Editor’s note: A previous version of this editorial referred to Riverside’s board as its council. We have made the correction and apologize for the error.
We have another chapter in our imagined book called “That’s So Riverside!”
The village board and village president spent considerable time last week, and its various commissions and staff have spent considerable time over the past year, exploring, discussing, considering, ragging on, what seem to be called “feather signs.”
What’s a feather sign? You could read our news story, which quotes the village’s definition of such a sign. Suffice it to say, it is a stick with an ad on it, which may or may not wave if the prevailing wind is just right.
Cut to the chase and the final, very split vote of the board, with the president as tiebreaker, to allow such signs to be displayed by local businesses in designated zoning areas. The business may unfurl their feather for a maximum of 30 days per year. And yes, the dates chosen for unfurling must be designated in advance along with the requisite permitting process.
The “no” votes on the board were not casual thumb-downs. There is passion in the objections. The signs are not aesthetically pleasing to the eye of one board member. Our residents will not be amused, they concluded. The village cannot regulate the content or design of the signs, said another. And by golly, we took a good hard look at the sign ordinance 12 years ago. Come back to us at the century’s midpoint and we’ll think about it then, was the implication against being hasty.
“Act in haste. Repent in leisure.” Could be the village’s new motto.
We well remember the “Petunia War” of 1998 when public works planted perky, festive petunias in Downtown Riverside. Olmsted didn’t OK any perky petunias, was the swift response of the Frederick Law Olmsted Society and so they were ripped out by their roots. The Landscape Advisory Commission later issued the list of a dozen approved perennials and annuals that could inhabit a space but not call attention to themselves.
“No vivid colors, or plants of an exotic nature,” was the dictum.
There was the master gardener in town who planted hibiscus in his parkway. But not for long. Both vivid and maybe a little exotic, the village allowed the plants to bloom before they had to be removed. Generous.
Then there was the intense debate a few years ago over sidewalk replacement protocols. And even here we may err on the “Riverside as a museum” side of the equation. The village decided to spend more money to replace sidewalk squares with what is called “exposed aggregate concrete,” you know, the sidewalks where the pebbles are visible.
Riverside is a very special village. Efforts to keep it that way are worthy. Avoiding sucking all the oxygen out of the place is also worthy.
