In these times where those infernal oil companies are siphoning off our incomes, and the creeping dread of the "r" word, it seems everything has a theme of contraction wherever one turns. Whatever it is I think I see, becomes a Tootsie Roll pop that gets smaller and smaller by each lick of the wise old owl. Putting that mixing of advertising jingles aside, it does seem things keep getting smaller, literally. For instance, the geographer for the New York City Department of City Planning has revealed the staggering news that the mighty metropolis is actually 17 square miles smaller than what was widely believed. Instead of a robust 322 square miles, the city limits only include a paltry 304.8 square miles. Of course, my home borough of Brooklyn took the brunt of the shrinkage, accounting for 10 of the 17-square-mile loss. The geographer, Michael S. Miller, claims the loss is only based on more exact measurements performed since the last time an assessment was made. However, maybe it is simply a sign of the times, with geography falling into line with this age of shrinkage.
Another story from the annuls of land use further support the view that things keep getting smaller -- like the number of homeowners that can hold onto their castles these days. According to one report, three percent of once-occupied homes now stand vacant across the country. The horrendous foreclosure meltdown has resulted in a huge stock of abandoned homes that cannot be filled, which has been chronicled in this blog previously. As a way to combat this problem, mortgage companies are hiring contractors to look after these structures to ensure that the companies' investments do not fall into disrepair, or worse, suffer from vandalism. For instance, in Jacksonville, Florida, these contractors have benefited from the misery of others, billing mortgage companies as much as $5,000 every two weeks to perform their duties. When one side shrinks, the other grows larger.
Another arena facing the prospect of shrinkage is the stock of structures that have been deemed "historic" by some, but just plain old by others. The National Trust for Historic Preservation, a watchdog group for such concerns, has released its annual list of most endangered historic places. Intended to raise the awareness for these sites before they are lost forever, the organization tries its best to prevent another slice of the built environment from shrinking into oblivion. Included among this year's list is the Statler Hilton Hotel in Dallas, Texas, the first glass and steel hotel built in America. Also cited is the Lower East Side of New York City, which is slowly succumbing to the massive gentrification that continues to engulf the tenements of early 20th century immigrant experience. In addition, the Sumner School of Topeka, Kansas, made the cut, which was the genesis for the groundbreaking Brown v. Board of Education case that rejected the era of "separate but equal". Sure, some old buildings have to go. But maybe some are worth saving.
Even Wal-Mart has shrunk away from its grand expansion plans that seem to go on unabated. On the South Side of Chicago, the retail juggernaut has decided to retreat from its attempts to locate its second store within the city's limits. Facing city opposition in light of mighty Mayor Daley's mistake in vetoing a big box ordinance that attempted to impose minimum wage requirements on such stores in 2006, Wal-Mart decided to retreat to the suburbs, and focus their attention on the fringes. Mayor Daley is also in the midst of trying to bring the 2016 Olympics to his city, and does not want to again raise the ire of the union interests who opposed him on the prior fight. Although Wal-Mart has not succeeded in cracking Northern urban markets, we shouldn't cry too much for them. Aside from the Plan B approach in Chicago, in a one step back means two steps forward approach, Wal-Mart is setting its sights abroad, where such nations as Brazil are welcoming the retailer with open arms.
And along with shrinkage, the steadiness of certain land use stalwarts has felt the wobbly uncertainty of the times. Portland, Oregon, a place I've glowed about in previous entries, is facing a challenge to its progressive outlook on the way people live amongst each other and how the city chooses to grow. The ugly word of gentrification has led to an open debate on whether the needs of those in need are adequately being met by the green-leaning vision of the community. In a metropolitan area that is only 7 percent African-American, the city is using its Office of Neighborhood Involvement to conduct the Restorative Listening Project, a plan to listen to the concerns of minority residents in communities that are being overrun by white people. As one Native American participant notes, "That's been our history. . . . They take all you've got. They take your land. Now they want your stories." The shrinking world around the long-term residents has bred resentment, particularly where their shifting neighborhood will never be what it once was. More complex still is the fact that things have improved for the better in the community, but arguably not for those who were subjected to the bad times.
In this era of shrinkage, there is still the push to grow. As first referenced in "Clean Slate," my March 22, 2007, entry in this space, a deal has been struck between environmental groups and the developer of the massive Tejon Ranch tract north of Los Angeles. In exchange for a massive development project to encompass 30,000 acres, the owner of the tract has agreed to set aside 240,000 acres to continue as a wilderness area free from disturbance. In a way, it is a plan for growth agreeable to this era of shrinkage. Ninety percent of the parcel will be conserved. In some ways, maybe shrinkage isn't all that bad.
