This is where I grew up… and over the past decade, a little bit is erased away each day. It used to not have much significance in my life. After all, I knew this would come… ‘they’ have been talking about it ever since the early 90s. Even then, even when they took my friends’ houses, or the house where my cousins lived, or my teacher’s house… I was still too young to grasp it… too young to sit up and pay attention…. to care. It wasn’t until I saw the wrecking crew blow through my old bedroom on October 24th, 2006 when finally it all came slamming into my face- this place, this land was all I ever really known. My house, my friends’ and my families’ homes, my sidewalks, pools, parks, churches, schools, businesses… everything… gone. Soon, I will never be able to come back to this place again. If I have kids, I will never be able to show them where I came from. They will never know the place where I once played… the place where I once dreamed of one day leaving… This place that now I come back to wonder what exactly happened… and why.
This place was once a subdivision called Carrollton, located in Bridgeton, MO. It was one of the first planned communities in the U.S. that made sure to include green space, parks, schools, churches, and a community center in its development. Lambert International Airport made a proposal to the city of St. Louis to expand beyond its boundaries and build a new runway. This was pushed because, at the time, St. Louis was a hub for TWA. Despite the fledgling airline industry, the cause for eminent domain was issued in the direction of Bridgeton, including much of the city and all of the Carrollton subdivision. Although fought hard by community residents who formed a group called, “The Bridgeton Air Defense” and a number of legal battles that stretched decades, Lambert ultimately won and started taking homes as early as 1992. 2,000 structures, 2,000 parcels of land have become or will be soon property of Lambert International.
For almost 5 years, every tree in our subdivision was tied with yellow ribbons to show solidarity against the large airport. This gesture was to demonstrate how we were being taken hostage. As a kid, I really thought somehow the little guys would win and we all would get to stay. To a kid, it didn’t make any sense for someone who didn’t want to move to be forced out of their home, and there were a LOT of people who did not want to move. As I got older, school became more important than little issues like bureaucracy, even if it meant my mom’s house at stake. By the time I was old enough to realize that the concrete was creeping in to the edge of the subdivision where we lived… it was too late to care. Or, so I thought, until last year. Watching my own house go down, I realized that the remaining homes needed to be documented too. So, for the past year, I have been watching and photographing what little remains of the original 2,000. As of today, October 9th, 2007… only 56 houses are left.
So, this is their stories… along with the stories of the houses that went down since my own.
I don’t think I will ever understand why an entire community was torn apart for an airport that lost its hub status only a few years into the expansion plan… and for new runway that is only being used 5% of the time. What I do understand is the human tendency to hang on to the past, even if only fragile tangible fragments are left.
Once the 56 are gone… it will be time to move on.
I really like the last line you wrote there. It’s startlingly true.
This has been the most fascinating and tragic discovery I have made in recent memory. I cannot thank you enough for your documentation on this.
I grew up in Maryland Heights, and my parents had several friends who lived in Carrollton. Being only 24 now, I barely remember the yellow ribbons and talk of airport expansion, as our friends were some of the first to relocate in the mid 90’s.
I recently found myself at the entrance to Carrollton, and I recalled all of the controversy. Driving through what is left filled me with such sadness and reawakened what few memories I had of this forsaken existence.
I am grateful for your photos, and especially for your eloquent prose.
I think that we ought to try and get Sufjan Stevens to make an album about it…. It’s right up his alley.
Regards,
Zach
Thank you!
Ahh… now how do we get Surfjan to take note? : ) That would be amazing!
I have always wondered how the younger generation (you’re 6 years younger than I) handled the buyout. I moved out when I went to college as well as all my friends, so we weren’t around during the main activity. It was only during occasional weekends home that we noticed, “hey- so and so’s old house is gone.” The younger Carrollton kids who were still going to school during this whole thing were losing friends left and right- not to mention having their own schools torn down and kids relocating to different elementary schools. Imagine being the only kid left on your street for a year or more.
Thank you Zach for your input!
Anyone have a take on this?
I knew you’d know who Sufjan was! Thank goodness good music spans into the ‘older’ generation as well… (I’m jesting here, of course.)
Heck, if he’s planning on doing a Missouri album, then this WILL be on it. I’ll see to it personally.
What struck me most about Carrollton - and what intensified my emotional response - was just how similar (even identical) it was in layout and architecture to the home I am still able to visit. My parents live in Wildflower subdivision in Maryland Heights, and most of my friends lived in Seven Pines or Old Farm Estates. If you ever visit these areas (especially Old Farm) you will note the similarities.
I cannot begin to fathom what goes on in the mind of an adolescent when the place that they call home - the only source of stability - is slowly eroded in such a grotesque manner.