Antonina Jones, with great grandson Jaylen Smith, said she started going to neighborhood meetings about a year ago.
(Matthew J. Lee/ Globe Staff)
Hyde Park street’s squeaky wheel gets results
Neighborhood sees city answer its calls
Antonina Jones, with great grandson Jaylen Smith, said she started going to neighborhood meetings about a year ago.
(Matthew J. Lee/ Globe Staff)
Seminole is a nondescript two-block street that connects bustling Wood Avenue and Cummins Highway in Hyde Park. For years, no one paid it much mind: not the drivers who zipped along it on their way somewhere else, not the troublemakers who loitered on sidewalks taking swigs from bottles, and not the city, which seemed to have forgotten it was there.
Residents had long kept quiet about the cracks in the sidewalks, the wayward chickens, even the suspected prostitutes who roamed the night.
But Seminole is silent no longer. Residents, calling themselves The Gatekeepers have become very noisy, capturing the attention, and cellphone number, of their city councilor, Rob Consalvo, and of City Hall. Suddenly, things are getting done. Sidewalks have been repaired and stop signs installed to slow drivers. Even the chickens that roamed the street clucking and leaving droppings in yards are gone.
Emboldened, residents are now setting their sights higher and hoping that their newfound voice can restore Seminole to long-gone days when the street was a domestic haven where parents watched their children play basketball on the street.
“You know the old saying: The squeaky wheel gets the most oil,’’ said Antonina Jones, a 34-year resident who started going to neighborhood meetings a year ago. “You can sit at home and complain to your husband and your kids, but nothing will get done.’’
The turnaround on Seminole highlights a quiet problem in certain forgotten corners of Boston that tend to fly under the radar. Residents in some of those places may fear their complaints would be dismissed or ignored, or for other reasons they simply never alert city officials. Though Hyde Park, which has a population of more than 30,000, saw its residents turning out in droves during the mayoral election, relatively few - particularly in immigrant areas - picked up a phone to complain about problems.
According to figures from the mayor’s 24-hour call center, Hyde Park has lagged behind Dorchester, Roxbury, Jamaica Plain, and East Boston in citizen calls so far this year.
Consalvo, the Hyde Park councilor, said the call center’s figures do not tell the whole story. He said his cellphone is abuzz with calls from residents all over Hyde Park who are joining neighborhood groups and want to get things done, including many on Seminole.
But he concedes that some people have stayed silent or complained among themselves rather than raising the issues with authorities.
“I think more people should call,’’ said Consalvo. “That is what we are here for. We are always open for business.’’
Seminole Street residents have now become frequent customers.
They have called.
And called.
When Marcus Owens, the president of the Gatekeepers Neighborhood Association, woke up one recent morning and saw that a city crew had hoisted a “Slow Down’’ sign atop a “Stop’’ sign, he got on the phone.
Soon a traffic engineer was on the street, pulling up in a Transportation Department sedan to see for himself.
“Does that look right to you?’’ Owens asked. “It’s just confusing.’’
Within hours, the problem was fixed.
Gloria Brown used to call about the speeding drivers who repeatedly slammed into her family’s cars at the corner of Wood and ripped off the side mirrors. She would call about the condoms and wrappers littering the area. But when she got little help, she stopped calling.
“You just get tired of them saying there is nothing they can do,’’ said Brown, who has lived on the street for 30 years and is not active in the Gatekeepers.
When the neighborhood group was formed two years ago, Brown said, signs went up and drivers were forced to halt.
“It really helped,’’ said Brown.
Kenol Pierre, a retired teacher from Haiti, said he is now more active than he’s ever been in his 20 years on the street.
He used to grumble to his colleague about the rampant drinking near his house, but now he talks to his neighbors and calls his city councilor.
When a neighbor across the street began raising chickens last year, he helped to quash the whole operation.
“I was just afraid to get involved,’’ he said, recalling how he used to be. “We have been trying to see what we can do to change the neighborhood, to make it like it used to be: quiet.’’
Meghan Irons can be reached at mirons@globe.com. ![]()



