June 14, 2017 Article

The Old Coot reads the signs.

By Merlin Lessler

First, comes the “official” greeting, “Welcome to Historic Owego – Founded 1787,” a nice wooden sign by the side of the road, nestled in a bed of shrubs, annuals and perennials maintained by the Rotary Club. Then, for the next quarter of a mile, the real “welcome” signs appear, the ones that tell you what’s going on in this, “Coolest Small Town in America:” a spaghetti dinner on Saturday night at the Elks Club, the Strawberry Festival coming up in a few short weeks, sign-ups for soccer, Little League and the like, a play at the Ti-Ahwaga Playhouse this weekend, a series of slow – turtle crossing notices. It’s a continuously changing landscape of signage that keeps both the residents and travelers aware of pending events in town.

I’m sure that sign control zealots do not approve. There is no uniformity in size, lettering or placement. It’s a hodgepodge! That’s what makes it so wonderful. The ultimate freedom of speech exhibition, unencumbered by bureaucratic interference. It’s also the life blood of the organizations that use this stretch of road to advertise (17C, coming in from the east). Without this communication mechanism, their success would be limited. It’s more effective communication that what you get on Facebook, Twitter and other forms of social media. Heck, it’s right there in your face, every time you drive into town.

To me, it’s a trip through a Norman Rockwell painting. minus the whimsical Burma Shave signs that added such enjoyment to a drive, those half dozen, low to the ground placards in a row with a clever pitch to buy Burma Shave: “When you lay – Those few cents down – You’ve bought – The smoothest - Shave in town – Burma Shave” (a sample from 1953).  

These, and other roadside decorations (signs), kept us informed of what each town had to offer. But, along came the four-lane highway system and Lady Bird Johnson’s campaign to rid roadways of “ugly” signs (and auto salvage yards) enacted into law when her husband Lyndon Johnson signed the bill in 1965. Down came the billboards and other signage, out went the information of what lies ahead, replaced by uniform, boring, “beauty approved” landscaping, grasses and trees. Gone, was the “Alphabet Game” that kept antsy kids in the back seat occupied, looking for a sign with A, B, C, etc., trying to be the first to work their way from A to Z,

Now, we’re stuck with sameness, uniform signage, leading up to exit ramps, informing us what gas stations, hotels and restaurants are available. Mostly of the national chain variety. Very few of the local places, that any townie could tell you, has the best apple pie or hot roast beef sandwiches. So, while you still can, drive around small-town America, and soak in the artwork and local flavor that gives demonstrable substance to our First Amendment rights.

Comments? Complaints? Send to – mlessler7@gmail.com