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.