Among other things, I write a column for a Manhattan-based weekly newspaper, whose pages are filled for the most part with material by trendy types young enough (in many cases) to be my children. The publication has taken a strong editorial stand in favor of the continuation of rent control, the latest hot potato in city politics. To my way of thinking, there's no doubt that the rent control laws need revision; there's also no question that aspects of those regulations – those that protect the genuinely needful – should be preserved.

The paper in question has stood strongly pro-control from the outset. But the reasoning behind this position in a recent feature-length article took a bizarre turn. If rent control ended, the writers proposed, the city would experience a "brain drain" because hordes of young creative types who traditionally flock here – writers, painters, film-makers, editors – would cease to come, or would move out, even move to Chicago, because anything was better than living in what they condescendingly called "the boroughs," which they now equate with "the suburbs."

Never mind that, speaking both historically and technically, Manhattan is no less a "borough" than Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx and Staten Island. The point here was that these sprats who've chosen to live a life in the arts feel entitled to a low-rent, landlord-subsidized living space in the very heart of one of the highest-priced stretches of real estate in the entire world. To them I say: Wake up and smell the cappucino. Feel free to go back to the towns and cities you came from and enrich the cultural life of those communities that nurtured you (or stay there if you haven't aleady left). Or move to Chicago, by all means; it's a very pleasant, livable city, with a rich cultural life. But, if you want to live in New York, which is still one of the world capitals for all the arts, get your nose out of the air and take another look at "the boroughs."

They've all proven hospitable to artists – even Staten Island, the borough these snobs love to hate, which major contemporary poets like Audre Lord and Armand Schwerner (along with many others working in all media) have called home. In many cases they weren't native Islanders, but moved out here for lower rents and more living space – to find, as I did, that it makes a terrific base of operations for almost anything you might want to do in the metropolitan New York area.

And to my fellow Islanders I say this: If they do come, greet them with open arms – and even consider inviting them over, enticing them by making it clear that this place wants them. Do it because they're people who work, often with their hands, and – like carpenters, and tailors – make things that didn't exist before. Or because they usually prove to be good neighbors, concerned as they tend to be with the attractiveness of their living environment, and with communicating with others. Or because they'll enrich our cultural life.

And, if you need more practical reasons, do it because artists have long served as the cutting edge of gentrification and neighborhood renewal; nothing drives a community's property values up for a lower initial outlay than an immigration of poets, painters and musicians as residents, since the audience for the arts always follows them there. Or because it's finally dawning on our local movers and shakers that tourism has been a missed bet for the Island for far too long; it represents an important source of potential revenue for this community, and nothing draws tourists more dependably than cultural attractions, among which a population of artists and showcases for their work rank very high on the list.

That no visible and coherent art community has ever coalesced out here remains one of the many mysteries of Island life, but it's nothing that a small cluster of restaurants, coffee houses, galleries and shops wouldn't change. Let's remember that it took little more than those amenities (and an influx of artists looking for comparatively cheap living/working space) to turn a decrepit light-industry section of lower Manhattan into the booming district known today as SoHo, an internationally famous magnet for visitors where real-estate values and rents have skyrocketed to such an extent that, ironically, the very artists and galleries who re-energized it as a community are being forced out. Even before the rent-control issue came to a boil, many SoHo residents – and countless others in the arts who want to live in New York City – were beginning to look elsewhere. Why not encourage them to turn their eyes in our direction?

It's not hard to imagine a community concentrating on arts and culture taking hold here, within spectacular view of lower Manhattan. I predict that the revitalization of the St. George Ferry Terminal – planned to include construction of a museum under the auspices of the Staten Island Institute of Arts and Sciences, and the creation of a North Shore esplanade – will produce exactly the right atmosphere for such a development. But that's still some years away. Meanwhile, there's spadework to be done.

If the Chamber of Commerce, the new Tourism Bureau and the local realtors had any real smarts, they'd advocate turning the former Stapleton homeport into a complex including artists' housing and studios, a sculpture park and a performing-arts center (to book-end Snug Harbor on the other side of St. George). They'd supplement Bay Street's Cargo Café (the closest we have to a first-class art bar) by promoting the creation of a comfortable café or three overlooking the harbor at intervals along the edge of the North Shore (perhaps inviting Starbucks to take over the old St. George Diner). They'd encourage Borders to plant a bookstore in the same area, and set up a non-profit artist-run gallery space within walking distance of the ferry terminal (and support our existing one, the Art Net/Work on Richmond Terrace). They'd leaflet SoHo and Chelsea in Manhattan with brochures indicating the kinds of living and working spaces available for rent and sale on and near the North Shore, and the amazingly low prices thereof. Then they'd put up a big billboard visible from the ferry that said "Artists Welcome" – and watch the North Shore come alive.

Ever since I moved out here in 1967, I've predicted that living on Staten Island would become fashionable within my lifetime. If that doesn't happen in this millenium, we won't have to wait long into the next. And if we don't seize the day and benefit from it, I guarantee someone else will.

(Author's Note: The creation of the North Shore Esplanade, which links the Staten Island Ferry terminal with Bay Street Landing, a water's-edge housing development half a mile away, seems an essential first step by the city in facilitating the reconsideration of the Island's northern coast discussed here. For more about the Esplanade, go to the press release from Mayor Giuliani's office on that subject from August 8, 1996.)