After the 1986 referendum, Evanston officials figured the fuss over the Northwestern University/Evanston Research Park had ended. Four years ago, Evanstonians proved so enthusiastic about the 24-acre mixed-use development that they voted by a two-to-one margin to break ground on the site without delay, not even for an environmental-impact study.
“Destroying Levy means spending another four to six million in tax dollars to build another center in an out-of-the-way location, and it doesn’t make any sense,” says Sidney Zwick, leader of a group called the Independent Senior Citizens of Evanston. “It’s a waste of money and effort.”
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Zwick is an inveterate crusader–a 64-year-old retired Chicago public school teacher, prolific writer of letters to the editor, and organizer of ad hoc groups. He has not had much success in stopping the park’s growth. But his efforts reflect the longtime resentments of many Evanston residents toward Northwestern University.
School officials brag about their close ties to Evanston, classes taught by university students at Evanston Township High School, the $1.72 million the school pays each year in city water, sewer, and utility fees, and the untold millions faculty and students deposit in local businesses.
“That was an ill-conceived proposal,” says Jeff Smith, an Evanston resident and Northwestern graduate. “It was antieducation, antibusiness, antistudent and made Evanston a laughingstock nationwide. I won’t disagree that Northwestern has the capability to be rapacious and arrogant. I can remember when former president [Robert] Strotz said, ‘Students are customers; if they don’t like it here, they can go somewhere else.’ But there must be better ways to channel your protest.”
To cover its costs, Evanston issued bonds, to be paid with the higher property taxes generated from the site. As with all projects of this sort, there was a risk that the research park would not generate an increase in property value (in which case, Evanston would pay back the bonds with money from its general revenues). But officials decided it was a risk worth taking, and so far the land has increased from roughly $1.8 million to $8.2 million in value.
“If it means lying in front of the bulldozers [to block the move],” added Zwick’s wife, Rosemary, “this local yokel will do it.”
