AKIRA SUWA / Staff Photographer
Sandi Donato and Steve Redden protest, on West Chester Pike in Marple Township, a plan for 22 large billboards in Delaware County. The developer has signed leases at some properties.
Monica Yant Kinney: He calls it advertising; they say giant eyesores
Thaddeus Bartkowski III - the 28-year-old entrepreneur who calls his company B.I.G. - would rather I not write about the suburbanites fighting his plan to erect 22 humongous, double-sided billboards across Delaware County.
The conflict column, he warns me, is old news. Besides, what the locals want doesn't really matter.
Pennsylvania courts, Bartkowski contends, have long ruled that towns can't ban supersize advertising. Epic zoning battles like those raging in five Delco communities are, in Bartkowski's exalted opinion, expensive political theater staged to assuage angry residents and get officials reelected.
"All this noise, for lack of a better word, is irrelevant," Bartkowski tells me over a cup of hot tea at the King of Prussia Chili's.
The billboard developer is both brash and boyish, bearing a slight resemblance to the star of the High School Musical movies. A kid of the suburbs, he dropped out of Villanova to make his mark on the roads he travels. If only nostalgic old-timers weren't blocking his way.
"People make it sound like we're putting up a combination strip club, liquor store, and nuclear reactor at the end of Holly Lane," Bartkowski says wearily. "The reality is these are commercial districts. And they're just signs."
Look, up in the sky
Just signs? Sandi Donato and Steve Redden beg to differ. They're two of the statistics-citing citizen activists protesting B.I.G.'s billboards - 672 square feet, five stories high at the top, wide enough to hide an 18-wheeler - slated for Haverford, Marple, Newtown, and Springfield Townships and Morton Borough. (To see what opponents fear, go to http://sites.google.com/site/hugebillboards/ )
"No one wants these signs," says Donato, a third-generation Haverford resident.
"The character of the suburbs is not here by accident," adds Redden, a Marple retiree. "It's a tragedy for someone to come in and try to exploit it."
Bartkowski may not care about how his business imposes on would-be customers, but he can hardly be blamed for spying a moneymaking opportunity in traffic jams.
The 21-mile Blue Route - billboard-free, by law - regularly gets so crowded that commuters flee to secondary roads like Baltimore Pike, West Chester Pike, and Lancaster Avenue. More drivers mean more eyeballs for advertisers.
Bartkowski signed long-term leases with property owners happy to hand over concrete for cash. But officials "laughed" when he explained his plan. So he sued.
Size matters
Attorney Jim Byrne represents Haverford and Springfield, which allow outdoor advertising but balk at billboards. He argues that regulation is a legal means to protect residents' health and welfare.
"A guy who wants to put up a small grocery store at the corner of his block might be able to do that," he explains. "But if he wants to put in a super-megastore that's going to dwarf the whole block, the township would be allowed to say no."
Opening a B.I.G. binder, Bartkowski reads me court rulings suggesting that billboard developers always win these fights.
"The case law," he says confidently, "is clear." He thinks he'll get what he wants, eventually. He suspects the lawyers and pols know it.
I'm not so sure, but I agree with Bartkowski on one key point: His billboards would scarcely be the first visual distraction assaulting the good people of Delaware County.
Donato's home is her refuge, but it's three blocks from a strip mall.
On a driving tour, Redden points out "my little kingdom," the dry cleaner, pharmacy, and pizza shop he frequents on foot. To get there, he has to cross busy West Chester Pike - hardly a grassy meadow.
"You want to talk about aesthetics?" Bartkowski asks. "In one 2.8-mile stretch of Baltimore Pike, there are 482 on-premise signs. I counted them myself. That's one sign every 31 feet!"
So Delaware County is hardly pastoral. So what, Donato rebuts.
"We are a commercial corridor, but there are homes here," she says. "Living near shopping is a plus. Billboards are punishment. They are huge versions of the Valpaks I get in the mail."
At least junk mail can be recycled. What can you do with a billboard besides look away?
Contact Monica Yant Kinney
or 215-854-4670.
Read her recent work at http://go.philly.com/yantkinney.
