Building From Scratch

In a week where one of the last remaining original copies of the Magna Carta was purchased at auction, it seems fitting to return to the beginning of things, to a time when the built-up environment left a scant mark on the landscape, or even when places still had that stamp of newness that seems so long ago. The story item that caught my attention, and brought me to this topic, was the news out of the Chinese/Vietnamese border, where Asian Highway No. 14 is on its way to fruition. In an attempt to create a modern surface transportation network throughout the continent, plans are in the works for an 87,000-mile highway network across Asia. The 152-mile stretch from Hanoi to Lao Cai is meant as a gateway from China's Yunnan Province to the seaports of Vietnam, all in the interest of expanding the global reach of Asia's growing economic strength. As if drawn on a clean sheet of paper, the highway will change things, hopefully for the better, for the residents and businesses in this neck of the world. It will dirty things up further, and displace around 25,000 people, so hopefully it will all be worth it.

Another tidbit that got me to thinking about drastic changes to once untapped regions actually comes from the middle of the Chicagoland metropolitan area. How the heck are revolutionary changes supposed to happen on the well-tread shores of Lake Michigan, you ask? Well, in Evanston, the city nestled along the northern border of Chicago proper, they are looking to open up the door to a whole new kind of place from what it is now. Home to Northwestern University (which I called home for four years) and the Women's Christian Temperance Union movement, the current leaders of the city are welcoming in a proposed 523-foot tall building into the relatively modest skyline its downtown now musters. Nothing now existing in the suburb rises within 200 feet of the proposed tower. It would be seen miles away. A recent 4-3 vote of the Evanston Plan Commission has sent the process to the next step, but there are still significant hurdles to redefine the community. As one opponent noted, "Evanston is a little university town. It seems out of character to have a skyscraper here." We'll see which camp's vision for Evanston's future will win out.

And how about down in New Orleans, where the work to rebuild the city from the ground up continues to face daily battles as to what the vision will be. This week city politics have been ensnarled in a massive protest from citizens angry that the federal government plans to demolish thousands of low income housing units, with no real assurances that these units will be replaced. Brad Pitt's lofty plans aside, New Orleans struggles each day with these issues where complex, competing forces make the task almost impossible. People don't want to return to the past, but they do want to return to the home they remember. The real issue seems to be whether the vision for New Orleans actually foresees the inclusion of the residents that lived there prior to Katrina. As one of these stalwarts noted, "They don't want this city to be for the poor, working-class people. . . . Everyone else, kick them to the curb." Even though in some ways starting from scratch, there's a lot of history, resentment and suspicion planted on the banks of the Mississippi.

As we approach the time to put up a new calendar on the wall, it's another chance to start over. But for those out there celebrating Christmas (or even those who just get a few extra days off), this is the time to hold onto and enjoy a bit of the current state of things, before it is time yet again to forge ahead, and start anew. Enjoy!

An Embarrassment of Riches

In a nation where everything has to be bigger and better, especially around this time of year, it's novel to see the things going on around the nation to attempt to curtail our voracious appetites, especially when it comes to devouring the land. One recent story that struck my fancy came out of Los Angeles, where the land of sprawl is coming to terms with its increasing density. The city's Planning Commission is contemplating a measure to curtail the McMansion effect that has plagued many of the metropolis' communities over the last few decades. In some camps, the measure falls short of what they are looking for to end the age of monstrosities on tiny single-family lots, what one City Councilman calls "Mansionization." First, the measure will only effect homes falling within a single type of zoning district, and would still permit homes to be half the square footage of the size of their respective lot. In addition, architectural requirements have not been added to the proposal, which effectively would allow the same "box" construction that many hope the revision to the zoning ordinance would end. Nonetheless, in a city where the average new home measures out at 3,250 square feet, it's a start.

How about in New York City, where the crush of cars that clog the 1950's style highway system has brought on the congestion pricing scheme that continues to work its way through the lengthy approval process. For the unindoctrinated, the plan would charge for all cars seeking to enter the island of Manhattan below 86th Street during peak times. In particular, tolls would be charged at the inbound Brooklyn, Manhattan, Williamsburg and Queensborough (59th Street) Bridges. Tolls were originally charged on these bridges (the ones that were around) up to 1911. The issue has been considered in various forms since the '60s, but has never been implemented. This week, the state commission charged with the hot potato continues to evaluate the proposal. It must issue its recommendation to the New York State Legislature and New York City Council for their approval.

In the same arena, which likewise impacts the congestion around New York, the U.S. Transportation Department plans on imposing limits on the number of flights coming in and out of John F. Kennedy Airport to alleviate the clogged skies above the Big Apple. An auction process may be instituted to distribute the coveted slots. The airlines see the measure as nothing less than a Kelo-like taking of property. As one spokesman noted, "We would oppose any auction process that seizes the existing assets of the airlines that have invested hundreds of millions, if not billions, over the years. . . ." Either way, the plan suggests that we need to safeguard our precious space -- even if it's 30,000 feet above our heads.

Finally, a spirit of sharing has emerged from the latest landmark agreement to redistribute the resources of the Colorado River amongst the states of the Western U.S. With dropping reservoirs met by increasing growth in the states of California, Nevada, Arizona, Colorado, Utah, New Mexico and Wyoming, the new plan fosters conservation and encourages scaling back the growth. As is unavoidable with any agreement, there will be grumbling. Environmental groups say it doesn't go far enough. The plan calls for decreasing water deliveries in times of drought. But nothing stops thirsty locales from sucking the river dry to those levels. Nonetheless, the realization has begun that maybe the era of America' embarrassment of riches may soon be over.

The Big Picture

Last time we looked at ways that municipalities are using simple tweaks to their local processes to end up with good results for their inhabitants. Even the seemingly most minor choices can have a significant impact. What about choices that can have metropolitan-wide effects on the perception of a community? Oftentimes, this is more important for a community than the reality. From the items I've been finding this week, which prompted my thoughts on such big picture issues, one can see the effect that such decisions can have on an entire region. Take for example the news out of Los Angeles (which doesn't have to do with the writer's strike), where the LA County's Metropolitan Transportation Authority has voted to install turnstiles into their nascent subway and light-rail system. How is this a macro issue, you ask? As one talking head has opined in responding to the news, "Unfortunately, as L.A. gets to be more urban, it has these breakdowns in trust that happen in big cities." Author Joel Kotkin's comment misses the real point to be gained from the move. The result of this seemingly minor policy choice is that LA's transit system has moved into the big time, offering legitimacy by shifting from a little-enforced honor system to one that formalizes the fare-collection process. By investing millions in a seemingly minor aspect of the transit infrastructure, the MTA has established its facilities as a realistic way in which people can move about the seemingly endless metropolis.

Another curious phenomenon has been reported from the edges of Las Vegas, Nevada. In 1998, the U.S. Congress passed legislation that shifted money earned by the federal government in selling land in and around the Las Vegas region from a general Treasury account to one strictly devoted to the needs of the State of Nevada. What this has meant in the ensuing decade is that the State has partaken in a massive slush fund that has in turn been used to fuel the explosive development in the Las Vegas region. Intended to replace the sold land with the purchase of environmentally sensitive land, the expenditures from the fund have also gone to projects that foster the metropolis' growth, such as water facilities and community park amenities. As the Mayor of North Las Vegas has admitted, "We've gotten a bit greedy. . . . When your neighboring cities are asking for five times what you are, it tends to make your staff run around looking for projects." What's good for Nevada, is, well, good for Nevada. In the way that the federal government fostered suburban sprawl in the 1950's with FHA-backed mortgages and highway building, this new policy seems to be growing Las Vegas even further into the desert. But just like the LA decision is, the seemingly simple scheme in Las Vegas serves to increase the region's relevance, and thus the perception that it is continuing to grow at staggering rates -- which is also the reality.

Some other curious reports have come out recently, that also attempt to demonstrate how single choices shape the perception of regions. For instance, a recent Brookings Institution report ranked Washington, DC, as the most "walkable" region in the country. The top ranking was largely attributed to the Metro transit system that criss-crosses the region, allowing for transit-oriented development to crowd around the system's stops, creating active streetscapes that people want to perambulate through. Who knows how accurate the DC-based Brookings' study is, but it does again show how one decision can go a long way for a region.

Out of these slices of America comes the realization that public decision-making is no easy task. In addition, no one can predict for certain the impact of policy choices on big picture beliefs amongst the populace. But either way it goes, the perception will become reality. People can, and do, devote their lives to such efforts. Take the recent passing of advocate Eugene Jacobs, a California lawyer dubbed "the father of redevelopment law," who devoted his life to revitalizing downtowns. After a 60-year career, it will be easy to see the victories and losses of his efforts. But spending one's life on such issues points to the fact that the army out there pushing ahead today much take one's pursuits as seriously as the ones that have come before. As long as we follow this approach, we can only hope that the results will be as good, and big, as envisioned.

Zoning Makes the World Go 'Round

As Thanksgiving is now in the rearview mirror (and hopefully the remnants not now attached to our backsides), we forge ahead towards the next round of holidays to greet us in December. By the end of my last post, I realized I left things a little darker than intended, so now I would like to shift back in happy mode for this edition. In that spirit, let's take a look around us to find the success stories going on in the world of land use, and see how much a little ingenuity can change things for the better. In particular, kudos to certain zoning and other municipal measures that have fostered new programs and neighborhoods that seem to make people's lives a little better. Sure, these news items highlight the ways in which these policies can equally create unhealthy, unintended consequences on the built environment, but let's overlook that grouchy outlook for the moment.

Let's start in Chicago, where none other than Mayor Daley, the tree-hugger himself, has spearheaded the city's Green Alley Initiative, which aims to replace impervious, paved alleys with porous paving material across the metropolis. This ingenious approach cuts down on runoff and allows for more natural absorption into the ground, which in turn allows for natural cleaning of the drained water to someday make its way back into Lake Michigan, the repository of Chicago's water system. The city has also set up an expedited permitting process for builders willing to undertake green building techniques. As one pundit notes, "Recycling programs are all well and good, but the things that really move public policy and the industry are things like taxes and the building code." How right Martin C. Pedersen, the executive editor of Metropolis magazine, is. Unlock the power of municipal regulation, and who knows what could be accomplished.

How about in Denver, Colorado, where recent zoning amendments have fostered the rehabilitation of the Capitol Hill neighborhood, bisected by its main drag, Colfax Avenue. Once an open drug market, other more desirable types of activities and residents have moved into the area, creating an eclectic, electric part of the city. Specifically, the city has encouraged street-level retail, and the retention of residential units on the upper floors of buildings. In a plan that would no doubt warm the heart of the Jane Jacobs fans out there, the neighborhood enjoys a lively, active streetscape. In addition, crime has seen a significant decrease - down 40 percent since 2005. Give a little, and let, as one denizen noted, "Colfax be Colfax."

And what about Toronto, Canada, where zoning changes have allowed for the sprouting of Peace Village, a subdivision in suburban Vaughan, north of the main city. Like the Hasidic Jewish communities of Rockland County, New York, and Ave Maria, a community centered around a Roman Catholic Church near Naples, Florida, Peace Village is faith-based -- centered around the Ahmadiyya Muslim faith. The mosque had been built in 1992, but the area surrounding it was zoned agricultural. In 1994, the zoning was changed to residential, and the place took off with the construction of homes on an adjacent plot. The developer worked with the mosque to cater the homes towards members of the Muslim sect, which attempts to unite religious doctrine with modern reality. Word of mouth was sufficient to sell out the initial stock of homes. Although seen by some in Toronto as an attempt to distance the community from mainstream society, the man who foresaw the potential of Peace Village notes that it simply allows for members of his faith to pray with their iman more regularly. Besides, many of the residents commute elsewhere for work. Either way, the benefits to the people who have chosen to live in Peace Village are clear. All, or at least, a portion of the tide was turned with the aid of a rezoning.

The power of zoning and other municipal regulations -- their ability to give and take away -- is omnipresent. They can stimulate many good things, with just a little forethought. There was a reason the Progressives of the early 20th century took up the cause of zoning. Sure, much of their philosophy was misguided elitism. But as the concept has evolved over the course of a century, the true benefits can be seen. The only question is whether this will become the rule, or remain the exception.

For Better or Worse

As we move into the holiday portion of the year, it's alternatively fun and depressing to look back at the prior calendar and see how fast it all went. In the same vein, it is also a popular exercise to look back at the year, and take an accounting on how things are going out there, and revisit our friends to find out how the heck they're doing. I feel like doing the same thing for some of the stories I've been tracking in the land use world over the course of this year. Sure, I'm jumping the gun a bit on the recap for 2007, but there have been a few tidbits in the news that got me to thinking about whether some of these trends and happenings have taken a turn for the better, or for the worst. One story that popped up again in the news is out of my birthplace of Cleveland, which is suffering disproportionately hard from the foreclosure crisis that continues to affect homeowners across the nation. Unfortunately, it appears the fears reported have grown worse. Crime has infiltrated such places as Slavic Village, a working-class community in the metropolis. Not exactly new to crime, the area has nonetheless seen fortunes turn worse when homes are foreclosed. According to one source, on average, once the owners are forced to move, it takes about 72 hours for looters to strip everything valuable from a home, down to the piping. Approximately 800 homes stand vacant in the community.

How about in China, where from time to time we looked at the situations facing the hyper-growth economy of the largest market in the world. One such storyline comes from the Three Gorges Dam project, the gigantic harnessing of hydroelectric power occurring in the hinterland of the nation. After having displaced over a million people, rumblings are beginning to surface about the environmental degradation and geological instability caused by the construction. In addition, as the nation seeks to continue to harness its hydroelectric potential, there is a call for additional relocations and upheaval for more locals. In the end, the economic and social well being of those living in these regions may not be improved materially with all the hubbub. And besides, China is still building coal-burning electric plants to satiate most of the increasing demand for electricity.

With the stories thus far, it is enough to put a damper on our impending turkey fests. How about all the talk I devote to approaches to improve the environmental state of our built environment? In Fort Collins, Colorado, which believes it is, "Where Renewal Is a Way of Life," they are facing two proposed energy projects that demonstrate the difficulty in defining the term "clean energy" sources. One project involves the, at first blush, "clean" source of solar power. The other is the oft-evil nuclear power source. However, at closer inspection, the solar initiative will require the use of cadmium, a carcinogen, and the nuclear initiative, which involves the extraction of uranium near the town, would actually support power plants with no carbon emissions. Why must everything be so complex? Why can't we have at least one feel-good story where everything works out well?

Sure, it may seem like things are imploding in around us. Throw in global warming, and it only makes one even more uneasy as we hop in our cars, and on planes, to travel long distances to be with our loved ones for the holidays. Around this swirling turmoil, it is actually a good thing that it is time for the holidays. Because putting aside the minor squabbles bound to happen when families reunite for the season, be thankful they are there, to lean on and realize that there is still some good out there in the world.

Back to Basics

Sometimes, or if you believe Occam's Razor, it is always the case that the simplest solution is the best solution. Keep it simple, and everything will work out just fine. When it comes to land use, it seems like the opposite maxim is the rule rather than the exception. Somehow, people like to go along with the often more cumbersome status quo rather than trying to change things up. We practitioners are left to navigate through the process with little help. Recently, while attempting to file an application, we were informed that the applicable municipality did not have any records of the building permits that were issued in connection with the existing structure on the property at issue. They asked that we go searching for the permits, because they, as the keeper of the records, must have some record of them before we move forward with our application. Rather than recognize the obvious, i.e., that if the Town does not have the permits, it is not too likely anyone else will, we are left to embark on a scavenger hunt to try and satisfy their request.

Another tidbit out in the world around us that highlighted this point is the crazy system that apparently governs the streets of Costa Rica, where it is almost impossible to find anything, especially if you have no idea where to look. Forget about using Google Earth -- you're pretty much on your own when it comes to seeking someone out in the Central American nation. There are no "addresses," as Americans have come to know them, but instead there are approximations of locations based on landmarks. Postal workers must actually attempt to deliver mail to such locales as "125 meters west of the Pizza Hut," or "from the Tibas cemetery, 200 meters south, 300 meters west, cross the train tracks, white two-story house." Twenty percent of the nation's mail is deemed "undeliverable" -- go figure. The national government is trying to correct this problem, issuing standardized addresses. Thinking how things can go wrong here, it is downright scary to contemplate how anything gets done in a place where no one can say for certain where they live or work.

How about those places where things seem to be working right? Well, the model I always turn to when it comes to land use is Portland, Oregon. Beginning in the 1970's, Portland, among other progressive land use approaches, decided to foster the increased use of bicycles as a primary mode of transportation. Today, Portland ranks as one of the most bicycle-friendly cities in the nation, and its nascent industry to support the level of usage is in turn becoming a vibrant, if not significant part of the economy. As one of the city commissioners has chronicled, "Our intentions are to be as sustainable a city as possible. . . . That means socially, that means environmentally and that means economically. The bike is great on all three of those factors." Who knows how overly-optimistic such an analysis may be, but it does show that simplicity, even in the land use realm, can supply some real answers.

Of course, "back to basics" doesn't always mean "better" when it comes to the built up environment. Take the example of Todd Haupt, an enterprising entrepreneur in Missouri real estate, who is beginning to feel the pains of the market as it comes back to earth from the heady days of the past decade. Out of one semester of community college education, Haupt had parlayed his flipping skills into a multi-million dollar enterprise. When the collapse came, Haupt essentially lost anything, having to start again from square one, to return to the "basics" of having nothing. "I feel like, yes, I overextended myself. . . . But when do you know not to overextend yourself? If I had a crystal ball, I never would have built my house. But when do you know? That's why we're speculators." In a situation like this, it is hard to figure out what may be the simplest solution. In the case of the volatile real estate market, it is hard to see when it will all turn sour until it starts to happen.

Of course, at the bottom of all things land use, the ultimate determination of what is simpler is usually what is cheaper. Take for example the trend in condo building developments, where developers are scaling back from the heyday of recent times when buildings had to offer crazier and more lavish amenities to attract the customer. Today, the reverse trend is in place, where "less is more." As one developer explains, "Costs are through the roof. . . . A developer today has to make every square foot as productive, economically, as possible." Not like this has ever not been the case. But it reinforces the point that to survive in this land use game, change is the key. That is the simplest solution. Of course, as for my predicament, I can only hope to change the municipal minds standing in my way of filing my application.

Roots

Working full-time can be a real drag on the reading queue. I have several shiny books that I have yet to crack, all on account of this pesky occupation I've chosen. Right now (and for the past six months) I'm in the middle of a volume that isn't all that glossy, as my wife picked it up for me at a used book store. It's called Cities on a Hill, by journalist Francis FitzGerald. Not the most outstanding book in the world, and, by this point, it is quite outdated. Nonetheless, what it has done (at least to the point I have gotten) is set forth how certain societal groups have used land use to create identity and a self-contained world for fostering their beliefs and ways of life. Together these communities have established what they see as "roots" in a place they call home. So far I've gotten through the sections on the Castro District in San Francisco, which is often considered one of the first "gay neighborhoods" in America, and the section on the late Jerry Falwell and the empire he had created for himself in Lynchburg, Virginia. Both areas were emblematic of how like-minded individuals could come together and define themselves by defining a place as their own.

Despite the unity exhibited in these two close-knit communities, a stronger force continues to seek to rip them apart. A recent account of the Castro district pinpointed for me the way in which the inexorable land use process tends to govern even the most principled of community experiments. Sure, the death of the Castro has been voiced on many occasions, several times by those who wished it to occur. The resilience of the neighborhood endured, yet the economic and demographic realities of land use have chipped away at the identity of the area. Expensive condominium developments have attracted straight infiltrators to the neighborhood for its "new eclecticism." The gay populace has fanned out to other neighborhoods in the city, and the suburbs. What this really means is that the Castro's initial life as the center of gay culture has evolved into a tourist attraction for the history it represents. Francis FitzGerald noted these trends twenty years ago. Even back then it was the scourge of land use demands that kept the neighborhood shifting and changing and reshaping itself. The same forces will continue to push it into the future, and new directions.

The whole idea of "roots" seems impossible to me in a world where land use forces govern so much regarding the places in we live, work and play. The myth of one's "roots" is further highlighted by the changes that take place to lands that at one time contained not neighborhoods, but instead real-live roots, and the trees that rise on their foundation. For instance, in the Adirondack Forest Preserve, quandaries exist over what to do with 161,000 unbroken acres north of New York City, which were recently purchased by the Nature Conservancy. A good many people want to see the land continue to exist as it has before memory, serving today as excellent camping and hunting areas (for those into that sort of thing). However, because the environmental group has taken on a hefty financial obligation to acquire the lands, the Nature Conservancy has had to concede that it must also be in the logging business and the real estate business. It may even sell off some of its booty to be developed for residential and commercial uses. Even the most high and mighty realize the need to feed the beast.

In a lot of ways, it's tough to see things go. And there must be restraint exercised whenever possible. But there's a reason all of these upheavals happen from the center of San Francisco, to the Adirondack highlands. Only a desire, and big sword, to slay the land use monster can prevent us from continuing our never-ending pursuit to change things from the way they were.

Hot Spots

As with the rest of America, I've been keeping a passing eye on what's happening in Southern California these days with the fires ravaging swaths of land across the region. Hundreds of thousands of people have been forced to flee their homes to escape the flames. The effects are catastrophic, with over a 1,000 homes destroyed to date, and the region being turned upside down. Having just moved from the Los Angeles area at the end of last year, my thoughts turn to the places that I've been that are now either in trouble or have already faced the wrath of the fires. My wife attended Pepperdine, which was on the brink of being engulfed. In Lake Arrowhead, about an hour and half to the east of downtown, friends of mine have a home. Down in Orange County, where more fires rage, other friends live and work. Further down around San Diego, the conflagration has forced the likes of golfer Phil Mickelson to leave his home. The San Diego Chargers were forced to fly to Arizona, to practice for their game this weekend. Their home, Qualcomm Stadium, is being used as an emergency shelter. Even north of Los Angeles, the television show "24" had to suspend shooting in light of the advancing flames.

The sheer size of the fires more than anything else highlights the sheer surface area engulfed by the Los Angeles/San Diego megaplex. And in some ways, this geographic reality, and the land use choices that have been made in creating the Southern California behemoth, have set the stage for such disasters to happen. Essentially an extension of the Mohave Desert, the Los Angeles Basin has pumped in its water, and thus its livelihood, to create the artificial metropolis. Similar to the ways in which 1871 Chicago, and 1666 London suffered the "Great Fires" of the pre-modern world on account of certain practices and land use choices, the same is true of modern day Los Angeles. Whereas Chicago and London lacked sufficient fire fighting techniques and departments, not to mention suffered from overcrowding and unchecked hazardous activities within their city centers, Los Angeles and San Diego has succumbed to being sited on a spot susceptible to drought and unfavorable Santa Ana winds.

There is no place for "I told you so"s in a time like this. In addition, in the course of human events, no matter what we do to prevent bad things from occurring, there will always be a finger to point that suggests it's our own doing. Look to any major metropolitan area in the nation, and each faces some sort of potential for massive calamity. Miami and New Orleans must withstand the ever-growing strength of hurricanes. San Francisco faces the threat of the impending "big one." Even my current home of New York faces the risk of being under water as the polar ice caps continue to melt. And then there's the impending threat occurring in the Southeast, where the water supplies are dwindling to nothing. States, and all sorts of governmental agencies, are fighting over reserves, as the sizes of reservoirs shrink. And slowly the drought conditions going on "down South" are creeping north and west. Are our wasteful land use practices to blame here as well?

At the bottom of it all is the more disturbing hypothesis that no matter how we live, all that our species can really do to stem the tide is to slow down the inevitable, rather than eradicate it completely. Sure, the fires will be extinguished, and the droughts will end. But then what? There are hopeful types out there like recently-minted Nobel laureate Al Gore who believes we can turn things around. But do we really have it in us? And when it comes to our approach to land use, is there really anywhere we can go to prevent us from suffering some level of calamity as a result of where we decide to settle and build? There may be answers, but perhaps the discussion has to grow louder and more sustained.

This is Serious!

Yesterday marked the first anniversary of me throwing out my thoughts on land use to all of you out there. I've enjoyed having the opportunity to do so, and hope to keep it up as we move along. You never can tell how these things go, but I still believe that the world of land use, and the questions it raises, continues to remain highly relevant as we move further and further away from the initial impact of Kelo. For those of you out there who are as conscious as I am to the events happening around us (and I'm sure, some of you moreso), you can see the stakes involved in decisions made by land use boards around the country each day. No, it's not always life and death. Not every homeowner needs that setback variance to build their new swimming pool on his/her property. A multi-billion dollar corporation won't crumble if they don't receive approval for a new outlet that adds to their 10,000-store fleet. But sometimes, these decisions do result in catastrophic consequences for those interested in the outcome.

Take for example the recent case in Clarksville, Tennessee, where a barber shop owner sought a rezoning on his house -- from residential to commercial. Ronald "Bo" Ward came before the City Council for the requested action to help increase the value of his property, which in turn would allow him to obtain a loan to pay off the debt he incurred to expand his shop. The Council voted against the application. In response, Ward pulled out a small handgun, announced, "Y'all have put me under. . . . I'm out of here," and proceeded to shoot himself in the head. Apparently he had relied on a favorable decision to determine whether he would live or die.

And on the other side of the globe, Yang Chunlin, a fifty-two year old out-of-work factory worker, decided to take up the cause of land confiscation going on across China in the midst of its rapid expansion. He circulated an open letter entitled "We want human rights, not the Olympics," and got 10,000 people to sign it. Reminiscent of Kelo, Yang sought to challenge the government's support for securing property for projects developed by private investors. Why the massive support for Yang? Activists argue that over a million people have been displaced in order to construct new sports venues for the coming Olympics in Beijing next summer. For his trouble, Yang was thrown in prison, chained for days in the same position, and assigned to clean up the waste produced by his fellow inmates. For his beliefs, he has been jailed under the catch-all "subverting state power" umbrella. It is unclear when he may be released.

Such stories only reinforce my prior beliefs of the importance of keeping an eye on land use matters going on virtually everywhere on Earth. Perhaps I get a little out of hand with my thesis that land use is this critical, but make your own judgments. Although rare, people take such matters to the extreme by making them life or death choices. There must be a reason. This can be quite serious stuff. As I started this whole endeavor, "The beauty of this unique world is that decisions on where to locate what, and how big, is a highly democratic affair, even greater than voting or serving on a jury." I still believe this. Considering an unemployed factory worker a half a world away can draw the attention of the national media over here, over a petition involving land use questions, reminds me how one person in the process can create a significant impact.

Downtown!

In my head I hear Petula Clark's old hit, "Downtown" racing through my head. Why is that? Well, it could be things are happening around this fabulous land of ours that involves the ever evolving term and place identified by Petula in her ditty. For instance, in Baltimore, Maryland, the push towards attracting more affluent types back to its downtown neighborhoods to populate the newly gentrified housing stock has hit a snag recently. The upheaval in the housing market has sent ripples through the budding movement. Or has it? "I don't see a recession mentality. . . . But you have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to be a little infected by what is being said." This comment comes from a Baltimore bank representative. Is it the media or is it true? Well, probably a little from column A, a little from column B. The reality suggests that the original plan to attract young DC residents to buy into Baltimore, at a cheaper price than in the nation's capital, has cooled. In theory, not a bad plan, considering these new arrivals could do the commute from Baltimore to DC in about an hour by train. The interesting thing in the whole phenomenon is this tidbit, which puts a new spin on the reverse commute -- "downtown" to "downtown."

How about another take on the meaning of "downtown," which is taking place in the most suburban of settings -- the shopping mall. The enclosed shopping mall has increasingly become passe, resulting in reconceptions and redevelopments of them to serve the next generation. One increasingly popular approach is to reuse these spaces as mini-downtowns, where they become mixed-use havens for residential, commercial and office uses. "The mall is the modern town square in most of America," says Joel Kotkin, a commentator on all things land use. Calling them "lifestyle centers," these new places have been created out of the detritus of the past. One example is Nouvelle at Natick, a development outside Boston rising inside of an old Wonder Bread factory and the neighboring Natick Mall. The residences will be incorporated into the existing retail, and the commercial spaces spruced up to cater towards a higher-end crowd. Not exactly a space meant for everyone, but it certainly is another way to think about "downtown." As one new resident of the development notes, "It's like having the city come out to the suburbs."

But there are always going to be certain things associated with "downtown," no matter how people try to reimagine it. Take for instance the issue going on in Barbara M. Asher Square in Atlanta. The gateway to the city's downtown for travelers coming from the airport, the public space is also an eyesore. Homeless folks and others who highlight the seedy side of things tend to occupy the area. Funny smelling smoke wafts through the air. Not all of "downtown" can be nicely scrubbed and fake. There will always be issues. But in a way, that's the whole point of "downtown." It's the confluence of everybody, and every type. Somewhere in the middle of a rehabbed mall and an open sewer. Good and bad. You can take all your troubles. Downtown!

The Father of Kelo

You never can tell what you're going to be. My five-year-old nephew just started kindergarten this month, and has the whole world in front of him. I still hopefully have some time left, and who knows how I'll end up spending it. Sometimes, even at age fifty-five, people have no idea what you'll become, either. Nothing occupies the thoughts of so many commentators as this question does when it comes to newly-minted Supreme Court justices. There was a lot of hubbub over the recent appointees of Chief Justice Roberts, and Samuel Alito. But what about back in 1975, when Republican President Gerald Ford appointed a seemingly conservative Court of Appeals Judge named John Paul Stevens to the nation's highest court? Thirty-two years later, Stevens is seen as part of the liberal faction on the Supreme Court, buoyed by his authorship of the Kelo decision back in 2005. Even now, at the age of eighty-seven, it's not so easy to pin Stevens down. He still has a few surprises up his sleeves, just like what happens across the landscape when it comes to how a town will be pegged and defined by its own identity.

Take for instance the case of Clearwater, Florida, which once foresaw itself as a tourist destination for beachgoers along the Gulf of Mexico. By the 1970s, the city was on the verge of economic collapse. L. Ron Hubbard and the devotees to his Church of Scientology saw the dying burg as an opportunity to form a beachhead, literally, on dry land. Up to 1975, Hubbard had operated his religious movement predominantly on his yacht. But that year, the Church secretly bought up the Fort Harrison Hotel, a venerable, but aging structure in downtown Clearwater. From there, the Church purchased other properties, planting itself firmly in the city. By now, the non-members of the Church that remain in Clearwater have grown to accept the institution. As one such resident notes, "I think there's been a slow shift from a very strong adversarial relationship to a tolerance." In the process, Scientology has come to define this town, attracting such luminaries as Tom Cruise and John Travolta to make the pilgrimage to further their faith. Who knew this was the path Clearwater would take.

And what about the path of many retirees these days, who have chosen to return from whence they came. According to one report, there are more than fifty residential enclaves connected with college campuses that cater to retirees' needs. Take for instance Kendal at Oberlin, a development near the Ohio campus of Oberlin College. As the marketing director for the facility notes, thirty-seven percent of the residents have some connection to the college, be it alumni or faculty. "The college has such appeal. . . . There's youth, there's energy, there's all kinds of activities." The residents can audit classes for free. At the Carol Woods Retirement Community near the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, they have a ten-year waiting list. This type of housing option caters toward the portion of the senior set looking to recapture their youth, and with energy still to burn. Who knew that college would remain such an integral part of its graduates throughout their lives, down to housing and entertaining them in their golden years.

It's not surprising that the man who gave us Kelo is an individual who, just like his court opinion, is more complex than at first blush. In a way, it's fitting that Justice Stevens is the mouthpiece for one of the most inflammatory land use cases to be decided by the Supreme Court in its history. Just as he has changed and shifted over the years, the same is true of the places that make up this nation, which morph and adapt based on the needs of its residents, and the economic and demographic forces that guide a place's destiny.

How the Rest Live

Last year, all you heard about was how the United States was going to rethink its immigration policy, and start clarifying what had become a looney, and sometimes dangerous path many people risked taking to join us here on the other side of the Border. Sure, it's a great country, but how many of us today would be willing to tread from where our forebears came and forge a new life like they did? Learning a new language alone precludes me from that group of hardy go-getters. Okay, it's a question that shouldn't be taken quite so lightly. But looking around, maybe it's an easier issue than the media, and our ancestors, have made it out to be. And the world of land use highlights this point.

Take for instance the phenomenon happening in Texas, where Mexican citizens are living in their second homes in the major metropolitan areas of the Lone Star State to forge their own version of the American dream. Granted, we're talking about the wealthy elites of our neighbor to the south, who are seeking refuge from the violent crime and kidnappings that they fear in their native land. Many are using the "business visa" route to entry, which grants visas to foreigners, and their immediate families, who are making a large investment in an American company, or a Mexican company doing business in the U.S. And the homes they buy tend to be large, and within a gated community. As one member of this exclusive group notes, "I really want to stay in the States. . . . My main reason is my kids. In Mexico, you can get kidnapped pretty easily. You can't take them to the supermarket or grocery store because you maybe turn around and lose them." Pragmatism drives this segment of the housing market, which runs contrary to many Americans' refocus on homes located in "friendlier" (meaning, denser) types of communities. For these newcomers, the higher the fence, the better it is. And its effect on the landscape cannot be ignored.

On the other side of the extreme is the way in which the desolate reaches of the American southwest are becoming the new battleground in the ever-changing paths people take to cross our borders. In the San Ysidro Mountains, east of San Diego, the U.S. Border Patrol's elite Air Mobile Unit patrols the terrain -- five miles inside of California. They must brave some of the most difficult areas to navigate through with the aid of helicopters and superior training. Imagine the hell the immigrants must withstand. In any event, people are using this ground as a pathway to hope and success. The definition of this land has changed, as the politics of border patrol have pushed the entry points away from the obvious, and into the land that most would rather forget. Who knows -- ten years from now this stretch may be a tourist spot, or maybe even a site of the latest housing development touted as a convenient, cheaper option for people looking to buy in the San Diego area.

And what about a different kind of turf war over immigration happening in the unlikely burg of Bogota, New Jersey? The confrontation pits brother against brother, over one of the most reviled scars caused by land development: the infernal billboard. Last year, mayor Steven Lonegan led a crusade to remove a McDonald's billboard written in Spanish. Twenty-one percent of Bogota residents are Hispanic, so it seemed like a reasonable idea for the Golden Arches to market to this demographic. Not so for Mayor Lonegan, a conservative Republican. On the other side of the aisle is immigration advocate Bryan Lonegan, a lawyer and Steve's brother. They no longer speak to one another. In the process, the tiny Borough has become a battleground over the immigration issue, with Mayor Steve currently on the winning side. Residents favored his initiative by a three to one margin. And then he tried to push for English as the official language of the town. With his large personality, he has turned his section of the world, deep inside America, into another patch of ground knee deep in the immigration issue. Once the realm of the zoning board, Mayor Lonegan brought the issue of billboards into a whole new realm.

Everywhere you turn, the immigration battle continues to rage, even if Congress has lost interest. But not only does it split people down ideological lines, it plays a role in shaping our built environment, and the way we use the land. Whether it be the suburbs of Houston, the San Ysidro Mountains or Bogota, New Jersey, these places have been altered because of the way in which our nation addresses how to allow others not fortunate enough to live here to join the fun. Wherever one falls on the issue, the fact remains that all it takes is a closer look around you, and you'll see what's going on.

High Rent District

I have to admit that, in the blogosphere, my humble entry is a small blip in the crowded world of people voicing their opinions in this vast marketplace of ideas. Recently, I was alerted to blogs that I had never viewed before, and frankly, it only served to depress me. I realize my own limitations, but I also thought I was putting together some worthwhile snippets of what was going on out in the world of land use. Nonetheless, there are some highly informed types out there, who also know a thing or two about web design. Their efforts have not gone unnoticed, as some have even garnered advertising support for their endeavors.

For example, at Curbed, a real estate-themed site based in New York City, the focus is on one of the favorite pastimes of the settlement's inhabitants. "In New York City, it all comes back to real estate, rent, and the neighborhoods we inhabit." The site's description goes on by touting, "Curbed has become a daily fix for tens of thousands of NYC residents—and the most-trafficked neighborhood and real-estate weblog on the web." Started in May, 2004, Curbed is a cacophonous salute to the happenings around town, and demonstrates how absorbed the city can become in itself. Big surprise, I know, but advertisers realize the attraction, and developers, including that guy named Trump, turn up as sponsors. Not bad for a place devoted to such topics as the "Fart Cloud Building" of Williamsburg, Brooklyn. See, "Giant Fart Cloud Bldg Will Break No More Wind in Williamsburg," September 12, 2007.

And then there's the more staid, but highly respected blog with the clout of one of New York's most renown land use experts behind it. Law of the Land, hosted by Patricia Salkin, professor at Albany Law School, is "designed to provide a forum for the discussion of current laws, policies and decisions that affect the use of land." With more of a legal slant, Law of the Land focuses on recent court decisions and the like that impact land use. Aside from its pedigree, it has this fantastic panoramic picture of a gently sloping, green expanse extending down to a sea that disappears into the horizon. Although I have no idea where this place might be, somehow it draws me in every time -- as if it were Shangri-la.

When I see such great efforts out there, I turn inward, and figure out what I can do better as a blogger. Or maybe it's easier to blame others. Take for instance the Center for Municipal Solutions, which since 1987 has been hired by municipalities to draft ordinances that combat the "menace" that is the telecommunications industry. Most of my law practice these days involves being on the side of the wireless world. It's interesting to peer into the other side, and see who is attempting to parlay municipal fears into a living. It's also nice to put a name to the folks who keep me from devoting more time to blogging.

Luckily there are other voices out there to inspire, and spread the expanse of knowledge and possibilities when it comes to land use. I can only hope to aspire to such lofty goals from my modest perch.

Summer Memories

With the passing of Labor Day, it's time to accept the fact that it's only going to get colder and darker. Fall is a great time of year, but it only foretells the inevitable descent into the doldrums of winter. In the meantime, it's nice to look back and think about all the things you did and didn't have a chance to do over the course of the summer. In the land of Kelo and Beyond, it seems fitting that there have been several recent stories in the land use realm that harkens back to the time of year when it's hot and sunny. Take for instance the land of Dirty Dancing, the Catskills. The State of New York has agreed to settle a seven-year battle with a developer seeking to construct a new resort area in amongst the pristine expanses 120 miles north of New York City. The biggest concern, among the many environmental groups challenging the plan, was the project's potential impact on the watershed containing some of the reservoirs that serve New York City's water needs. In the end, and in the spirit of Labor Day, all sides appeared to be satisfied with the results. The area got economic development, protection of a large chunk of the land in dispute and the chance for new hotels in upcoming summers.

And what about those bygone days of yore, when certain pastimes that no longer hold sway captivated the masses? One such example was the drive-in movie theater, which aside from certain pockets out there, seems to be going the way of silent films. Today there are around 400 across the country, down from 4,000 in 1958. Most owners found the shrinking crowds, and the demand for their land from big box retailers too strong to resist. Buffalo, New York just saw its last one close, to the lament of its long time customers. As one noted, after he saw the Elizabeth Taylor vehicle Cleopatra back in the day, "[b]eing a good Catholic that I am, I went to confession the next day . . . although to this day, I'm not quite sure why I went to confession. I wasn't the one cheating." Nonetheless, future generations will be cheated of a wonderful summer pastime, all due to the changing needs of how we use the land.

And what about that all too familiar site for summer fun, the Sunshine State of Florida? In a noticeably unfriendly gesture toward free-wheeling times, Coral Gables, Florida tried to outlaw the parking of pickups on residential streets, and even driveways, overnight. The Florida Third District Court of Appeal reversed a lower court ruling, and found that the law, part of Coral Gables' "City Beautiful" movement, crossed the line. Brought by none other than a young man waiting to hear the results of his bar examination, the lawsuit upheld what many see as a God given right: owning a truck. Being that these rugged vehicles also have half of their carriage exposed to the sun, how can't the city, smack dab in south Florida, welcome them with open arms?

In any event, as we all return to some semblance of normalcy (yes, unlikely, as "normalcy" is so often illusive), for those of us in cooler climes it's worth remembering these times, because they will all too soon leave us. And maybe there may even still be some leisure time left to savor the last few days of summer, and squeeze in all the things you still have yet to do.

There Goes the Neighborhood

Neighborhoods and places never stay the same. A new restaurant opens up every day, it seems, in my neck of the woods. But as with any good story, scribes tend to look for the conflict in such changes and trends. The other day I heard my neighborhood being called "transitional," which is not only off the mark (the transition has already happened), it suggests within that loaded word a level of resentment at the "newcomers." It's an inevitable, natural response. And yet, oftentimes, change is good. As we approach the anniversary of the Katrina nightmare in New Orleans, the media is trying to find signs that the city is in fact alive and on its way back to wellness. According to one report, two to three thousand young, well-educated professionals have descended on the city over the last year to blend into the city's fabric. Most have decided to make New Orleans their permanent home. Called the "brain gain," the newbies have integrated into various sectors of the city's community. As one new arrival describes it, "I believe in the power of place." Maybe a bit high and mighty, but needed in a place that continues to strive towards normalcy.

Of course, not all of these types of stories can be friendly and heart warming. West of Washington, D.C., in Loudon County, Virginia, the continuing push into the countryside, which has exploded in the last decade, has prompted the small, leafy towns in the western part of the county to fight off the newcomers. The "line in the sand" is Route 15, which currently separates the more developed eastern portion of the county around Dulles International Airport from the more rural western sector. Using ploys such as forming nonprofits to acquire targeted property and applying to the National Park Service to designate large swaths of land as a national Civil War battlefield, western Loudon residents are trying their best to keep out the unwelcome carpetbaggers with their traffic and McMansions.

Even worse, and the one thing all neighborhoods must be vigilant of, is the unwelcome newcomer of "blight." It was long a word associated with "urban renewal," which justified the wiping away of vibrant urban neighborhoods in the disastrous policies of "slum clearing" in the first few decades after World War II. Now, in light of the foreclosure fallout from the subprime mortgage market disaster, as we first discussed in "In With the Old . ." from March 28, 2007, "blight" is a term of art for vacant, foreclosed homes in otherwise vibrant neighborhoods. In Southern California, where one hundred houses a day are foreclosed on, there's the unique problem of what to do with the pool. Unattended pools are becoming mosquito breeding grounds, opening up the door to West Nile virus potentialities. In addition, another breed of newcomers, brazen squatters, is looking to take advantage of empty houses in prime locations. As one police officer noted, "If you know what you're doing, you can get six months in a place with a kick-ass view."

As one who is seeking to buy a home in the near future, the thought of all the issues that are raised when you commit to a place are mind boggling. Sure, you have to contend with all of the little and big things that need to be fixed and tended to in connection with the structure itself. But you also have to take the risk that your neighbors will be just as interested in preserving the neighborhood as a whole. With that to contend with, it's not surprising that the first reaction when the newcomers arrive is one of suspicion, rather than of welcoming with open arms. That only seems to happen when, like in the case of New Orleans, they are desperately needed.

Legacy Building

In honor of the death of Leona Helmsley, the "Queen of Mean" as she was called during the heyday of hate towards her in the early 1990's, I started thinking about the bad rap that generally feeds towards "developers" in general. A few times ago we discussed the instances where developers may go a little too far, all in the name of earning a buck. But it's interesting to look back on the life of Ms. Helmsley, as she was hated by just about everyone, but in the end, left a legacy of success in the world of development. Sure, there was a lot not to like about the woman: she was mean to her employees, she was sent to the slammer for tax evasion, she was successfully sued for her discriminatory views towards gays, she got her start as a real estate broker, etc., etc. But nobody seemed to quibble with the fact that she was very successful, along with her deceased husband, in orchestrating a splendid real estate empire. Hate the woman, not the game, as some may say.

A lot of good comes from those who are willing to build. Take for example in East Orange, New Jersey, where the long-decrepit Mayfair apartment building that required an emergency eviction of all occupants five years ago on account of the unsanitary, dangerous condition it had found itself, is experiencing a rebirth as a (relatively) affordable condominium building. Other major projects in the city are also signaling the beginning of a renaissance in this long-struggling place. On a downward turn since neighboring Newark's riots four decades ago, East Orange has turned the corner, lowering crime and attracting new development. The current owners of Mayfair, Mark Caller and Pinny Loketch of the GLC Group, have pinpointed another place where housing-starved denizens in this region can buy great places for less than what is usually demanded. Of course, those with an eye towards low-income residents rightly point out that the new development may equal gentrification. But at the same time, as in the words of the Mayfair's site manager, "What we're trying to do is rebuild a community here."

Another developer feel-good story comes from Fort Mill, South Carolina, where refugees from nearby Charlotte, North Carolina, and others, are flocking to the former sleepy mill town. One of the planned communities to be constructed is Kanawha, an "environmentally-oriented development," which at least sounds good. Aside from the environmental museum that would be part of the plan, there appear to be good people behind this project, including the York County Cultural and Heritage Foundation. In addition, the area will have access to light-rail service nearby beginning in the fall. The area has retained that small town character, even amidst the influx of new residents.

So even though developers deservedly get a bad rap for some of the things they pull from time to time, there are people in the business who want to go about it the right way. And even if they don't, sometimes the results allow some to overlook the nonsense that was required to get it done. Who knows, maybe when the hoopla surrounding Leona Helmsley's life fades from memory, all that will be left is the legacy of her efforts.

Lifelines

Last week, the New York area was hit with a mid-summer storm that brought a deluge of rain, not to mention the first tornado to Brooklyn in over a century. In the aftermath of the event, where New Yorkers were making new friends while waiting for the next subway train, or cursing to themselves while they sat in traffic on the region's parkways (which is where I found myself), a significant backlash hit against those who are in control of these lifelines of commerce and connections. The millions of people who crowd in and around the island of Manhattan rely on these modes of transportation to conduct their daily business, and their daily lives. When everything shut down for a time on account of a bit of rain (it was actually around 1.7 inches between 6 a.m. and 7 a.m. that fateful day), people turned to the holders of the puppet strings of New York's transportation system for answers.

Generally, the response was one of being unprepared for the onslaught, as the severity of the storm was not expected by the transportation hierarchy. The finger pointing merry-go-round went from the Metropolitan Transportation Authority to the National Weather Service to global warming. But in the end, after the water has drained away, the realization becomes how fragile the whole system really is. Together all of us head out into the world each day, seemingly, and in reality, in a multiplicity of different directions. Every commuter for yourself, so back off! But what we often forget is that we're all in it together, and need to work with one another to keep things running smoothly. And although the system appeared to crumble on the morning of August 8, 2007, in reality, it demonstrated how resilient New York continues to prove itself time and again. Within hours, most of the transportation network had been restored, and people resumed their daily tasks -- almost as if nothing had happened.

The fragility of our lifelines is a theme that has traveled across the nation recently. The deadly bridge collapse in Minneapolis was a national story. In New York, we followed it with the same attention as anywhere across the nation. The fallout from this tragedy was a renewed effort to inspect the bridges across America. The result was a staggering number of spans that require some significant attention. Where the money will come from is another story altogether. The theme of precarious lifelines spans the centuries as well. Archeologists studying the ancient city of Angkor in Cambodia, believed to have been as sprawling as Los Angeles, have learned that the crumbling of the Southeast Asian metropolis in the 1500s may have been caused by the collapse of its highly sophisticated water management system. The sheer scale of the endeavor was its ultimate downfall. The caretakers could no longer maintain the system. The connections between our own transportation issues are instructive.

No matter how great our monuments become, we must keep in mind that without the lifelines that serve them, there is no way to sustain, or support them. The Angkor Wat temple stands as a testament of Angkor's fate. As American metropolitan areas have fanned out to the far reaches of the hinterlands, it is imperative that transportation remains at the forefront of any planning for the future. It may not be the most intriguing aspect of a new project, but it may very well be the most important.

You Want to See an Eyesore?

Driving down to my parents' place over the weekend, my wife and I drove past the enormous complex of heavy industrial facilities that line the New Jersey Turnpike located at the foot of the Goethals Bridge. Belching noise, smoke and smells unlike just about anywhere else on earth, the epicenter of why New Jersey got the reputation of being New Jersey got me to pondering the way in which land use choices can produce an uncomfortable and unsightly place to be. Luckily, only the people who travel past lucky Exit 13 of the New Jersey Turnpike are exposed to what is an ungodly place to be. Let me just say that I enjoyed the time I spent in New Jersey as a resident, and have nothing bad to say about the state. And the Garden State is not alone in having its share of eyesores that litter the landscape. The question becomes how state and local officials contend with them, and attempt to incorporate them into the prettier parts of the landscape.

Take for instance the situation in Florida, where there is a growing attempt to regulate phosphate mines that spread across the state. Near the Peace River estuary, three counties are attempting to block a 20,675 acre phosphate mine from opening in their territory. Concerned with the loss of forest land and wetlands over the last few decades, the counties are challenging permits that were granted by the State Environmental Protection Department. Sure, the environmental and economic effects of these huge open mines seem to be sufficient factors to drive the opposition. However, it seems strange that there is no discussion of the operation of phosphate mining itself, and the way in which it scars the landscape. There are regulations that require mine operators to refill the affected areas when the sought-after materials have been extracted. Yet, just like their counterparts in New Jersey, the locals around the phosphate mines appear to accept the existence of the intensive activity, for some form of a "greater good," provided there are no ancillary effects on their way of life.

Shifting away from Florida, what about the eyesore that has defined America over the last half-century: I'm talking about the omnipresent suburban commercial strip lined with garish signage, fast food restaurants, roadside motels and big box retailers. In a place where they know a thing or two about garish decor, there is an attempt to spruce up one such strip for the better. In Memphis, Tennessee, the immediate area around Graceland, the former home of Elvis Presley, has deteriorated over the years into a run-down stretch of Americana that could certainly use a facelift. As the anchor of the community, the new controlling owner of Graceland, CKX Inc., is looking to invest $250 million in upgrading the facility. Plans have been announced, just before the 30th anniversary of the King's death, to add a new visitor center, a hotel and a high-tech museum on 100 acres next to the tourist destination. The head of Elvis Presley Enterprises, which is now a subsidiary of CKX, boils down the issue. "We've continued all these years to be a major destination attraction with a busy, pretty unattractive street running right through the middle of it." Having visited recently, I can vouch for this assessment. The tourist center is located across the street from the actual home -- plans are to put everything on one side. However, the intention is not to insulate the facility from the community. "We don't want to create an island," the head continues," "We want to be a catalyst for the right kind of growth and the right kind of revitalization of the commercial corridors." Seeing the need to remove the eyesore, which oddly enough isn't Graceland, the people running the facility have a keen sense how to eradicate it from the area.

In a world where we're all being forced to get a little closer to our neighbors (take for example a recent article talking about the greater Los Angeles region), the threat of constructing something that will offend one of the neighbors grows ever greater. There are many ways to go about it, but as is clear from above, the fight to eliminate them is on. Something like the New Jersey industrial complex may be difficult to remove. But for those that have either fallen out of favor, or fallen out of style, the tide marches on towards something new. Of course, as is true for anything built in America, this "new" proposal will no doubt face its fate as the eyesore of the next generation.

A Little Desecration Every Now And Then . . .

Land developers have always been painted as willing to do just about anything to make a buck -- think Craig T. Nelson realizing in Poltergeist that he built a new subdivision on top of an old Native American burial ground. But what about good old George and Mary Bailey, who apparently built Bailey Park on top of an old cemetery in It's a Wonderful Life? No one seems to make a big deal about that. Regardless, the point is that no matter where or how one decides to build something new, it's likely that the project is bound to offend someone. The affront can be big or small, real or perceived. And sometimes, "hallowed ground" means the public space itself, at least from a Constitutional perspective. Take the recent New Jersey Supreme Court case where a homeowners' association won the right to restrict the posting of political signs in certain areas of the housing development governed by the association. And as is so often the case, the lawsuit started with an affront, with certain homeowners bristling at the association's restrictions against political signs, the use of common spaces for political meetings and limitations on publishing contrary opinions against the board in the association's newspaper. The significance of this case of first impression is too early to know, but will be played out in other courts over the next few years.

But beyond the worldly there is the spiritual world, which can often encroach on our space. Some projects can border on sacrilege, at least in some peoples' minds. For instance, in Pequannock, New Jersey, a wireless communications carrier has proposed constructing a 100-foot cellular tower shaped like a cross on property owned by the Bible Christian Fellowship Church. As a practitioner becoming very familiar with cell tower applications, this one seemed a bit unique. Wireless carriers have been searching for ways to hide their antennas for years, in such places as church steeples, flagpoles and structures that look (sort of) like trees. The cross option, in fact, has been used elsewhere. However, the thought of it no doubt causes consternation to those who have not heard of such proposals. As one local resident noted, "As a Christian, I wouldn't want to do anything that would denigrate the idea of the cross." Who knew that providing cell coverage would force certain Christians to test their very faith? Nonetheless, one Township councilman focused on the worldly. "There's a big difference between a man made structure such as this and natural vegetation such as trees." For the Church, they're just trying to figure out what's best for the institution, and the people it serves.

On the other side of the continent, in Navajo territory in New Mexico, tribal leaders are considering the construction of a $3 billion plan to construct the Desert Rock coal-burning generator facility that would emit over the course of a year carbon dioxide amounts equivalent to emissions from 1.5 million cars. The expected environmental opposition groups have entered the ring like Environmental Defense and the Natural Resources Defense Council. Local citizens groups, including Dooda Desert Rock, or "No to Desert Rock" in Navajo, have also voiced their objections. Even Governor, and Presidential contender Bill Richardson has entered the fray, coming out against the proposal. But lost amongst the bustle is also the opposition from some Navajos who see the plan as a deadly "energy monster" that desecrates Father Sky and Mother Earth. With a history of exploitation when it comes to mining activities in the region, you can understand how the worries have manifested in the spiritual realm. Yet, this opposition received far less attention than the legal and environmental challenges. Nonetheless, it seems these concerns are part of the equation as well.

So how far should spiritual concerns encroach into the land use process? Obviously, as a public matter, and in a country ostensibly devoted to the concept of the separation of church and state, the answer appears to be self-explanatory. However, it is undeniable that one's religious beliefs cannot help but factor into one's opinion on such projects. No, this isn't the same as when people challenged John F. Kennedy's devotion to his country, claiming he would follow the Pope. Projects such as these question one's faith, especially if you have to look at them every day. Sure, there are other issues involved, but it cannot be ignored in such stark examples. Nonetheless, just as the Founding Fathers realized when they put their own finishing touches on the Constitution, circumstances change, as well as values. Just as courts will continue to parse out the meaning of the Constitution, religious leaders and practitioners will continue to determine how to define and redefine their faith, and what they want it to look like.

Don't You Remember . . .

Over the weekend, after prolonging the inevitable, I got my hair cut. The woman who shaved away the months of shagginess from my head was a chatty type, and listening to an oldies radio station, she fell on the subject of music, and how it marks the time. She remarked, "You know you're old when you hear a song, and it reminds you of a place you once were. The song puts you back there, and you can remember it all like it was yesterday." I noted the poignancy of her observation, and then gave the musing further thought. Walking back home from the gym the next day, the convergence of time, space and music hit me again, when I was listening to "Machine Gun" by the Commodores, a bizarre, but exceedingly catchy tune from the '70s that you'll hear in just about any movie about that decade these days. As I headed for home, and the music started blaring from my iPod, I looked up and saw this man, best described as a "dude," with '70's-style "Chips" sunglasses and a bushy porn-star mustache. In an instant, I was there.

But what do these chance moments have to do with land use? That's what I was wondering until I figured it out. It is not only the music that helps mark the time, it is the places that make up our built up environment themselves. The moments of our lives are marked by these locales, and in turn, the locales are defined by the moments. Two of the most jarring events of the past few American generations, the Kennedy assassination and September 11, 2001, are discussed amongst us using the same question time and again: "Where were you when . . ." The "who" and "what" supply the flavor for each personal testimonial, but it is the "where" that initiates the discussion. (For the record, at the first epoch, I wasn't around. On the second, I watched the horror from my office window in New Jersey).

Places mean what they do because of the moments that occur there. For instance, the first thing most people mention about Newark, New Jersey, is the riots that happened there forty years ago. Where JFK was shot, and where the Twin Towers fell, have become iconic, almost holy pieces of ground. But just as important are the endless places where everyone else was when they learned the news of these two horrible events. Another convergence of time and place occurred a few days ago, when I sat at a Continuing Legal Education seminar in the same room where I gave my best man speech to my brother and sister-in-law on their wedding day. The place will forever be connected with the moment that took place there before.

Why don't people like to buy homes where murders have occurred? Why does Victoria Beckham gasp when learning that her potential new digs were once owned by Lionel Richie? The answer lies in the meaning places acquire. A few years ago, in the middle of our move from the East to the West coast, my wife and I got stuck on the New Jersey Turnpike, running out of gas on account of a faulty gauge on the U-Haul we were renting. Every time we pass that spot, we mark it with a shaking of the head. Another way the spot is marked is with a new roadside hotel, which was in the midst of construction when we spent that fateful, stifling day on the side of the highway. What developers often forget when they bring the next new thing to town is that the place they seek to morph into their own conception was once something else meaningful to people. Most of the time locals will ignore the pull of their memories to allow the new project to proceed. But when residents protest, oftentimes the source of their objection is buried in the moments of the past that they clutch onto in their fight to halt the inevitable march. Not everywhere is there a Dealey Plaza or Ground Zero. Nonetheless, one must be mindful of the past when looking to reshape the future.

The Outsiders

There's a lot of news in the world out there lately. Here in New York, Mayor Bloomberg's plan to bring "congestion pricing" to lower Manhattan fell on deaf ears in the state legislature. In addition, there was a big hubbub about a parking space that costs $225,000, and has a waiting list, in Manhattan's Chelsea's neighborhood. HBO Sports released a marvelous documentary on the Brooklyn Dodgers, which carefully charted how Power Broker Robert Moses prompted the move of the beloved baseball franchise to Los Angeles by denying Walter O'Malley access to the Atlantic Yards, which are currently being fought over again as the future site of a basketball arena. Beyond the confines of NYC, down South, atop the Florida aquifer system, development pressures are putting an intense stress on the underground water supply of the region. If current trends do not change, saltwater will begin to encroach on the dwindling freshwater supply. News from the post-Katrina Gulf coast indicates that despite, and evidence indicates because of, the slow pace of redevelopment occurring in this region after the devastating storm, the people that have returned to the region, left with little of the social institutions they once enjoyed, have turned to the casinos that line the Gulf for solace. Casino operators are reporting record revenues, largely due to locals turning to them for escape.

But out of the spotlight of these bigger stories comes a simple example of the American land use system working as it always has -- on the local level seeking to solve small, yet vital issues that mean most to communities and their residents. Recently, I found myself sitting in on a Town Board meeting on the east end of Long Island. I was there to monitor a topic on the Board's agenda relevant to my practice. Aside from learning the Board's thoughts on this issue, I left with a reminder as to why land use regulation exists, and the undercurrents that so often go unsaid. The item on the agenda that caught my attention involved the Town's problem with dealing with out-of-towners who are using the Town's beaches, to great ire of the locals. Although each of the people who weighed in on the issue carefully sidestepped the obvious implications of the proposed action, which would make it more difficult for the "outsiders" to use the Town's beaches, everyone could see the white elephant occupying its spot in the Board's chambers.

At the core of the issue, the residents, one after the other, voiced their complaints that these "out-of-towners," "none of whom had New York state license plates," were using their beaches, leaving behind garbage, using the sand as their personal toilets, cleaning their day's catch on the street outside their houses. The angry residents suggested to raise the price of day passes to their beaches, increase police presence around the beaches and generally discourage these unwelcome visitors from coming back. Sure, they prefaced their remarks with, "I don't see anything wrong with people using the beaches," but then they proceeded to express how to keep them away. Granted, the way these visitors were treating their destination was deplorable, and something should be done. But such comments as, "my grown children were appalled when they came back and saw what was happening," and "it's not how it used to be," suggests that deep down, if these residents could put a fence around their town, and require people to present photo I.D.s to get in (which is essentially what they were suggesting to the Town Board), they would do it. By the end of the discussion on the agenda item, I was fearful they would spot me as an interloper, and throw me out of Town.

This issue of providing public access to beaches is an age old problem. For instance, in Los Angeles, the owners of exclusive homes in the enclave of Malibu go through the never-ending struggle to discourage people from crossing through their community to reach the beach -- even though these beachgoers are within their rights under the "public trust doctrine." Going so far as hiring private goon squads to keep out the public, Malibu types constantly battle with public authorities seeking to strike a careful balance. What causes normally reasonable people to hire private security forces, or to take pictures of people using the beach (as in the case in this Long Island beach community) with their spare cash and free time? What kind of condition creates some of the most important land use cases that have come from the U.S. Supreme Court in the last few decades? (See Nollan v. California Coastal Commission, 483 U.S. 825 (1987), for instance). It is these seemingly innocuous matters that determine whether a community offers a good quality of life, or a burden on top of the other stresses of modern life. The land use system encroaches on the day-to-day lives of all of us, no matter how big or small, and every decision has consequences. Who knows what the ultimate outcome of the battle waging on the eastern end of Long Island will be. But in the end, another issue will no doubt come along to raise the ire of the locals, oftentimes caused by those pesky "outsiders."