Second incident in the mid 1970s: my children were small and we lived in a very stable, blue collar neighborhood where immigrant women (referred to as The Scrubby Dutch) brought out buckets of hot sudsy water on Saturday mornings and washed their granite porches and steps. Parents didn't have to worry; children were safe playing outdoors. It was a time of family values.
Our home was one block off a main thoroughfare where dozens of independently-owned small businesses thrived. When one of the store fronts vacated, everyone wondered what would go into that building. The day the sign went up, the neighbors' collective sigh was a whoosh of disbelief and discontent. An adult bookstore a block away? No way! Everyone was up in arms. The second week of operation, neighbors were still wondering which official to complain to and how to get the business out of the neighborhood.