The Key West citizen. [volume] (Key West, Fla.) 1879-current, 1952-01-08
Daniel Boone
of Today Is
A Suburbanite'
Says The Average
Suburbanite Believes
City Is Not Place To
Raise Children
sy HAL BOYLE

NEW YORK R-The Daniel
Boone of today is the suburbanite.
He inhabits Americas last from
tier-the suburbs. And it is the
only frontier in our cOuntry's his
tory that is increasing instead of
dwindling.
A suburb is one OF those vague
populated places you get lost IN
when you drive out of big city.
Where they come from nobody
knows, but every year motorists
report more and more of them.
They usually bear such quaint
names as Quagmire Heights or
Swampville. There seems to be no
particular reason why they spring
up in any one place. There is a
report that once a railroad train
pulling out Of a city paused cour-
teously to let a cow cross the
track. Before the train started up
some enterprising real estate deal
er wandered by, stuck up sign
saying Bovine Meadows. and
started selling lots TO the passen-
gers.
Suburbs vary, but they usually
have these things in common: An
antique store, two liquor stores,
four real estate offices, one taxi
you can never get when you need
it, and railroad station that closes
on cold nights whenever the ticket
seller sees a lone wayfarer who
wants to come in and get warm.
You also usually find fresh
cemetery in an older suburb be.
cause the natives don't like the
idea of having the newcomers
buried beside their own vanished
kin. They figure it is bad enough
that they have to live with these
Johnny come latelys-but why
should a real oldtimer have tC
share his graveyard, too?
The average suburbanite be-
comes one because he feels 'tht
city is no place to raise chilCren.
So he buys brightly painted home
in the suburbs too big for doll
house and too small TO shelter
st. Bernard dog.
Here he and his happy swarm
ing brood live in the same kline
of intimacy and harmony visible
in a wrestling ring.
He becomes pilgrim between
his home in the hinterland and his
desk in the city, and he is pris'
oner of the railroad that links
them. There are two big events in
his year-the days when they
change the timetables and provide
him with new reading matter.
The suburbanite has all the pains
of a farmer and few of the joys
of the urban dweller. In summer
he comes to work bee-stung and
over-borne with poison ivy, com
planning, "A new bug ruined my
garden last night. | fed DOT to
the bugs and they just cried for
more
Winter strikes him with q pecul.
lar virulence. He finds that the
only thing free in the suburbs is
air, and sometimes there is too
much of il after October. But when
he staggers into work on January
mornings, pinching his frostbitten
nose and ears, he only mutters
manfully:
MY, the fresh air was like
vine,
Bad weather SHOWS him in, debt
SHOWS him under. He thought tax
es would be low when he moved
TO the suburbs, but that was be-
fore the City Council decided Ia
pave the streets and build new
high school.
| Dut sUuf tue Suuui oaihtC ID q
hardy soul. He is as much of a
frontiersman as Daniel Boone or
Kit Carson. They at least had a
knife. There is nothing between
him and disaster but his wits
and a cold paper mortgage.
He got out of the city because
the traffic drove him crazy and
finds that it is as hard 10 park
a car in a suburban shopping dis
trict as it is in Times Square. He
yearned for neighborliness. and
the guy who moves in next door
buys a dog to bite his children.
The suburbanite gamely sticks il
out. however, until the mortgage
is paid and the kids reared. Then
he sells his house TO new from
tiersman, and tells his wife:
Come on, honey, let's move
back to the city--and start living
again"
And ever after that If you men
ton fresh air to him he gets vio-
lently i'll. for when a man retires
from the frautier he leaves il for