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.

That Infernal Car

Okay, so maybe last week I was hasty in my musings on spring. We’re not quite there yet. The surest sign is every time I use the car, which luckily at the moment, occurs only a few times a week. I’m still adjusting to the street parking routine, with cleaning schedules and other land mines that may lead to a ticket. And maybe I’m a little too concerned about the whole process. But this is by far the worst time of year when it comes to finding somewhere to shove the car for free. The winter ritual of digging oneself out of a parking spot, and then, upon returning, sliding one’s way back into a space heaping with the snow and ice left to thaw at its own pace is my most hated of chores. Go ahead and laugh, all you Sunbelt types out there, but I’m sure you have your gripes about driving – particularly traffic. Wish you had a developed public transportation system now, don’t you?

Once the car is out and on the road, and I have the opportunity to reach a speed above forty, I must say that it is a marvel to have a network of highways that crisscross New York, and, for the most part, help us get from place to place a little faster than we would fighting the pedestrians and traffic lights of local routes. (Yes, we must acknowledge Robert Moses’s contribution). Sure, we’ve paid for this right by wreaking havoc on neighborhoods and contributing to global warming, among other ills. But what if we had to pay a little more? Or even a lot more? Maybe it would discourage a few of us from getting behind the wheel, and instead hopping aboard a bus or a train. In London, this question faces immediate scrutiny as the metropolitan region prepares to expand its existing system of charging all cars the privilege to enter the central city each day. The region will be requiring a $15.60 toll to all motorists who drive to additional portions of the city, in an effort to reduce congestion. Figures indicate that in the four years the mechanism has been in place, traffic has been reduced by 10 percent. Despite the success, a national campaign resulted in 1.5 million signatures opposed to the plan. Old habits won’t drive quietly into that good night.

Similar systems are being tried in Stockholm, and also the United States. Houston, Minneapolis and Denver are attempting to encourage people to ride instead of drive by charging for the right to guzzle their share of gas. In Orange County, California, just south of Los Angeles, State Route 91 has instituted a plan to charge motorists the privilege to drive in its express lanes, at a graduated range of prices, depending on the time of day. During rush hour periods, a driver must pay $9.25 to traverse its H.O.T., or high occupancy toll lanes, while the middle of the day price is just over a dollar. For those not willing to shell out the toll, they must run the risk of traffic in the “free” lanes.

These “congestion pricing” systems offer a glimpse into the future, as another way to get people out of the driver’s seat. Unusually enough, the Bush administration is in support of these approaches, devoting $130 million to them in his proposed budget for 2008. Aside from the environmental and traffic volume benefits, congestion pricing also appeals to the economist in all of us, assigning an economic rationality approach to the choice of whether or not to drive. Advocated by 1996 Nobel laureate William Vickrey, a Columbia University economist, charging people to use a public highway would build in additional costs to counterbalance the deleterious effects of this decision.

With a recent report noting that a larger percentage of commuters to Manhattan come from the outer boroughs of New York City, as opposed to the suburbs, than previously thought, maybe it is time to start thinking about ways to encourage more people to use public transportation. Drawn by free parking and free access to Manhattan, it is hard to see why New Yorkers would not take advantage. But if it wasn’t free, and not so advantageous, maybe trends would change. And people would leave their cars on the street, even in the middle of the summer, and hop onto a bus or subway train, because the pain in the pocket book would be just as biting as spending a half hour to dig oneself out of a snow bank. Then again, maybe not, as evidenced by the London reaction. And what about the metropolitan regions without quality public transportation systems? It’s a hard sell, no doubt, but one that requires serious attention, and the incremental steps like the ones taking place, as we move towards a post-petroleum world and think about the way our built up environment must adapt to this inevitability.

Three Simple Words to End the Winter Blues

Last week we were on the eastern coast of Iceland, lamenting the cold. A lot can happen in a week. Aside from a snow storm that whipped its way through New York, this week also ushered in hopes of spring being just around the corner. Three simple words have done that: pitchers and catchers. For those needing further explanation, the first major leaguers are heading to Florida and Arizona to jump start another baseball season. The smell of hot dogs and peanuts can’t be far behind. While I wait beside a snow bank, I’ve been thinking about the landscape of New York baseball. Aside from the prospects on the field for my beloved Mets, both they and the Yankees are impacting the land use world. Both teams are in the middle of constructing new stadiums to house their games and fans.

Over in Queens, the Mets are building their new structure in the parking lot of their current home, Shea Stadium. Slated to open in 2009, and called Citi Field, the new edifice will replicate Ebbets Field, the old home of the Brooklyn Dodgers, supplemented with the modern bells and whistles required by any modern-day sporting venue. Likewise, across the river in the Bronx, the Yankees have broken ground on New Yankee Stadium, which will also be completed in 2009. After years of wrangling with government officials, mostly over ways to finance the new enterprises, the Mets and Yankees have each committed the money to build the projects. The Yankees did secure some public financing, to construct public facilities around the park. But by and large, the applicable governments were able to repel the urge to contribute directly to constructing these new sports stadiums. The matter has been addressed in various outlets over the past twenty years, with many commentators and researchers concluding that government should not be in the stadium building business. Putting that over worn debate aside, these two examples also demonstrate that structures supporting sports teams are very much like any other proposed, large project with significant impacts on a neighborhood. The same calculation of costs and benefits must be balanced to achieve a satisfactory, albeit never perfect, result.

Not too long ago I found myself at the local Barnes & Noble, perusing a book about the origins of place names in Brooklyn. On one of its neighborhood maps, the book revealed the site of the original Ebbets Field. Not more than a mile or two away from my home, the classic baseball setting has since been replaced with affordable housing towers. Sure, this all happened back in the ‘50’s, but there are plenty of Brooklyn denizens who still haven’t gotten over it. Added to annals of New York baseball, the prior home of the Dodgers before Ebbets Field, Washington Park, used to be located practically around the corner from my home. The only vestige that remains is a wall from an old horse carriage shed that serviced the park. Con Edison, the electrical outfit, owns the site today. A pending city Landmarks Preservation Commission review will determine the wall’s fate. But nonetheless, being so close to hallowed ground, where Ty Cobb and Cy Young once played, only raises the significance of the neighborhood during a week such as this.

Aside from the ghosts of former Hall of Fame players haunting my neighborhood, the curse of former Mets has also infiltrated the world of land use. Mo Vaughn, who came to the Mets providing hopes of solid production for seasons to come, promptly broke down in a little over a season in 2003. But today, he remains planted in New York, running a development company that refurbishes affordable housing complexes. It seems land use and baseball are intimately intertwined, at all levels and in every nook and cranny. This should not come as any great surprise, however. The game itself relies on matters of a little white ball’s place in space. A ball or strike turns on its location, as does a foul or fair ball – just as critical as the location of a new development. Maybe that’s why I still hold onto my love for a game I haven’t played since Little League, because I can wrap it inside the interests that carry me through as an adult. Or maybe it’s just because I really have a yearning for a bag of ballpark peanuts.

If You Think It's Cold Here . . .

Everything is relative. This maxim is never truer than when it comes to weather. Here in New York, we’re, as they say, freezing our back sides off. (Well, most New Yorkers would add a little flavor to that statement). Yesterday I woke up to move the car bright and early, and noticed that the car’s thermometer read thirteen degrees. A short drive away, a bank’s sign claimed the temperature was ten degrees cooler. Whichever one was closest to the actual temperature, my memories of living in Los Angeles, and playing golf in shorts this time of year quickly crept back into my thoughts. But aside from the obvious sigh of relief that the world isn’t quite prepared to end on account of global warming, the cold also got me to thinking about the northern edges of the planet, and what goes on there when it comes to land use. Being back in the Arctic blast zone, I wonder if things are any different “up there,” and search for solace that somewhere it has to be colder than here.

Iceland, a country of fabulous landscapes and a unique cultural heritage, must be colder than New York. And despite having “ice” in its name, well, it’s not necessarily colder. Today’s high temperature in Reykjavik, the capital, is over 30 degrees. That blows that theory. But what about how Iceland grapples with land use questions? In the eastern part of the island country, which is colder than Reykjavik (and the interior highlands being still colder, thank you very much), the aluminum producer Alcoa is constructing an enormous smelting plant. Powered by a hydroelectric power infrastructure constructed specifically for the new facility, Alcoa’s plant will use eight times the nation’s current total electrical consumption. Aside from the environmental imposition on a part of the world where reindeer outnumber people, the plant has spawned a building boom in the existing, surrounding towns. For instance, aside from an increase in the building of new homes, Reydarfjordur, population 650, just had its first mall open in town.

As is always the case when a new project comes to town, not everyone’s happy. In 2001, the project received approval from the central government’s environmental minister, even though the Icelandic Planning Agency rejected the proposal. Citizens have voiced their objections to the plant, from prominent writers and journalists to the locals in the eastern region directly impacted by the facility. Environmental concerns have not been the only basis for opposition. Some believe that bringing in outside corporations as the main economic development tool for the nation hinders the growth of native-bred enterprises. But as with any debate, there must be another side. Alcoa points out that it has the cleanest facility of its type in the world, by a wide margin. Also, Iceland, under the Kyoto Protocol, which regulates greenhouse gas emissions in most parts of the world except the U.S., has ample emission allowances for this project, as well as for the other aluminum plants slated to join Alcoa’s facility in Iceland. Finally, the new plant has already brought increased prosperity for the eastern region. One of the locals in revitalized Reydarfjordur, while shopping at the new mall, explains regarding the plant, “It’s not beautiful, but I accept it because it’s necessary.”

With any land use choice, it’s hard to choose a side, particularly when the stakeholders are all huddled around the Arctic Circle. But even though they’re located in the great north, the issues that impact Icelanders up there are very much like the ones faced down here whenever a new project comes before a planning body’s scrutiny. That same balance between benefits and impacts must be drawn. And especially this time of year, as we “southerners” must don our heavy parkas, it’s that much easier to relate.

The New, New Thing (Well, Not That New), Part II

Greenbelt, Maryland, a New Deal-era development twelve miles outside of Washington, DC, faces the need to modernize. Built in the 1930’s, Greenbelt was modeled on the “garden city” concept, which was pioneered by utopian thinker Ebenezer Howard back at the beginning of the twentieth century. Two other similar settlements exist outside Cincinnati and Milwaukee. Greenbelt was designed as a self-contained community separated from existing development by a green space buffer. Its architects advocated, and executed, a mixed-use environment whereby residents could live, work and play within a compact community. For the most part, the settlement has survived the pressures of creeping development. Nonetheless, the stream of traffic generated by the Beltway loop highway flows near the site, sucking the area into the orbit of sprawl. However, two new developments, if built, would reshape the town into a place with double the people. As one of the developers describes it, “You can live, work and shop there. . . . We’re basically building a new town.”

But are they really? Sure, they’ll be new stuff there, including thousands more residential units and oodles of square feet of commercial space. The existing Metro train station located next to one of the planned developments will no doubt receive a welcome facelift. There are some obvious benefits to the new. But in the end, it’s the same product stuffed into new packaging. Instead of “garden city,” we can call the new improvements to Greenbelt an example of “New Urbanism,” the current movement among a certain percentage of design professionals. But the two approaches, although separated by a century, resemble the same mixed-use, compact development, public-transit oriented principles to land use planning. What has worked before can work again, goes the mantra. And why shouldn’t it? Despite the revolutionary changes to daily life over the last century, people fundamentally want to have easy access to their work places, a safe neighborhood, and maybe even have a few things to do within close proximity. People, if given the option, would probably even walk more than most do. As a recent transplant to Brooklyn, I’m already finding that having ten restaurants within a block’s walk (for the delivery guy, too) is very good thing.

But aside from the polishing of the garden city concept in Greenbelt, another revision to long-held views appears to be developing up the coast here in New York. This week, there will be three exhibits around the city taking another look at the man who could fairly be called the Creator of Modern New York, the Power Broker himself, Robert Moses. Having control over the city’s parks department and the Triborough Bridge and Tunnel Authority, Moses constructed much of the current infrastructure that the region’s cars use as parking lots, and sometimes as highways. He also orchestrated the construction of such public jewels as Lincoln Center and the United Nations. Parks and housing he constructed still survive and thrive. He also displaced hundreds of thousands of people, ruined neighborhoods and exercised exclusionary tactics towards minorities. The new exhibits choose to take the long view, blurring the ugliness and highlight from afar the ballet-like qualities of traffic moving across his parkways, and the architectural accents of his structures. Just as Moses himself saw “the city” as a skyline rather than the people that stand dwarfed at street level, the new approach harkens back to the time when urban renewal wasn’t a bad word. Hopefully the exhibit organizers remember a bit from the lessons of the past.

Let enough time pass, and the old becomes new again. But like a pair of Jordache jeans from the ‘80’s, just because they’re back in style doesn’t mean you should pull that old pair back out and wear them with your favorite top from the era. The old is only new again if it changes with the times.

The New, New Thing (Well, Not That New)

The other day, while perusing the offerings at the local Barnes & Noble, I came across an intriguing new publication, at least one that I had not seen previously. It’s called The Next American City, a periodical created in 2003 and which publishes four times a year. I picked up the Winter 2006 edition, with a cover article on immigration and its impact on cities. Not a one-note affair, the issue also tackles such far-ranging urban questions as the Canadian Geese problem of New Jersey, and toilet legislation in Portland, Oregon. The brainchild of The Next American City, Inc., a “not-for-profit organization founded by a new generation of urban thinkers and leaders to promote a new vision of socially and environmentally sustainable economic growth in America’s cities and suburbs,” the magazine sets lofty goals for its purpose. Even the New York Times proclaims that the group has started a “subtle plan to change the world.” I wish them luck in their pursuit, aiding in their grand vision by promptly signing up for a subscription.

Of course, the whole idea of what a “city” is and should be has received the attention of thinkers and leaders for quite some time. The Greek thinker Thucydides wrote that “men make the city.” Shakespeare likewise noted, “What is the city but the people?” Even the love/hate relationship we have with our urban environments has passed through the ages. The Roman writer Horace described the phenomenon in connection with his home city: “In Rome you long for the country; in the country – oh inconstant! – you praise the distant city to the stars.” And those that have devoted their lives to cities have discovered the basic truths. Jane Addams of Hull House fame wrote, “Private beneficence is totally inadequate to deal with the vast numbers of the city’s disinherited.” And the insensitivity towards the city has been a constant. Take Former Vice President Spiro Agnew, who once proclaimed on a campaign stop, “if you’ve seen one city slum you’ve seen them all.”

The most fabulous thing about cities is that they are one of those phenomena that neither goes out of style, nor reaches a level of complete understanding. It’s not like polio, or the source of a seemingly endless river – there is no “answer” to the issues surrounding cities, only choices that will either make things better, or create more problems, or some combination of both. Sure, you can solve the toilet shortage problem in an area by installing more of them, or rid yourselves of an influx of Canadian Geese by poisoning them. But determining the big questions, square among them matters of land use, a metropolitan area must weigh the impacts, which are inevitable and unavoidable, and calculate the lesser of evils.

For instance, the developer Bruce Ratner, who recently purchased the New Jersey Nets, will be constructing a mega complex of retail and residential construction, along with a new arena for his basketball team, just up the street from my new home in Brooklyn. Residents have voiced their objections to the disruption that the construction will cause, and the eventual traffic concerns caused by the arena. Ratner and the city have touted the economic benefits that the new development will bring, and the prestige for Brooklyn in once again serving as the home for a major league sports team. Either way, who’s right? Not knowing the answer is what makes such questions interesting in its endless permutations, just like a debate on sports talk radio about the Nets could turn in a multiplicity of directions.

So I look forward to another voice such as The Next American City, as we continue to attempt to answer the unanswerable questions facing cities and their future.

Times Remembered, Times Lost

As a youth, I spent much of my time in Kings Park, New York, a sleepy suburban burg tucked along the northern shore of Long Island, about fifty miles east of Manhattan. All of my family members have since relocated to other places, but for some reason the hometown retains a special place in my heart. Aside from the good school system (which produced such luminaries as Houston Astros great Craig Biggio and members of the metal group Dream Theater) and a relatively good location for commuters to New York City, the other claim to fame for my hometown is the enormous state mental health facility that occupied about 450 acres of prime real estate, including along the water. In its heyday in the mid-1950’s, the facility held over 9,000 patients, and required a small army of workers to man it. When it closed in 1996, the great news, and anticipation, would be what the State decided to do with the property. For several years the belief was that the tract would be sold to developers, and a massive residential and commercial building spree would commence.

In a classic example of NIMBY concerns at work, the hamlet mobilized, behind organized citizens groups. Local politicians joined the crusade to stop the construction. After it was discovered that Kings Park lacked a local sewer system (something that any resident could have told anyone who cared to ask), and that the site had some serious environmental remediation issues, the desirability of the site waned. Still there was potential that the development would occur. Then, just after Christmas, the State announced that it would transfer the overwhelming majority of the property to the State Parks Department, and that the dedicated swath would join its neighbor, the Nissequogue River State Park. As told to the New York Times in a small blip of story in its Sunday Real Estate section, the players in the process were shocked, and had little idea that this would be the result of ten years of anticipation.

This is where the New York Times lost its interest in the story. The writer no doubt had to hop back on the Long Island Railroad and make it back in time for her deadline. But the surprising nature of the pronouncement begs a number of questions intertwined with the land use process itself. Mainly, the State’s foot-dragging in making a determination should have tipped the Neighbors and Town officials that the State was having difficulties trying to convince a developer to purchase the property. If these folks were really involved in the process, wouldn’t they have known?

Beyond this query, the real lesson from Kings Park is that in the pursuit to regulate what can and cannot be done, and what does and does not get built, it is ultimately the property owner who is in control, and everyone else interested in what happens must wait to see what the owner decides to do. It is an actor/reactor symbiosis, and until the owner makes some type of affirmative action, everyone else needs to wait. This simple order of things causes much of the frustration for those participating in the land use process. The waiting can be endless, or in the Kings Park case, ten years, which is pretty long, too. Functioning within the land use arena requires a substantial helping of patience. Sometimes it takes people time to make up their mind, particularly when they’re public servants, and particularly when the decision involves the future of an entire town, no matter how much ink devoted to it by the New York Times.