By Ann Cameron Siegal
Special to The Washington Post
Saturday, May 21, 2005
When Paul and Ila Myers were looking for a place to retire, they didn't plan to look at Georgetown, Del.
The couple, residents of New Carrollton for 28 years, vacationed on the Delaware coast often and knew they wanted to live in Sussex County. They spent months house hunting in 1999, but avoided Georgetown because of its visually jumbled commercial gateway and pockets of blight.
However, after completing a visitor survey on one trip to Delaware, they received a call from a Georgetown real estate agent, just as Ila Myers had found an Internet ad for a house in the town.
Now Paul Myers, after a 33-year NASA career, has retirement on hold and is beginning his second term on Georgetown's town council.
The people of the little town (population 5,000) made the difference. "They know a stranger when they see one, but it doesn't take them long to adopt you," he said.
In 2004, Myers was appointed to fill a council vacancy. When the filing deadline rolled around this year, there were no opponents, so the election was canceled. Myers is still in office without ever having mounted a campaign.
The town has adopted other Washington area transplants, including John Christensen, who was in the first graduating class of Centreville High in 1991, and Jean-Eric Lemieux, former owner of a restaurant in Friendship Heights.
Christensen, now a corrections officer at the nearby Sussex County prison, praises the neighbors along his quiet street of 1960s bungalows. "If you're trimming trees or bushes, folks just come over to help. They never complain," he said.
Lemieux, now the general manager of Jimmy's Fly-In Grille at the Sussex County airport, where patrons have a view of small planes just feet from the windows, said: "Georgetown reminds me of the friendly rural atmosphere of my childhood."
To many travelers, Georgetown is not much more than a courthouse traffic circle two hours from the Beltway that slows down the trek to Rehoboth Beach. But beyond the circle is a still somewhat-small town that is sprucing up and spreading out.
Real estate agent Becky Davis grew up in Reston, but found her way to Georgetown six years ago, several years after her brother moved there. "It's very calm and slow here," she said. "Even with the growth, the people stay the same."
Parents, grandparents and even folks without children come out in droves for Little League games. A few small, independently owned shops still thrive, and several historical associations find there's plenty of history to share.
"One thing small towns do at the drop of a hat is have a parade," Myers said. Georgetown's oldest parade occurs on Return Day, when state and local candidates -- both winners and losers -- gather to bury the (ceremonial) hatchet.
Since the early 1800s, on the Thursday after general elections, the town crier has announced election returns from the balcony of the courthouse. Opponents ride together, many in horse-drawn carriages, around the town circle. Winners face forward, losers face backward, and for a moment, campaign rhetoric is forgotten.
"This is not a tradition we've started," said Rosalie Walls, a lifelong resident who runs the Nutter D. Marvel Museum, where the hatchet and box it is buried in are kept, along with other Georgetown memorabilia. "It's a tradition that never stopped."
The question, "Does the camaraderie last?" elicits a good giggle from those who have been there.
Unlike the District's more famous Georgetown neighborhood, named for England's King George II, the Delaware town gets its name from George Mitchell, one of the commissioners who established it in 1791. Georgetown was built in a half-mile radius out from the town center and remained that way until 1986, when the town expanded to a two-mile diameter.
Since then, annexations have given the town's perimeter more of an amoeba shape. "Developers are pushing us southeast, between Millsboro and Rehoboth," Mayor Michael Wyatt said.
Ten years ago, there were just nine new houses built in the town. In 2003, building permits were issued for 56 single-family homes. Now, more than 500 new houses are planned or under construction.
Annexations were happening so fast that in January the town council voted to institute a six-month building moratorium, allowing time to build some order into the process and reassess the town's direction.
"We want to factor in open space, green space, what fits," Wyatt said.
Two residential areas in town, both within walking distance of the circle, give a sense of where Georgetown is heading.
Kimmeytown, a dilapidated cluster of 1900s frame houses, east of the recently renovated 1880 train station, is targeted for a makeover. In the late 1800s, large industries followed the opening of the rail line. Today, Kimmeytown has become home to much of the town's rapidly growing Hispanic population, many of whom work in local chicken processing plants.
Carlton Moore, a member of the Historic Georgetown Association, said: "There are lots of hardworking people there, pulling themselves up by their bootstraps, some working three jobs."
Moore said, "We want to build on what is left of Georgetown's heritage there . . . without displacing the people." The goal is to preserve the "front porch nostalgia" by keeping new buildings in line with the old architecture.
The new developments of Cinderberry also provide a look at Georgetown's future. Cinderberry Estates will include 65 single-family homes, many which are under a canopy of loblolly pines planted more than 50 years ago by the local 4-H club. The Village of Cinderberry will have about 160 one-story duplexes for people older than 50.
Georgetown's rapid growth gives pause to some.
Harry Marker, now retired from the Navy, couldn't wait to get back to his native Georgetown after a five-year tour at the Pentagon.
He and his wife, Betty, who are heading into their fifth decade of marriage, operate Marker's III, a tiny carryout where locals go for good subs and bad jokes. The laughter stops briefly as Harry ponders the development and road widening that threaten to force him out of the location he's tended for 11 years.
"My little small town isn't a little small town anymore," he said.