a village.
"This is a matter of progress versus stagnation." Bookay admits the center is overdeveloped, but that's the fault of former mayor Shmuel Rechtman -- whose dealings with developers in the 1970s landed him in jail for three years. "Twenty-two gardens were built in the center in the last two years," says Bookay, "but this isn't enough for them, they say the gardens are too small."
This matter has been in the courts for 10 years, he says. "If we wanted to build a park there, we'd have to give Maccabi $8 million, and a park would cost another $3 million. We don't have that kind of money. "Everybody approved the plans, everybody but two of 21 councilors and these Rehovoti'im. I don't see them doing anything positive for the city, all they do is sit around and get passersby to sign petitions." Even in the unlikely event of a victory, the activists have already lost a lot of ground. No building will be torn down to put up a tree. Over where the old bus station used to be, resident Edythe Friedlander casts a forlorn look at a new building. "There was a bit of grass here, and some park benches. It was a nice, quiet spot where the old men used to come and sit, get some sun, talk politics. For some of them, this was a precious spot, their only reason for getting up in the morning and getting out of the house. You don't see those old people anymore, anywhere. They have nowhere to go."
Care to guess what was built in its place? You got it: Mc-you-know-who. "
Source: Sam Orbaum. How green was my Rehovot. Jerusalem Post (1 June 1997) [Search FullText]
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