When Tom Condon retired in 2015 after 45 years at The Hartford Courant, few people expected him to really retire. A civically engaged, good-humored writer and thinker, Condon found life just too interesting to leave unexamined. He began writing for The Connecticut Mirror within weeks, and over the following nine years, Condon wrote dozens of stories on a huge range of topics.  Condon’s imprimatur on a story is unmistakable. He wrote with unaffected elegance, dropping bon mots like breadcrumbs, gently encouraging readers along, allowing them to be as enchanted by the story as he was. Credit: CT Mirror Enchanted they were. Condon’s stories routinely racked up more page views than many other stories on this website. How that happened was a bit of a head-scratcher at times. Even if he were writing about a pile of rocks in Canton, which he did more than once, readers would home in on it by the thousands. He was the print version of Bob Steele. For his editors, having a “Tom evergreen in the can” (translation: a story authored by Condon that didn’t have a pressing news hook, gently edited and ready to go but able to be held until needed — and sure to be a great read) relieved a fair amount of deadline pressure. Condon turned out the evergreens, one after another, until this past July. When he died in September, Condon left a legacy of authoritative journalism. Here are some highlights. Niagara water In the mid-2010s, the Metropolitan District Commission approved a deal that would let the Niagara bottling company in Bloomfield take up to 1.8 million gallons of water per day from the regional water authority. It didn’t sit well with residents. Condon took a step back from the daily coverage provided by other media and put it in context. Bottling plant a wake-up call on state water There hadn’t been a major drought since the 1960s, though there were smaller ones in the 1970s and early 1980s. The state was water-rich, or so went conventional wisdom, so no one thought much about it. People turned on the tap, nice clean water came out, life went on. But several events in this century, here and across the country, have drawn attention to the state’s water situation. The Bloomfield controversy was one, as was the Flint, Mich., water crisis which came to light in 2014. Two other state incidents involved the University of Connecticut. In 2005, UConn pumped too much groundwater from its well fields, causing part of the nearby Fenton River to go dry. This embarrassment — fish died — was a wake-up call. Henning and Birch Over the course of decades, Condon wrote about the case of Shawn Henning and Ralph “Ricky” Birch, convicted of murder in the mid-1980s. Condon had his doubts about the case from the beginning, when he was a columnist at The Courant. In 2017, Condon wrote this story, summarizing in detail the weaknesses of the case. The men’s convictions were eventually overturned, and they recently settled a lawsuit with the state.  Bloody murder: Were teens wrongly convicted? Shawn Henning sits at a long, cafeteria-style table in the Enfield Correctional Center. He is emotional, near tears. “I wasted my life in here,” he said, flicking his head at the prison surroundings. “It was wasted time for nothing.” “Damn.” A few tears come. … Birch said he sometimes has the chance to speak to teenagers and cites himself as an example of how doing things that aren’t right can lead to more serious trouble. He firmly insists he didn’t commit the murder, but adds, “It was my own bad choices that got me here. If I hadn’t done the other crimes, I wouldn’t have been a suspect.” Henning is getting along as well. He said he is working in a garden, is involved in the Prison Arts Program, and hasn’t had a disciplinary citation or “ticket” in more than 20 years. There is one thing he is bitter about. “My grandmother was the only person in my life,” he said. “That they used her to convict me was wrong.” And, a few more tears. Older man, newer car It’s hard to imagine that electric cars were a novelty as recently as six years ago. But Condon’s first spin in a Tesla — he was in his early 70s at the time — led to a story in which he unleashed his inner “gee-whiz” and took readers along for a delightful ride. Eat my dust, Maserati Disabuse yourself of the notion, if you entertain it, that electric cars are elaborate golf carts that can barely get out of their own way. That is not the case, by a long shot. I took a short spin in a Tesla Model 3, driving through the streets of West Hartford and on I-84. I now see why people like Teslas. The interior is unlike that of any car I’ve ever seen. There is no dashboard filled with dials and switches, just a giant touchscreen, from which nearly every function — turning on the A/C, looking at a map, etc. — except actual driving is controlled. It’s wild. I drive a 10-year-old Prius. I love it; it drives beautifully and has saved me a bundle on gas over the years. But it would barely beat a recumbent tricycle off the line. Imagine my surprise when I hit the Tesla’s gas pedal and my head snapped back. Urban ills Just before the pandemic changed everything, Condon took a smart and critical look at the population growth in Downtown Hartford, raising issues that are still present years later (even though the 2020-21 downturn did turn down the heat on the housing boom): “How can cities share the new-found wealth, bring some of the downtown prosperity to distressed neighborhoods, and revive themselves in such a way that all residents benefit?” Reviving cities must include the excluded A quarter century ago, downtown Hartford was 8/5 rather than 24/7. People drove in for work or UConn games and then headed back to the suburbs. It was hard to even buy a cup of coffee on weekends. That has changed. With 1,500 new apartments completed or in construction, a new UConn branch, new transportation options and minor league baseball, the downtown area is coming back to life. But just blocks from the theaters and elegant restaurants are some of the poorest neighborhoods in the state. Town and gown Through the years, Condon was tuned in to urban design and its shortcomings. His column at The Courant, called “Place,” focused on much of that. In this story, he looked at the role played by some of Connecticut’s universities in the cities they call home. Colleges help drive urban revival, but town-gown relationships can be fraught In the late 1990s, Connecticut College president Claire Gaudiani made a major investment of college funds into revitalizing downtown New London. Long story short: it failed. The college lost money and she lost her job. Connecticut College isn’t alone. Wesleyan partnered with the city and a community agency in 2005 to start — and pay for — an arts-oriented school, the Green Street Teaching and Learning Center, in the city’s North End. It never became financially self-sufficient, as was hoped, and closed last year. Also, raucous behavior by students living in off-campus housing has been a periodic nails-on-the-blackboard nuisance in some college-town neighborhoods. Walkable cities One aspect of the pandemic that was positive for many was the sudden lack of traffic. The idea of “slow streets” — some avenues closed to vehicles, some with traffic-calming devices — gave Condon an opportunity to put his practiced eye on another approach to urban renewal. ‘Slow streets’ slow to catch on in Connecticut It’s spring in the pandemic, and lots of people are outside enjoying what few public activities are allowed: walking, biking, jogging, pushing wheelchairs, riding scooters or skateboards. There are individuals, couples and a lot of family groups: often an adult on a big bike followed by children on small bikes, like ducklings on wheels. While they move along, these folks are trying to keep socially distant from one another to avoid the possible drift of coronavirus. So, many are hopping off the sidewalk and spreading into the streets. Cities across the country, from Boston and Providence to Oakland and Seattle, have made it easier and safer for pandemic pedestrians by temporarily closing some streets to through traffic. This ad hoc movement, going on across the world as well, is known variously as Slow Streets, Open Streets or Healthy Streets. … The idea has not caught on yet in Connecticut, however. A few streets in a few cities have been converted to public spaces, but that’s pretty much it. Pandemic points to disparities At the height of the pandemic, as immunizations were just becoming available, Condon read a Federal Reserve report that led to a local look at a much broader problem: “Black-owned businesses, which are vital to inclusive growth, have taken a much harder hit from the pandemic than companies overall.” Minority businesses: Wounded by COVID, but key to inclusive revival Tia Woods had been the coordinator of a dance program. It closed but left her with space in East Hartford. She had a business idea: Woods, who is Black, knew many minority artisans needed space to show and sell their products. So in February 2019, she created what she called a “modern consignment boutique” called “ITS the Room,” a kind of mini-mall where minority entrepreneurs, crafters and artists could set up shop. After a year, things looked promising. She had as many as 18 vendors, and people were coming in the door. “We were doing well. I was learning marketing, figuring it out,” she said in a recent telephone interview. But then the coronavirus arrived. The ‘traprock ridge’ Progress and tradition met again in Canton in 2021, this time in the context of an environmentally questionable gas station project and a rocky outcrop by the side of the road. Condon wrote about it in a way that made the issue recognizable in every Connecticut hamlet. Canton controversy highlights statewide land use challenges Two decades ago, drivers entering Canton from the east on Route 44 were greeted by a picturesque little golf course on the left and an 18th-century farmstead on the right. It felt like the country, small-town Connecticut. Shortly thereafter, over the objection of many residents, these welcoming features were lost: The golf course was paved over for a mall, and the white farmhouse was replaced by a chain pharmacy. So for many residents, the new symbolic gateway to the town became a wooded traprock ridge that looms over Route 44 further east, near the border with Simsbury. But that landmark is also now in jeopardy. A developer, Mark Greenberg, has proposed blasting and excavating part of the ridge for a 20-dispenser gas station, electric vehicle showroom and convenience store. “I can’t believe we’re going through this again,” said Jane Latus, who heads a citizen’s group, Canton Advocates for Responsible Expansion. Cut off Condon’s interest in urban design — and its catastrophic mistakes — often took him to the question of Connecticut cities along the Connecticut River, cut off from the water by one highway or another. In this 2021 story, Condon put the microscope to the issue in Hartford and Middletown. Getting back to the river: A tale of two Connecticut cities It sometimes seems that the second 50 years after World War II are being spent correcting the mistakes of the first postwar half-century. One was situating highways so they blocked cities from their waterfronts, as happened in Hartford and Middletown. … In retrospect, it seems crazy for a city to wall off its river or harbor, given the myriad economic, aesthetic and recreational advantages of waterfront access. But early highway builders weren’t thinking about community impact, they were thinking about moving cars. … Having built the highways along waterfronts, it didn’t take that long for cities to ask: What were we thinking? Changes in farming, and farmers As agriculture has changed in Connecticut, its farmers haven’t: They’re still mostly older and white. But Condon learned of an effort to diversify the ranks of Connecticut farmers, and his story shows how many things have changed over the years. CT agriculture: New crops, new technologies, (many) old farmers On an early fall day in 2014, more than 300 guests convened at the University of Connecticut to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the UConn Extension, the program that brings agricultural research, education and other services to the state’s farmers and gardeners.  The festivities included a dinner in which all the food — vegetables, herbs, seafood, poultry, wine, cheese, fruit, and even a special “Centennial Crunch” ice cream — was grown and produced in Connecticut.  Two or three decades earlier, such a locally sourced spread would not have been possible; many of those things either weren’t grown in quantity or weren’t grown at all here.  But agriculture has been changing in Connecticut, a quiet revolution that’s not just about legal marijuana. As the UConn banquet demonstrated, there are changes in what is grown. Along with traditional dairy, orchard fruits, tobacco and ornamentals, growers are now producing everything from kohlrabi to kelp, choi to chard, and many others. … The thing that hasn’t much changed is who farms. The industry skews older and overwhelmingly white. … The state needs new farmers because many of the incumbents are not, as French farmers might say, poulets de printemps. According to an American Farmland Trust study, the average age of a Connecticut farmer is 58. Keeping the quaint When Condon heard of an effort to remove a tree that had been growing in the middle of a road for 150 years, he knew he had a charmer of a story. But he expanded it to discuss other local Connecticut oddities and the efforts to preserve them. A tree grows in Canton, and it’s not the only preserved quirk in CT The town of Canton has an arboreal oddity, a tree growing right in the middle of a road. The tree, a sturdy, stately sycamore planted in the 19th century, stands in the center of West Mountain Road just before its “T” intersection with Cherry Brook Road in the semi-rural Canton Center area. Traffic enters West Mountain Road on one side of the tree and exits on the other. Is it a nuisance or an asset? That question played out this spring. Some town officials saw it as a possible hazard and wanted to take it down. But more than 200 residents rose and said, in the words of the poem, “Woodman, spare that tree!”  Four corners A four-way intersection isn’t really a Connecticut oddity, but they do tend to become local landmarks (Mansfield and Salem have villages named after them). So a broad move to adopt roundabouts, or rotaries, into local thoroughfares caught Condon’s eye. This story began with classic deadpan Condon. Four Corners no more: CT turning some intersections into roundabouts The intersection of Routes 82 and 85 in Salem, sometimes called the Four Corners, used to have a lot of crashes, many of them serious. Now it doesn’t. Tom’s last story The last piece Condon wrote for the CT Mirror, published in July, was written partially from his hospital bed as he fought a recurrence of cancer that had retreated years before. Condon never lost his enthusiasm for a heck of a story. This one, which blended history, quirkiness, land use issues and a court challenge, didn’t disappoint. Seaside Sanatorium sits silently by the Sound. Should it be saved? In the mid-1990s, Connecticut officials began the process of closing and disposing of the decaying but still imposing Seaside Regional Center campus in Waterford. It did close, in 1997, but it still has not been repurposed, reused or removed.  After nearly three decades of lawsuits, policy changes and the expenditure of millions of dollars, the state still owns the historic medical site. The main buildings still sit behind chain-link fences, worn and forlorn, but majestic in their way. Now a court action could resolve the question that’s been hanging over the complex for lo these many years: Can, and should, Seaside be saved?