When city development collides head-on with country living, the results can seem unneighborly.

Take the case of Frankie Martin. He lives in a one-bedroom brick house built in 1890, near the corner of Highway N and St. Charles Street in Cottleville. He was born there, and his parents lived there until they died.

It's a few blocks from St. Joseph Catholic Church, where he's worked as a janitor for 44 years. A few ramshackle buildings dot the three-plus acres, and he keeps 11 cows in his pasture. The house and barn were painted recently, and friends helped to clean up the yard last year, but some junk, like an old camper shell, remains on the property.

Martin never went to high school, and he needs help with his banking and other things, friends say. A couple in the parish help with his paperwork. Others, like Paul Nangle, who went to grade school with Martin, and Vicky Dorenkamp, whose son is a sixth-grader at the parish school, keep watch over him.

Martin's simple life started to change in 2007, when Cottleville pitched plans to develop its downtown area. The city wanted to beautify sidewalks and add historic-looking streetlights, additional parking and landscaping to set off a historic area for its Streetscape Project.

A month after the plans were introduced, Martin found out they were going to affect him. A friend who went to a Board of Alderman meeting learned the city was selling an 8,000-square-foot tract that Martin thought was his. It included a gravel driveway Martin had been using for years to get to his barn.

The high bidder on the property was a drive-through ice cream shop that planned to come within 30 feet of Martin's front door.

Martin contacted Nangle and Dorenkamp, who helped him get a lawyer.

It turned out that the plot was property Lorenzo Cottle had donated in 1839 to start a town. But it came with a stipulation — it could only be used for a public purpose.

Martin sued Cottleville and asked that the city either use the property as Cottle intended or give it to him because he said he had been maintaining it for most of his life.

I wrote about Martin's case at the time, and shortly after that, the ice cream shop owner abandoned his plans. The city eventually won the court case earlier this year.

Then about six weeks ago, Nangle got an e-mail from city officials asking him to meet with them about some new plans for the property fronting Martin's home.

They presented plans for a paved plaza with a fountain and lighting. The city wants vendors to come in on the weekends, set up tents and sell items, similar to a farmers market. The distance from the decorative sidewalk around the plaza to Martin's front door is just 12 feet.

Martin and his friends are worried about the new plans. They think Martin will have limited access to his property. They feel the city is trying to force Martin out.

"You cannot disrupt a 60-something-year-old-man who is special and who has been in that house for his entire life," Dorenkamp said.

Martin says he's upset with city officials.

"It's not right what they're doing to me," he said.

City Administrator Scott Lewis said the city is not singling out Martin, who he referred to as "an adopted icon of the community."

He said many of the lot boundaries in the historic area were marked with stones, which got moved or deteriorated over the years, causing confusion.

"There are several other properties in old town where the sidewalk is going to be right up next to their porch and where parking is going to replace grass, but the property was never theirs," Lewis said.

He said that the city originally was going to put a parking lot in front of Martin's home but opted for the plaza instead because it's less intrusive. Because events probably will use the space only on weekends, Martin would be able to park there most of the time and drive over the pavement to get to his garage, Lewis said.

"We've bent over backwards to accommodate him, and it's just aggravating that they would make these assertions that we're doing something to prevent him from using his property," he said.

Cottleville is a small town with about 3,200 residents, and the redevelopment of its historic area should be good for the community.

Officials need to remember that the community is made up of people like Martin. Maybe if Martin had been included in some meetings from the very beginning, all of these hard feelings could have been avoided. But since he lost the lawsuit, Martin's friends need to help him move forward.