Neighbors lose the chain-link and reconnect the community

Oxford Street resident Ruthie Ristich on her deck, overlooking a flowing space unhampered by fences; vines offer a soft definition of her property. "Everybody talks about this street," she said. (Justine Hunt/ Globe Staff)

It's leafy, lush, lined with pretty houses and gardens in bloom. But there's something especially inviting about Oxford Street in Somerville that you can't quite put your finger on.

Lawrence Paolella can. Driving along the street, the 70-year-old points animatedly at yards to his left and right. "Look at that one, or that one. What do you see? What don't you see?" he exclaims. "No fences!"

Paolella, originally from Brooklyn, built 25 parks in New York City during the last part of his career as an engineer/construction contractor. When he moved to Somerville in 1993, he began a campaign to strip down the chain-link fence that separates yards from passersby, neighbors from neighbors. The easiest way to make Somerville more attractive and green, according to Paolella, is to open it up. "Quality design helps set a standard for the community. And I don't mean expensive. I mean openness. Chain-link says stay away. It's harsh."

So far he's bulldozed, yanked, clipped, and talked down half a dozen fences.

The first fence was the hardest. The chain-link around Lawrence and Margaret Ryan's two-decker on Washington Street went down piece by piece: first the gate, to see if there would be problems (there were none) then the mesh; and finally, when they were convinced this was a good thing, the posts.

"All the work she put into the garden was more appreciated!" Paolella says of Margaret Ryan. "People would stop when she was watering. Conversations would start."

When the Ryans moved to Oxford Street, they not only yanked out their fences, but inspired four other neighbors to do the same. The five backyards now form a vista that rolls out a good 150 feet long by 50 feet deep, with ferns and hostas suggesting soft divisions between properties. Yet it's clear that each yard still has its individuality. Seating areas, footpaths, gardens, and even a wooden platform for yoga practice create a persona for each.

"Everybody talks about this street," says Ruthie Ristich, a longtime tenant on Oxford Street who happily removed the fence between her yard and her neighbor's. "There are bats here at night when the moon comes up. Crickets. You can hear the trees."

Over on Lexington Avenue, Jonathan Rich, his husband, Bill Bennett, and two neighbors removed their fences to create a three-backyard-wide swath of green. "It's not like my neighbor's pigs are going to dig up my potato patch," says Rich. "We didn't see a need for any defense."

Rich and his neighbors cut down the 3-foot-tall chain-link that separated their yards after sharing a bottle of wine on a warm summer evening two years ago. "It's remarkably easy to remove a chain-link fence," he laughs.

Now Rich's property, which he says used to look like a moonscape - half cracked-up concrete and half battered dirt - is planted with gardens and pathways that lead to the next yard, which spills into the next. Rich and Bennett have begun helping their neighbors create gardens as well.

But what about privacy?

For Rich and Bennett, shrubbery provides enough. Truth to tell, they enjoy their neighbors. Says Rich, "Bill and I encourage them to use our yard. The little kids two doors down are a delight to have around."

Paolella also finds privacy a nonissue. "We respect boundaries and privacy. It doesn't require a fence to do that."

Most of the fenceless folks suggest that it takes a certain amount of good relations to take a fence down in the first place. But even those who were friendly before their fences came down found that going fence-free deepened the bond with their neighbors.

Which leads to one of the best discoveries: Taking down the fences made these backyards safer.

Oxford Street resident Debra Wood says she was thrilled to jettison her chain-link, adding that the yard now feels more secure to her. "I know other people are watching, involved, familiar, tending. When you take fences down, it takes down other types of fences," says Wood.

Rich concurs: "Since we're sharing these spaces, we're out here more, and we'd notice if there were something amiss in each other's yards. We interact more."

But what about boundaries, that "good fences make good neighbors" thing?

Sheila Gilligan and John Corsetti's Highland Avenue home sees a massive amount of traffic, and Gilligan says she was nervous about removing the fence that protected her tiny front yard from people and bikes on the sidewalk. She was especially worried about dogs.

Happily, says Gilligan, "I can count on one finger how many times a dog has messed our yard. . . . And because the fence is down, we sit on the stoop more often and watch people go by. It opened up a social quality that we really like."

Yes, two tulips disappeared from her front yard garden every day one spring, but Gilligan just stopped planting tulips.

"Wouldn't it be great if everyone did this?" asks Gilligan. "What a beautiful city it would be."