Mass honors parks planner

Frank Evans had vision for Raleigh

Before Raleigh was The Best Place to Live in the Universe, it was a modest, midsize city on the cusp of tremendous growth.

Frank Evans didn't want to see Raleigh become like New Jersey, which he left behind in 1969 to take a job as the capital city's first director of its newly unified Parks and Recreation Department.

"Perhaps more than any other department, we have the potential of influencing all Raleigh citizens -- the very young, the very old, the rich, the poor," Evans said in 1970. "We can have, too, the greatest impact on the physical character and quality of life."

For a busy decade and a half, Evans had the backing of other city officials, parks board members and the public, which embraced its recreational oases.

And they had him.

"For years, Raleigh had Pullen Park and a few pieces of land -- and overnight it blossomed," said Bill Singletary, Raleigh's retired recreation superintendent. "Everything came together under Frank. He had talent and a vision for parks and recreation. He was a powerful voice."

A stroke several weeks ago stilled Frank Earle Evans' persistent, sometimes blustery voice. He was 87.

Friends are scheduled to honor Evans today at a memorial mass. The World War II Army veteran will be buried Feb. 20 at Arlington National Cemetery, said his daughter, Ann Evans Kolb of Raleigh.

Evans was, as many fans recall, a passionate preserver of green space. Soon after his move south, he famously dubbed Raleigh "a park with a city in it." Then he spent the next 15 years making that true.

Pullen Park? Evans renovated it to its present glory.

Community centers, mini parks and city pools? Evans built them.

Durant Nature Park? Evans acquired the land, then in the boonies, long before the park was established.

Shelley Lake? Without Evans, it might be just a flood-control project instead of a wildly popular park for walkers, joggers, fishers, Frisbee-throwers and lovers.

Special parks and rec programs for handicapped people? Evans inaugurated them.

And those nifty greenway trails that set Raleigh apart from so many other cities? His idea -- including the Neuse River greenway Raleigh Mayor Charles Meeker is championing three decades later.

After retiring, the widowed Evans moved with his second wife to Wytheville, Va. -- where, when he died, he characteristically was working on a greenway.

"Sharp as a tack to the end," Kolb said. "But his body was tired. He was just done."

For Evans, that was a first.

Driven by a relentless vision, he pushed project after project and drank far-flung knowledge as park trees soak up sunshine.

When Evans took an interest in something, Kolb said, he researched it until he was an expert.

"People tell me: 'Oh, I knew your dad. We talked horses.' Or, 'We talked planes.' Or, 'We talked about World War II.' "

Today they'll be talking about Evans and his contributions to Raleigh's enviable quality of life.

Evans succeeded partly by making superb use of federal grants and matching funds to expand Raleigh's park holdings without spending too much city money, said Jack Duncan, who succeeded him as Raleigh's parks and recreation director.

"He saw growth coming," Duncan said. "He sometimes was criticized for his grand vision, but a lot of what he saw has come true."

During Evans' tenure, the city added 1,170 acres of parkland while increasing the number of parks and recreation buildings from four to 21.

Early on, Evans said his mission was to advance city parks and recreation with "no reservations and no apologies."

"He was hard to work for sometimes," Singletary recalled. "He wanted things done yesterday."

Evans' aggressive, outspoken style eventually wore thin. In later years, some called him stubborn.

At age 65, Evans resigned unhappily in 1984 after clashing with a new city manager and several city council members.

But his vision survived.

"He said Raleigh didn't have mountains or big bodies of water, but it had a great green palette to work with," recalled Steve Demastrie, a Raleigh parks analyst Evans hired as a young man. "He built a world-class park system, and that legacy lives on."

When Evans told his two children he wanted to be buried at Arlington, Kolb said, at first they fretted because he wouldn't be near either of them.

On the other hand, she said, he'll be halfway between the place that shaped him and the place he helped shape the most.

And she likes knowing this: Her father will rest forever in the splendor of a giant, sacred park.

(News researcher Brooke Cain contributed to this report.)