I Need To See It

First off, yes, it's been quiet from this end of the blogosphere lately, but honestly, I've been looking around and seeing things come to fruition that we've already covered. Lately I've been thinking a bit about the act of seeing, and how it's such a big part of what land use is all about. Watching the Pope, or B-16 as he's affectionately called in certain circles, it's clear how much it means to show up in person, giving the audience something to study up close and personal, and gives the stamp of legitimacy, removing the specter of the unknown. Glowing tributes to the man filled the airwaves, as we Americans have finally gotten a gander at the "new guy." In the realm of land use, as with most things, people are going to be quite suspicious of new things until they see precisely what is being proposed. Pretty color renderings, and even fancy computer-driven three-dimensional worlds are employed during land use hearings to attempt to replicate precisely what everyone can expect once something is built. But nothing can replace seeing the reality of things.

Take for instance the drastic actions happening in Youngstown, Ohio, which has been suffering the almost cliched path of urban decay over the course of the last four decades. Now facing the foreclosure crisis, the city is left with trying to improve what its remaining residents have to see everyday. Instead of staring at decaying buildings on near-abandoned blocks, Youngstown officials have decided to raze these areas and replace the broken areas with wide open green spaces. Affectionately called "shrinkage," harkening back to one of those famous "Seinfeld" situations, the plan is to contract, attempting to hold onto the portion of Youngstown that is still alive. Will it work? Well, why not try. It sure beats prior plans to bring in growth, like a proposed blimp factory, or a defense facility promised by then-President Clinton. Only time will tell whether Youngstown will see success.

A recent evaluation of New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg proclaimed that despite his failure to bring congestion pricing to the Big Apple, which proceeds ahead with the pace of a double-decker bus barreling through Piccadilly Circus in London, he has reshaped the look of the city through 76 crafty rezoning initiatives throughout the city, including one that runs down the 4th Avenue corridor outside by Brooklyn door. As one NYU professor chronicles, noting how Bloomberg's plan has brought taxpaying types to once-decrepit areas, "Places like Red Hook that were once a no-man's land are hipster havens, and Brooklyn is now a center for culture and art for the whole country. . . . Whoever thought people would want to live on the Gowanus [Expressway, or is it Canal?]". Whichever one it is, putting aside the grand redevelopment projects to produce enormous towers in Manhattan, the rest of the city has benefited from a little TLC from the Mayor, which everyone can see.

And then, from the big picture there are also the smaller picture tidbits that depict the importance of seeing when it comes to the built environment. A critical component in any homeowner's seeing is an unobstructed view of the sun, in some fashion, from his or her residence. In aptly named Sunnyvale, California, a battle raged in connection with a state law that permits homeowners to require neighbors to cut down trees that block their solar panels, regardless of when the trees were planted. In Sunnyvale, a recent court action highlights the conflict that can result from this law, particularly where the combatants don't particularly care for one another. The accused owners of a few redwoods were convicted in criminal court, and required to prune the offending trees. And with that, the victor in the battle was able to see again.

No matter big or small is absent from this art of seeing. When you think about it, most land use regulations are subject to this standard, even if veiled in such objective measures as setbacks, height restrictions and lot coverage dictates. It all comes down to how it looks. No matter what the new thing may be, beware of the eyes that are watching you, every step of the way.

Trainspotting

On our way back from Los Angeles in December, my fiance and I drove up the Pacific Coast to Seattle before we headed east. A part of the draw (at least for me) was the chance to see Portland, Oregon, the subject of a few papers I wrote during my student days, and the source of my early interest in land use policy. One of the hallmarks of the city, which I got to see in operation, was the MAX light-rail system that criss-crosses through the city and deep into its suburbs. As I watched the trains roll through the center of Portland, I imagined those sleek contraptions as the trolleys of yesteryear, long gone from the streets of America before I ever would have had the chance to dodge them in Brooklyn. But aside from adding color to the mid-sized Pacific Northwest city, the MAX has brought public transportation to a place once seen as a haven for the automobile. I can't exactly claim to be a daily public transport practitioner, as my commute amounts to a 45-minute car ride each way. But the power of public transport extends beyond the people that ride.

In the greater Salt Lake City area, the derivatively-named TRAX light-rail system has brought great change to the way in which the metropolitan area has chosen to grow. Around several of the twenty-three stations that comprise the fledgling system started in 1999, developers have responded to a market for housing and amenities accessible without the need of a car. Several projects have gone up, or are in the process of being constructed, around the transit hubs, bringing new life to inner-ring suburban neighborhoods. As always, there is a buzz word to describe the phenomenon. In this case, it's "transit-oriented development," or TOD, which centers around public transportation to allow people to live, work and play without the need to drive. For instance, ground breaking will commence soon on the Birkhill at Fireclay project, a thirty-acre, $140 million project next to the Murray North TRAX station. Other similar mixed-use projects are in various stages of completion along the line. Of course, this sort of living isn't for everyone, but the developers of these projects are seeing brisk sales of their offerings.

New York City long ago went the route of investing heavily in public transport systems. Mayor Michael Bloomberg reinforced this vision when he announced this week that as part of his PlaNYC proposals to make New York City a green city, he would be proposing an $8 "congestion pricing" plan, requiring all drivers entering Manhattan below 86th Street to pay the fee. (See "That Infernal Car," post dated 2/21/07, for more on congestion pricing). Of course, drivers are horrified by the prospects. Coincidentally (or not so coincidentally), my oldest and dearest friend (God bless him), who also lives in Brooklyn, currently finds himself needing to buy a new car after his current one failed. In the interim, he decided to take the subway to get where he needs to go. The experiment lasted a day, after which he rented a car. As he told me, "some people are subway people, and some aren't." He falls in the latter category.

What this all amounts to is that public transportation is an oddly divisive issue. But kind of like how most First Amendment arguments go, you have the choice to listen or ignore what's being offered. Sure, taking a subway, or a bus or a sleek light-rail train has its inconveniences. But what cannot be denied is how transit shapes land use. Whether it be a light rail line or a parkway to the residential area of your choice, the fact is that where the exits are dictate where the houses are. The nearest subway stop is right outside my door, and yet I drive to work. Nonetheless, I am certainly glad to have that "exit" at my convenience, for the times I don't want to drive. As I watched those light-rail trains go past me in Portland, I knew wherever they went, the people, and particularly, the developers, followed. I also knew my time spent with the trains of Portland would have another incidental effect -- the purchase of a winter coat (luckily vintage) for my fiance who had to put up with my bizarre obsession.