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!

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.

Affordable Housing, New York Style

Over this past weekend I was walking the streets of Park Slope, Brooklyn, trying to finish all the things that one needs to do on the weekend when he returns to the working world. In the middle of my errands, a young woman handed me a flyer, offering as an explanation, "Support affordable housing in Brooklyn." Always wanting to be in touch with my surroundings, I rejected my better judgment and took the flyer. As promised, it was an advertisement for a local advocacy group called the Fifth Avenue Committee, and one of their proposals -- a new "affordable housing" project at 575 5th Avenue, intended to cater towards seniors, soon-to-be released foster children who have reached the age of maturity and homeless adults looking to turn the corner. A noble endeavor indeed, but what raised my eyebrows was something considerably more mundane -- the cardstock of the handout. I'm a little more mindful of such details these days, as my wedding invitations will be going out the door in the next few weeks. A few blocks further up the street, another civic-minded type offered me another cause with another accompanying sheet -- this time involving a drive to recycle used electronic equipment. Besides the fact that the fellow was handing me paper in an effort to promote recycling (which seemed counterproductive), he wanted me to take a flimsy white sheet of paper, unlike the fancy, substantial, off-white offering from the affordable housing people. That professionally-prepared advertisement, complete with a picture of the proposed structure, got me to thinking about how (and why) such an outfit could (and would) spend such time, money and effort on such luxurious disposable pleas for help.

The answer got a little clearer when I learned that over in Manhattan, around Columbia University, another unusual proposal is circulating through the grapevine for a potential future rezoning that would impact the neighborhood. Columbia is in the midst of proposing a massive $7 billion expansion into 17 acres of West Harlem, on the current edge of the school's campus. The plan would bring as many as 18 new towers that would dwarf the other surrounding buildings in the otherwise lower-income neighborhood. The Borough President's answer to this infiltration into one of the last "affordable" areas in Manhattan is to rezone the area so as to mandate the preservation of the current scale of the neighborhood. Right now, the area is populated mostly by four- to six-story buildings. Despite the likewise laudable approach, which includes protections against tenant harrassment to vacate their homes and businesses, the plan would not impact Columbia's vision. In addition, developers would be able to build larger-scale structures as long as they provide street-level space to locally-based retail businesses. One current landlord has characterized the plan as "throwing the community a bone so that Columbia can bulldoze the neighborhood."

As in the Park Slope case, how far have these communities really gone to preserve some semblance of "affordability" in New York City? Is this a goal that's really just a lost cause? Of course, all metropolitan regions must contend with the issue of attracting capital to more cost-effective housing and retail options. Even New Orleans, which is facing the problem of attracting capital to any part of the city outside the French Quarter, has tried again to raise the profile of its plight by designating 17 areas in the city as "development areas." With $1.1 billion in financing, which still must be approved, Mayor C. Ray Nagin and the other supporters of the plan, hope that this more modest approach will receive support, and serve as spurs to development for the rest of the city. Sure, without some effort to hold onto that elusive "affordable housing," the cause is completely lost. But what is the true impact of such half-hearted efforts? Have New Yorkers, and those Americans fortunate enough to be able to retain a good home, simply turned their thoughts elsewhere, and given up on the cause? Or is it that it's so hard for the overwhelming majority of Americans to find and hold onto that good home that "affordable housing" itself is just an illusion? When the subject is left to a few like-minded folks, they are forced to focus on fancy fliers, trying to sell to the community the "bones" that are all that is politically feasible.

The answer to these queries, like most involving land use, depend on who you ask. As for me, my solace came a few blocks after the fellow who wanted me to recycle my computer, where I found a pack of Girl Scouts selling their addictive cookies, allowing me the chance to lose myself from such heady subjects in the comfort of a handful of Thin Mints. At least for a little while.

Bring on the Gloss

My fiancé, perfectly happy with our new location in Park Slope, Brooklyn, nonetheless has begun thinking about the next home. I don’t blame her, of course, since it’s time we start planning to join the ranks of homeowners. Predictably, our current neighborhood is not in our price range – at least for the type of home in which we envision ourselves. With that reality, my fiancé has explored other places that may fit our needs at a more affordable price. The neighborhood she has pinpointed, and thus become enamored with, is Red Hook, an area rough around the edges along the Brooklyn waterfront. It’s what realtors like to call a “transitional area,” a place at the edge of New York’s line of gentrification. We find ourselves over in Red Hook from time to time, to enjoy one of those outposts in the trend towards glossiness – the Fairway specialty supermarket. As we drive through the changing landscape of Red Hook, my thoughts often stray towards the matter of neighborhood upheaval, and the constant change areas face as the needs of a metropolitan region shift and morph.

Back in our former home of Los Angeles, Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa has unveiled two ambitious plans to revitalize the city’s moribund downtown. The Grand Avenue Project, comprising three acres across from the Frank Gehry-designed Walt Disney Concert Hall, will include residential units, retail and commercial space, all designed by Gehry. Along with the development, the project calls for a 16-acre park to stretch through the heart of the downtown district. Gehry has called the plan an “attempt to find” a downtown for the sprawling metropolis. On the southern end of downtown, work continues on the Los Angeles Sports and Entertainment District, which will expand and integrate with the existing Staples Center and Los Angeles Convention Center next door to create a mega-complex of entertainment spaces, residential units, hotels and restaurants. Together, the two projects seek to polish the image of Los Angeles’ "downtown," an elusive concept in a region of decentralized nodes scattered across a vast basin.

Amongst this chaos is the trend of people moving into the L.A. downtown area, adding a significant number of residents over the last several years. Out of a more organic movement, people have decided to populate this once desolate area after dark and form a viable community. Also included in the equation is “Skid Row,” the stretch of homeless service centers downtown that has created a colony of homeless persons occupying the area, not to mention the place for hospitals to dump destitute patients. On top of these realities is being placed the glossy image of the mythical downtown, which creates a question as to what will define this intricate neighborhood a decade from now. Predictions point to a Skid Row squeeze, and the rise of another area oozing with “desirability.” Granted, all types of neighborhoods are required in a bustling, thriving metropolis, including a grand nexus of commerce and open space, to celebrate and define the place. And who doesn't like glossy things to look at and enjoy? But are these the kind of projects to which public entities should devote its resources, and support in their efforts towards viability? Los Angeles has devoted tens millions of dollars in support for the two construction projects, mostly in the form of below market leases and tax rebates. This question is particularly acute considering downtown Los Angeles has already seen an evolving trend towards community without the proposed mega developments. Wouldn't it still be economically profitable to build as proposed without the added incentives?

On the other side of the proverbial tracks, in the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans, a neighborhood is rising above the floods – at least it’s trying. Last week, the nonprofit organization Acorn, in conjunction with loans from a California bank and support from Andres Duany, a Miami-based New Urbanist architect and planner deep in the Gulf reconstruction process, completed the first new homes in the neighborhood since Hurricane Katrina. Although admirable, the hopes of these pilot projects stimulating a return of the rest of the neighborhood are guarded at best. There are significant commitments from government funds for the Gulf region, but it is still unclear whether any of these resources will reach the Lower Ninth Ward. Without fancy towers or theater spaces, the reality of a neighborhood rebirth seems far out of reach.

When it comes to revitalizing a neighborhood, there are many avenues to follow across a spectrum of public and private support. Sometimes it makes good sense for localities to stimulate development using various incentives at their disposal. But regardless of how it's done, the simple matter of green must be present for a project to proceed. Be it downtown Los Angeles or Red Hook, Brooklyn, it takes the will of money to get anything done, and only then will the development follow. Money doesn’t flow towards projects that only serve to house people who work hard for little in return. At least, not enough. This isn't exactly a new problem, but it certainly hasn't been solved. And the bottom line reason behind it all is that such projects simply aren't glossy enough. The prestige of landmark level construction or of creating "the next Park Slope" is what draws the support. So while downtown Los Angeles and Red Hook, Brooklyn see bright futures, Skid Row and the Lower Ninth Ward face gloomy outlooks – until, of course, the will of money pushes into these neighborhoods, no doubt seeking a way to bring in the gloss and clear away their “undesirable” pasts.