In With The Old . . .

This week, I’m returning to the practice of law and the land use process, settling in at a firm out on Long Island. I’ve never really left, but being back “in it” every day reminds me of the dynamic way our landscape morphs to the changing needs of metropolitan areas. Even from my office window, high atop the flatness of Long Island, I’ll be able to watch the evolution of the local built environment. As I look forward, it makes me think a lot about time, and its supreme power. My mood takes me to the time gone by, and how it can, for some, cause cruel fates to unfold. Despite its preciousness, it can also be a curse for those who let it get the better of them. Take the current, horrific trend towards foreclosures, particularly for those unfortunate souls who found themselves in the fast-crumbling subprime mortgage market. Sure, these borrowers signed the paperwork that got them in their respective messes, but news continues to trickle out about the predatory nature of some of these loans.

In Shaker Heights, Ohio, where my mother grew up, there is growing trend of vacant houses resulting from foreclosure actions. Once one of the more affluent addresses in the country, it has become tarnished by the proliferation of vacancies. But Shaker Heights, like Euclid, another nearby inner ring suburb of Cleveland, is fighting the trend by keeping up these properties, down to fixing windows and mowing lawns, until the entanglement of the foreclosures can be resolved. Cleveland proper has been fighting this trend of mass vacancies for quite some time. Scavengers and squatters take the place of homeowners. But now the problem has jumped over the city lines to the suburbs, particularly those directly on the other side of those lines. Cuyahoga County, within which lies Cleveland, has seen a huge climb in foreclosures, from 2,500 in 1995 to 15,000 last year. The appalling numbers portend increases to continue. Mayor Judith Rawson of Shaker Heights warns, “It’s a tragedy and it’s just beginning.” The trend not only proves the depths of the subprime mortgage industry’s woes, it also speaks to the larger concern over America’s treatment of its built-up environment, and the difficulty in holding on to the stability of affluence. Affluent Americans are a mobile sort, and continue to seek out the “new.” But what about the “old”? Is there any place for it in our eternal search for the next thing?

The answer of course is yes, if those same affluent types find a reason to get behind the place at risk. One such locale is the Van Dyke farm in South Brunswick, New Jersey, near the New Jersey Turnpike. Threatened by the sprouting of sprawling warehouse complexes along the nearby transportation corridor, the farm and its house, built in 1713, faces extinction. A group called the Eastern Villages Association has embraced the fight for the farm. The threatened tract includes historically significant markers such as a preserved slave quarters, Revolutionary-era gravesites and other artifacts. As one member of the Association explains, “The Van Dyke farm is the proverbial line in the sand, and the state and local government must make sure that no one crosses it.” Of course this is a worthwhile cause – we need to preserve our history. But what of the history of our own lives, and the places where they were lived? Where does the “line in the sand” exist for the suburban ghost towns in between our central cities and the newer, glossier outer suburbs?

Ohio, facing the foreclosure phenomenon, has committed $100 million in bonds to fight the trend of people losing their homes. But as lawmakers note, it is only a “dent” in the problem. Without true commitment from people to just stay put, or actually consider reusing a community or two, it will be a steep hill to climb to hold onto the past. Oddly enough, my mother's childhood home has emerged on the market. Whether it is one of those vacant, foreclosed homes is unclear. But it does stand as an opportunity to hold off the relentless forces of the land use process, if only a buyer will give it chance.

Clean Slate

For the past week or so I’ve been contending with one of those things that makes you feel, or tells you that you are, old. My back has turned on me, forcing me to inch around my apartment, walking like Frankenstein’s monster -- when I can actually stand. If anything, it has allowed me the chance to watch a lot of Hawaii Five-O, and in between, do a bit of reading. One of my choices was the Historical Atlas of the United States, by Derek Hayes. Studying the evolution of the North American continent from sparsely-inhabited to open space-challenged in a period of five hundred years, the maps and Hayes’ narration got me to thinking about what it would have been like to be around to see the fledgling New Amsterdam settlement, huddled against the southern tip of Manhattan Island, with pastures to the north and oyster shells piled on the shores. What would mission-era Los Angeles have been like, with the expansive basin undeveloped between the small settlement and the shores of the Pacific miles away, with no Wilshire Boulevard or Interstate 10 to connect the two? How about walking the Great Plains, unable to see above the native prairie grasses? Or the Chicago River before it was turned green each year for St. Patrick’s Day? These thoughts have always fascinated me, and the whole idea of starting a city from scratch has intrigued me, if not called me to buy a copy of SimCity.

City building is a continual human endeavor, even today. There will always be the polishing and tinkering performed on all modern cities. Metaphorically, the striving for the “new” will never end. Look at the west side of Chicago, which when I was in college there in the mid-nineties, it was a place to avoid. Now, with the influx of gentrifying forces, it is the place to be, particularly with the razing of Cabrini-Green, one of the most infamous public housing communities in the country. Of course, not everyone has benefited. Nonetheless, the march continues on. Likewise, in the thicket of Long Island, Charles Wang, owner of the New York Islanders and founder of Computer Associates, along with his real estate partner Scott Rechler, are looking to transform the hamlets of Old Bethpage and Plainview with a 166-acre parcel they seek to develop with a number of uses.

But what about entirely new cities rising from the ground in a world where it seems that potential sites have pretty much been exhausted? For instance, about sixty miles north of Los Angeles, along Interstate 5, three massive projects on the existing 270,000 acre Tejon Ranch are making their way through the land use and environmental approval processes. The three developments together would comprise about 50,000 acres, leaving the majority of the ranch intact. However, the magnitude of such a project has raised eyebrows in a region well acquainted with swallowing huge swaths of land for new development. The cornerstone project, Centennial, would include 23,000 homes and all of the amenities required to support a community of approximately 70,000 people. The second project, deemed Tejon Mountain Village, would include 3,500 homes catering towards the second home set. Finally, the third parcel would involve the construction of industrial park facilities. Literally from the ground up, a new city would be born. The approach is well in keeping with Alan Berger’s Drosscape view of urban expansion, where he charts the growing prevalence of communities about 50 miles beyond existing metropolises to serve the distribution needs of our national and international transportation network. (See prior post dated December 5, 2006). The Tejon Ranch plan is also in line with another familiar trend.

This next stage in city building is in some ways an attempt to provide what suburbs did in the last century -– provide that enclave separate and apart from the central city. With Americans increasingly accepting difficult commutes, living 60 miles from the office does not seem out of the question for many. If cheaper housing and quality amenities are present, the dream of “escape” has been granted again. When new settlers first planted themselves on Manhattan, and on the banks of the Chicago River and in the Los Angeles Basin, in some ways they also sought such an “escape,” to forge their own paths, and create something new. For me, I’m perfectly happy accepting my fate of being "old," at least when it comes to my choice of address. Following the trail of millions of others over the last five hundred years, I'm content to remain planted in Brooklyn. Not to mention, my back shouts to me to preserve it a bit longer, and avoid the sixty-mile commute each way.

Line in the Sand

This week, after years of anticipation, I received my Hawaii Five-O first season DVD set. Depending how things go, hopefully the powers that be over at CBS DVD recognize the sagacity in releasing the subsequent seasons of the hit crime drama starring Jack Lord that ran from 1968 to 1980. Throwing in the first of the seven-disc set, I started watching the episode entitled “Strangers in Our Own Land,” a nod to the lament of encroaching development in the islands, to which the show greatly contributed. People watching the beauty and mystery of the islands wanted to see them in person, which stimulated a boom in hotel, commercial and residential building across the archipelago. There was a poignant moment during this episode which points to a specific issue still raging in land use circles today. Simon Oakland, playing the Hawaiian Benny Kalua, looks over a vantage point in the backyard of a home in the hills above Honolulu. He motions towards the then-new towers of Waikiki Beach, showing the clear divide between the retained greenery in the hills and the concrete jungle shoved along the narrow manmade beach below. Hawaii, buoyed by its need to preserve the natural beauty of the islands, has since instituted strict land use controls over its territory. It rides a careful balance between the demands of its tourists for amenities and natural resources. But what about elsewhere? How do other locales draw their own lines in the sand?

One example is the Urban Growth Boundary of Portland, Oregon, a line that keeps development, to a large extent, within the metro area’s borders. Other localities around the country have adopted similar measures, including Minneapolis, Minnesota, and Lexington, Kentucky. The same is true on the eastern side of the country in Miami-Dade County, Florida, where in 1983, county officials drew a line to stem the tide of development in the fast-growing area. This month, the county will release a new report that will support the preservation of the Urban Development Boundary, or UDB as they call it, until at least 2025. The line encourages development inside its orbit, while beyond it a hefty five-acre minimum lot size is required for new houses. Those on the outside looking in have voiced a common complaint over these lines in the sand, seeing an opportunity to revisit the county's UDB. Watching neighbors on the inside reap the benefits of selling off their holdings, and seeing the resultant big box stores and housing developments rising above their crops, these property owners, oftentimes farmers, wonder why they shouldn’t participate in the bonanza. This question will continue to rage amongst those most closely impacted by where the line is drawn. But just like any land use regulatory framework, think the lines dividing zoning districts, the boundaries have to go somewhere.

The farmers of south Florida cannot compare to those that simply choose to disregard such lines in the sand. It shouldn’t be a surprise that one of these mavericks is Google, the internet giant based in the Silicon Valley of California. The San Francisco region has several of its own urban growth lines, in an attempt to bring order to its explosive growth. Google has decided to ignore them, operating in an industry where lines matter less and less. To attract the top workers from the area, Google now offers an expansive shuttle bus service, which services 1,200 of its employees a day across 230 miles of routes. The buses offer comfortable seating and wireless internet access, so that "Googlers" can keep on working before and after they’re in the office, and more importantly from a land use perspective, decide to live just about anywhere they desire in the region. “Googlers” are locating around the shuttle stops dotted across the metropolitan area, to take advantage of the huge perk in a traffic-snarled region. Flying along in the high occupancy highway lanes, these vaulted workers pass across a multitude of lines evicerated in the process. Sure, carpooling is a laudable approach, people should have the right to be mobile and the housing situation in Silicon Valley is well-chronicled as almost impossible, but is Google's approach a model to follow or a luxury reserved for megacorporations? Does it help or hinder attempts to preserve the integrity of the lines in the sand?

The simple truth is that despite the value of drawing lines in the sand, ultimately, someone is going to come along with a way to exploit them, or bypass them altogether, exhibiting little regard for their careful placement. Then what is the answer to halting the march of new development in a carved-out enclave? The answer may lie in bypassing the question altogether, and rather than trying to keep the strangers out altogether, find a way to integrate them into the existing framework. Hawaiians seemed to have found that careful balance by welcoming newcomers, within defined parameters. Likewise, in Portland, the Urban Growth Boundary has been periodically readjusted to allow for more acreage to fall within its orbit. With principled flexibility, the new and old can come together to create a whole new place, that retains the kernel of the original, and prevents any worries of being “Strangers in Our Own Land.”

Do You Want Ecology With That?

With Al Gore and his team of filmmakers on “The Inconvenient Truth” winning the Oscar for Best Documentary Feature at this year’s Academy Awards, the issue of global warming became the resident cause for Hollywood types. At least for one day, the Academy acknowledged the problem, asserting that they had for the first time conducted a “completely green” telecast. What that means is unclear, and now that they’re on to the next thing, along with the next Oscar cycle, the entertainment community’s impact on the subject appears to have faded as quickly as people’s memories of who won which award. It doesn’t mean, however, that we land use types can’t think about the role our industry can play in the fight for environmental preservation. Historically, new additions to the built up environment and ecology have been mutually exclusive to one another. However, within the last few decades, this landscape has changed with the demands governments and consumers have placed on land use planning and building practices that help to alleviate the environmental impacts new development projects have on existing fauna, flora and other natural resources within the site’s orbit.

For instance, in El Salvador, the development company Lomas de Santa Elena has initiated a mega project called Emerald Ecozone, a multi-use development planned to be constructed in seventeen stages, with the first ten to be completed by next year. Located in the southern town of Cuscatalan, the project aspires “to inspire human interaction with nature and maintain a balanced ecosystem.” To achieve this goal, the developer is seeking to recreate El Imposible, the nation’s national park, within the confines of the development, to provide open space that the new residents of the gated community may enjoy. Putting aside the jokes of whether this effort is “possible,” the developer seeks to cater towards native Salvadorians who have spent time in the United States, and are now seeking an attractive retirement locale. In addition to the proposed parkland, the developer also plans to install solar paneling, encourage recycling, and abide by “eco-architecture” tenets.

In the United States, the green building movement has gained momentum in the last decade. The U.S. Green Building Council (USGBC), a consortium of development constituencies, oversees the LEED, or Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design, certification process. Introduced in 1998, the LEED system sets forth a common standard of measurement for new projects in meeting environmentally-friendly guidelines while still remaining economically profitable. The multi-point system ranges over a spectrum of sustainability, from a project being “Certified,” to it being at “Platinum” level. The USGBC measures for site development sustainability, water savings, energy efficiency, materials selection and indoor environmental quality. The LEED seal of approval, although not legally required, provides additional cache for new developments seeking to cater towards tenants and purchasers who are increasingly conscious of these ratings. With the high level of participation among development interests, the LEED process has grown in importance, and dictates a growing percentage of construction in America.

The movement towards more sustainable construction practices must warm the heart of Al Gore, who has made clear that although changes must be made to stem the tide of global warming, they can be done without completely changing our accepted way of life. Green building and sustainable site choices appear to be one step in the right direction. But without a clear guiding hand, how successful are these ad hoc approaches? Can Emerald Ecozone really achieve its goals of engineering “an environment where people live in harmony with nature”? Isn’t it really just another attempt to exploit untapped natural resources for the benefit of the privileged classes? And what about the sector of the industry that still operates without interest in the LEED certification process? How do we bring the entire industry tighter into the orbit of sustainable practices? Should this even be done, considering that environmentally-friendly construction may only be attainable for people who have the money to pay for it?

Behind all of these questions is the inconvenient truth that there are no easy answers. But with the wind heading in the direction of green practices, incremental change may lead towards a critical mass of shifting policy that will bring meaningful results for our sick planet. This week, Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, along with Senator Barbara Boxer, both Californians, initiated the “Green the Capitol” initiative, a plan to investigate how to improve the environmental conduct of Congressional operations. Pelosi and Boxer have set an April 30th deadline to hear back from Congress' chief administrative officer on findings and approaches. As with the other changes sought by the Democratic-controlled Congress, only time will tell -- just like when Pelosi and Boxer's fellow Californians await who "the Oscar goes to."