Environmental and Community Activism, Politics and Greed
By: Tom Fox
Rutgers University Press 2024
The looming question about the Hudson River Park has long been obvious. Why isn’t it better? In his book, Creating the Hudson River Park, environmental activist, Tom Fox tells us why, in copious, gruesome detail. For those of us concerned about creating and maintaining great public spaces the issues are laid out clearly, fairly, and with specificity in this excellent volume. It is an absolutely essential contribution to the literature of public space-making in America. Tom has gone deeply into the archives to tell as much as possible of the now 70-year history of this highly visible project. Perhaps most remarkably, he fairly explains the subjects, giving the competing ideas of those over the years who have (fervently) not agreed with him their due. Most of those concerns are ones that face the development or restoration of any large and/or highly visible public space.
The answer as to why the park isn’t better is because it is the product of decades of comprises that were the result of endless fighting over the shape of the park and the adjacent highway. The amount of conflict involved in the creation of the park is both heartbreaking and depressing. It may sound naïve, but “why can’t we all just get along?” The park’s origin was in the conflict over Westway – a highway cum real estate development plan concocted in the shadow of the era of Robert Moses that proposed to replace the southern portion of the West Side (Miller) Highway with an underground expressway, topped with new construction and public space adjacent to the Hudson River on Manhattan’s West Side. So, controversy is unfortunately in its DNA. The project was stopped as the result of the early use of Federal environmental legislation and regulation enforced by legal action brought by private citizens and non-profit organizations. Continue reading →
Detroit has received lots of positive attention in the urbanist community for a wide range of positive developments. On my first overnight trip to the city post-pandemic I found lots of evidence of good thinking — but at the same time not many people. Yes, it was Friday and the weather was cold and wet, but the streets were empty
Here are some photos I took on my walk.
Yes, Detroit remains car-centric.
Walking down Woodward Avenue, there was no easy way to get to the Riverwalk. You came to a hardscaped park, with few amenities.
It seemed great when the book “Tactical Urbanism” was published in in 2015. Here were a bunch of placemaking ideas that were easy to understand and implement. The first chapter was a promising summary of the principles of placemaking developed over the prior three decades. The rest of the book felt kind of skimpy – the case studies it described weren’t terribly impressive or interesting, but they were certainly a step in the right direction. And then tactical urbanism came to my block.
During COVID, New York City’s Open Streets program arrived on 103rd Street between Central Park and Riverside Park. Two metal barricades appeared at the end of each block each morning with signs noting that no through traffic was allowed, and that the speed limit was five miles an hour. 103rd came to a T intersection at each park – limiting its utility to through traffic. While no one was using the street bed to hang out in, and the street closing complicated bringing a Zipcar around from my local parking garage to my front door, I did enjoy the additional open space for walking the dog. I noticed over the years an occasional lame event advertised for the street being put on by “Park to Park 103/Open Streets.
Clyde Warren Park in Dallas works. A recent visit, more than ten years after its opening, showed it to be heavily used and reasonably well managed. On a weekday afternoon the park had quite a few visitors, including lots of children. The park has most of the elements that make public spaces successful:
Shade – essential in the southwest
Playgrounds. The one here is very cleverly designed and attractive – including fun water features
Lawns
Food kiosks and restaurants
Water features
Regular programming
Movable chairs
Adequate maintenance
As we have written ad nauseum, there are so many new public space projects, and so few of them are successful. Clyde Warren was built over a highway culvert – a category of assignment that has proved particularly challenging for public space planners over the last couple of decades. Building over a highway cut can be an essential move in re-knitting a downtown together. But doing it right is a tough assignment. The designers of Clyde Warren, The Office of James Burnett, got what animates a public space on a deep level that seems to elude almost all landscape architects and public officials. After ten years, Clyde Warren is still performing well – attracting a broad swath of users. On the day we visited a large portion of the park was closed for a private event – but there was still quite a bit of space available to the casual visitor.
A good contrast with Clyde Warren is another public space in the southwest, Santa Fe’s Railyard Park of about the same vintage – which remains virtually unused, despite quite a bit of interesting development around it. The arts district of downtown Dallas is not the most promising or hospitable of environments for a public space. Downtown Fort Worth is way more walkable, human scaled and attractive. The surrounding streetscape to Clyde Warren is towers and institutions set back from the street – essentially bleak, unwalkable and car oriented. Prominent among the high design structures of the arts district (Rem Koolhaas, Norman Foster) are a large number of parking structures. But somehow, pedestrians find their way to the two large blocks that constitute Clyde Warren — most likely from the offices and residential towers that overlook the park.
The nonprofit that operates the park, The Woodall Rodgers Park Foundation, has an operating budget of around $15 million. The biggest challenge for public spaces with water features is keeping them running. And the features at Clyde Warren are complicated and fun to watch. The Foundation seems to have the resources to keep things running. The water features are open for kids (and adults) to splash around in – which is just great, and unfortunately not standard practice. These water features are complex and they work. Kudos to the park’s managers.
That not-withstanding, the Foundation appears to contract out for the park’s maintenance, and it shows. Outsourced maintenance is never as detailed oriented and perfectionist or as highly motivated, well-compensated internally managed staff. The park demonstrates a lot of wear from high use and is not kept to the high standards of Bryant Park. The lawn panels are need aeration and reseeding. The horticultural elements are designed for low maintenance and aren’t well maintained even given that. They don’t have the kind of visual pop that a public space of this caliber really ought to have. Some of the arts institution facilities in the district have much more imaginative and appealing plantings nearby.
Big Belly trash receptacles are in use – which are a bête noire of mine. They are a mark of managerial laziness. The design is awful – they are a squat box. The labor they supposedly save, is labor that the park really needs. Staff dumping out the trash bid are a visible mark of social order. Visitors want to see people working in the park – maintaining the horticultural elements and emptying the trash bins. It contributes to the perception of public safety.
But those issues aside, Clyde Warren Park, is a clear model for others to follow as to what makes a park lively and attractive. The built environment in downtown Dallas makes creating lively public spaces a challenging task, and so the park’s success is even more a particular achievement.
The hostile environment of a highway overpass, makes the success of Clyde Warren even more of an achievement.
The fabulous water feature amidst the forbidding neighboring towers. One of them was once famous for hostile reflection of the Texas sun into the neighboring sculpture park.
A close up of the water feature.
Contract worker — looking disconsolate.
The lawn is beat. Needs aeration and reseeding.
Low maintenance shrubs. Boring.
The dreaded Big Bellies. Ugly and bad.
And…movable chairs.
A shade structure. Essential in the southwest — along with the trees.
Signs of consistent programming. Probably not enough though to really contribute to the space’s animation. In a space in a downtown of this size, daily programming is essential to energizing the park.
Fantastic playground, even though its play equipment is liability lawyer-proof in design.
Wonderful climbing structure.
An adjacent dog park. A great move!
Shade and movable chairs contribute to the attractiveness of the space.
Among American cities, Charleston and Santa Fe have unique characters – and not surprisingly are both important tourist destinations, as well as significant housing markets for second and retirement homes. They are in such high demand because they have maintained a remarkable sense of place, in a country with a limited number of great places urban places. As I have been maintaining, American needs more great places in order to attract people from more expensive locations to less expensive ones – lowering housing costs while at the same time promoting economic development and equity. What can be learned from these two attractive places?
I have been going to both cities annually for decades. Charleston, which had a population of 70,000 in 1980, now has 154,000 people. It hosted 2.2 million visitors in 1976 and 7.25 million visitors last year. Of course, Charleston had the benefit for more than two decades of one of America’s best mayors in Joe Riley, who skillfully leveraged the city’s substantial assets to make it both a desirable place to live and a favored destination. At the heart of those assets is a dazzling collection of well-preserved and restored 18th Century homes, a large number of which are available for tourists to visit. Those homes are physical evidence of Charleston’s place as a successful port and agricultural and religious center in Colonial America, one of the colonies’ largest cities. Charleston is also an important site for Black America, being a hub of the slave trade, a home for successful plantation and slave owners and the location of the opening salvos of the Civil War. It is also the location of the recent racially motivated mass shooting at Emanuel A.M.E. Church.
Joe Riley Waterfront Park
Charleston is the site of the Spoleto Festival USA, the largest arts event in the South, with dozens of performances of music, theater and dance, with the adjacent Piccolo Spoleto adding scores more of smaller performances and art displays for several weeks in June each year. Charleston is also, perhaps, the country’s fourth most interesting dining destination (after, New York, Los Angeles and Chicago), punching well above its weight in eating excellence. The dining scene was established by the late, great Louis Osteen, initially at the restaurant at the then new resort, Charleston Place, and later at his own establishment. That legacy was continued by Sean Brock at his Macready’s and Husk – who has recently decamped his principal operation to Nashville. Add to that the adjacency to wonderful beaches and historic plantations, and you have an unparalleled number of authentic attractions. This has generated a huge tourist draw, a luxury housing market (a house in downtown Charleston goes for around $1.4 million. Here is a typical “single” style house on the market for $4.5 million: https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/13-Church-St-Charleston-SC-29401/10904815_zpid/), and most recently a great deal of new multi-family housing development.
The Santa Fe Opera. Photo may justify the cost of upgrading to an iPhone 14
I spent the summer of 1977 living in Santa Fe. At the time it was a quiet, dusty town of old adobes, with a long history of artists and galleries of Western Art, a noted market for the arts and crafts of local indigenous people (particularly pottery, weaving and silverwork) – and the more recent establishment of a major opera company and chamber music festival. The city had a laid-back, counterculture, hippie-ish vibe, with a large highly visible white clad and turbaned group who called themselves “sikhs.” Ten Thousand Waves, a former marijuana farm, turned Japanese style spa was (and continues to be) a major attraction (with nighttime hot-tubbing a blissful experience). The opera performed during the summer in an unusual outdoor theater and was led by the remarkable John Crosby, one of our greatest cultural entrepreneurs. Santa Fe is also located in a region of incredible natural and cultural richness. Day trips can be taken to a number of notable pueblos of tribal nations, including Taos and Acoma – which provided the inspiration for the unique local adobe-based architectural style. The Sangre de Cristo and Jemez Mountains provide a spectacular backdrop for both walking and driving adventures. Particularly unusual is the drive from Toas to the pilgrimage village of Chimayo, the famous High Road to Taos (actually, better driven from Taos, to get the best views as you drive downhill), with unparalleled vistas and fascinating small hamlets with a unusal religious observance, along the way. Distinctive about North New Mexico is a rich cultural history of native peoples going back centuries, with settlements like Bandelier and Puyé available for visits, over-layered with Spanish colonization dating to the late seventeenth century. There are few more interesting places in the US. The population of the city grew from 40,000 in 1980 was to 87,000 in 2020, with the number of tourists at 2.25 million in 2022.
As in Charleston, at the center of Santa Fe’s appeal is the preservation of historic structures – both commercial and residential. The Santa Fe style is an international phenomenon, with the construction and decoration of distinctive homes a major local economic generator. As in Charleston, standards for historic preservation are stringent. In addition, new development is required to conform to the prevailing architectural context. The downtown is chock-a-block with stores selling stuff to ornament an adobe home with appropriate accoutrements – as well as to adorn oneself with regulation western wear – boots, silver necklaces and belt buckles, along with the essential hats. When in 1977 I stood in the Plaza, which is the center of Santa Fe and looked out towards the deserts and mountains, I saw stars. Today one sees a myriad of lights from the thousands of homes built in the former quiet landscape and rising up rugged mountain slopes.
When I later became a regular visitor, our home base was Rancho Encantado, a kind of scruffy Ralph Lauren-esque ranch, with a horse corral and trail rides at its center – way outside of town. The rooms were in casitas (small houses), which were rustically decorated with locally made blankets and wooden crafts. The cuisine was that of New Mexico, for example enchiladas with either red or green chili – or both, washed down with a Margarita. The local New Mexican cooking is different than that in Mexico and Texas, and a treasured tradition. We were heartbroken when the Rancho was sold by the family who were it long-time owners. It was empty for a number of years, and then torn down a replaced with what is now an ultra-luxury Four Seasons resort.
Eldorado Hotel, Santa Fe
We’ve hopped around among hotels since then – including a long stretch at Bishop’s Lodge, also outside of town, but closer to the Plaza, and on the historic hacienda (also with a stable) of Archbishop Lamy, made famous by Willa Cather in “Death Comes for the Archbishop.” But it ultimately met a similar fate to Rancho Encatado – being substantially upscaled. This past summer we stayed at the Eldorado, once the premier luxury property in Santa Fe, built by the Zeckedorf family in the 1986, when the Bill Zeckendorf Jr., whose spouse, Nancy was closely associated with the opera, found that there was no modern, comfortable place to stay. The property is now owned by a local group called Heritage which advertises itself as being in the “cultural tourism” business. With the creation of a number of other higher end hotels in Santa Fe, Eldorado has been repositioned. But it has the best pool in the downtown (a major feature given New Mexico’s consistent hot, dry weather), and large comfortable rooms. The property features displays of local art – pottery and weaving— sourced directly from native people. Heritage’s business model for its ten New Mexico properties is to feature the art and food of the region. A magazine available to guests describes the chain’s local sourcing of pottery and weaving for display. The magazine had eye catching graphics and quality writing about some of the most worthwhile destinations in New Mexico. One fascinating article was about the importance of plazas as places in New Mexican towns. Heritage appears to have built its business on the distinctiveness of New Mexico places.
Both cities’ appeal is built on a foundation of historic preservation – and the creation of a sense of cultural authenticity. While the programs to preserve these assets is unusual in these places, many places across the country have the potential to make the most of their special cultures – if they were to choose to take that path. It seems to me that foregrounding the authentic distinctiveness of cities is a far more stable and cost-effective endeavor than building a convention center or sports stadium to attract visitors and new, economically valuable residents.
Building on the historic character of Charleston and Santa Fe, a local food culture was created, based in the one case on historic southern cooking and on the other on the wonderful Spanish colonial food culture. This isn’t necessarily about haute cuisine or Michelin starred restaurants, but more about high quality, unique local places. Although, fancy, expensive places can become the capstone of places with rich offerings based on local produce and traditions.
It’s also not about building grand hotels to attract visitors. Santa Fe has a number of mid-century modern motels (with matching neon signs) that attract both families and hipsters, as well as small, distinctive places without a lot of amenities in historic buildings. The grand dame of Santa Fe hotels is La Fonda, just off the plaza – which has lovely, atmospheric public spaces and small, simple charming rooms. Charleston did kick-start its status as a premier destination with Charleston Place, a large mid-rise property, with extensive ground floor retail. While originally developed as a mid-price hotel, with the popularity of Charleston as a destination, it has been repeatedly been repositioned and upscaled with changes in ownership.
Both cities have also promoted distinctive retail with a local flavor. The historic centers of both cities have small structures and small spaces – unattractive, for the most part, to national retailers. Lower King Street in Charleston, though, has both Ben Silver, a local haberdasher and probably the most high-quality retailer of traditional men’s wear in the country, and the recent influx of more of the usual national suspects – resulting in a dynamic mix of both well-known brands and local offerings. North King, long neglected, and long ago the area center for home furnishing and appliance retailers, attracted quirky restaurants in the 00’s, and has become something of a victim of its own success, with a rowdy night-life scene, that the City is now working to bring under control.
Santa Fe’s downtown has moved more and more upscale over the years, with local art galleries, jewelers, purveyors of native American art and jewelry, and western wear – driving out most sellers of tourist trinkets and similar shlock. Large format national retailers are relegated to shopping strips and centers outside of the historic downtown.
Theodora Park, Charleston, S.C.
Public spaces in both places are something of a mixed bag. Charleston sports the recent large and impressive Joseph Riley Waterfront Park as well as the small and near perfect Theodora Park. But generally, its Parks Department is underfunded, and places like the Battery & White Point Gardens are insufficiently well maintained and programmed. Santa Fe has one of the country’s most ill-conceived new public spaces, the Railroad Yard Park, which is lightly used. The Plaza, the city’s historic zocalo, right in the center of the old town, is extremely popular and hosts near continuous spontaneous programming (buskers, food vendors) – but appears over-used and shabby. One might conclude that these small cities have such strong identities and generally excellent built environments that high quality public spaces don’t need to be a part of their brand.
The character of Santa Fe and Charleston make them great places to visit. Because of its easy access to outdoor recreational activity, Santa Fe is particularly attractive to families. Both cities have brought historic preservation to the forefront, and have created formal and informal, public and private structures to maintain their characters and enhance their brands with significant results. Part of their success is no doubt due to the uniqueness of their historical appeal and the scarcity of other cities with similar strengths. But I have no doubt that the over-tourism of certain locations about which there is substantial and justifiable complaint (Venice being the prime example) is a result of there just not being enough great places to visit. Most other cities around the country, both large and small, have historical and/or cultural assets that they should be able to foreground. But getting there takes serious, comprehensive, thoughtful leadership. It is not just putting up a few signs or having a cute trolly running around town (and certainly not building a huge hotel or conference center). A historic district of character needs to be identified, preserved, maintained and expanded over time. The more authentic and unique, the more likely it is to become successful. The brand needs to be leveraged with appropriate cultural activities that create critical mass (not the occasional folk concert or once a year parade). But anyone visiting Santa Fe can see that the demand is there both among tourists and second/retirement home buyers for the kind of experience the city has carefully curated.
“characterized by the predominance of the curve over the straight line, by rich decoration and detail, by the frequent use of vegetal and other organic motifs, the taste for asymmetry, a refined aestheticism and dynamic shapes;”
rather than this:
“an architectural movement or architectural style based upon new and innovative technologies of construction, particularly the use of glass, steel, and reinforced concrete; the idea that form should follow function (functionalism); an embrace of minimalism; and a rejection of ornament.”
The first describes “modernisma,” a design practice present in Barcelona from about 1890 to about 1920, very similar to Art Nouveau in France and Belgium, Jugendstil in Germany, Vienna Secession in Austria-Hungary, but deeply intertwined with Catalan nationalism. The most famous practitioner of moderisma was Antoni Gaudí, whose work from photographs prior to my traveling to Barcelona never spoke to me. In addition, the use of the term modernisma is confusing, as it has little to do what Americans call modernism.
A recent trip to Barcelona, however exposed me to the work of Lluís Domènech i Montaner, something of a predecessor of Gaudí, whose work I found beautiful and engaging. His spectacular Palau de Musica, Barcelona’s concert hall, got me to thinking about the humanism invoked by the foregrounding of natural materials and high craftsmanship. The Palau wows you with its masterly use of highly worked stained glass, tile, woodwork and plasterwork. It radiates the sense that sophisticated culture happens in this place. It speaks of the labor and skills of the many masters who shaped that plaster and carved the wood.
Ornate plasterwork at the Casa Batilló
How different this is from what became the International Style, which eliminated craftsmanship from its vocabulary, and backgrounded materials to the big ideas of its designers. Glass, steel and concrete were reduced to their basic functions, and manual working of materials was made to disappear into the overall design. At the same time, the contemporary backlash to modernism has been a regressive promotion of a return classical orders – as evidenced by the controversy created by the Trump appointment of a retro-classicist to the position of Architect of the Capitol. That politization of design seemed political and degenerating on its face. But what about looking back to an architectural style that highlights the human elements in the details of the implementation of design.
The Palau isfilled with color, shape and elegant forms. It draws the interest of the viewer into its details. It creates a welcoming and comfortable atmosphere. It promotes a sense of calm, civility and ease. Also significant is that must have employed scores of highly trained and skilled crafts people who contributed to its success and could take pride in their work. It speaks of place, rooted in that Catalan nationalism.
What’s interesting is that while Gaudí gets all the attention, Domènech seemed to me the greater artist. Gaudí’s works are among the principal tourist attractions of Barcelona. Most famously his massive church of Sagrada Familia, but also his Güell Park, Casa Batilló and Casa Milà, among others. But while Casa Batilló includes many beautiful details of wood and plasterwork and Casa Milá has some fascinating structural elements (particularly catenary arches in the attic space), a funky roof space and an undulating façade, Gaudí appears to have fallen victim to his celebrity and created overwhelming, chaotic designs. The Sagrada Familia in particular is gigantic in its crazed ornaments and abundance of novel architectural details. The whole business is exhausting. It is far from a contemplative, spiritual space.
Domènech seems to have quietly stayed true to his craft and sense of place. While the Palau is a jewel box, his Hospital de Sant Pau, is a graceful campus that speaks deeply of healing. It is a collection of 12 pavilions, connected by underground galleries and surrounded by landscape. Not all of the buildings have been fully restored. Some are in use as offices. Others are open to the public. All are decorated by extensive tile work and are flooded with light and color. Both the interiors and exteriors display the kind of hand work that marks modernisma. Everywhere there are facets to delight and engage the eye.
The Hospital of St. Pau
Domènech’s work was a revelation. What if New York’s essentially new $500 million concert hall were more like the Palau de Musica, bathed in colored light and couched by curvilinear, floral wood and plasterwork and less like a modern Hilton? Yes, Carnegie Hall is a 19th Century plaster box – but it is a relatively simple, inornate auditorium, with cramped public spaces. But what a pleasure it would be to attend concerts in a space like the Palau that emanates human warmth, art and culture.
We did also go to the Liceu Opera while we were in town. The auditorium, located on La Rambla, is a conventional European 2,300 seat one from 1864, embedded in a 1999 renovation following a fire in 1994. I found the sound surprisingly hollow and unflattering (thought it should be noted that the show we saw featured a small on-stage orchestra, rather than one in the pit). The programming is comparable to opera houses at the highest international level (with respect to conductors, directors and casting). It does have a tony adjacent opera club, which we were delighted to be able to visit.
Barcelona itself is overwhelmed by tourists, who are drawn by Gaudí and a lively street and night life. It has very attractive mid-rise residential neighborhoods, some of the streets of which are being pedestrianized. Barcelonans live life outside, and as in the other cities in Spain which I have visited, there is eating and drinking on sidewalks and streets everywhere late into the evenings. Even the residential side streets have ground level retail. A good many of the stores in Barcelona (and not just the high-end ones) are elegantly presented. Barcelona was designed with broad avenues, some with wide pedestrians walkways down the middle (like the famous and tourist infested La Rambla). Many of the blocks were designed with shared green space at their center.
St. Pau interior
Barcelona is a seafront city, with broad Mediterranean beaches making up its entire Eastern edge. Those beaches as well were jam-packed (but with locals) on the weekend we visited. The city has an active cultural life, with a major orchestra and the opera company, as well as galleries and art museums. It is the home to two universities. It is famous for its public markets (which have also, unfortunately, turned a good deal of their attention to the tourist trade). It is clearly a desirable place to live – what with the attractive built environment (particular the many, many solid midrise buildings of substantial residential flats – the best of which are influenced by or the product of modernisma), the climate, the many places to eat and drink and the beach.
The attractive, oldest parts of town are particularly crowded with tourists – and the draw is clearly eating, drinking and partying – which is remarkable since Barcelona was regarded as a failing post-industrial city at the time of Franco’s death in 1975. Locals attribute the city’s rather recent turnaround to the hosting of the Olympics in 1992, which is unusual since Olympic programs have generally been regarded as economic development failures. Barcelona, though, has been a remarkable success, of which it is to a certain extent now a happy, overwhelmed victim. And there is much to be learned from its distinctive, high profile design history and its place-based, human scale successes.
The Hilbert Cycle Theatre on Monument Circle, home of the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra
The Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra
While in town, I attended a concert of the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra. The orchestra did a program of Beethoven, Bartok and Schumann, conducted by Markus Stenz, with Zoltán Fejérvári as soloist. Neither of those performers are box office draws, and only the Beethoven Leonora Overture No. 3, is a known crowd pleaser. It was ambitious of the symphony’s management to put on such a program and selling it to any audience would be challenge. But it was a splendid concert, and it was disappointing that it drew so small a crowd – filling less than half of the seats. Fejérvári was entirely new to me, and while I didn’t at first recognize Stenz’ name, upon reading the program biography, I realized I had heard him excellently conduct Kurtág’s “Fin de Partie” last year in Paris.
The orchestra plays twenty classical programs a year in a restored movie palace on Monument Circle – so right in the center of the downtown. The auditorium is very much like the one I recently visited in Pittsburgh –with classical allusions in its decoration. The room is large, and the sound is neutral – making it a fine place to hear a full orchestra. The concert appeared to be something of a love fest between the conductor and the players, and it may have been a try-out for the orchestra’s open music director position for Stenz, Krzysztof Urbański having left the orchestra during COVID. Stenz is a pro. He conducted from memory, without a baton and doesn’t feel the need to beat time, but instead indicates cues, tempo and volume changes, phrasing and articulation with gesture. While the playing of the orchestra was a little, shall we say, enthusiastic during the Overture, the remainder of the concert was compelling – particularly in quieter passages. The violin section work in the second movement of the Bartok was especially beautiful.
Fejérvári is tall and gangly. He was in full command of the technical challenges of the concerto. He coaxed a sweet sound from the Steinway in Bartok’s 3rd concerto. Bartok is conventionally thought of as a percussive, “modernist” composer, but in this performance the lyricism shone through. The orchestra listened carefully to the musical lead of Fejérvári and followed suit. It was a moving, handsome performance. His lovely and unusual encore was the third movement of Jancek’s In The Mists. The performance of Schumann’s 2nd Symphony was straightforward and engaging. The orchestra’s playing, while perhaps not the most nuanced or precise, was fresh and fervent. There was a lot of smiling going on the part of both Stenz and the players (many of them young), and that sense of pleasure was contagious. The audience was equally enthusiastic, occasionally applauding, apparently spontaneously, between movements, and with a standing ovation at the concert’s conclusion (which seemed genuine, as opposed the now routine standing response at Carnegies Hall at every performance). It was an altogether satisfying musical evening, particularly impressive from a part-time band, in a city without a major music conservatory from which to draw (although Indiana University, about an hour away, does have one of the country’s leading music schools).
St. Peter’s Lutheran Church, Gunnar Birkerts, 1988
Columbus. Indiana
Columbus, Indiana is not to be confused with Columbus, Ohio. It is a town with a population of 50,000 about an hour south of Indianapolis. The town is famous among architecture buffs for its collection of structures designed by leading architects of the last hundred years. Wikipedia provides a good summary of what Columbus is all about:
“Columbus is a city known for its modern architecture and public art. J. Irwin Miller, 2nd CEO and a nephew of a co-founder of Cummins Inc., the Columbus-headquartered diesel engine manufacturer, instituted a program in which the Cummins Foundation paid the architects’ fees, provided the client selected a firm from a list compiled by the foundation. The plan was initiated with public schools and was so successful that the foundation decided to offer such design support to other non-profit and civic organizations. The high number of notable public buildings and public art in the Columbus area, designed by such individuals as Eero Saarinen, I.M. Pei, Robert Venturi, Cesar Pelli, and Richard Meier, led to Columbus earning the nickname “Athens on the Prairie.”
In a word, I was underwhelmed. A map sold at the visitors center lists 97 buildings and public art works located in this town of 50,000. The best work is mostly that which was commissioned by Cummins for its own use. The rest is generally not the most outstanding work of their designers. Often this appears to be the driven by limited funding resulting in inferior finishes and craftmanship. Some it seems like the starchitect didn’t take seriously a commission in the boonies. The projects are spread out around a large area – some a twenty-minute drive from the middle of town. All of the projects stand-alone – none are knitted into the small town’s fabric. They’re not urbanistic in any true sense of the word. The landscaping by the likes of Dan Kiley and Michael Van Val Valkenburgh was private, and mostly parking lots, or public, and not particularly well maintained.
The view up Washington Street.
The downtown reminded me a bit of Corning, New York, another company town with a philanthropic, design-oriented family in charge – but the main commercial street was not as well curated as in Corning. I had a tough time finding a place that was open for lunch on a Saturday afternoon. None of the work by renowned architects is on the main drag, Washington Street. The Miller family has been much celebrated for its patronage of high-end architecture (presumably using the money of Cummins shareholders to fund the Foundation). But the commissions seemed performative and attention seeking, despite all the blather in promotional materials about inspiring creativity and making Columbus a great place to live. The whole business felt like something of a stage set and not baked into the town’s planning and social fabric.
Actually, there seemed to be a lot of disinvested housing in the center of the town, and the adjacent areas were populated by tract house development and McMansions. Notably, just outside of downtown were the usual mid-western strip malls and regional malls featuring the standard national brands. As in Indianapolis, there just didn’t seem to me to be a deep commitment to making Columbus a vibrant place. As much as I love the work of William Rawn, a Bill Rawn boxy, conventional brick recreation center, is still a boxy, brick recreation center – even if his name is attached to. A Deborah Berke bank in a shopping mall – was just a drive-in bank branch. And I went hunting for the Hugh Hardy designed health center and found a grassy lot. Was it torn down? Was Hardy not famous enough to have his work preserved (his elementary school project for Columbus was far from the town’s center and I didn’t get there). A gigantic Robert Stern designed hospital complex was just plain odd – and was likely over-built for local needs – the extensive parking lots were empty on a Saturday afternoon. There was altogether too much banal Kevin Roche work done for Cummins facilities for my taste, the conventional modernism of which is not holding well up over time.
The interior of St. Peters
Was there anything I liked? The most impressive spaces I saw were actually interiors – in the stunning, elegant Sanctuary of Gunnar Birkerts St. Peter’s Lutheran Church and the light filled reading room of the Hope library branch, some distance from downtown Columbus. But interior designs do not directly impact public spaces. There is a Charles Gwathmey multifamily affordable senior project that struck me as quite elegant, and an effective use of a narrow site. The Dan Kiley Irwin Conference Center Landscape somewhat anachronistically makes use of the Bryant Park FERMOB tables and chairs – but how could I not like that? However, on the day I was there they were effectively props – no one was sitting in them, like in the Cummins commissioned public space in Indianapolis.
Indianapolis and Columbus place in high relief the difficulty in making great places – even with the most favorable local conditions. They both seem to have had progressive-minded civic leaders who wanted to ensure the future of their towns, and who commanded the resources to implement their plans. But plans and capital projects don’t make great places. To oversimplify, placemaking requires operating rather than capital funds (generally, much more difficult for government to come by). Activating public spaces is the result of the aggregation of many small interventions over a moderate period of time.
The Dan Kiley landscape adjacent to the Eero Saarinen Cummins Conference Center, added to by Kevin Roche
Indianapolis certainly has a lot of the right elements to create a vibrant downtown – by supporting a critical mass of street level activity – through outdoor eating and drinking, markets (the downtown City Market is just a rather forlorn food court needing substantial attention), pedestrianizing a few streets, presenting a consistent schedule of public events, foregrounding its historic structures (toning down signs for national retail) and encouraging modestly scaled mixed-use projects – all the usual moves.
There is a serious question as to why the city might want to do that. It is the state capitol, with all the activity that generates. It is a regional office center. It in an in-demand convention venue. Very few people live downtown. The creative class certainly has the option of living in a number of close in neighborhoods – if those are the people employers need to attract. Who would benefit from a walkable downtown with actual walkers? Living in such a place, is certainly my preference. There is something to be said philosophically for places with unique identities, that is that have soul. I’m of the view that in our polarized culture, drawing people together in attractive public places engages them in civic life and can provide an important unifying social force. Americans across the country need to be less atomized, drawn away from their screens and more engaged with each other. Quality public spaces (including elevating cultural events), with distinctive interesting programming (broadly defined) can provide that kind of collective experience.
But are there enough Hoosiers interested in that (or in attending the symphony) to make it a viable policy (or a sustainable orchestra)? A lot of people like, P.F. Chang’s – but that is not to be confused with the benefits of visiting a vibrant Chinese-American community.
Interior of the Deborah Berke Hope, IN library 1998
The view from the State House down Market Street in Indianapolis.
What is one to think about a state capitol city where the streets have the names of other states? What comes to the mind of a non-Hoosier when he or she thinks of Indiana or of Indianapolis. Yeah, probably not much. Also, what is to be made of a Potemkin Village of high-end architecture, much ballyhooed by the architectural cognoscenti, that has a dull main street, many of the high design projects are far flung, and most are, to be truthful, pretty pedestrian? This card-carrying member of the Eastern elite’s teeth were set on edge by a sign at the edge of the town of Columbus, Indiana bragging that former Vice President Michael R. Pence is a native son. That, notwithstanding, I think I was able to maintain an open mind. There certainly is much to like about Indy (not including the dopey colloquial shorting of the name, which does the city no service). Not the least of which is a truly excellent symphony orchestra, which put on an interesting program during my visit, albeit to a far less than half full house.
Indianapolis
The city is bigger than you might think, with one million inhabitants and a metro of twice that size. That, though, is still only about a third of the state’s population. Indianapolis is a geographically large, sprawling urban center in a deeply red, rural state. Sources I checked indicate that there even remain quite a few farms within the city limits – and that isn’t exactly what urbanists are thinking about when they discuss urban farming. The downtown is quite compact, with only a few skyscrapers. But it is easy to see that the 60’s through the 80’s were not kind to downtown Indianapolis. With many soulless, indistinctive midrise office buildings having replaced the city’s historic fabric – which dates back to the early 19th Century. There are some architecturally interesting structures left amid the brutalist colossi – but there aren’t many intact blocks of vernacular design. Oddly, the older, more distinctive buildings seem backgrounded by the newer additions.
It appears that the city fathers wanted to make sure that Indianapolis was up to date with the latest trends – both good and bad – right up to the present. Today, the city has a downtown management organization, a fancy schmancy system of bike paths (called the Cultural Trail), wayfinding signs, extensive scooter and bike sharing options, the modern street amenities for a walkable neighborhood downtown. But here’s the rub – there is nowhere worth walking to. The people in charge have made the moves, but don’t seem to get the essence of placemaking. There aren’t many of the features of a downtown that draw people to the center. It’s a city that made a big bet on the car and is organized around that. It has a huge parking structure on many blocks downtown. Like Kansas City, it is a place you drive to, to go to work, and drive out again at night. You’re also likely to drive to shop, dine or party. Because of the parking garages and the brutalist mega developments, there is little continuity of activity along street walls.
The Omni Severin. To the left is the original structure. To the right is the addition.
My hotel, the Omni Severin is an interesting example. I booked it because it is a member of the Historic Hotels brand of the National Trust for Historic Preservation. It is a classic early 20th century property, built adjacent to the old intercity train station. Modern additions were made when Omni bought and renovated the structure in the 00’s – leaving some of the historic façade visible. But the additions obscure a good deal of the exterior character. The modern port cochere, on the rail station side of the building, appears to have moved the original main entrance away from the downtown facing side of the building, which is now locked from the outside. The public spaces and rooms in the older parts of the building are entirely characterless. Why bother with the adaptive reuse when the resulting project is drab? Little is left that makes the hotel distinctive, other than a few historic photographs and prints. Surely the National Trust can find a more interesting member in Indianapolis (perhaps Le Meridian around the corner, which seems more stylish).
The rose window of Union Station.The restored waiting room of the former Union Station.
The train station, just across the plaza from the Omni has been adaptively reused as a Crown Plaza Hotel – much in the spirit of Union Station in St. Louis, with windowless rooms built into the interior of the elevated former train station. It has considerably more historic character then the Omni, but is odd. The former grand waiting room of the station, which has a splendid rose window, has been turned into an event space. Part of the project has been made to recreate the atmosphere of the track waiting areas. There are even sleeping rooms in an old train (or a replica of one). The whole thing is very cleverly designed, but the lack of external windows and sunlight in the sleeping rooms probably makes it a hard sell. And the impressive waiting room is difficult to access from the rest of the project or the street. The whole place seems kind of dark and peculiar. One piece of advice to management – light up the rose window at night. It’s bad enough you can’t get into the waiting room directly from the street, but the window could be a beacon, activating the area around it.
The Cummins HQ, the garage to the right, the plaza in the center, and the Deborah Berke office buildings to the left,The Cummins HQ.
Emblematic of the issues of Indianapolis is the most appealing piece of architecture I visited in either Indianapolis or Columbus (more on Columbus’ famous collection of architectural projects in my next post). Like the buildings of Columbus, the Indianapolis standout was commissioned by Cummins (formerly The Cummins Engine Company). Cummins is probably the most publicized and prolific patron of high-end architecture in America. Its downtown Indianapolis HQ was commissioned from New York/New Havener, Deborah Berke (who also did bank branch and a library in the Columbus area), with landscape design by local firm, David Rubin Land Collective. The Cummins HQ is a knockout. It’s an elegant, distinctive addition to the Indianapolis skyline (except that it is responsibly mid-rise). The landscaping around it is a combination of undulating greensward (incorporating all the mod cons of water management and native species) – and even utilizes the Bryant Park/FERMOB chair. The greenspace is adjacent to the Cultural Trail bike/pedestrian path. The ensemble is spirit lifting.
But. The tipoff is the bespoke garage, connected to the office building by a skywalk. The office building was not made to be walked to. It was meant to be driven to. The Friday I was there the lobby and the park were empty (it was admittedly cold and raining). The project sits by itself, with its front (which nobody is going to walk up to) facing the landscape, and the back facing the street. It sits at the edge of the downtown and doesn’t connect to anything else. I suspect that the tables and chairs in the park are used on the occasional nice day for lunch by Cummins employees (but how many warm, sunny days are there in the Mid-West – and shouldn’t public spaces be designed so that they can be used even dicey weather). It is unlikely that anyone will walk there (other than this crazy New Yorker). Adding insult to injury, there is no indication of the identity of the designers (true also in Columbus on the many significant structures there). When I asked the building staff about the architect, they didn’t know and had trouble accessing the information (kudos to the kind man at the front desk who came out to me in the rain, while I was walking around the park to identify Berke). There were informational signs lauding Cummins’ forward-looking commitment to sustainability and respect for local landscape conditions. But I have to suspect that Cummins’ decades of art and architectural patronage are more about demonstrating the taste, sophistication and generosity of the Miller family that has run Cummins for a few generations, then actually being committed to improving life for the people of either Indianapolis or Columbus. This theme runs through both places.
A mixed use hotel/office/retail project in the downtown.
There seems to be only a very few downtown residentials buildings – and why would you want to live downtown, when there is so little street life? There is not much that makes for an interesting neighborhood – little local retail (or dining), few art galleries, not even a department store. The garish signs for the national retailers and restaurant chains overwhelm the street and give it a honky-tonk feel – obscuring the handsome historic facades. The near-in northside residential neighborhoods of one family homes are leafy and attractive. The housing stock is from the first half of the 19th Century – mostly wood construction (with plenty of gay pride flags flying from neighborhood porches). While the lots seem narrow, many of the homes are larger than 3,000 square feet. Prices appear to be between $500,000 and $750,000. Not inexpensive by any measure (southside neighborhoods, with similar housing stock, seem substantially less well kept). If you can live in a four bedroom, 3,000 square foot house a five-minute drive from downtown, why would you want to live in a downtown loft or tower? Only if it was a real mixed-use neighborhood, which, right now, downtown Indianapolis isn’t.
The fundamental question is raised: what makes a great place – a place where people want to be. It seems that the hard part about placemaking is understanding that’s it is not about great design and spending on capital projects. It’s about igniting the spontaneous generation of human activity – the release of creativity and the stimulation of connections. That is, the creation of a community that celebrates its inherent uniqueness and strengths. Building stuff doesn’t make that happen by itself. Successful placemaking requires humility and careful observation of how people behave in public space and supporting and catalyzing connective activity. This is generally the opposite of what local grandees are about. They want to be adulated and eulogized. Humility and understanding the needs and desires of other people, and patiently and carefully programming public spaces, just isn’t in their DNA.
The Arts Garden from below.The interior of the Arts Garden.
Two other connected, wrong-headed projects also stand out in Indianapolis as grandiose failures. One is something called the Arts Garden. It is a social/performance space built over a major intersection. It is a glass winter garden with a high ceiling connected to the city’s skywalk system (almost never a good idea – diverting activity from street level) set up as a performance space. It must have cost a fortune – and why is it there? It also dominates what otherwise would have been a main downtown intersection. In order for such a thing to be successful, it has to be constantly programmed with high quality events. I’m talking every afternoon and evening, just about 365 days a year. That is management intensive and expensive. That didn’t seem to be happening – and the venue appeared to be underused for public events.
The Circle Center mall.
Attached by the skywalk to the Arts Garden is the Circle Center Mall (Monument Circle being the 100% location in Indianapolis) – which appears to be deeply ailing, with many empty stores – and few visitors on either a Friday or Saturday. Some mall passageways were literally dark – without stores or light. The mall includes some adaptively reused buildings and massive parking operations. Simon sold out its interest in the failed project last year – and someone is losing a bundle of money on the development (likely a good deal of which is the taxpayers’ of Indianapolis and Indiana). The project is too big, off the street and generally ill-conceived. It is no substitute for creating a real place.
[And while we’re mentioning Monument Circle, may I respectfully suggest that whoever is responsible for the music piped out of loudspeakers around the monument turn them off and take them down. I love Mozart as much, or even more, than the next person, but recorded music does nothing to contribute to the attractiveness of a public space, and its canned nature contributes to a feeling that the people managing the space are desperate for a good idea.]
The handsome Columbia Club on Monument Circle. Membership is down from 3000 to 1000 members.
Clearly, there is lots of cash around in Indianapolis to execute ambitious projects – some of which likely because it is the state capitol and has access to state funding. This is clearly a wealthy, successful community. Indianapolis has a huge convention center, with a dozen big convention brand hotels (Westin, Conrad, a couple of Marriotts). There’s an entertainment district near the center that on a Friday night was drawing a lively crowd to bars and music joints downtown. The City and the BIDs attention needs to be drawn away from capital projects and towards public space activation, if they are serious about making the downtown more livable. The place needs more outdoor food service designed for three plus season use (space heaters, enclosures). They need to foreground their landmark structures with more imaginative lighting and better controlled retail signage. They need to highlight local retailers. Leasing brokers and building owners likely think that national brands like McCormick & Schmick’s, Ruth’s Chris and P.J. Chang, with their garish signs, add to the profile and pizazz of the downtown (and are a draw for conventioneers). Here’s a newsflash – they make the downtown generic and indistinctive. That creates a downtown like everywhere else, without a distinctive sense of place – without a soul. Indianapolis needs to take pride in its identity and individuality – beyond the mass market products of the Pacers, the Colts and the 500 – if it wants to be a great place. On the other hand, civic leaders may be happy with what it is – a successful 5 day a week generic office district and convention destination. I should make clear that there is no shame in that. But the question is definitely raised, why have an extensive system of bike paths, an outstanding (if underappreciated) symphony orchestra and distinctive building and public space architecture? They have created an economically successful, but grey, one-dimensional state capitol, commercial and conference center. Many people (residents, business leaders, real estate owners) are likely happy with just that. But, there is certainly something important missing.
More on the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra and Columbus, Indiana in next week’s post.
The new Grand Central Madison Train Station is a success. The Moynihan Trail Hall is not. Why? Because GCM is a useful, efficient train station. Both had the challenge of fitting new railroad equipment in between decades of development of urban infrastructure – a near impossible task.
Moynihan is an inconveniently located facility, with clunky access to the western end of the former Pennsylvania Railroad train platforms. By contrast, GCM can be accessed to the street from a number of nodes between 42nd Street and 48th Street. There are somewhat squirrelly passageways that lead both to Grand Central Terminal and the Times Square Shuttle Platform. There is a huge amount of space in the new station to accommodate commuter movement. The new GCM track cleverly goes to an East River tunnel through two double decker tubes, creating four new platforms with service to Jamaica Station in Queens, where one can make the proverbial “change at Jamaica.” It should be a boon to Long Island commuters, once they figure out how to use it, and overcome their innate resistance to change. It greatly expands access for Long Island commuters to Manhattan transit centers.
It’s a stroke of brilliant engineering that much of this thing has been squeezed in underground to the WEST of the current Grand Central. I had always assumed that the East End Access project would be EAST of Grand Central. But, no, the engineers have put the concourse deep under Vanderbilt Avenue. Given that the track tunnels were dug into the Manhattan schist, there is no sunlight to the concourse, mezzanine and platforms – unlike the skylit Moynihan, which is that facility’s best feature. But the station is decorated with a number of mosaics and other displays from the MTA’s essential and successful Arts in Transit program – which pop and contribute greatly to the bright, active atmosphere of the project (as they also do somewhat less visibly at Moynihan).
And, no, it does not take a long time to get to the platforms – which is the first comment I heard from early users. I clocked it at nine minutes from the information booth in Grand Central to the platform, including the time to purchase a ticket from a concourse machine. That’s probably less than half the time it takes walk from 7th Avenue to Moynihan (the worst feature of which is the cumbersome need to go down and then up stairs to get under 8th Avenue to reach the train hall). GCM is smack in the middle of town. And the corridors and vertical transportation have been designed for relatively easy access to the capacious and well-lit platforms.
The problems: there are quite a few. First is that after years, actually decades of delay, the project was delivered on the tail of the COVID pandemic which has decimated commuter rail ridership. Was this $11 billion investment wise given the changes in commuting patterns? It’s impossible to predict the trends in future LIRR customer use, so we can’t know now (and couldn’t have known about the pandemic before). Given, that social patterns tend to regress to the mean over time, and the likely population growth in Queens, Nassau and particularly Suffolk counties the answer could be “yes.” We’ll have to wait it out. $11 billion is a big number.
As in Moynihan, there is almost no place to sit. That is a mistake. Public spaces should not be designed around an inability to program, maintain and police them. Adequate resources should be expended on programing, maintenance, social services and public safety sufficient to make waiting comfortably for trains possible. It’s just not that difficult – and is essential to make this gigantic investment successful.
Grand Central Terminal and Grand Central Madison are run by two different railroads, which should be invisible to the commuter – but it’s not. When I asked a Metro North ticket seller in Grand Central Terminal how to get to Grand Central Madison, he told me that there was no such place. The wayfinding signs and nodes of interconnection between the two stations are not obvious or seamless. There are many street entrances to GCM, but to get from Metro North Grand Central to LIRR Grand Central, you go down the stairs on the west side of the Terminal to the food court. You do a 180 back behind the stairs you just came down, down a shortish escalator and through a set of the kind of skanky doors that one finds at Penn Station and Atlantic Terminal to get to the GCM Concourse under Vanderbilt. The big drop in depth is on the escalator from the Concourse to the Mezzanine and Tracks deep below Park Avenue.
The lame entrance from the subway to One Vanderbilt
Another, personal gripe, is the small, hard to find entrance from the subway (and GCM) to S.L. Green’s new One Vanderbilt skyscraper adjacent to GCT on 42nd Street, which was locked when I tried to use it. I reported same to the excellent MTA boss, Janno Lieber, who was very kind to look into it. Once, it was considered an amenity to have direct access from the subway to the Greybar, Chrysler, Chanin, Pershing Square and Lincoln Buildings – but I guess not to the asset managers of S.L. Green, who don’t want the hoi palloi in their cold, quadruple height, 30’s Italian design lobby. Of course, one change in the world due to Zoom and COVID is that very few people are visitors to office buildings they don’t work in.
As I write, the ever predictable, but factually unreliable New York Post, has stirred up complaints about the transfer situation in Jamaica. Commuters to Brooklyn have been quoted to be incensed about the changes in service between Brooklyn Terminal to Jamaica and points East. The new service is something former LIRR President Helena Williams called “The Scoot.” The idea was a frequent shuttle between Brooklyn and Jamaica’s downtowns to a dedicated platform in Jamaica, replacing more occasional service to Far Rockaway and a couple of other LIRR eastern terminals from Atlantic Terminal. On my visit to Jamaica from GCM, the Scoot system didn’t seem to yet be fully operational on the new platform serving tracks 11 and 12 (at the south of Jamacia Station near AirTrain), which are devoted to only Brooklyn service (there is also an art installation next to the stairs down to the new platforms. I had a great experience as a member of the committee that selected the artwork [about ten years ago!]). Brooklyn service was still leaving from track 3 going west-bound. Once this change is fully implemented it should be yet another improvement for LIRR riders with no downside; like the new Midtown East option at GCM.
So far the “Dashing Dan’s” of the LIRR (a long retired moniker) seem to be a pretty inflexible, change resistant and crabby bunch. Billions of dollars have been spent to ease their commute to Manhattan, including on the not yet completed third track of the main line, on top of their highly subsidized daily ride (more per ride than on the NYC subway). Long Islanders – talk less, smile more!
The big issues arising out of the billions spent on East End Access, Moynihan Station and the Second Avenue Subway (among other mega-projects) is what to do about heavy rail projects in the 21st Century, given that heavy rail is a 19th Century technology that has become absurdly expensive to build. An old friend of mine, one of the country’s leading railroad attorneys, coined the term “FRN” – fucking railroad nuts – to describe a species of human being with an irrational attachment to heavy rail. These people think that trains are the solution to every human problem from curing cancer to solving who killed Judge Crater. They want to build high speed rail from LA to San Francisco and solve upstate New York’s economic problems by expanding passenger service on old New York Central and Pennsylvania Railroad rights of way. The numbers never work, mostly because squeezing new rights of way and tracks in between existing development faces tremendous (even overwhelming) political, cost and engineering challenges in a world that is already built out. They point to Europe which has great inter-city train service where there are dense networks of in-place rights of way that have either never existed in America or were replaced with highways decades ago. And they point to China, which has built out extensive systems of high-speed rail in recent years. The Chinese projects have been built without much regard to pre-existing property rights, sensitivity to environmental issues or concern about the welfare of construction workers. They have also experienced calamitous issues of construction quality once operational. Rightly, those circumstances will never fly here. Personal idiosyncrasy doesn’t make for good public policy – no matter how often and articulately expressed by otherwise “serious people.”
Heavy rail projects in the United States, particularly in the dense Northeast, seem to make sense either to maintain existing routes (like the Gateway project, replacing antiquated rail tunnels under the Hudson) or to efficiently expand on in-place assets (presumably like the LIRR third track). The decisions to proceed with such super-expensive service expansions need to be made with care after serious analysis of their projected economic (as opposed to political) benefits. Does Grand Central Madison pass this test? I, for one, don’t know. But that decision was made at least two decades ago, and the engineers for the MTA have made the best of it. Long Islanders, show a little gratitude, will ya?
We live a couple of blocks from Straus Park, a large traffic triangle, dominated by a lovely fountain dedicated to the memory of Isidor and Ida Strauss who died on the Titanic. In the spirit of the revitalization of public spaces in the 90’s, a neighborhoods group took over the programming and maintenance of the horticulture of the park – and they do a lovely job. This little space is a terrific neighborhood amenity.
Six months before the onset of the pandemic we got a dog, and part of my regular dog walking route was through the park. As a result, I came to appreciate the parks virtues all the more. I enjoyed the sparrows splashing in the park’s fountain. In the spring, the bulbs planted the prior fall are a colorful pleasure. The vibe from people reading, eating and just relaxing on the many benches speaks to the virtues of urban life, bringing together people from many backgrounds to enjoy sharing a public space.
When I first started my dog walking routine in 2019, I noticed that the park had several “BigBelly” trash cans. There are large rectangular structures of utilitarian design, which are advertised to compact trash using solar power, enabling pickups from them to be less frequent. One of the cans in Straus Park was not functioning and was conspicuously wrapped in black plastic bags. It is worth noting, but not worth dwelling upon, that I have long found BigBellies to be the pirates of street furniture and was dismayed that the Parks Department thought it appropriate to deploy them (in large part because the emptying of trash bins is something to be encouraged, as it provides activity in otherwise dormant public spaces, creates “eyes on the street,” as well as the low skill, entry level employment so much needed in New York). But, jeez, if DPR is going to use them, they ought to at least be maintained.
Every day, sometimes several times a day I would walk by this piece of junk, and it would annoy me. It came to a point where my wife demanded I stop talking about it. The pandemic came and mostly went, and four years later the damn thing was still there. This was important because non-working features of a public space are an indication of disorder – suggesting to users that anti-social behavior is tolerated. That i) leads others who are so included to engage in anti-social behavior and ii) gives other the idea that anti-social behavior is possible/likely in that space – leading to a perception of lack of safety there. In Straus Park there were lots of other ques that the park was being well maintained and that there was an understanding among park users about certain standards of behavior: the horticulture was highly and visibly tended, the fountain worked, trashed was routinely picked up. All kinds of people used the park – and clearly subscribed to the social contract regarding conventions of acceptable behavior. The broken BigBelly itself wasn’t a tremendous problem – but it could have been the first incline on a slippery slope to neglect.
In the fall of 2022, I finally decided to try to get it fixed. I took pictures of it. I emailed a request that it be repaired and removed to 311 on October 27th with the photo. I got back a service request confirmation from 311 and then nothing happened. On December 28th, I a sent a copy of the service request confirmation to our local City Council Member, the Riverside Park Conservancy (which in the past has taken some responsibility for Straus Park), the Parks Department general email box and the Parks Commissioner (I guessed at her email address). The email to the Parks Commissioner bounced back. I contacted former Parks Commissioner, Adrian Benepe, our neighbor, who pointed me in the right direction and gave me an attaboy for trying. The Commissioner, who I don’t know personally (unlike most of her recent predecessors) I have only heard referred to a Sue Donoghue, uses Susan in the Parks protocol email address.
I also called the BigBelly corporate office in Boston and tried to persuade them to fix or remove the thing. They told me to buzz off, as the can belonged to Parks and they weren’t responsible for it.
I then left for a month in Hawai’i.
Three weeks later, while in Waikiki, given the magic of mobile phone technology, I got a call from a Parks Department employee (at 5AM local time). I later returned the call. The Parks employee acknowledged receipt of my request to the Commissioner’s office (not the original 311 request) and told me removing the BigBelly from Strauss Park was now on his “to do” list as the district manager for the park, and it would likely be removed in the next few months. I zealously advocated with this nice person that DPR should be embarrassed that this broken piece of equipment had been open and notoriously existing in Straus Park for at least four years without repair or removal. Given my knowledge of DPR operations, I suggested to him several ways of getting the resources (like a Riverside Park pick-up truck) required to get rid of the can. We ended the call amicably and he said he would see what he could do.
Upon our return from the Mid-Pacific, I made a beeline to Straus Park to see what was up – and the can was at last gone. I felt a smug sense of accomplishment and returning home, sent around a thank you email to all concerned. I doubt anyone else noticed. And it certainly wasn’t a big deal. But it does tell us two important things. First, that the Parks Department does not have sufficient resources to do basic park maintenance, which has been obvious for some time (as evidenced by routine overflowing trash baskets and un-mowed turf in Riverside Park).
311
But more importantly it is an object lesson in the failure of the City’s 311 system – which has become a data collection program, and not a way to improve delivery of services. In my time at DoITT, I was excoriated for not routinely closing out cable complaints as had been done by my predecessors. We closed out complaints only when issues had been resolved to a customer’s satisfaction, or when we had made a determination that the customer’s issue wasn’t susceptible to satisfactory resolution. My team was rebuked for not meeting our SLR (service level requirements). In my experience, 311 requests do not result in effective and appropriate city action. Requests get routinely closed out by the bureaucracy because its internal standards for resolution have been met – which has nothing to do with actually solving the problem. 311, with all of its elaborate software and hundreds of employees taking calls, appears to be a Potemkin Village. While the Annual Mayor’s Management Report may record and report the number of type of requests, it does not reflect the actual resolution of problems in the real world outside the bureaucracy. It is virtually useless as a management tool, as far as I can tell.
My original service request said that I would receive a response within thirty days. I’m still waiting. [Note to spouse: sorry about this post. It’s now out of my system. You won’t hear about it again.]
The Adams Administration recently announced the appointment of a “Director of the Public Realm,” a newly created position. The idea for this post was advanced in recent years through the advocacy of civic groups concerned about public design, like the Municipal Art Society and the Design Trust for Public Space. The creation of the office became something of a (quiet) rallying cry during the last Mayoral election. The Mayor has appointed Ya-Ting Liu to the job, who, while not someone I know (not that it matters), seems well qualified for the role, with degrees from Berkely and MIT, and time spent at Transportation Alternatives and City Hall. Presumably, in the eyes of the public design and placemaking communities this is a professional who is both for the right things and is knowledgeable about the workings of city government, reporting directly to a Deputy Mayor. As someone who has worked on improving public spaces, streets and sidewalks in New York City for 30 years, including as the long-time chair of the Streets and Sidewalks Committee of the MAS, I can only wish her well.
Unfortunately, though, having a Director of the Public Realm probably isn’t a particularly good idea. It’s unlikely to contribute much to making public spaces better. It does give the civic groups (which during the Bloomberg Administration became quiescent) someone they can talk to in City Hall, and who would presumably be receptive to their ideas. However, based on my experience in City government, the office has a low probability having much impact, and over time will add to the bureaucratic dysfunction of city government as senior officials in City Hall lose interest in the initiative and/or are replaced by people who don’t see it as the priority Mayor Adams and Deputy Mayor Joshi presumably do.
The news rack designed by Ignacio Ciocchini for Grand Central Partnership. Ciocchini has designed most of New York City’s best street furniture
I experienced this firsthand in my time at the Department of Information Technology and Telecommunications (DoITT, now Office of Technology Innovation, OTI). DoITT was a relatively new City agency, established as a home for the once important city cable franchises (after the elimination of the discredited Bureau of Franchises as a result of a charter change) and the new and growing in importance technological support functions for other City agencies. It grew into a sizable bureaucracy that included the City’s 311 service, its procurement of hardware, software and telecommunications services, with its own capacity to code software to meet the City’s routine needs and with the capacity to house and support redundant servicer capacity for data and software.
A parallel Office of the Chief Technology Officer was created during the Bloomberg Administration. A key strategy of Mayor Bloomberg in accomplishing his administration’s goals appeared to be working around existing bureaucracies, by setting up offices in City Hall focused on the Mayor’s policy priorities, like sustainability and technology innovation. I speculate that Bloomberg and his staff decided that working through the existing agencies would frustrate their initiatives, and that life was too short to attempt to reform the deep dysfunction in City operations, particularly with respect to procurement and human resources.
While the CTO might have had some viability when it was first established in driving new ideas in municipal technology, it became just another bureaucratic power center. After Bloomberg, in the De Blasio Administration, it was staffed by smart, committed advocates dedicated to closing the digital divide (I have previously written here about my skepticism as to whether there actually is a digital divide https://www.theplacemaster.com/2022/07/31/expanding-the-reach-of-the-internet-in-new-york-city/). The Bloomberg priorities became orphans. The De Blasio CTO announced lots of grand plans that never came to much. But more significantly, the CTO spent much of its time sparring with DoITT over turf, credit for accomplishment and the Mayor’s attention. All three of the Commissioners whom I served made clear that the CTO was an adversary and encouraged ignoring them and engaging in parallel projects. There was much energy wasted in sniping at each other. Personally, I tried to leverage the resources available at the CTO, swiping my best staff member from them and trying to improve the CTO’s work product when and where I could (including spending two weeks editing and rewriting the Internet Master Plan, which when it came to me was drafted by a consulting firm the City had hired in a language that only remotely resembled English). Recently, that Master Plan, a signal achievement of De Blasio CTO’s office was abandoned by the Adams Administration (in my view no great loss, despite, or maybe even because, of my contribution).
Ciocchini’s proposed design for the telecommunications kiosk. Far superior to the design approved by the design commission
In my experience, there is simply no substitute for hiring talented, dedicated, well-trained, right-thinking officials in the relevant agencies and empowering them to take risks and make decisions in order to enable the bureaucracies to “get stuff done.” Setting up offices in City Hall to coordinate policy and spearhead thoughtful new initiatives isn’t a thing that actually functions in the real world. It just doesn’t work, and over time because of the fighting over turf, makes the bureaucracy worse. Over time, the managerial vectors have moved in the wrong direction, with decision making power drifting up and being centralized in the Mayor. The order of the day in the agencies has become avoiding making mistakes and waiting for direction from City Hall.
In the design and public space realm in City government there have been agency staff who have had a positive impact on in making good design in public space a priority from both the top and middle management of agencies, some over and some under the radar. As Design and Construction Commissioner, David Burney created a Design Excellence Program, which has become partially embedded in the agency’s DNA – employing a wider range of architects and engineers, some of whom have established high design credentials. At the MTA, Wendy Feuer and now Sandra Bloodworth have made its Arts in Transit program a huge success. They created a gold standard selection process for artists that has produced outstanding results – most recently in the Times Square/Sixth Avenue subway connection and in the new Grand Central Madison. Wendy took her design sensibility to the City’s Department of Transportation’s Urban Design group, and, working with Commissioner Polly Trottenberg, successfully inserted design and public space management interests into DOT’s day to day work.
In my time at DoITT I sought out others in City government concerned about quality design in public projects and on the streets and sidewalks and tried to create an informal network of like-minded bureaucrats. At the same time, I attempted to imbue our DoITT team with a sensitivity to design issues and the impact of telecommunications infrastructure on public space. The first two commissioners for whom I worked were technologists who didn’t have design top of mind, and I was able to work under the radar. Later, we rammed through a number of utilitarian objects of streetscape, the implications of which are only now being realized (and resisted) and my ability to influence policy went to nil. Newly installed larger mobile telecom 5G transmitter enclosures on light and signal poles and very tall, utilitarian LinkNYC 5G structures (about which I have previously written) are now beginning to appear on the City’s streetscape.
A decrepit dining shed removed by the City
Best case, Ms. Liu seeks out those with design sensibility and expertise in public space programming in the agencies and provides support for their efforts, works to encourage the agencies to create centers of good design (and I can’t think of any agency that doesn’t have an impact on structures and streetscapes) and creates programs encouraging the incorporation of design and placemaking sensibilities in all of the City’s endeavors in public spaces and City facilities. To advance my own hobby horse, creating a striking, distinctive purpose-built telecommunications structure to replace the eyesores now going up all over town, would be a lay-up and great place to start. I’d also suggests securing resources to program DOT’s Open Streets initiative. The Administration’s excellent New New York Action Plan would be a good place to start to find worthwhile ideas for revitalizing commercial corridors and improving public spaces.
Ms. Liu’s initial assignment will probably to come up with rules institutionalizing the tremendously successful Open Restaurant and Open Streets programs created during COVID. As is typical with New York open space issues, there are loud voices seeking to shut those programs down, and to heavily regulate commercial activity on streets and sidewalks. Those forces need to be boldly resisted. My suggestion is to get rid of the dining sheds in the roadbeds, which have outlived their COVID pandemic usefulness, some of which have become derelict. Putting chairs and tables on sidewalks should be made as streamlined as possible – with the City getting a license fee per square feet occupied – calibrated by borough and neighborhood. Economic actors who use public space to generate revenue should pay for the privilege (that includes you, broadband providers!).
The downtowns in Schenectady and Troy are both success stories. They are similar-sized small cities, with commercial centers that developed in very different ways, likely because of the different periods that proved to be their hay-days. Both have populations substantially below their peaks (Schenectady, now 70,000, peaked at 95,000 in 1930; Troy, now 50,000, peaked at 76,000 in 1910). Both have anchor institutions of higher education. Union College, founded in Schenectady in 1795, and now with 2,200 students. Rensselaer Polytechnic Institution was founded in 1824 and has 8,000 students in Troy. Neither particularly has the feel of a college town, though. They are certainly archetypes of what the downtown of a post-industrial Mohawk Valley city can be—even despite a one-third decline in population from their largest. What signifies that these places are successful? They are busy and lively, they have few empty storefronts, their buildings are architecturally interesting and well maintained, and they have an interesting mix of ground floor uses.
What is particularly impressive about Schenectady is the harmony between old and new buildings along State Street, its main commercial corridor. All down State Street the street wall is continuous, the building heights are consistent and the facades of the new developments, several of them mixed-use retail/residential and others retail/commercial, are respectful of their context. None of these new developments draw attention to themselves, and all are knitted into the urban fabric, while clearly marking themselves as someplace interesting and new. It appears that several of these structures were designed by a local firm. State Street has to be one of the best main streets in the country, by most measures. For example, it feels more substantial and more modern (less like a stage set), than Corning’s famous downtown.
A new, mixed-use structure that fits right in
Schenectady was the corporate home of General Electric (before it veered away from manufacturing to become a brutally managed ponzi scheme of financial services), which retains a small presence in the town – but is nowhere near what it once was. GE had both corporate offices and manufacturing facilities in the town. A large historic factory structure continues to bear a gigantic sign for the company. A fun fact is that because of GE’s presence, it had the country’s second commercial radio station. Railroading was also a major factor in Schenectady’s economy. The New York Central stopped in town, and it continues to have Amtrak service. But, at least equally important, it was the manufacturing home of the American Locomotive Company, a major American builder of steam, and then diesel, engines for trains. That company no longer exists.
Jay Street Mall
The city mostly has the feel of a leafy suburb with an attractive downtown and a self-contained, traditional college campus. One of the features of the commercial district is a very good looking and interestingly tenanted pedestrianized alley that leads from State Street to the near the train station, called the Jay Street Pedestrian Mall. It is clearly well managed and maintained. State Street also features a 1926 Proctor’s Theater that remains active and in use. The beautiful homes lining the residential streets are very much the result of the cadre of well-compensated GE executives who once made their homes in Schenectady and a community planned by the company to attract them.
It seems pretty clear from walking around that Schenectady’s is a planned, managed success. Civic leaders focused their efforts on State and Jay Streets and created and enforced smart zoning and design standards. No doubt it was just as devastated by the GE’s downsizing and ALC’s demise, as Amsterdam was with the collapse of the local carpet manufacturing business. But use was made of its in-place social infrastructure to produce what is likely a very, very nice place to live, work or shop.
A taste of Troy’s charm
Troy is different. It has more of a downtown area than a main street. Troy was a major commercial center very early in the history of the country. Located on the Hudson River at the point where it ceases to be navigable, it was already a locus for transportation before the construction of the Erie Canal, which met the Hudson near Troy and super-charged the local economy. The railroads, similarly, used Troy as a center, where the Hudson could be bridged to connect them to the West. If you were traveling west from New York City, you either had to take a ferry across the Hudson to Hoboken or Jersey City, or a train which turned to the west at Troy. This was true, and mostly remains true, for both passengers and freight. The Amtrak station in Rensselaer, just south of downtown, serves the city of Albany and is a major link between the state’s capital and its largest city.
Troy Savings Bank Music Hall
With its access to coal and iron via waterways, canals and ultimately railroads, Troy was also an important, early steel manufacturing center. As a commercial center beginning around 1800, it is interesting to note that Troy’s population peaked before then that of other Mohawk Valley cities, but began to decline at around the same time.
Today you can get a sense of Troy’s history by watching “The Gilded Age,” Julian Fellowes American version of Downtown Abbey, where some of exteriors are filmed, and are easily distinguished from the scenes with absolutely dreadful computer-generated backgrounds (the CGI exteriors being the worst part of an otherwise enjoyable entertainment). The downtown retains its early 19th century character and charm. Troy is also known for the concert venue in a (now former) downtown bank, with renowned acoustics often used for recordings during the gold age of the LP. Troy’s historic downtown is made up of many full blocks. It is more of a neighborhood than a commercial strip, I would imagine this reflects its early 19th century origins and development patterns from that period. It has the kind of vibe that you find in New York City’s Greenwich Village or Brooklyn Heights, developed at around the same time, and now are among New York’s most desirable and visited places. While Troy had a number of major 19th Century fires, the blocks of the downtown remain remarkably well preserved. Venerating these blocks isn’t simply historic preservation idolatry or some kind of return to a romantic ideal, but a recognition of the importance of human scale and the centrality of a mixture of uses to creating the kind of places where people want to be. There certainly are people who spent millions of dollars to live on high floors in Hudson Yards, but I would venture to say that those are people who have values that are in the very skinny end of a bell curve in terms of their distribution.
Troy is a little different, in having a commercial area, rather than a commercial corridor. That makes it less of a model for many other small cities. But like Over-the-Rhine in Cincinnati, a vibrant commercial district can be an ever more powerful driver of urban vitality, and is certainly a place worth looking at for examples of success.
One of the many retail blocks in Troy
The Mohawk and Hudson valleys are places that continue to stop human beings in their tracks with their beauty. The construction of the Erie Canal was a critical milestone in every aspect of the growth and development of the United States. The area has an abundance of natural and social assets, including a large number of important educational and cultural institutions. It also has access to water (not a given in many places today) and a climate that, for better or worse more globally, has grown more temperate as the climate changes. Some of the cities whose growth was fostered by the canal have not yet recovered from the post-World War II deindustrialization. While others, like Schenectady and Troy are thriving. They are models for what is possible. What places like Syracuse and Amsterdam (as well as Utica) need are most importantly a desire to change and a willingness to accept new people, new ideas and new forms of economic and social activity. We know how to do downtown restoration, and we have the cities that demonstrate that. Where an old guard clings to the remnants of the dregs of former expansive wealth and power, desolation remains.
Why do the prospects for downtown Syracuse seem so much bleaker than those for Rochester? Syracuse has a current population of about 150,000 (from a peak of 220,000 in 1950), while Rochester’s population is 210,000 (peak of 330,000 in 1950). Those seem like about the same orders of magnitude, and in fact, the depopulation of Rochester over the decades has been more severe. Syracuse has a very important anchor institution in the Upstate Medical University, with over 10,000 employees and a budget of almost $2 billion. It also has Syracuse University, with 4,500 employees and 21,000 students. The University, unlike any of those in Rochester, has a noted sports program, with a high-profile basketball team. The Syracuse metro has a population of about 670,000.
Clinton Square on a Friday afternoon.
But something about downtown Syracuse gives it a feeling of desolation and lack of activity. Its public spaces are empty and poorly maintained. It has acres of surface parking lots (presumably where abandoned buildings were demolished), while Rochester has an extensive network of structured parking. Syracuse’s nods to current trends in urbanism, like shared scooters, fixed public seating, Victor Stanley trash baskets, and expensive newly installed hardscape like distinctive pavers and traffic calming bump-outs (traffic calming, where there is no traffic?) feel like afterthoughts. This is probably because they are so static – with almost no pedestrian activity. Of course, at one point in the 80’s built pedestrian skybridges were built, to get office workers off the “unsafe” streets and out of the winter weather – a move that has proven disastrous for most places. There also appears to be a small amount of residential development downtown, following the trend (including adaptive reuse of commercial structures) – but I would imagine downtown life in Syracuse to be a hard sell.
One observation I drew from the Rochester/Syracuse comparison is that in terms of a perception of safety and activity downtown, parking structures do way less damage than open lots. This isn’t something I had previously noticed. Garages continue the street wall and give at least some sense of activity – although they generally, unless they are well designed, present blank walls to the street and create pedestrian dead zones. But walking around Syracuse leads one to conclude that flat parking conveys a much stronger feeling of a lack of activity and dereliction. Continuous street walls, even ones without ground floor retail activity, are important to a sense of urbanity. Lots full of cars lead to a feeling of abandonment, particularly if the lots are mostly empty.
New multi-family housing in downtown Syracuse.
It is highly worth noting that I walked to dinner through the dark, bleak downtown, past the city’s main public space, Clinton Square, which looks abandoned and ominous, to Dinosaur Bar-B-Que. I was told that there was a half hour wait for a table. The place next door, Apizza Regionale, was also hopping. So, people were coming downtown on a Friday night for dining and drinking – even though there appeared to be no one on the street.
My internet search for a distinctive place to stay yielded only chains along highways, with almost no acceptable options downtown (the Trip Advisor reviews of the non-chain places downtown were hair raising) – so we stayed at a bleak Quality Inn, with small (clean) rooms, no closets, outdoor corridors, and a plexiglass window with a slot where customers once slid their credit cards through for payment. The motel was located right next to the elevated IH 81, which slices through the middle of town, and is charged with much of the city’s ills. Planning is underway to tear down the highway as a vehicle for revitalizing the downtown.
The lobby of the Hotel Syracuse.
Oddly enough, Syracuse has a great, historic hotel. The Hotel Syracuse, built in 1924, is beautifully maintained with spectacular public rooms. It is both a Marriott and a member of Historic Hotels of America. Why I didn’t find in in my internet search is a mystery to me (and no one recommend it to me as I was planning the trip). The property also doesn’t come up on Google Maps until you have magnified the image to the maximum. The hotel is a major civic asset, and I was glad I eventually found it during my walking around. It is likely the grandest hotel in Upstate New York. The dark, cramped Quality Inn, at $285 per night, was the most expensive place we stayed on our bi-state odyssey. I have to think this whole business a detriment as to the way Syracuse presents itself to the world, even if I am an embarrassed, incompetent internet searcher.
Buildings facing Clinton Square
Clinton Square is truly awful. It has some important neo-gothic buildings around it, and those two restaurants are adjacent to it. It is organized around an impressive City Beautiful era Civil War monument completed in 1910. The monument was erected adjacent to the Erie Canal, which in time was covered over and became Erie Boulevard. The square also has seen some recent rebuilding of adjoining sidewalks and curbs. There is ice skating on the square in the winter and it appeared that the infrastructure for the ice rink is just left lying around during the off season. The square looks unused and neglected, with a few scattered desultory benches and picnic tables cemented to the ground. The extensive hardscaping is windswept and empty.
A historical map of the downtown, showing where the canal used to run
South Salina Street was once the main shopping district of Syracuse and today has many empty stores. One bright spot on Salina is the recently opened Parthenon Books, a large bight store, with a carefully curated inventory. There are a half a dozen midcentury modern office towers nearby. The city has quite a few older architecturally interesting commercial and civic buildings, but they are spread out around the downtown and don’t create any sense of urban synergy. It would be hard to say what the 100% corner of Syracuse is. The downtown doesn’t have a center. Given that, I’m not sure what good tearing down the highway is going to do towards revitalizing Syracuse, particularly if it is replaced with a multi-lane boulevard. The theory is that removing that highway will “reknit” the city. Under present circumstances, there isn’t actually enough downtown activity to be connected. A better focus for Syracuse’s boosters would be to pick a corner (near the book store?) and focus on creating a constant stream of activity at that place – through incentivizing food and drink (with outdoor dining and drinking) and other distinctive retail uses; as well as in activating nearby public spaces with activity. The billions of dollars that will be expended on bringing highway traffic to ground level might be better spent on filling in the gaps in pedestrian activity created by the flat parking.
The downtown skyline
The University is a good long walk from the downtown and seems to be off by itself. This is most likely by design, to separate the campus in its marketing to prospective students from a drab urban setting. The University certainly needs to be encouraged to be more aggressive about attaching itself to the downtown, by moving high visibility, street level uses there. Also, two and half miles from downtown Syracuse is Destiny USA, built in 1990 and formerly know as Carousel Center. It is a 2.4 million square foot project (the country’s 8th largest), featuring over 250 stores. The mall markets itself as a travel destination. That probably explains a lot about the absence of pedestrian life downtown.
This about says it all
It is telling that while the Rochester Philharmonic is a first-class organization, the Syracuse Symphony, conducted at one time by Christopher Keene, was allowed to fold in 1991. It may well be that civic leaders of Syracuse don’t much care about how the downtown works. It certainly looks that way. Likely for the corporate leaders who drive in to Syracuse in the morning and leave for the suburbs in the evening, the situation is good enough. The political structure, no doubt, fears that economic or demographic change will threaten its grip on the reins of power, the otherwise comfortable lives they lead outside the downtown and the contracts they let and control.
There is positive energy to be harnessed in downtown Syracuse as the two busy restaurants and magnificent hotel demonstrate. Again, as with Amsterdam, there is a lot of stranded social infrastructure in downtown Syracuse, at a time when pundits have declared a national housing “crisis” and tens of thousands of people are eager to move their lives to the United States from the many places across the world in turmoil and economic decline or stagnation. It just doesn’t make any sense not to use and leverage Syracuse’s still substantial resources to address those problems. It will take small scale risk taking and large-scale civic leadership, particularly by private sector anchor institutions to make the downtown once again a great place.
Why are these seats here? Who is going to sit on them? Why would they?
The Standard Approach to Economic Deevelopment in New York State
Amsterdam is an object lesson in how downtown revitalization and economic development strategy might be better implemented in New York State. Replacing a project-centered and economic sector strategy with a place-centered approach to improving conditions in Amsterdam would likely make a substantial difference in outcomes. A number of expensive, major initiatives implemented in Amsterdam to revive its economy over the past half-century have been failures.
This small city, located on the Mohawk River between Rochester and Albany, was for decades a major center for the manufacturing of carpets. In addition to access to the transportation advantages of the Erie Canal, the Chuctanunda Creek, running through the middle of the city drops three hundred feet during its last three miles, provided the power that drove the many mills that became central to Amsterdam’s development. With the carpet and other mills running at full production, by 1930 the city’s population grew to 34,000. With the transfer of mill operations away from the unionized north to the lower cost south beginning in the 1960’s, the population has dropped to just over half that. The mill buildings have now either been demolished, abandoned or are lightly tenanted. Nothing approaching the economic vitality of the high value-added textile business has replaced them.
The New York State Thruway, the major transportation corridor across the state, runs by and has an exit hundreds of yards from the city’s center. This has been less than a blessing for Amsterdam, as the street though the downtown that became the access road to the bridge over the Mohawk leading to the Thruway (built in the 50’s), Route 30, appears to have been widened to increase its capacity, while bifurcating, and effectively obliterating the downtown.
The Amsterdam RiverFront Center facing Route 30.
Inside The Riverfront Center
Two major traditional economic development projects in Amsterdam illustrate clearly the problems with traditional capital intensive, large scale, “silver bullet” redevelopment thinking. Adjacent to Route 30, just as you drive over the bridge is the RiverFront Center (formerly, the Riverfront Mall). It is a 250,000 two-story, grim structure that appears to sit directly in the middle of what used to be Amsterdam’s main street. The Center has a rather small presentation to the street but stretches way back. It is about half leased, poorly lit and poorly maintained (including non-operating escalators). Most of the tenants are government agencies, social service organizations or health care providers. This project had to have cost tens of millions of dollars and is a net negative for the city, not only because of its utilitarian design, but also because of the sense of failure about it.
The Mohawk Valley Gateway Overlook crossing the river
By contrast, the Mohawk Valley Gateway Overlook, is beautifully designed and well maintained. The Overlook, completed in 2016, is a pedestrian bridge over the Mohawk leading to a well-landscaped riverbank park, principally designed for occasional outdoor performances. However, access to the bridge and park are very difficult to obtain – making any positive contribution the project might make to Amsterdam’s vitality clearly minimal. The bridge can be accessed from a parking lot across the river from downtown, a few hundred yards from Route 30. We had a difficult time finding it. The greenspace is on the same side of the river as the downtown but is cut off from downtown by the former New York Central Railroad tracks (now used by Amtrak). I saw a bridge over the tracks from the RiverFront Center to the park, but a rather thorough investigation of the Center yielded no access to the bridge – which leads to a very substantial stair structure (with a non-working elevator). As a result, in order to get to the park, one has to drive across the river, find the parking lot, and then walk back across the river on the pedestrian bridge. In addition, in my experience, having a few outdoor concerts during the season provides little economic benefit to the vitality of a downtown. In order for cultural programming to generate the kind of activity that makes a difference, it has to be on a daily, or near daily, schedule. There was no one else visiting the park or the bridge on the day I was there. It’s a shame, because walking across the Mohawk on the pedestrian bridge is a lovely experience, and the riverbank park also provides attractive views of the river and its surroundings. The location between the tracks and the river provides a sense of the richness and importance of the location in the state’s commercial history (even if it is an obstacle to access). There is also an unusual view of the Chuctanunda pouring through an arched viaduct into the Mohawk from the Overlook – providing a tangible idea of the energy of the water that powered the mills.
The bridge over the railroad tracks and stair tower at the Overlook park
No doubt both of these projects provided local elected officials and civic leaders with a sense of pride and a great opportunity for media attention when they were completed. But then what? Downtowns are rarely revitalized by “projects.” And it is obvious that these two aren’t contributing. Big projects often involve extensive planning and large capital outlays, and if they have problems are difficult to improve or correct. The same is true about industrial parks and multi-million-dollar industrial plant subsidies, often the go to strategy for local economic development. At their best, those kinds of traditional economic development projects are viable for only as long as government hands them money. They rarely become self-sustaining. For example, projects like the RiverFront Center (and, for example, the former NYC World Trade Center) usually rely on government tenants to fill them up, when the market demonstrates its lack of enthusiasm for a development that isn’t market driven.
What’s left of Main Street, Amsterdam
Much better is the iterative process of making incremental changes and providing continuous programming, which has worked in successful downtowns (like Corning, Schenectady and Troy). The placemaking approach takes time (and patience) and rarely provides for photo ops, but they generally involve much less money. I did notice one interesting center of activity in a former mill in Amsterdam, a company called “Sticker Mule,” which does internet printing and claims to have an international customer base, seemed to have a full parking lot. I’d certainly want to know a lot more about how they ended up in Amsterdam, what they see as it’s benefits and try to build on that.
I also wonder whether the kinetic energy of the Chuctanunda continues to have commercial value? Would it be economically possible to install micro-turbines to generate electricity in the old mills built on the banks of the creek? Those mills were designed to use its power to turn the spindles driving the mills, and so might be relatively straightforward to retrofit. Are there other efficient uses of that sustainable source of energy? Gravity has been pulling water down that 300 foot drop of the Chuctanunda for centuries, and will continue to do so without further investment.
The Castle hotel in Amsterdam — ready for Halloween!
I should also note that while in Amsterdam we stayed in a former National Guard armory that had been converted into a hotel and event space called The Castle. The armory was built in a neo-Gothic style and has all the external attributes of a castle perched on a hill overlooking the river, on the opposite bank from the downtown. The drill hall has been turned into a feasting hall, with suits of armor, heraldic banners and period paintings covering the walls. It’s a total trip. And the rooms are modern and comfortable. It was close to the parking for the Overlook, and equally out of the way, but a find. It is an usual resource that has been turned into a civic asset. The kind of creativity that went into buying and restoring it is what Amsterdam needs more of. It was an obsolete government-owned structure, that rather than being demolished and redeveloped using subsidies, was repurposed into a viable business.
I note, with a considerable sense of irony, that the Member of the U.S. Congress for Amsterdam is Mega-MAGA Elise Stefanic. It is not a sense of victimhood, nationalism or xenophobia that will improve the quality of life of the people of Amsterdam. It will take some risk taking, creativity and hard work. New York State’s economic development agency ought to make Amsterdam into a laboratory for exploring a range of placemaking initiatives through its underfunded Main Street program. In addition, given that it is half the size it once was, it is another place that might benefit from an infusion of energetic refugees and other immigrants. Clearly, what has been done in Amsterdam over the last century hasn’t worked. It needs new people and new ideas.
The cities that flourished as a result of the construction of the Erie Canal during the first half of the 19th Century are great places, blessed with abundant natural beauty around them. I took a recent driving trip to Rochester, Syracuse, Amsterdam, Schenectady and Troy (with visits to Auburn, Seneca Falls and Corning in the Finger Lakes region as well). Rochester, the state’s fourth largest city by population has a tremendous depth of anchor institutions, and a downtown with great potential for a mixed-use 24 hour downtown. Schenectady and Troy have beautiful, active downtowns. Syracuse and Amsterdam have serious, but solvable, problems. Over the next several weeks I hope to share my thoughts about these visits – my first to all of these places – a trip which I have long wanted to make. This week I will focus Rochester and the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra.
Over the distance of almost two hundred years, it is difficult to appreciate the historical significance of the Erie Canal to New York City, New York State, and, in fact to the country as a whole. The Mohawk River Valley, which more or less encompasses the geography between Lake Erie and the Hudson River, is the only flat body of water that crosses what is otherwise the transportation obstacle of the Appalachian Mountain range. The Appalachians, running from Maine to Georgia, served as a barrier to commerce and communications between the eastern and western portions of the early United States (before railroads and the telegraph). When completed, the canal enabled the shipping of commodities from the all over the Midwest to the East, utilizing the Great Lakes, the Ohio River and the Mississippi as feeder routes. At the same time, it permitted manufactured goods to be shipped from the industrial states of the North and the cotton growing states of the South to the growing Western states. At the fulcrum of this commerce was New York City, and its deep and sheltered harbor at the end of the trade route at the mouth of the Hudson River; between east and west, and between the US and Europe as well. It is hard to imagine today, but the rise of the New York City as the financial and commercial center of an empire was nearly entirely originally based on commerce supported by the canal.
The canal was built over about seven years beginning in 1825, in an effort led by Governor DeWitt Clinton. While it used the water and geography of the Mohawk River, much of the canal had to be dug by hand parallel to the shallow, non-navigable river. The canal was a truly amazing accomplishment of human effort – and of engineering. While the canal was used for almost a century, the development of railroad infrastructure came hard on the heels of its completion, with the final leg of what became the New York Central Railroad across New York State finished in 1839. The “Age of the Erie Canal” was short but world shaking.
The canal required 83 locks along its 350-mile route to move freight vertically along its route, in many places enabling the circumnavigation of waterfalls. The vertical drop between the Lake Erie and the Hudson was only about 700 feet. But even more impressive were the 18 aqueducts that were built to cross over other rivers. The idea of building a structure over a river to carry freight loaded barges on water over other bodies of water is hard for the modern imagination to conceive. The longest of these aqueducts went through what became the city of Rochester over the Genesee River.
Innovation Square Building
Over the next 150 years Rochester became the silicon valley of the 19th and early 20th Centuries. Kodak, Bausch & Lomb and Xerox all got their start in Rochester. The huge Gannett newspaper chain was based in Rochester until recently. Rochester, and the region, also played a large role in the abolitionist and women’s suffrage movement. For a large part of his adult life, Frederick Douglass lived in Rochester with his family and published his newspaper “The North Star” there. The level of political and intellectual activity in Rochester and the nearby small Finger Lake towns was truly remarkable (and the number of 19th century-founded institutions of higher education in the region is reflective of that).
The civic and business leadership of Rochester over the many decades took establishing a major metropolis seriously. They created the University of Rochester, Rochester Institute of Technology, and more recently the George Eastman International Museum of Photography and Film. Rochester became an essential part of the US’ art music ecology as the home of the Eastman School of Music (one of the country’s two or three best) and the Rochester Philharmonic.
The RPO is in the second tier of American orchestras by budget size as designated by the League of American Orchestras. Led music director Andreas Delft, however, it plays at a level that matches those of our largest ensembles (his predecessors in that role included Eugene Goosens, Erich Leinsdorf and David Zinman). It plays in Kodak Hall of the Eastman Theater at the Eastman School of Music. Originally built with 3,500 seats, it is a very, very large, high-ceilinged room – although the seating was reduced by 1,200 in 2009. When I stepped into the tremendous mass of space that is Kodak Hall, sitting about halfway back, I was concerned about the sound possibly being hollow and swallowed up. The orchestra, dressed in the now decreasingly used white tie, filled the space with a rich, clear, accomplished sound. I heard a program that included Strauss’ “Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche, Op. 28,” Saint-Saen’s “Carnival of the Animals, with duo pianists Christina and Michelle Naughton and Stravinsky’s “Petrushka.” The program was billed as “Orchestral Showpieces,” and that provided a first-time listener a good idea of the group’s musical capacity.
The performances were simply excellent with a warm string resonance and glitch free solos – no small achievement in the Strauss’s exposed wind and horn parts. The Strauss was played in technicolor, with the piece’s humor and theatricality highlighted. The color coordinated and brightly dressed Naughton twins attacked their pianos aggressively, with precise coordination in the “Carnival of the Animals”. So much of this music has worked its way into the heart of the culture and is very familiar, none more so than The Swan movement, beautifully played by principal cellist Ahrim Kim. The soloists’ moments in all three pieces were played with great musicality and skill, but without showy virtuosity. This is an orchestra that clearly enjoys playing together with its music director as an organic ensemble. It was particularly evident in the “Petrushka,” another colorful work with comic moments. “Petrushka” is rhythmically complicated and spare, with much of the exposed orchestral scoring that is so characteristic of Stravinsky’s early music (the piece premiered in 1911). The orchestra made a tight, delightful show of its contrasts of both dark and light moments. I walked out after the concert into downtown Rochester musically contented.
The former headquarters of Gannett Newspapers
Downtown Rochester suffered from the degradations of the now mostly discredited ideas of mid-twentieth century urbanism and design. Its peak population was in the 1950’s, and only in the last decade has the population stopped declining. The downtown is filled with structured parking (and very few parking lots) and has a good number of daunting, tower in the park-like office buildings. The lack of lot parking gives the downtown a feeling of continuity. The city, though, has superficially followed a number of the latest urban trends, with some restored public spaces, scooters and bike lanes (without many people using any of them). Most distressing to me was the empty complex of buildings once occupied by Gannett newspapers in the center of town, before it decamped to a suburban Washington, D.C. office park in 1984 and moved the production of the local paper to another Rochester location in 2016. These are massive art deco and Albert Kahn designed buildings created around now obsolete technologies like the printing press and the typewriter. I am an optimist and have thought that the market will find uses for the post-pandemic half filled, midtown Manhattan, midcentury modern office towers. But walking around the Gannett complex gives one pause about the destructive capacity of modern capitalism and the difficulty of recycling gargantuan 20th century edifices.
Across the street from the Gannett complex, at the foot of what was the aqueduct across the Genesee, is an 80,000 square foot, mixed-use – loft, office, retail – adaptive reuse development in a former mill that may demonstrate what the future of Downtown Rochester could be like. However, in order to get there, Rochester needs to veer away from both obsolete planning doctrine and the superficial trappings of up-to-date urbanism – a bench here, a planter there, public sculpture somewhere else, and dig deep into placemaking practice in order to become a mixed-use, 24 hour downtown. I even saw a sign opposing the formation of a business improvement district – a thirty-year-old concept, the best days of which have passed, particularly in cities of fewer than one million people.
An unused bike lane on the Aqueduct Bridge over the Genesee. The bridge also has nice, unused benches and planters.
Right now, downtown Rochester is a place designed to accommodate people who drive to work in an office building, and drive home to adjacent neighborhoods and suburbs at night. There is a mindset in Rochester that needs to change to make the most of its substantial social infrastructure. The blank walls and lifeless plazas around the downtown’s major office buildings are a challenge. I even saw a sign on steps leading to what appears to be the city’s leading office building prohibiting sitting on the steps up to its plaza! That is exactly WRONG. Property management ought to be encouraging step sitting and working to animate the baren plazas. The city needs to select a promising central location and build a critical mass of activity around that place. Scattered residential loft buildings throughout the downtown aren’t going to build that critical mass of activity. Especially given the lifelessness around the major office towers. The downtown needs sidewalk activity in the form of restaurants with outdoor seating and public spaces programmed with activity like Bryant and Dilworth Parks. The deep cultural resources of the community, like Eastman School and the excellent RPO, can be leveraged to bring vibrancy downtown, particularly at night.
Steps to the plaza of the Metropolitan office tower
Sign next to the steps
The tower
With 100,000 fewer residents than at its peak, Rochester is excellent evidence that we don’t have a housing crisis in the United States and in New York State, but rather we have a lack of great places (and a failure to provide adequate mental health services to our most disadvantaged neighbors). Rochester and its neighbors have capacity. Tens of thousands of people, most recently from Venezuela, want desperately to be in the US. Upstate New York needs those people and their expertise and energy. We need policies that move them from the Southern border to our postindustrial cities. The Erie Canal corridor is a place of great beauty and opportunity. Utica, for example, has been recharged by an influx of Bosnian immigrants. The legacy of the Erie Canal could be more great places across one of New York State’s most naturally stunning locations. More on that when we move on to other Mohawk Valley cities.
The multi-vend newsrack has become an obsolete blot on urban streets all over the country – and I am mostly to blame. It is the solution to a problem that no longer exists. Its useful life has come to an end, and the business improvement districts and cities that erected them need to put them out of their misery. They are a legacy of one of the symptoms of social disorder of the 1990’s that has been largely forgotten or were never known by those who are younger. Like public telephone kiosks (which I still notice in cities around the country) they need to be removed.
In the mid 90’s structures selling or distributing printed material became a highly visible blemish on streetscapes, contributing to the perception of disorder that was the principal obstacle to urban revitalization all over North America. In midtown Manhattan, there were hundreds of them, most of them put out by free publications. Many were helter skelter chained to light poles and signal stantions. A detailed narrative of the problem and the creation and implementation of the solution can be found at length in “Learning from Bryant Park,” and in an earlier form on the blog here.
But those publications are almost entirely gone or have gone on-line. In some cities the racks retain some economic value as vehicles for outdoor advertising (in San Francisco, digital ad panels). But they are empty of printed material, and in some places, like with phone kiosks, they appear to be abandoned. There is no reason to keep them, and every reason to take them down.
I hereby lay down the gauntlet to my BID colleagues, to tear them down. As their father (along with the late Arthur Rosenblatt), and in the spirit of the return of Cherubini’s Medea to the Metropolitan Opera stage later this month, I encourage their demise. They have become an orphaned symbol of bureaucratic lethargy and sclerosis – a failure to change with changing conditions.
CityBridge amended its privacy policy to enable it to collect the MAI on a unilateral basis over 4th of July weekend of 2017. A bad move both politically and legally. A cease and desist letter was sent to CityBridge by the City and CityBridge reversed itself. If the relationship between the City and CityBridge had not already been sufficiently soured, the unilateral change in the privacy policy was something of a last straw. At that point, while CityBridge was not meeting its deployment targets, it had put out LinkNYC kiosks at most of the high value Manhattan locations. They had told me that there was no increased revenue to be gained for them by putting out more kiosks. The kiosks their advertisers required had been built.
Coincidentally, CityBridge began to argue that, notwithstanding the Second Amendment, and the assurances of viability attached to it, that without the collection of the MAI there was no way the franchise could be financially successful. Without a further change in the structure of the program, they claimed, they would go out business. In August of 2017 they stopped building new kiosks, in part blaming delays on Con Ed’s lack of responsiveness and arbitrary imposition of hundreds of thousands of dollars in additional charges (which were at least partially caused by CityBridge’s arrogance and high-handedness in dealing with Con Ed). Later in the year, claiming financial disaster, they stopped paying the minimum monthly guaranteed payment. The City entered into a series of monthly “forbearance agreements” saying that it would not default CityBridge while negotiations took place to resolve the outstanding issues. But CityBridge was in an excellent position. They had the kiosks in the locations they needed and had stopped spending money installing additional ones, they had stopped paying rent, and they continued to sell ads on the kiosks. What could have been better for them?
An incidental result of this delay was the failure to remove the payphone kiosks on the timeline set out in the franchise agreement, another default under the agreement. Not only were the payphones a technology that had been superseded by mobile phones, but they were also an unsupported technology. Replacement parts were impossible to source. The copper wire system that they relied on was entirely degraded and non-functioning. As a result, all were eventually converted to battery operated wireless service. The batteries frequently went dead. There were per diem liquated damage provisions for non-deployment of kiosks and penalties for the failure to maintain the phones. DoITT had a half dozen individuals who had been inspecting the phones and writing violations against them for decades. The liquidated damage amounts built up into the high six figures and became yet an additional issue in negotiations of the default and discussions of a possible third amendment (Ultimately, the City waived the accumulated liquidated damages in the third amendment).
In 2022 there was a blizzard of publicity about the removal of the “last phone booths” with panegyrics to a lost age. This was not entirely accurate. First, because none of the stories noted that CityBridge was supposed to have removed them all six years prior and second, because there were still plenty of phone kiosks around if you just looked. This is not to mention that there were hundreds of places where phones had been pulled and the sidewalks had not been properly restored, a not insignificant ongoing failure by CityBridge.
With respect to CityBridge’s claims of financial distress, my view was that first, in my judgement CityBridge had done a poor job in selling the ad panels – and based on my twenty years of experience with the outdoor advertising industry (beginning with the very lucrative and novel sale of panels on the Bryant Park newsstands in the late 90’s), I couldn’t understand why they weren’t doing better. There was something wrong with their sales program, in my view, probably having to do with their attempting to sell only to national accounts. Just for example, I thought that if they made a deal with Miller Beer to blanket Manhattan with ads from four to six PM on weekdays that might say “It’s Miller Time” on the ad panels, it would be easy to determine how many additional six packs of beers were moved as a result of the campaign, and put a value on that (although this is a bad example because ads for alcohol were prohibited from the program). But they weren’t doing anything creative like this (that were the signature of TDI, the out-of-home advertising firm which had the subway system franchise for many years – for example the wrapping of entire subway cars for single advertisers).
Second, it wasn’t the City’s business to get involved int CityBridge/Intersection/Sidewalk Labs bottom line or their cost structure. The City and CityBridge had a franchise agreement that was hard negotiated over, and approved by the Law Department, OMB and the FCRC through a highly public and formal process. The franchise agreement had a complete panoply of potentially effective remedies in the event of default, including the $100 million in security. The City had the capacity to strictly enforce the provisions of the agreement; including, exercising the City’s rights to the $100 million dollars in security to pay outstanding franchise fees and build the required number of kiosks. It was our job under the City Charter to enforce the contract. We didn’t have the right to change terms and to do so wasn’t good public policy. In addition, the failed bidders for the original franchise, as well as the holder of the City’s other outdoor advertising franchise for bus shelters and newsstands (a competitor to the Link program, which also claimed to be losing money under its deal), would have a legal right to complain about any such changes.
Finally, based on my thirty years of business experience, with particular involvement with out of home advertising and street furniture (which is why they recruited me for the job in the first place), I was sure that CityBridge, Intersection and Google were bluffing. They wanted to get a better deal, and because of the extensive knowledge within Sidewalk Labs of how the City operated, they knew that the City tended not to enforce the terms of its contracts, to fold in negotiations, and to lose in litigation. I argued internally that once the City exercised its right to cash the letter of credit (which involved faxing a letter to the bank issuing the letter), CityBridge would move quickly to pay its arrears and remedy its deployment breaches. The franchise was just too valuable to lose and consortium members would sacrifice a great deal of money in the event of a termination. I also came to understand that the letter of credit was personally guaranteed to the bank issuing it by the principal of the venture capital investor member of the consortium. He would have moved heaven and earth not to have the LC, which was essentially a cash deposit, drawn on. We transmit the fax, the City gets the money, the bank sucks the money out of the VC investor’s account. End of story. The unsigned letter drawing on the $25 million LC sat on the top of my desk for months, with CityBridge at one point in default to the City in an amount that was twice that.
Another interesting aspect of the capital structure of CityBridge was that they had a line of credit with a bank, and a more than $150 million in a loan from what are called EB-5 investors. The EB-5 investors were a group of foreign nationals, recruited by local financial brokers, who were promised by the Federal government green cards in exchange for significant investments in US projects in distressed communities. If the City called a default under the franchise agreement, that would have also caused a default under the terms of the bank and the EB-5 loans. The EB-5 investors would lose their right to green cards. The bank lenders would likely lose their jobs (or at least their annual bonuses). Both groups would also be highly motivated to take over CityBridge (as they were entitled to do under the terms of the franchise agreement) and cure any default.
[It’s worth noting that there came a time when I enquired at the City’s Law Department about who was the City’s letter of credit law expert. I got a call back from someone senior at the Law Department asking me how much prior experience I had with letters of credit. I explained that I had routinely dealt with them in my law practice and real estate finance transactions, but that I was by no means an expert in this highly technical area of the law. The person on the phone said to me “Good, you are now the City’s LC expert.”]
But no one was interested in my opinion. It is interesting to note that between me and the Mayor, who was the ultimate decision maker on the issue, were at least four layers of bureaucracy – my boss the General Counsel of DoITT, the DoITT Commissioner, the Deputy Mayor for Operations, the First Deputy Mayor and the Mayor’s Chief of Staff. There is an argument to be made that given the relative lack of importance of the Link program in the grand scheme of city things, the issue shouldn’t even have risen to the Mayor’s level. But anything that had the potential for a bad story in the newspapers, was deemed worthy of Mayoral attention. Any information I was sending up the pike, was going through several layers of edits before it got to Mayor De Blasio. My staff and I, who had the firsthand sense of what was happening with the LinkNYC program, never met with anyone more senior than the General Counsel of DoITT to discuss strategy or our evaluation of the various probabilities of possible outcomes.
This is not to dismiss City Hall’s desire to negotiate with CityBridge out of hand. The Administration did not want to get involved in “protracted litigation with CityBridge” and most particularly did not want to take the risk of CityBridge’s shutting down this high-profile system. By coming to some kind of agreement with CityBridge City Hall could be certain that neither outcome would eventuate. This was their reasoning. The senior officials at Sidewalk Labs, who were now publicly saying that they had very little to do with the Link program, and were knowledgeable former senior city office holders, were lobbying City Hall hard to come to an accommodation. [This would be an appropriate place for me to point out that no one has ever elected me to anything, that no one would ever elect me to even the lowest elected office one might care to suggest, and that in an unlikely and bizarre set of circumstances were I to be elected to anything, it would be an impossibility that I might be reelected.]
At the same time, the Franchise Administration Unit at DoITT was being audited by both the City and State Comptroller on the LinkNYC franchise. The City Comptroller was auditing the operation of the kiosks (which by any reasonable measure was excellent). The State Comptroller was auditing DoITT’s compliance management with the franchise agreement. The City Comptroller’s methodology was unsound. The State Comptroller’s staff were Javert like in their pursuit of what they thought was perfidy – particularly with respect to the alleged (mis)-calculation of a very small amount of owed franchise fees (about which they were incorrect). Neither, though, blew the whistle on CityBridge’s failure to make good on its financial or deployment obligations and the City’s failure to exercise its extensive set of rights in the event of defaults under the franchise agreement while they were performing their audits. The State audit went on for months and continued through the COVID pandemic via teleconference. Their not calling out the City’s failure to exercise its contractual remedies and more importantly, CityBridge’s material defaults, seemed to me evidence of the lack of efficacy of Comptroller audits.
After almost two years (much of it during the pandemic) of negotiations, the City proposed a third amendment to the franchise agreement essentially releasing CityBridge from about $200 million of its minimum annual guaranteed payments, waiving the accrued liquated damages, lowering the minimum number of kiosks from 7,500 to 4,000, and most importantly essentially transforming the franchise from one focused on providing fee Wi-Fi service in public spaces, to one empowering CityBridge and a new partner, ZenFi, to turn the kiosks into 30 foot high hosts for multiple mobile telecommunications small cell transmitters. The City got no increased value from the contract in return.
Another, better, kiosk solution. Look on the right.
During the pandemic, the Partnership for New York City, lobbied the De Blasio administration hard that New York City was falling behind in the deployment of 5G transmitters, something I discussed at length here: https://www.theplacemaster.com/2022/08/18/online-porn-gambling-and-5g/. The Administration put on a full court press to attempt to accelerate the deployment of small cells on light poles around the city, to remove obstacles to building macro transmitters on building roofs (created by Buildings Department and Fire Department safety regulations) and to convert the CityBridge Wi-Fi kiosks to mobile telecom transmitter stations. The amendment to the CityBridge franchise agreement to convert it to a mobile telecommunications station, and the approval for a design for a new Link kiosk design which could host the small cells of multiple companies became a high priority, rush project.
While at all times as a city employee I tried to be a loyal soldier, advancing the Administration’s goals and priorities to the best of my abilities, I regarded then and continue to regard the third amendment to the franchise agreement as a bad deal for the city, with particular respect to its financial terms, which was essentially a gift to a private entity of hundreds of millions of dollars to which it was contractually obligated. That being said, after lots of questions being asked and objections raised by the City’s Office of Management and Budget and the Law Department, both signed off on the substance and form of the amendment. The amendment then, as required, went to the Franchise and Concession Review Board for approval – which it duly received. Only the Staten Island Borough President identified the problems with the deal and voted against it at the FCRC. The New York City Comptroller and the four other Borough President, having been fully briefed and informed, all voted in favor of handing over hundreds of millions of dollars to CityBridge essentially because they claimed they were bad at their business. To give credit where it is due, the free public Wi-Fi system has continued to operate without interruption. After the approval of the amendment, CityBridge paid a portion of its arrears (as of March 2021) and resumed paying (reduced) minimum guaranteed monthly payments.
The best telecommunications infrastructure solution.
Similarly, while raising a number of concerns, the New York City Public Design Commission approved the design of the ZenFi kiosk, which is industrial looking, utilitarian and unimaginative. Not at all the signature purpose built multi-use telecommunications street furniture about which I have previously written. But to reiterate – every aspect of this transformed telecommunications franchise has been properly approved by the requisite authorities. There is nothing illegal or untoward here – just, in my view, a bad policy outcome leaving the City hundreds of millions of dollars poorer, with a badly designed poorly located 32 foot high tower, that fails to address the needs of an equitable 21sttelecommunications system. I was recently told that CityBridge has missed the revised deployment targets of the third amendment. But, as I say, no one ever elected me to anything.
Deployment of the kiosks wasn’t as straightforward as either the City or CityBridge had assumed. First, as it turned out the energy service and conduit for fiber optic cable to the payphone sites turned out to be degraded and entirely useless for purposes of the LinkNYC kiosks. As a result, CityBridge would have to do more trenching than it anticipated and Con Ed would need to be called upon to provide electrical service to all of the Link sites. That became a pinch point in the speed of deployment because Con Ed had a lot of demands on the staff that provided new service to business sties (requiring street openings), and because of the swiftly developed bad blood between CityBridge and Con Ed staff, CityBridge requests for service went straight to the bottom of the request pile.
Con Ed then decided that CityBridge needed to pay its maximize charge for delivery of service because the LinkNYC kiosks were “permanent” (like buildings), and that each kiosks would have to be individually metered and billed (unlike street lights). This was a large unanticipated additional cost to CityBridge, which it challenged unsuccessfully at the State Public Service Commission (a decision incorrect on the legal merits, in my judgement).
Siting the kiosks also turned out to be more complicated than anyone expected – because the kiosks were larger and differently shaped from phone kiosks they couldn’t just be replaced one-for-one. Also, site conditions had changed from the time the phone kiosks were installed, and by the time CityBridge surveyed sites for Link kiosks. Plans for each site had to be review by DoITT staff, and then inspected by DoITT inspectors (who were retrained from having been payphone inspectors for decades) for compliance with various siting criteria – particularly clearances from other street furniture. Pre-COVID outdoor cafes proved to be a significant obstacle to Link kiosk siting. CityBridge never made the deployment targets (each Borough had its own targeted minimum number of kiosks to be deployed each year) required by its franchise agreement.
Most of the publicity about the Link program during its yearly years arose out of concerns that they were a magnet for the homeless. There was widespread publicity that homeless individuals were watching porn on the internet tablets built into the kiosks. The charging ports were also seen as drawing folks looking to recharge their phones (although the question of how it was that apparently destitute people had handheld devices and monthly phone service plans was never raised or explained). In a number of places in midtown Manhattan, homeless people did congregate around the kiosks, it seemed to me for reasons unrelated to their functionality that I couldn’t figure out (we also found people sleeping under derelict telephone kiosks that had no functionality). For a while, we were reasonably successful in working with the outreach teams under contract to the City’s Department of Homeless Services to get services to people congregating around the kiosks. But, fundamentally, the situation wasn’t a problem generated by the LinkNYC program, but by the Administration’s failed multi-billion dollar strategy for dealing with street homelessness (but that is the subject for another long blog). The basic fact was that the LinkNYC kiosks did not cause homelessness.
I spent a fair amount of my time when working for DoITT trying to understand who was using the Wi-Fi and the other features of the kiosks and how they were using them. CityBridge provided data on usage (which is available on the City’s open data portal) which I reviewed monthly. I also tried to spend a couple days a month wandering around city neighborhoods, checking on their functionality (as did our terrific team of six inspectors), and observing, a al my guru, William H. Whyte, how people were using them in real time. I made sure my site visits were in neighborhoods far from the city’s center and were ones I hadn’t been to before.
The system was highly utilized – with millions of users and millions of terabytes of annual downloads. I concluded that the bulk of the use in Manhattan was by tourists and other visitors. Most New Yorkers have data service. That’s not to say that making the service available to that user group isn’t of value – but it wasn’t exactly advancing the goal of closing the supposed digital divide. What was interesting was how the kiosks were being used outside Manhattan. They were becoming a kind of social center. I saw people setting up chairs near them, using the Wi-Fi or charging their phones. Businesses put out tables and chairs in front of their storefronts for Wi-Fi users. I observed people using the telephone functionality – making very long calls, much to my surprise. The data showed that the top websites accessed and phone numbers called had to do with contacting social services – finding out about missing SNAP and other transfer payments. Clearly, the Link kiosks were becoming an important resource in otherwise underserved communities and had a great deal of value there. They were enlivening the sidewalks in commercial corridors in Brooklyn and The Bronx. This is something that should continue to be a focus of the Link program.
At one point I recommended, following the Holly Whyte formula, that we work to place movable chairs and tables near the kiosks, since many of the complaints about their use were about people sitting near them on the ground. My thinking was that this would “normalize” this use and support the vitality of commercial corridors around the city. This suggestion was not well received, despite the near universal acknowledgement among urbanists of the utility of movable chairs to animate public space, as evidenced by their success in Bryant Park.
MORE PROBLEMS ARISE
In 2017, CityBidge began to complain that it wasn’t making its advertising sales targets, in part because of deployment delays and in part because ad sales weren’t living up to expectations. As a result, the franchise agreement was being amended when I arrived at DoITT around that time, to provide a slower roll out of kiosk deployment and a deferment of payment of a portion of guaranteed minimum payments. A forensic audit of the financial records of CityBridge was performed for the City by a highly respected CPA firm to determine its financial condition. All were assured that the terms of the second amendment would solve CityBridge’s financial problems, based in part on representations made by CityBridge and Sidewalk Labs staff, and in part on the audit results.
Immediately after the approval of the amendment to the franchise agreement (by City Hall, the Office of Management and Budget and the City’s Franchise and Concession Review Board, made up of representatives of the Administration, the Comptroller and the Borough Presidents. The FCRC is an interesting vestige of the City’s powerful Board of Estimate, made up of the Mayor and Borough Presidents and which once controlled the City’s zoning and franchising functions until it was found to be unconstitutional on the basis of being undemocratic – given that each Borough President had an equal vote), CityBridge requested of the City permission to amend its privacy policy to be able to collect the Mobile Advertising Identifier generated by peoples’ mobile phones and use it in order to increase the value of its ad panels (and by the way, you can turn off the generation of an MAI by an iPhone by going into its privacy settings).
There was some degree of bad faith in this request, since the claim of CityBridge was that the ability to collect the MAI was essential to the economic successful of the franchise – a success that was supposedly assured by the adoption of the Second Amendment to the Franchise Agreement (the first amendment involved approval of a change in the members of the consortium making up CityBridge). The request caused tremendous ructions within the De Blasio administration which had privacy hard-liners in charge of its electronic privacy policy. The Administration had also gone through a laborious process of gaining the approval of the electronic privacy advocacy groups, like the New York Civil Liberties Union (also ardent privacy hawks) to not oppose the LinkNYC program. The reality of the privacy protections built into the franchise was that the Wi-Fi use of the LinkNYC signal was more secure and had higher standards of privacy than that provided by the any of the cable companies’ internet service to homes. The Link program collected the email addresses of the users in order for them to sign up for using the program, and nothing else about the users. Those email addresses were prohibited to be used for any other purpose or to be shared with any third party. The privacy protections were, as far as I could determine, rock solid.
Much was made of the potential for privacy invasions from the kiosks. They had three cameras. One was for use with embedded tablet for telephonic and emergency communications, and two on either side of the kiosks were for the monitoring and prevention of vandalism of the kiosks. To the best of my knowledge those side cameras were used only occasionally, and the videos generated were kept for a maximum of seven days and then erased. The kiosks also had a range of sensors that, to my best knowledge, were never used. These sensors had the capacity to collect pedestrian traffic, vehicle traffic, weather and seismological data – all which might have been of great value to the city and none of which were ever used. My understanding was that since the data was found by Sidewalk Labs to have little economic value (nobody wanted to pay for it), the sensors were never turned on. There was nothing the slightest bit “big brotherish” about City use of LinkNYC as far as I could tell, and I would have known.
I am actually something of a privacy dove. The MAI had the potential for huge value for both CityBridge and the City. It was anonymized, so it had a very limited impact on user privacy, but it upped the efficacy of the value of the ad panels. Most interesting to me was that the MAI could enable the Link system to relate the passing of an ad by a pedestrian to a sale to that person minutes later through their mobile phone. Let’s say an ad for Brooks Brothers was shown on a panel and an individual walked by it. If within a short period of time that individual went into a Brooks store a purchased a shirt, the Link system could get a commission on the sale. This was the kind of effectiveness/outcome metric that is so difficult to determine in the out of home advertising market – and would have provided the system with a huge competitive advantage. It would also have allowed Intersection to precisely determine how many viewers each ad panel had, something of great interest to advertisers, and would enable a more precise value to be placed on each ad.
Finally, much of the internet advertising sales world is driven by algorisms and a complex computerized marketplace by which ads are sold through instantaneous electronic auctions. Billboards, obviously, unlike internet banner ads, can’t participate in that electronic pricing system and as a result, are limited in their value. Tapping into the MAIs captured by the Link system would enable those ads to be sold through the electronic auction marketplace. The system would know how many people were seeing an ad at a particular location at a particular time and could auction off an ad at that time and place. Without the MAI data, the Link ads were not able to easily participate in this process (although I did argue internally that using data available from smartphones collected by Google without the MAI, such sales were possible, without success).
The City’s Chief Privacy Officer and the DoITT General Counsel were adamant. No way was CityBridge was going to be able to amend its privacy policy to collect the MAI under this administration. This was communicated to CityBridge quite clearly in June of 2017.
FROM TO THE 19TH TO THE 21ST CENTURY IN TELECOMMUNICATIONS
The idea of replacing the city’s sidewalk public pay telephones with Wi-Fi kiosks, providing free access to high-speed internet service was, and remains, an excellent one. The Wi-Fi kiosks that the City ended up deploying on its sidewalks in the 2010’s, LinkNYC, were spectacularly well designed for the task, and the financial deal the City arranged for itself with the CityBridge, the company contracted with to supply them, was a handsome one. I regarded the kiosks themselves as the street furniture analog of a Bentley – with more capacity than anyone could ever use. But in many, many respects, the franchise was poorly conceived, executed and managed. I was hired by the City in 2017 to manage it – so a good deal of this sticks to me. The program still has the capacity of being an asset for New York City.
In the mid-90’s, when I was working for business improvement districts to improve the midtown streetscape, upgrading the appearance of payphones were one of my assignments. At their peak, there were more than 35,000 public pay telephones on the New York City sidewalks at the curb, for which New York Telephone had a franchise from the City. The franchise did not include indoor phones (in restaurants, airports and transit centers) or phones built at the building line (like the ones in front of bodegas). For decades, public pay telephones were an embedded part of New York and American culture, frequently turning up in crucial dramatic scenes in film and other aspects of popular culture. Payphones were the way we communicated with each other away from home or office, particularly in emergencies – and, in fact, the New York City Police and Fire Department regarded payphones as an important supplement to their dedicated (red) call boxes (which are still around and equally obsolete. Another long story).
When I arrived at Bryant Park in 1991, as part of its deal with the Parks Department, Bryant Park Restoration Corporation was assigned the revenue from the pay phones on the block between 40th and 42nd Streets and 5th and 6th Avenues. My recollection is that the annual revenue was an important part of our then skimpy budget, in the tens of thousands of dollars a year.
At one point in the second half of the 20th Century, Verizon (or one of its predecessor entities) asked the City for permission to place advertisements on the phone kiosks, and the City granted Verizon a franchise for that, in consideration for a percentage of the income. By the 1990’s phone kiosk advertising had turned into a very big business. At the same time, mobile phones were beginning to develop a market, and as they proliferated, the need for stationary phones in public places became obsolete. As a result, the pay phone kiosks became more valuable as advertising vehicles than as telecommunications devices. With the breakup of AT&T, New York Telephone (whatever it was called at the time) deaccessioned its payphone business and sold pieces of its franchise to a number of independent companies, which had obtained their own telecommunications franchises from the City. Those companies and a number of other new entrants continued to deploy new phone/advertising kiosks. Ultimately, there were a couple of dozen independent “payphone” franchisees, which were principally in the outdoor advertising business – and a feisty, independent bunch they were. In the 90’s the “out-of-home” advertising business exploded, and the bigger of these small independents, found themselves to be worth hundreds of millions of dollars because of the valuable sidewalk real estate they controlled.
The improved design
But at the same time phones without advertising, kiosks the locations of which weren’t terribly valuable for advertising purposes, and even some high-value location kiosks weren’t being well maintained. Verizon was particularly derelict in maintaining its remaining fleet. In order to make things better in mid-town, my talented colleague, Ignacio Ciocchini, who was on the staff of Bryant Park Restoration Corporation/Grand Central Partnership/34th Street Partnership, designed a really good looking new phone kiosk, which he and I took through the various approval processes at the City’s Department of Transportation (which regulated the sidewalks), Department of Information Technology and Telecommunications (which regulated pay phones) and Art Commission (which had to approve the aesthetics). We were able to garner all of those approvals, but we were unable to persuade Verizon or any of the independent companies to use the design (of which we had a prototype built and installed by a company called Telebeam on 34th Street near 5thAvenue,). Then, Verizon and a couple of the larger independent payphone companies did, however, knock off Ignacio’s design and widely deployed it, which we regarded as a major win.
As a side note, there was an interesting cast of characters involved in the payphone industry and in regulating pay phones and design at the City, many of whom I became friendly with over the years. A guy named Larry Allison was the Assistant Commissioner for Franchise Administration at DoITT. Larry was an old school pol and a great storyteller. He was succeeded by Stanley Shor, a dedicated long-time public servant, who after two decades preceded me in that job. The folks at Telebeam, who became a substantial irritant to the City (in a protraccted lawsuit over the termination of the payphone franchises), also became good friends and colleagues, particularly its entrepreneurial president, Ray Mastroianni. The then Executive Director of the Art Commission, Deborah Bershad, and her, now, husband, Frank Addeo, who represented DOT at the Art Commission, and I remain close to this day. Frank was doing pedestrianization at DOT before the term was even coined. He promoted public art on the sidewalks and plazas. He advocated for well-regulated sidewalks. Frank was decades ahead of the “open streets” curve, later promoted by Mayor Bloomberg’s DOT Commissioner, Janet Sadik-Kahn, who became internationally acclaimed for advancing the policies Frank was doing for decades under the radar at DOT.
But even with a large number of improved structures, with the turn of the millennium and the ubiquity of handheld devices, the presence of payphones on the sidewalks as telecommunication centers became obsolete. In the 00’s the Bloomberg Administration began to brainstorm as to what to do about them. City officials were wary about the litigiousness of the independent payphone operators, who had been vigorous in prosecuting their perceived rights in court under both their franchises and the Federal Telecommunications Act (which covered payphones as well as cable and broadband). The City decided that it wanted to replace the pay telephones with kiosks providing free Wi-Fi service in public spaces. It also decided to site them by replacing payphones with Wi-Fi kiosks at the same locations, with the costs for the program to be paid for by a franchise for electronic advertising on the kiosks. First, it was thought that the existing electrical and conduit to the payphones would make installing new infrastructure at those locations a breeze. Second, using payphone locations would make citing the kiosks easier, as the payphone sites had already been vetted under the City’s payphone streetscape regulations. And finally, and most importantly, using the payphone regulatory structure meant a new regulatory structure would not have to be adopted by the New York City Council – something that any administration regards as a major advantage. The City’s executive branch likes to control things. When the Council gets involved, politics and negotiation (horse-trading) become inevitable. That process does tend to be a break on unrestrained executive power (and a forum for the vetting of bad ideas). But the Mayor and his Commissioners bend over backward in avoiding having to negotiate with the Council over policy. The Administration was not entirely home free, as a new franchise would have to be created for the Wi-Fi program, which would require Council approval – but that was a well-trod and much narrower path, with the Council playing a much more limited role.
The City began the hunt for a program and a partner, which, with any new program, especially one involving a city franchise (permission for the private use of streets or sidewalks for profit) is a complex, multi-year affair.
THE FRANCHISE AGREEMENT WITH CITY BRIDGE
By the early teens, the City had selected a consortium called CityBridge to be awarded the public Wi-Fi franchise. CityBridge’s proposal was in every way superior to the other proposals the City received in response to a formal request for proposals (I had nothing to do with the evaluation of the proposals, as when I joined city government, the franchisee had already been selected and the franchise agreement was fully negotiated, approved and executed). It was financially generous, promising hundreds of millions of dollars to the City from the sale of kiosk advertising over the life of the contract. CityBridge promised the City to deploy a minimum of 7,500 of its highly designed, multiple use kiosks during the first six years of the franchise. It also promised speed and privacy protection for Wi-Fi users at a higher standard that was then being provided by the wired broadband providers to people’s homes. The franchise included a schedule of significant minimum annual guaranteed payments. The City also got 10% of the advertising for its own use, which it gave to the New York Convention & Visitors Bureau to program. CityBridge also agreed to remove all of the existing payphones on an accelerated schedule.
The LinkNYC kiosk
The LinkNYC kiosks provided free Wi-Fi service up to a couple of hundred yards from each structure. The plan was for them to be placed with sufficient consistency along pedestrian thoroughfares to provide continuous, uninterpreted service. In my field testing, I found the service to be steady, reliable and high speed. The kiosks also included tablets with access to the internet, free phone service for anywhere within the US, two charging stations and a sophisticated system for calling for emergency service. The emergency service functionality had to be multiply redundant and accessible to individuals with a range of disabilities. It was able to send exact locations to the 311 call centers. It worked off of a fiber optic network, a back-up fiber optic network, with a third level of wireless redundancy. It had access to sign language interpreters for the hearing impaired. It had features that made it easier to use for the visually impaired. It was a lot of firepower and cost for a service that mobile telephone service effectively made obsolete the moment it went live; but such was the influence of the Police, Fire Department and disability rights community, as well as the comprehensiveness of the Americans With Disabilities Act. At one point we did some research and found that prior to the Link program, payphones were almost never used to report legitimate emergencies (and were used quite a bit for false alarms).
The kiosks also included two electronic ad panels, one on either side, that could broadcast changing electronic messages. The panels were a non-standard size for outdoor advertising but could be targeted to be programed down to the individual panel. So, for example, ads for Broadway shows could be sent only to kiosks in the theater district. But it quickly became clear that Intersection, the national advertising member of the consortium was looking to do the easy work of including the Link network into its national advertising sales program and wasn’t at all interested in selling the ads to local users, which was a much more labor-intensive process. The non-standard ad panel size was also probably a serious obstacle to the success of such a strategy.
The kiosks were well hardened to withstand the abuse they were likely to take on New York City sidewalks and performed remarkably well. They included a number of fans to keep their operations cool in the summer (and in my field testing, the surface of the kiosks got really hot on hot New York summer days). Of course, they also had to function in snow and ice. They had three cameras and a battery of sensors for a range of environmental factors. The design was elegant, and I regarded them as a positive addition to the city’s streetscape.
The public face of CityBridge, at least at the outset, was former Bloomberg economic development Deputy Mayor, Daniel Doctoroff, who was the CEO of a Google subsidiary called Sidewalk Labs. LinkNYC, as the program was called, was to be the signature initiative of Sidewalk Labs. Sidewalk Labs had an outdoor advertising subsidiary called Intersection, which was to be a partner in the CityBridge consortium. The members of the consortium shifted over time but included at one time or another the manufacturer of the kiosk, a private equity investor, a fiber optic infrastructure provider, a silicon chip manufacturer and an outdoor advertising company. CityBridge was to be the franchisee and was essentially a shell company. None of the consortium members were willing to provide a financial guarantee of CityBridge’s substantial obligations under the agreement – so instead the City agreed to sizeable financial security – a $25 million letter of credit (essentially a cash deposit) and $75 million performance bond (an agreement by an insurance company to complete construction of the project up to the bond amount in the event of a default by CityBridge).
In certain essential aspects, the program was a tremendous success. The kiosks provided high quality free Wi-Fi service and CityBridge was making its minimum guaranteed monthly payments. I was particularly interested in the communications capacity of the screens on the kiosks – they were capable of transmitting block by block targeted messages, either as advertisements for local businesses, or information the City wanted to communicate to local communities. Such was not to be.
Commencement of the franchise was delayed by lawsuits from the independent pay phone operators who were as mad as hornets that they weren’t awarded pieces of the franchise and that CityBridge was given a city-wide (if non-exclusive) franchise. With the end of their franchises, payphone operators weren’t too thrilled about the decimation of their businesses (which they had milked for high profits for a couple of decades). Finally, they wanted to be paid for their worthless physical payphone inventory, which they claimed had residual value. The enjoining of the implementation of the franchise was resolved relatively quickly, but the lawsuits, particularly one involving my old friends at Telebeam (with whom I hadn’t been in touch for at least ten years), went on for years more.
A key component of the agreement was that CityBridge was to remove all of the remaining payphone kiosks by the fourth year of the agreement and either replace them with a Link kiosk or restore the sidewalk.
There was one glaring exception. A guy named Allen Flax, who was something of a village character on the Upper West Side in the 100’s, in fact my very neighborhood, had an obsession with the several remaining “Superman” style payphones, ones with doors and little roofs. Flax had that special UWS ability of drawing attention to himself with the media, and to local elected officials, which regarded his ideocracies as endearing. He was a particular favorite of the local electeds because of his prodigious capacity for collecting signatures on nominating petitions, an essential, and arcane, requirement to get on the ballot in New York State. Flax is the champion signature collector for the Three Parks Independent Democratic Club. He has the ear of once Borough President and once again City Council Member Gale Brewer. CM Brewer championed the requirement in the agreement that the franchisee renovate and maintain four phone traditional booths on West End Avenue during the term of the contract. As the booths are obsolete and no longer manufactured, the franchisee had to have four new booths custom fabricated. Flax checks the dial tone on the phones in the booths on a regular basis and calls the City (me, at the time), and then the media to complain when they weren’t functioning. After a few of these calls, I got in touch with then Borough President Brewer, whom I consider a friend, to beg her to let us get rid of the booths. She made clear she thought they were charming and that they were going to stay. And there they stay, but thank goodness are now someone else’s problem.
To put the recent hyperbole regarding the fifth generation of mobile phone technology (5G) in context, a rough estimate puts porn and gaming at 40% of internet data. So, increasing the speed and capacity of internet infrastructure will largely go to improving the experience of those uses. My flip evaluation of the utility of 5G technology has been that it is great if you want to do robotic surgery or download all of Game of Thrones on a street corner.
5G is the latest iteration of mobile phone and data transmission technology that is now being rolled out around the country and the world. In fact, one often reads ominously that the US is “falling behind” on the implementation of 5G. The value of the new technology is essentially that more information can be pushed through fiber optic lines and wireless transmission at higher speeds as a result of how the packages of electrons carrying digital data are bundled. The result is a higher capacity for traffic, significantly faster speeds and importantly, less latency in the transmission. Latency is the time between a user pushing the “enter” key and the time the information being requested fully loads on a screen.
The reduction in latency is not only important because it keeps people from throwing their mobile devices against walls out of frustration, but more critically, it enables a whole range of new internet applications that demand effectively simultaneous real time responses in order to be effective – like self-driving cars (which also aren’t coming any time soon). A graphic example of the problems arising out of latency delay is the inability of musicians to play together using zoom. Because of latency, using existing technology, it is impossible for participants to play music together over the internet (without additional compensating software). Low latency would also, for example, make possible robotic surgery, because the visual and vital sign information being conveyed to the surgeon on one end would be instant with a doctor’s surgical procedures on the other.
This brings to the fore an important fact about 5G transmission – many of the most useful aspects of its increased speed having nothing to do with mobile phone transmission – as they would be used inside – like surgery or improved efficiency in warehouse operations. A lot of the claims being made about the commercial value of 5G have nothing to do with mobile phone service in public spaces.
Mobile service hot spots
Right now, as far as I can tell, the most important use of 5G service in New York City is to expand system capacity at high use times and places – where the current transmission system is nearly maxed out. The highest use, densest locations for mobile phones I understand to be in Times Square (42nd Street), at 34th Street and 7th Avenue and at Broad Street and Wall Street. Apparently, the highest use times are during the early afternoon rush hour, particularly on Fridays (“honey, (i) should I pick up a loaf of bread on the way home” and/or (ii) “I’m gonna be late. I’m having a drink with the team after work” or (iii) “my train/bus is late.”). In order for the system to accommodate the increased traffic at those times and places, the pipe needs to be wider, and 5G information bundling creates a wider pipe.
It’s worth noting that the high visibility of the perceived lack of “technological equity” has added a political dimension to the public discussion of mobile telecom infrastructure. Frankly, given the way in which mobile telephones are used, there isn’t much of an immediate need for additional capacity in New York City outside of the Manhattan core (that’s not to say there won’t be in the future – and any 5G build would likely ultimately need to be city-wide). But because of immediate concerns about “equity,” the industry is going to be required to distribute its equipment across the five boroughs, in order to be given the green light to build the additional transmitters the system really needs in Manhattan.
A typical New York City mobile telecom installation
Mobile phone signals are transmitted by macro transmitters (those towers you see along highways and on building roofs) and more recently, and more widely via micro transmitters, which in most cities are glommed on to municipal light and signal poles. This is a huge pain for the mobile telecommunications industry, as there are tens of thousands of municipalities across the country, and each of the three national wireless companies has to make their own deals with each of them. You probably haven’t noticed the installations in New York City, because here they have been pretty well designed to blend in. They are painted the same color as the pole to which they are attached. They consist of a rectangular box near the top of the pole and a “whip” antenna sticking up from the top of the pole. Needless to say, the poles weren’t originally designed to carry telecommunications infrastructure, and it not being essential to their mission, the City’s Department of Transportation is less than thrilled with having this stuff attached to their poles and being responsible for their safety. DOT’s job is to keep the lights on at night and the signals working 24/7. In addition, City agencies have their own use for this aerial real estate – particularly DOT and the NYPD. The police use the poles, for example, for surveillance cameras and speed monitors. This is highly contested real estate. Until recently, only one of the three mobile companies’ equipment could be accommodated on each pole.
As with all telecommunications regulation, the base layer is Federal – and the outdated 1996 Cable Act governs the interaction of municipalities of mobile telecommunications infrastructure in the public way. When one thinks of mobile telecommunications, one thinks of wireless transmission, but for every mobile transmitter there must be a wired connection to the network. There is a mostly separate (from cable, except for Verizon) system of fiber optic cable supporting the mobile phone network under New York streets and hanging from utility poles. Companies providing mobile telecommunications infrastructure (and there are a number of companies who provide this as a service to the Big Three, in addition to the mobile companies themselves) need to have a franchise from the City both to lay their wires under the streets and across utility poles, as well as to place their transmitters on City poles.
During the Trump administration, the industry friendly Federal Communications Commission adopted rules that constrained the regulation of the deployment of mobile infrastructure in the public way by municipalities, just as it did with cable regulation. In the case of mobile telecom, the FCC limited what local government could charge for the use of its space to essentially the cost of administering the licensing program, and created accelerated maximum timelines for approval of the location of transmitters. The latter was certainly required, as many local governments out of a concern for aesthetics, or bureaucratic lethargy, stood in the way of the mobile telecom deployment.
However, this was not at all true in New York City, which, about 20 years ago, set up an efficient system for fairly allocating and licensing pole use to the mobile telecom infrastructure companies. The industry saw the City’s system as a national model and were (mostly) happy with how things were, and especially with the City’s experienced and highly responsive team that administered the program. To put this in context, NYC has about 300,000 light and signal poles (although there is no complete inventory of poles), and the last time I looked about fewer than 10,000 were being used as hosts for mobile phone transmitters. But, because of the preemption of Federal law, the City has been cast in the same boat as all other local governments. Of course, the FCC’s newish rules are the subject of continuing litigation. The industry has not sued the City to attempt to make it conform with the new rules, presumably because they are reasonably satisfied with the status quo – and they are in a rush to deploy their transmitters and don’t want to delay the process by initiating a lawsuit here.
This is particularly the case because Verizon, T-Mobile and AT&T, given the publicity they’ve created about the benefits of 5G service, want to deploy 5G transmitters quickly. The companies have each based a good deal of their national advertising to hyping the competitive advantage of each of their 5G systems. Again, those systems aren’t all that useful to consumers yet because mobile customers mostly have access to quite high speeds all over New York City (except at peak locations at peak times) and because not many people have bought phones that have the capacity to process the 5G signal. This is in part because of the additional expense associated with 5G phones and in part for technological limitations on the handheld devices themselves (particularly with respect to battery life and reliability). It will take several years for adoption of affordable, practical 5G handheld devices to catch up with deployment of transmitter technology.
The real fly in the soup here is that wireless 5G transmission needs many more transmitters than a 4G/LTE system. The 5G micromillimeter wave system, which is the backbone (and the high-speed part) for much of the 5G networks, has a shorter signal length and is more easily blocked than the medium wave 4G/LTE networks we’re all using now. There is an inverse relationship between wavelength and signal power/distance. The shorter the wave, the less far it goes and the more easily it is interfered with. That is, for example, why AM radio signals can be picked up across the country – they use a very long wave signal. 5G needs a couple of orders of magnitude more transmitters – thousands more. Human bodies and leaves have the capacity to block micromillimeter wave signals.
That deployment of more transmitters requires more City real estate and given that up until recently only one transmitter could be placed on a pole, that meant a push was on for the City to ramp up the distribution of poles. This ran into a number of logistical roadblocks. First, corner signal poles were more valuable to industry, as they logistically had a larger radius of transmission for the short micromillimeter wave transmission. As a result of a consent decree being negotiated by the City in Federal Court having to do with the City’s dilatoriness in making its tens of thousands of street corners comply with Federal accessibility requirements, the City began requiring anyone moving a light pole near a corner to replace all four corners at an intersection.
4G and 5G pole installations
Industry has proposed to the City designs that carry more than one transmitter – as the future standard. These installations are heavier and require the replacement of the pole and the construction of a new foundation for it – triggering the accessibility retrofit requirement for corner poles – making such an installation cost prohibitive. For the time being, the mobile telecom industry is avoiding the coveted corner poles and sticking with midblock poles so as to avoid triggering the six figure cost associated with corner ramps. Also, in the highest need locations there simply aren’t enough poles to accommodate the required transmitters. On 42nd Street and 34th Street the local business improvement districts objected to the erection of transmitters on distinctive poles they had erected in the 90’s in those essential locations. There simply are not enough available poles.
This is something like what a New York City cable pedestal looks like. Searching the internet I couldn’t find photos of either an actual NYC pedestal or a Verizon “refrigerator box” cable splicing enclosure. That tells you something.
When I was in City government, I advocated for a purpose-built telecommunications structure for sidewalks all over the city. Principally, this got DOT out of the telecommunications business that they didn’t want to be in – and their inspection of poles and installations had become a pinch point in the approval process, given available resources. This would be a structure licensed and regulated solely by the City’s technology agency – making the process simpler. The structure would be designed to accommodate all of the City’s telecommunications needs – mobile, Wi-Fi, cable and 911 – much like the LinkNYC program, but without advertising. The program would be financed by renting out space to telecommunications companies in this telecom condo. The structure would also replace ugly, refrigerator sized cable splicing boxes which exist all of the city outside Manhattan. The Altice and Spectrum boxes, called pedestals, have been around for decades and are generally located in the space between the street and sidewalk. Worse are the Verizon boxes, that hang from telephone pole – on some as many as four, two of which were hung at eye level. That equipment would all go into the proposed telecom structure.
The structure would need to be 32 feet high, in order to meet the needs of the mobile telecom industry. This would lower the number of needed structures (the higher the structure, the further the signal could be transmitted). Yeah, that’s tall. And yeah, that’s another big piece of stuff on the sidewalks. But my idea was that this structure could be designed by the best and become a symbol of 21st Century New York City, much as the Art Nouveau Paris Metro entrances have become a symbol of Paris. Also, I thought for initial locations, the City could replace the 6,000 DOT wayfinding kiosks, that look like the obelisk from “2001, A Space Odyssey,” and, thanks to the ubiquity of GPS and mobile phone maps, became obsolete nearly as soon as they were constructed. They were a good idea in the 90’s. The would be replaced with the telecom structure – using their sidewalk space. The idea got some, but not enough, traction.
The LinkNYC 5G kiosk
BUT, along came the alleged economic failure of the LinkNYC program (which I plan to discuss in detail in my next post). Part of the solution to creating a new “sustainable business model” for the free public Wi-Fi program was to allow the company that built the system to partner with a telecom infrastructure provider, replace the Wi-Fi kiosks with new 32-foot-tall kiosks, and permit them to (exclusively) host multiple mobile telecom transmitters in the structure. That structure, pictured above, has been approved by the Public Design Commission and is beginning to be deployed. Given the equity issues, the City is requiring that it be built first disproportionately outside Manhattan (despite the fact that the need for additional mobile telecom capacity is in the Manhattan core). I’m not personally fond of the design – and think it could be a lot better – but I do recognize the need for the height – and the need for a structure of this sort, particularly in the high demand spots in Manhattan. This part of the story is only beginning to be played out – as I doubt that the implications of the deployment have been fully understood by elected officials, the public and the other industry players.
New York City will get 5G service in a timely fashion. It will be as fast, available and reliable as anywhere in the world. Given the competition between the big three and other discount providers that use their network infrastructure the prices will remain highly competitive (I have Altice Mobile service, for example, that uses the T-Mobile system and get unlimited talk and text for $30 per month. The price (for 4G LTE service) is guaranteed forever (whatever that means)). You aren’t likely to notice the difference any time soon – unless you’re planning to step out to the corner to download all of “Better Call Saul.” With a little luck, you won’t notice most of the transmission infrastructure.
The New York City cable television companies at one time paid the City almost $200 million a year. That number is now less than $125 million and rapidly declining as a result of the trend of “wire-cutting,” that is consumers cancelling their cable TV subscriptions and obtaining their programming over the internet. Significantly, that internet programming is delivered over the same fiber optic or coaxial cable as the cable signal, but the City receives no revenue from the provision of broadband service by cable companies to consumers.
I remember when cable television came to my hometown, West Orange, New Jersey in the 1960’s. As we lived on the side of the first hill to the west of New York City, with line-of-site to New York City’s broadcast stations antennae on the Empire State Building and in the New Jersey Meadowlands, we got pretty good reception. But, Suburban Cablevision promised the residents of West Orange better picture quality, franchise fee payments to the town for the use of its right-of-way for the stringing of the cables on utility poles in town and a much ballyhooed public access television channel for broadcasting town council meetings, educational programming and other local amazements.
Cable TV initially came to New York City at about the same time and came into its own in the late 1980’s when Time Warner was created as the successor to early market entrants. As in West Orange, TWC (Time Warner Cable) agreed to pay the City a franchise fee, to provide universal service to Manhattan, brownstone Brooklyn, Staten Island and Queens and to create public access channels for each of those three boroughs. Later, the City obtained from TWC free access for to cable infrastructure for its own telecommunications and internet access needs.
From its inception, TWC was led by Richard Aurelio, a former Deputy Mayor in the Lindsey Administration, who saw the company’s cable franchise as a public trust and created NY1 News, as a provider as 24/7 local news coverage – much like the then-recently established and highly successful Cable News Network from Ted Turner’s Turner Networks (later also acquired by Time Warner). Therefore, the negotiations between the City and TWC, while spirited and arms-length, were something of a friendly arrangement. The City’s cable franchise negotiations were led from the creation of the franchise by Bruce Regal, a college friend of mine. As a result of this experience, Bruce was for decades the City’s telecommunications expert – and a nationally recognized authority on the municipal regulation of telecommunications.
Cable television regulations is a hybrid of Federal, state and local regulation, with the Federal Government’s role, under the Cable Communications Policy Act of 1984 (47 U.S.C. ch. 5, subch. V-A), predominant. The Cable Act sets as a maximum franchise fee from a cable provider to the local municipal government 5% of gross revenues from cable television services. The Cable Act also requires cable companies to capitalize and support public access channels for municipalities, and to provide such other services as are mutually agreed to between the provider and the city. Operating support for the public access channels is based on a per subscriber payment negotiated between the cable company and the municipality.
Later, Cablevision, the Long Island cable provider (a predecessor of which was an early cable provider in Manhattan), and an owner of a number of significant content providers, successfully sought a franchise for the Bronx and Brooklyn. Cable TV service was seen as a natural monopoly because the large capital investment involved – and therefore only one cable company could be profitable in any geographic area. Cable companies were given an exclusive franchise in consideration for providing universal service (as well as the other statutory benefits). Under the Cable Act, interestingly, states and municipalities were not given the authority to regulate cable prices, unlike the decades long regulation of telephone pricing by the states of the American Telephone and Telephone Company and its Bell System affiliates (like, in New York City, New York Telephone, later Bell Atlantic, then NYNEX, and ultimately Verizon). It was the City’s position that breaking up service among two providers, with exclusive geographic service would create a certain kind of competition and provide the City with multiple options, in the event of the failure or monopolistic behavior by one of the franchisees.
As I discussed in my last post, in the 2000’s Verizon sought and received a franchise for the entire city, providing another degree of competition in service (although a recent study by students at Columbia University concluded not significant price competition).
It is worth noting that when I was the City’s telecommunications franchise administrator, we approached Comcast, one of the country’s largest cable providers (as well as the owner of NBC Universal) about entering the New York City market in order to provide an additional market participant. A senior Comcast executive told me that while Comcast was interested in purchasing TWC, at the time it was sold to Charter Communications, it was not interested in being a fourth player in New York City under any set of regulatory or technological circumstances (for example sharing existing fiber optic cable, so as to drastically reduce the required capital investment) however favorable.
It should also be noted that Charter’s (the successor to TWC) business model, while highly favorable to its investors, is probably not in the best interest of New York City cable customers. Charter is in the business of generating a maximum amount of revenue with the minimum amount of expense from its New York City franchise, and is very good at it. It is not significantly upgrading its infrastructure to fiber to the home, instead relying on its legacy coaxial cable-based system. It has broken the union representing its field employees by hiring non-union contractors to maintain its infrastructure and in-home customer service. At the same time, it controls Spectrum NY1, which has become an essential source of local coverage, where it has also alleged to be an abusive employer by older, female on-air staff. Charter could turn out the lights at NY1 on a whim.
Each borough of New York City has a public access cable programming provider, set up as an independent not-for-profit corporation, the board of directors of which is appointed by each borough president. As result, channels have become creatures of the borough presidents, who have become among their most prominent supporters. As of 2021, the combined budgets of the public access channels were over $30 million, paid for by the cable companies. Each of the channels, except, perhaps, for BRIC, the Brooklyn channels, has become something a sinecure for its executives, for a service that very few New Yorkers watch or know about.
At one time, the public access channels, particularly Manhattan Neighborhood Networks, were seen as quirky vehicles of free speech, allowing just about anyone access to the “airwaves.” MNN had its own star in Robin Byrd who as I recall from my youth, who had a talk show where she interviewed guests in a crocheted string bikini. The public access channels claim that they train New Yorkers in video production, provide an alternative news and programming outlet, as well as video coverage of borough events – particularly those sponsored by the borough presidents. Unfortunately, none of the channels has data about how many people watch them – and likely very few people do. In addition, given today’s technology, public access television is at least equally accessible via the internet, and the use of the still valuable cable channels for their programming is not very important or useful, particularly given the lack of viewership data.
The channels have become minor fiefdoms. MNN has a wonderful, state-of-the-art, but underused facility on East 104thStreet in a former firehouse. The Bronx channels have been aggressive in advocating for an upgrade of all of its signals to High-Definition quality. BRIC, also has an excellent facility in downtown Brooklyn. However, BRIC’s studios, unlike those in the other boroughs, are a beehive of activity, as BRIC has used the payments it receives from the cable companies to broaden its reach to being a community-based arts organization with youth programs and visual and performing arts presentations.
The cable franchise paradigm, which provided cable programming to New Yorkers for several decades, is breaking down,as a result of wire-cutting, and the migration of cable customers to the internet. Most significantly, the Cable Act does not allow municipalities to charge franchise fees against cable companies’ broadband businesses, so as dollars from consumers switch from cable to internet, the City’s franchise fees decline. That $200 million has been reduced to about $120 million and is declining rapidly. Similarly, funds for the public access channels, levied on a per-subscriber basis, are also being reduced with the decline in subscriber numbers. Worse yet for the municipal coffers, during the Trump Administration, the Federal Communications Commission, which implements the Cable Act, led at the time by the former chief lobbyist for Verizon, used its rulemaking as wish fulfillment for the telecommunications industry under the banner of incentivizing increased private investment in telecommunications infrastructure. The FCC adopted a rule that made the value of the operating income provided by cable companies to the public access channels, as well as the dollar value of all non-cash benefits provided by the cable companies to municipalities as a credit against the 5% franchise fee cap with very few exceptions – potentially further reducing franchise fee income. This ruling has been upheld by the courts, but in New York City, the cable companies have not yet moved to implement it.
All of New York City’s cable franchise agreements with Charter and Altice (the successor to Cablevision) expired in 2020 and are now operating by automatic annual extensions, and Verizon’s agreement expires in 2023. There is little doubt that if and when those agreements are renegotiated, the already declining benefits from the cable companies to the City, in the absence of aggressive changes by the FCC, will be slashed. The City’s capacity in any negotiation has been seriously compromised by Bruce Regal’s untimely passing in 2016 and the retirement of one of its other senior telecommunications attorneys. The most recent two General Counsels at the recently renamed Office of Technology and Innovation are the first ones in the agency’s history without significant prior telecommunications expertise.
Where does that leave the City? Not in a very good place with respect to the regulation of cable television and the provision of internet service. Certainly, it should be a high priority of the City’s Washington, D.C. lobbying office, to lobby the FCC to reverse out of the rule-making favorable to industry adopted during the Trump Administration, and to go further to the maximum extent permitted under the Cable Act to impose franchise fees on internet service providers.
One of the challenges in the area of technology regulation – as we have seen with Facebook and Google – is the inability of Congress to adopt legislation that keeps up with technological changes. This is a problem as much for the telecommunications industry as it is for states, municipalities and consumers. While this regulatory lag is true under the best of circumstances, with a factious, divided Congress and a newly ascendent Supreme Court working to limit the power of administrative agencies, it has made the situation for all practical purposes impossible. The Cable Act has not been substantially revised since 1984 and is seriously antiquated and difficult to apply to current technologies. This is all equally true with respect to municipal regulation of mobile telecommunications (cell phone service), which I hope to write about shortly. But New York City should be in the forefront of looking for opportunities to revise and update the Federal telecommunications regulatory framework.
In the absence of changes at the Federal level, the City will have to be incredibly aggressive and smart in order to maximize what little leverage it has with the cable companies. While the City has an excellent two person staff to “audit” the cable companies, it should engage outside auditors to review cable company payments for as far back as the regulatory scheme and franchise agreements allowed. Audit firms are prepared to provide these services, in exchange for a percentage of any amounts they might recover from the cable providers. This is a no risk, high return proposition for the City, that is likely to reap tens of millions of dollars in cash, while sending a signal to the providers that there is a new sheriff in town that means business. But at the same time, the City is smart not to begin negotiations with the cable companies to enter into new franchise agreements, because under current circumstances any new agreements can only be on terms inferior to those of the expired agreements which are now being operated under by extension.
The issue of the public access channels will also need to be seriously addressed. They continue to advocate for increased resources, in a declining revenue environment. Any such increase in resources will have to come from the City budget, particularly given the current situation with FCC rules. With the exception of BRIC, any such increase would be hard to justify without hard evidence of a significant number of viewers that the public access channels might be reaching, and a thorough examination of the governance of the channel operators ([MNN was recent the subject of a Supreme Court decision regarding the first amendment rights of public access programming producers that arose out of the chaotic situation arising out of a fist fight between a disgruntled producer and MNN leadership at an MNN public meeting some years ago (Manhattan Community Access Corp. V. Halleck, 882 F. 3d 300 (2019).)].
In an ideal world, the City would be deriving increased resources from the utilization of its rights of way by the cable company/internet service providers for their cables; it should be able to encourage new entrants into the cable/ISP market utilizing the city’s extensively overbuilt fiber optic network in order to drive down prices; work to make sure that all ISP customers are obtaining the highest quality service from fiber to the home networks; and that all of the city’s low income customers take advantage of the Federal subsidies available to buy down cable and broadband prices to $15 per month.
A sign in rural France announcing fiber optic broadband service
It has become part of the city’s progressive conventional wisdom that there are digital deserts in neighborhoods across the boroughs, and this contributes to a widely assumed “digital divide.” However, like with so much else of the political conventional wisdom, these accepted truths have a problem. They don’t happen to reflect the actual facts.
The truth is that the city has an abundance of fiber optic cable that reaches across the five boroughs. In particular, Verizon is obligated under its franchise with the City to provide internet and cable service to just about every home in town. Altice, formerly Cablevision, which operates under the brand Optimum and is another one of the city’s cable providers also has a growing fiber optic network. The city’s third cable company, Charter Communications, operating under the name Spectrum, offers inferior copper wire internet service to a large number of New York City homes. But in addition, there are about two dozen other companies who have laid fiber around the city for purposes other than selling cable and broadband service to residential customers.
One of those is Transit Wireless, which now has a network providing mobile telephone and Wi-Fi internet service to the MTA’s underground subway stations. Transit Wireless, a division of BAI, an Australian telecommunications giant, owned in turn by Canadian pension funds, has just contracted with the MTA to provide the same services to all of the subway system’s tunnels and above ground stations (https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/29/nyregion/mta-cellphone-service-subway-tunnels.html). In order to run this service, Transit Wireless will have a high-capacity fiber optic network that mirrors the subway map.
Another is a company called Zen-Fi, which has been in the business of providing telecommunications infrastructure to the mobile telephone companies – T-Mobile and AT&T (BAI has apparently recently announced its intention to acquire ZenFi). Last year ZenFi entered into a deal with the City of New York to expand its fiber network, which included service to the LinkNYC public Wi-Fi kiosks, to a newly designed sidewalk kiosk that has the capacity to carry mobile telephone transmitters to support the latest iteration of mobile telephone technology called “5G.” Both Transit Wireless’ and ZenFi’s networks could be leveraged to provide more competitively priced home broadband service.
Fiber optic cable is pretty amazing stuff (in “Fiber,” Yale: 2018, Susan Crawford lays all of this out). Most importantly, the electronic pulses it carries are the backbone of all telecommunications transmissions for the foreseeable future. Phone calls went over copper wires for decades. Now, fiber can carry land line phone calls, cable signals, high speed broadband internet service, commercial data transmission and mobile phone service. While mobile phone service is called “wireless,” for much of its journey, mobile phone signals have to travel along a fiber optic pathway – it could be thousands of miles under vast oceans, or around the corner. But the signal goes from your phone – wirelessly to a receiver, then to a fiber cable, then to a transmitter, and then wirelessly to the destination phone (with lots of switches in between). The infrastructure is mostly wired, despite the nomenclature.
Fiber optic cable, which is made up of a bundle of thin glass strands through which light is transmitted carrying electronic information, has a couple of other nifty features. First, because there is no friction in the transmission of light through the glass strands, it doesn’t degrade. As far as we know now it lasts forever. A fiber cable may get accidentally cut (as in New York City it is either buried under streets or suspended from poles), or the insulation around it may get damaged (from water or heat), but the strands themselves stay calm and carry on indefinitely. Fiber optic cable also has a theoretically boundless capacity to carry information. A tremendous amount of information can be pushed through the fiber at the same time. What the much ballyhooed 5G mobile service is about is changing the way in which the light pulses are organized, transmitted, switched and read in the cable (and wirelessly), so that more data (including voice) can be pushed through the same amount of cable.
Also interesting is the role that Verizon plays in all this in New York City. Verizon is the successor to New York City’s telephone company, New York Telephone – a part of the old American Telephone & Telegraph Company, the nationally regulated telephone monopoly. In addition, for many years New York City had two cable companies, Time Warner Cable (now Charter) and Cablevision (now Altice) – also somewhat regulated monopolies. The cable companies later used their copper-based cable signal transmission system to provide internet service, as that became a thing (Remember when you used to call AOL over the phone to get on the internet?). The cable companies replaced that function – and over time some upgraded their systems to provide high speed broadband service). About twenty years ago, Verizon successfully petitioned the City to get into the cable and internet provider service. The City made Verizon’s entry into the market conditional upon its providing their service to every home in the city, in order to create some level of competition for Time Warner and Cablevision, each of which had an obligation to provide service to a designated potion of the city (and between the two of them provided service to the entire city).
Verizon initially competed on internet service with what was called Digital Subscriber Line service (DSL) which used its pre-exiting copper wire phone system to provide internet service. The legacy cable providers transmitted their signals over a coaxial cable system. A coax system still uses copper as the transmission medium, but coaxial cable is specially built with a metal shield and other components engineered to block signal interference and is generally faster than DSL. But neither is a patch on fiber optic cable, and at some point Verizon decided to switch it’s entire system to fiber in order to be able to advertise and provide real broadband service at faster speeds than the cable companies.
That turned out to be a terrific business decision, because of the versatility of fiber. As Verizon expanded its mobile telephone business (a complicated story in itself), it found itself with a competitive advantage because in New York City it was already building the city’s most extensive system of fiber optic cable that could be used as the backbone for its mobile telecom system. Ultimately, it also began eliminating its copper wires and even sending land line transmissions over its fiber cable. Therefore, Verizon is a highly efficient user of its fiber lines. No other competitor is in a position to make such extensive use of its fiber optic network. The gold standard for high-speed broadband service is a fiber network that goes right to a users’ front door (Altice and Charter generally deliver fiber to an apartment building, and then distribute the signal within the building via aging copper wire). Verizon is rapidly attempting to provide fiber to the home over its entire system.
In addition, it is essential to point out that the leading telecommunications financial analyst, Moffat Nathanson (https://www.moffettnathanson.com/research.aspx), has opined that fiber optic networks are natural monopolies and that given their capacity and expense, only one fiber optic network can be profitable in any given market. New York has multiple such networks, some of which are quite extensive.
All of that being said, why isn’t high speed broadband service ubiquitous? I have come to the conclusion that there are two reasons. First is the obvious one that many low-income families find highspeed broadband service too expensive. While there are some national programs to provide lower quality service at lower prices to low-income families, those programs have not been widely adopted. Layered on top of that appears to be a consumer preference among low-income families to access the internet via their mobile devices. During COVID, this turned out to be a problem for families with children accessing school via the internet from home. Participating in Zoom and doing homework from a cell phone is far from optimal (particularly with multiple children in the household). Interestingly, just prior to the COVID pandemic, Altice offered families with school age children in their service area (all the of the Bronx and parts of Brooklyn) a free tablet and $15 per month high speed broad band service. Only a few hundred families accepted the highly publicized deal.
In addition, we don’t really know how many families don’t have high speed internet service. The information used in the City’s Internet Master Plan (https://www1.nyc.gov/assets/cto/downloads/internet-master-plan/NYC_IMP_1.7.20_FINAL-2.pdf) (all of which was extensively rewritten and edited by me before its publication), comes from Federal Communications Commission data, which I believe to be badly flawed (FCC data is based on aggregated information by census tract from the internet service providers that appears on its face to be inaccurate. The City has an incomplete, but far more accurate, set of fiber optic cable network maps showing the extent of the networks.). I suspect, based on my experience, that the number of families without high-speed internet access is much lower than that advertised in the Internet Master Plan. And this is the source of the apparent misinformation about a digital divide.
In addition, City Hall in the De Blasio administration had a highly antagonist view of the cable companies, particularly Verizon. In fact, during that administration, the City brought a law suit against Verizon, which failed to fulfill its obligation to provide ubiquitous city-wide service (although is service was quite extensive, there were blocks where it proved expensive to wire including, surprisingly, on the Upper East Side, that Verizon decided not to provide infrastructure for)( https://cdn.arstechnica.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/nyc-vs-verizon-complaint.pdf). Two years ago, the City settled that suit after years of unproductive litigation.
The Mayor’s Office of the Chief Technology Officer was focused on doing an end run around the cable companies by creating its own network of internet service providers – ideally through community-based organizations. The CTO’s position was that the cable companies’ internet service was too expensive, unreliable and of insufficient speed. In my opinion, given the already extensive network of fiber optic cable, that was an idea that was both inefficient and impractical. It hasn’t happened, and it is never going to happen. The real solution is finding a way to use the existing network, buy down the cost of high speed internet for low-income families, and engage in an extensive community-based campaign to get broader adoption of high speed home internet.
One example of the combination of misinformation and resistance to adoption was the lack of service in the buildings of the New York City Housing Authority. The CTO’s office went to great trouble and expense to create a high-speed internet service at Queensbridge Houses, NYCHA’s largest development. That project was a technical, market and economic failure. What my team and I found when trying to get NYCHA wired up was opposition from residents and staff to having Verizon technicians in NYCHA buildings for reasons running from a lack of trust in anyone coming into residents’ apartments to sheer bureaucratic obstructionism on the part of NYCHA facilities staff. Thanks to increased cooperation between NYCHA and Verizon arising out of the settlement of the litigation, most of NYCHA’s facilities will have fiber to the home. But that still leaves the issues of price and adoption.
However, as a result of the American Rescue Plan adopted by the Federal government in response to the COVID pandemic, that problem should be mostly solved under its Affordable Connectivity Program.
“The Affordable Connectivity Program is an FCC benefit program that helps ensure that households can afford the broadband they need for work, school, healthcare and more. The benefit provides a discount of up to $30 per month toward internet service for eligible households and up to $75 per month for households on qualifying Tribal lands. Eligible households can also receive a one-time discount of up to $100 to purchase a laptop, desktop computer, or tablet from participating providers if they contribute more than $10 and less than $50 toward the purchase price.”
The eligibility for the program includes families receiving a range of Federal assistance, including the widely accessed school lunch program. Almost no low-income family should be left behind.
Unfortunately, as far as I can tell, very few New York families know about the availability of this subsidy. The customer service staff at the City’s technology agency who deal with cable customers and complaints have not been trained to encourage residents to sign up for the program. I frankly fail to understand why the City and State aren’t shouting about this program from the rooftops, and enlisting staff to encourage New York City residents to sign up. It may have something to do with the fact that the program is designed to utilize the services of the disfavored existing cable providers, who will be paid by the Federal government to deliver the service. [The Adams administration just implemented a version of buying down free internet service for NYCHA residents at two of its sites. https://www.optimum.com/big-apple-connect. It does not take advantage of the Federal funds].
While in rural areas, getting fiber optic service into remote homes may be prohibitively expensive, in New York City almost every home has access to at least two internet service providers, one of which has infrastructure that provides high speed fiber to the home in the street. Access to high-speed internet service in New York City for low-income families can be a near-term reality.
If you want to learn about best practices in downtown revitalization, you couldn’t do better than to just walk around Cincinnati. They seem to do most things right there. I hadn’t intended to write again about the Queen City, as my most recent trip was a quick overnight one, but the continued marked apparent improvement in economic conditions there merits notice. Both the downtown commercial center and the adjacent Over-the-Rhine neighborhood continue to expand their blocks of economic vitality. More blocks seem to have new stores, new adaptative reuses of structures with high quality vernacular architecture and new residential construction and conversion.
Residential new construction on Vine Street
Cincinnati and Des Moines are actually comparatively sized cities. Cincinnati has a population of about 300,000. But its metro is substantially larger, at 2.5 million, the 30th in the country. Interestingly, while Des Moines is about at its peak population, Cincinnati is considerably smaller than its population of 500,000 in 1960. Cincinnati is 42% Black. While the Black population is only 12% of the metro.
The strength of Cincinnati Center City Development Corporation (3CDC) sets Cincinnati apart. 3CDC strikes me as the most aggressive and effective organization of its kind in country. Up until recently, 3CDC kept a low profile – but on this recent trip their brand was all over its many properties – on parking lots it operates, on empty storefronts it leases and on parcels it is seeking to develop. The thing that differentiates 3CDC from its peers is its balance sheet. Based on 2019 data, it has gross assets of over $400 million, debt of a little less than $400 million and an annual operating budget of about $20 million. That is a scale of operations and a leveraging of resources that is unmatched. 3CDC purchases property using debt financing. It repositions those properties though adaptive reuse and it carefully curates their occupants. Vine Street in Over-the-Rhine is the most dramatic and fastest commercial corridor revitalization case study of which I am aware. Vine Street and Main Street in Over-the-Rhine are now lined with interesting looking shops, bars and restaurants. A key component of their capital stack is an internally operated low-interest revolving loan fund.
Downtown Cincinnati shows similar attributes of growth. We stayed in the 21CMuseum Hotel – part of a Kentucky-based chain (https://www.21cmuseumhotels.com). The facility was the reuse of an office structure into over 300 rooms (beautifully designed by Yale architecture dean, Deborah Berke). The hotel displays an extensive art collection, focused on Black artists. As you walk into the lobby, your experience is flooded by the image of Morpheus by Kahinde Wiley from 2008 at 108 by 180 inches (https://www.21cmuseumhotels.com/cincinnati/blog/2020/morpheus-by-kehinde-wiley/), which is behind the front desk. This is not art by the yard. Our stay was very impressive. Downtown Cincinnati has more street level retail, bars and restaurants than most other mid-western cities (although the retail on many block is far from continuous). There are very few totally blank block fronts. Downtown is connected to Over-the-Rhine by a tram, which is free and runs every ten minutes or so (not quite enough, but close to it). Unlike many other such projects, it appears to be well-used.
(I also note that we had breakfasts in both St. Louis and Cincinnati in First Watch restaurants, a chain that has almost 500 locations, with which I was previously unfamiliar. The quality of food and service in both places was superb. Quite remarkable for such a large chain.)
Too many economic development entities are ineffective because their boards are averse to property ownership, operation and debt financing. Those organizations are resigning themselves to unsuccessfulness – particularly in today’s real estate environment where downtowns need more than “clean and safe.” Downtown revitalization requires risk taking and rolling up your sleeves and getting your hands dirty in real estate brokerage and construction. Downtown economic development organizations need to be in the business of revenue generation (through parking, if nothing else) and leading the real estate market with high quality repositioning of derelict property. Nothing else works as well. The 3CDC financial statement is a lesson in itself in how to do this.
I know nothing of the politics of 3CDC, or how it is viewed in the community. I also don’t know anything about its community engagement practices. While those things are important, the results speak for themselves. Cincinnati’s quality of life is better as a result of 3CDC’s work. I would like to see an income distribution chart for Black families in the city and metro for 2000 and 2020. If 3CDC’s efforts are not bringing substantial benefit to the city’s least well off, then that’s a problem. I noticed a considerable amount of residential new construction in Over-the-Rhine. 3CDC has developed 416 affordable units, with 70% of them designated as affordable. Given where Cincinnati now is, and 3CDC’s financial strength and expertise, if they were to ask me (which they haven’t), I would advise that they focus their efforts on mixed income (with no more than 30% of residents below 50% of AMI), mixed-use projects as a means to improve the circumstances of the worst well off and improve the quality of the local public schools.
The view up Vine Street
***
Our trip to Cincinnati was to see the world premiere of “Castor and Patience,” at the Cincinnati Opera, with music by Gregory Spears and libretto by Tracy K. Smith. Spears is the composer of the highly successful “Fellow Travelers,” also premiered in Cincinnati, and Smith is a Princeton professor, former poet laureate of the United States and a Pulitzer Prize winner. It is my practice not to discuss the musical or dramatic aspects of the operas I hear, since that’s not my department (“Once the rockets are up, who cares where they come down? That’s not my department!” says Wernher von Braun”. Heidi’s review will be found here: andymanshel.nyc), the theme of the opera was of particular interest to me.
The opera is about an inter-racial family from Buffalo, New York, who, during the home mortgage debacle of 2008, are in danger of losing their house. They travel to an island off the coast of the Southeast where the family’s father (Castor) grew up, and where he and his cousin (Patience) (both Black) own thirty acres, which are valued in the story at over $20 million.) Patience sees her role as protecting the family’s legacy in the property – highlighting the importance and rarity of property ownership to Black folks. She is opposed to selling even one acre of the twenty – which would eliminate the father’s debt problems.
This story interested me because as a real estate lawyer I have always advised clients that the first rule of success in real estate is to never develop an emotional attachment to a parcel. Also, in the 00’s I joined the Queens County Bar Association’s Volunteer Lawyer’s Project representing families in foreclosure. The membership of the Queens County Bar pledged to represent, on a pro bono basis, any Queens family during conferences with the Court’s Special Master dealing with foreclosures in Queens. This project was so successful that ultimately families were represented by highly skilled, full-time staff from the project with extensive experience with foreclosure, rather than by the pro bono volunteers.
I represented more than a half dozen families over the course of five or six years – all of them were eager/desperate to remain in their homes despite the fact that the houses were worth less than their mortgages. My clients’ best economic move would certainly have been to walk away from their homes. While staying was not necessarily a canny business decision, ultimately all were able to remain in their homes with monthly payments well within their means. The actual facts of these cases were very different from the prevailing narrative regarding the “mortgage crisis” that began in 2008, and that narrative underlies the story line of “Castor and Patience.” Southeast Queens, New York, generally regarded as the Jamaica neighborhoods, is one of the largest communities of Black homeowners in the United States. I was told that in the 2010 census, Queens was the only county in the country where African American household income exceeded that of white households.
My clients ran the gamut from a family on public assistance to a barber to a laid off nursing assistant. All had refinanced their homes in order to generate cash – all of which they had spent or lost. In some cases, the refinancing produced upfront lower monthly payments which later either ballooned or reset to a high variable interest rate. All of their homes market values were substantially less than (generally 2/3) than the principal of the mortgage on them. In almost every case, a local mortgage broker – someone they knew from the community – had sold them on the refinancing. None of those mortgage brokers were anywhere to be found by the time the families came to me. In one case, I believe the mortgage broker stole most of the cash generated by the refinance – taking advantage of the borrower’s lack of financial sophistication.
The most obvious thing to me as an attorney representing these families was that the banks and mortgage servicers were in chaos. Their attorneys would show up in court with a list of properties on the docket for that day. Most were unprepared. None had the supporting documentation required to sustain their claims – much of which had been lost in the shuffling between the mortgage originators, the creators of the collateral debt obligations (CDO), the buyers of the CDO’s and the servicers which were on the front lines doing the administrative work for the holders of the CDO’s. Also, the Courts were loath to kick people out of their homes – and made every appropriate effort to protect homeowners’ rights. It was easy for me to throw sand in the gears of the process to keep people in their homes. It was much more difficult to actually work out payment arrangements which would be manageable by my clients.
A home in Southeast Queens — not one of my clients’. Just an example.
It is important to know that while these properties were in foreclosures, their owners continued to live in them and weren’t paying any occupancy costs – not mortgage, not insurance and not taxes. The CDO holders were on the hook for all of these and were adding them to the borrowers’ principal. My clients dealt with this situation in different ways. My lowest income clients took two trips to Disney with their grandchildren during my representation of them. Another of my clients took the opportunity of six years of essentially free housing to get a BA in nursing – and ultimately secured a near six figure entry level hospital job.
The Obama administration had set up a program called the Home Affordable Mortgage Program (HAMP), which, at the time, none of the mortgage servers knew much about accessing. This lack of knowledge (or interest) served to prolong the foreclosure process. It was in the mortgage servicers’ interest to keep the process going – as fees were generated by each Court appearance and each action taken by the servicer – charged to the holders of the CDOs. It was not in the financial interest of the servicer or the CDO holders to bring the matters to closure. An actual foreclosure or settlement would almost always result in the banks having to immediately book a loss, which was definitely not in their interest.
At one point, I got the quasi-governmental agency that has a guarantor’s interest in most home mortgages involved in order to bring my cases to settlement (they have the ultimate authority to approve mortgage restructurings). All of my clients stayed in their homes and got monthly payments they could live with. The downside for all of them was that the restructured payments, the defaulted amounts, deferred interest and penalties were all added to the value of the principal – which, in practical terms, meant the principal would never be paid down. When the owners passed away, the CDO holder would be left with an underwater property, which it would sell and then book the loss – hopefully many years in the future. This was the ultimate in kicking a can down the road. So, at the end of the day the holders of the CDOs were left holding the bag.
This wasn’t the story of “Castor and Patience,” and it would make a pretty terrible, long, complicated, boring theater piece. But it is what happened in my experience, and probably what happened with the majority of people caught up with homes with deflated values and defaulted, inflated mortgages. In the real world, if Castor has adequate legal counsel in Buffalo, he probably could have held on to his home. Better yet, Castor and Patience could have obtained a small debt consolidation loan (at very low interest rates during the turmoil in the markets), using the island property as security, to eliminate Castor’s financial problems. While that alternate story isn’t particularly important to the opera audience, it is important to how we understand home ownership and race in America.
We stayed at a hipsterish hotel in Des Moines, Iowa (The Surety) that had an excellent restaurant (The Mulberry Street Tavern). The hotel lobby had a pool table and the room mini-bar offered condoms. As we drove from the airport in Cedar Rapids to Des Moines (we missed our connections in both directions at Charlotte and had to scramble), we drove passed scores of wind turbines. We were there for Heidi to cover the opera (https://andymanshel.nyc/2022/07/13/review-arias-over-the-fields-at-des-moines-metro-opera/), which I don’t usually independently comment on, but which was excellent. The “Porgy and Bess” was the best of my experience, and the production values of each of the two shows I thought were higher than any of the other summer festivals (Santa Fe, Glimmerglass, Opera Theater of Saint Louis). Despite the conventional wisdom, there is a progressive, sophisticated national culture, which has reached deeply into the medium sized cities of the mid-West. This is a non-trivial change.
As a child in the sixties, I can recall our annual trips by car to French Lick, Indiana for a business conference that my father attended. We stayed in some pretty dismal motels along the way and ate some pretty awful food in local greasy spoons. The food at the fancy resort where the conference was held was of the mid-century modern American sort – a silver colored bucket with ice and raw vegetables on the table when we arrived and well-done roast beef as the signature menu item. We’ve come a long way from that. Food culture is everywhere. Social media spreads trends and fads like lightening. Almost anything can be delivered by UPS and Fed Ex – from bagels and pastrami to esoteric books and high design furniture. You don’t have to drive to the nearest university town to see art house movies – they’re on Netflix and Amazon Prime – or you can subscribe to what seem to be dozens of more specialized services like Sundance and BBC America to get even more exotic fare.
Des Moines is a city of about 200,000, in a metro of about 400,000. It has long been a center of the insurance industry and its largest private sector employers are Wells Fargo and Principal Financial. It has only a half dozen office towers of more than 20 floors, the tallest of which is the Principal HQ at 45 stories. Many of the downtown buildings are high quality art deco/city beautiful buildings of less than 20 storeys. The post war period, as in so many places, was not as architecturally kind to Des Moines as prior decades, but most of those buildings are mid-rise. The downtown streets and sidewalks are wide, and there isn’t much street level retail and there are many, many parking structures. There is a large, active farmers’ market in the downtown on Saturdays. The downtown’s scale feels more human than Kansas City, because there are fewer tall buildings and there are wider streets. There also seem to be more downtown restaurants. But there still isn’t much pedestrian activity (other than the farmers’ market). The main arteries leading into downtown are lined with the usual low to medium income retailers and fast food brands.
Des Moines is the Iowa state capital, with an impressive capital building that unusually has five domes. The capital sits on a hill overlooking the city that has a large collection of public sculpture, the most impressive of which is a civil war monument. In the chaos of today’s political order it is easy to forget Iowa’s important place in American history as a free state, with John Brown having used Iowa as a base for his anti-slavery campaign of 1856-1859. While Barak Obama won Iowa in 2012, Donald Trump took the state by 9% in both 2016 and 2020. Iowa’s current senators are Republicans Charles Grassley and Joni Ernst. Their predecessors were Democrats Tom Harkin and John Culver. Des Moines is 15% Black. The state is 4% Black. It is certainly interesting to contemplate Iowa’s place in the national culture. This is a place with a sophisticated history, including one of the country’s great state universities, particularly known on the coasts for its writing program. Retired, 40-year U.S. Navy veteran and former Rear Admiral Mike Franken is running against the 88-year-old Grassley this year as a Democrat and has turned up on my social media feeds. He seems impressive, and some polls have put him within striking distance. But Grassley is a formidable opponent with a very high profile. If Franken were to get any traction in the wake of the Supreme Court’s hard right turn, that would be a big deal.
The local airport is small, and most of the flights are to midwest hubs, Minneapolis, Chicago and Saint Louis. I also noticed a direct flight on a small airline to New York, and other flights to Phoenix (a Southwest hub) and Charlotte (an American hub). The airports in Cedar Rapids (even smaller) and Omaha are driving distance – providing more options. We found it difficult to get to from New York. I didn’t notice any flights to Los Angeles or San Francisco. But who needs the coasts, really?
I suspect Iowans know how good they have it. The state’s mean family income is about $80,000. I would conjecture that if a Phillips curve (demonstrating income distribution) were drawn for Iowa, it would be pretty flat. Des Moines seems to have adopted a lot of the best of the urban renaissance of the 90’s – with restaurants, a market and quite a few downtown loft conversions. The weather was pretty intensely hot while we were there. But life there seems excellent – with lots of amenities for a small city (this listing caught my eye: https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/10307-Grimes-St-Indianola-IA-50125/87084714_zpid/. $540,000 for 4 acres and a pool). I would go on to speculate that the most important vector moving Iowa’s political needle is Iowans wanting to preserve what they have – and isn’t that the very definition of conservatism.
The first class of Urban Park Rangers, with Mayor Koch and Gordon Davis at the center. In the lower right, with the tie, is my friend, neighbor, collaborator and future Parks Commissioner Adrian Benepe.
“New York, New York, New York; Four Decades of Succuss, Excess, and Transformation” Thomas Dyja (Simon & Schuster, 2021)
The great goal of social science is to amass large amounts of data relating to a social phenomenon, and then organize and synthesize that data in order to explain how that phenomenon works – essentially separating the out the signal from the noise. In “New York, New York, New York; Four Decades of Succuss, Excess, and Transformation,” Thomas Dyja sets out for himself that extremely high bar. He pulls together an overwhelming amount of information about the governance and culture of New York City from 1978 to the present and attempts to tease out what actually happened. It is nearly impossible to believe that one author could accumulate and one mind could retain and come to an understanding such an avalanche of facts. In telling this story, he succeeds beyond any reasonable expectation.
I came to New York in 1978 and have lived here continuously ever since. I began working in the public sphere in 1991. So, in a very material sense, this is my (along with a great many other peoples’) story. I was in, or near, the room where some of the stuff he describes happened. I worked with or knew a significant double-digit percentage of the people he talks about. I generally come out where he does in his broadest conclusions, but as is absolutely inevitable in the blizzard of information Dyja has digested, some of the “facts” and figures he cites either are incorrect or can’t be right (There have never been 50,000 people sleeping on the streets of New York. There have been 50,000 people receiving services for the homeless from the City – mostly living in shelters, most of them families – and not the single adult men who most New Yorkers have in mind when they think of the homeless. While he cite’s Kaiser’s The Gay Metropolis, can it be true that 50% of gay baby boomers died of AIDs?). Dyja also accepts as true a number of the basic assumptions that constitute the conventional wisdom regarding public policy in the city over the last forty years, some of which are just aren’t true or are gross over simplifications (gentrification leads to displacement, homelessness is caused by lack of housing). But, certainly, Dyja’s heart is in the right place, and he is willing to call “bullshit” on a good many self-serving and false claims. I certainly can’t argue with his placing our work on the Bryant Park restoration, and the thinkers we relied on like Holly Whyte and George Kelling, at the dead center of his epic.
The book relies on press reports and interviews with high profile players for much of its factual foundation. Unfortunately, the New York press often gets the details of local coverage wrong (and more than occasionally gets the entire story wrong), taking the press releases of public officials at face value – and while newspaper reporting may be the first draft of history, it constitutes an unreliable basis on which to write its later versions when it comes to New York City government. It has also been my experience that folks in public life in New York tend to gild their lilies – they take credit for stuff they didn’t do and they seem to remember that positive results they stumbled into were things they planned. Relying on those sources without questioning them will lead to false positives. But when bringing together so many stories, checking them all out would be a lot to ask.
The book’s great accomplishment is to highlight the policies of the Koch administration that laid the groundwork for New York’s revitalization (particularly in housing and public space) that continues through today, and the cadre of smart, effective professionals that Koch attracted to government the like of which has not been seen since (unfortunately). My personal recollection of third term Ed Koch was of a bullying narcissist. As the New York Times recently reported on at length, Koch remained in the closest during the AIDs crisis and actively worked to cover his personal tracks. Koch also deployed racially inflammatory rhetoric, amping up the city’s most debilitating division. To put it mildly, he consciously failed to attempt to understand, and even dismissed, the concerns of New York City’s large Black community. But, at the end of the day that didn’t drive Koch Administration policy, which, using clever financing mechanisms, built tens of thousands of new affordable housing units (which over decades ultimately became hundreds of thousands), transforming the city’s most neglected, abandoned and disinvested neighborhoods into desirable places. And speaking of places, Parks Commissioner Gordon Davis thought up the idea of private non-profit entities to secure resources for and improve the management of parks – leading to the restoration of Central, Bryant (in which I was directly involved) and Prospect Parks. I am convinced that those two programs, in housing and parks, were the key elements that changed the perception of cities and sparked the return to urban centers across the country – a force so powerful that it has continued through 9/11, the financial turbulence of 2008, hurricane Sandy and the COVID-19 pandemic.
Dyja’s writing about 9/11 is particularly beautiful; capturing the moment perfectly. He avoids the solipsism and self pity that infects so many other attempts to describe that horrific day. It was a primary election day, on which I was working the polls for mayoral candidate Mark Green in the northeast Bronx. I ended up in a four hour walk to the Upper West Side, with a non-functional transit system, limited information and an inability to get through to home on the phone. All along the walk home I had a view of smoke rising from lower Manhattan as I moved south. When I got home and turned on the television, the video of the time between the planes’ flying into the buildings and their collapse was the worst thing I have experienced before or since. Dyja bravely and frankly identifies the forces that made the return to normal at the former World Trade Center site impossible and that have left us with a permanent, disheartening gash in New York’s side (which will never be remedied), and a collection of inhumanely scaled towers.
It was interesting to read of the yin and yang during the Bloomberg Administration of Amanda Burden and Dan Doctoroff, which I didn’t understand at the time, while I was toiling ten miles away from City Hall in the neighborhood development fields of Jamaica, Queens: Burden having worked for William H. (Holly) Whyte, the advocate for small scale urbanism and close observation, and Doctoroff being the purveyor of grand plans (like the failed New York Olympics) and big ideas (like the failed Hudson Yards). The bastard child of this dynamic is the hugely popular tourist attraction of the High Line, which isn’t really a successful public space (because it is mostly a place to walk through, rather than linger in) but has been a powerful engine for real estate development along its flanks, and a model for similar projects across the country.
There is a lot in the book about the commercial worlds of hip hop and the art market, which may be useful scene setting – but about which I, personally, don’t very much care and think aren’t particularly culturally important. The New York of the late 1970’s and early-to-mid 1980’s may have been one of urban decline, but it was also a uniquely yeasty and important era for high culture here – particularly in music and dance. To me, it would have been much better to use the work of people like Phillip Glass, Steve Reich, Trisha Brown and Twyla Tharp as the cultural yard stick against which to measure changes in the city over the period. The transformation of Carnegie Hall from an overheated place where paint chips fell from the ceiling on to your head during classical concerts to the glamourous outpost of European high culture fostered by Sandy Weill is a story worth telling. The book has no mention of other cultural innovators like Stephanie French. But, Dyja wrote his book, not mine.
On the homelessness front, Dyja only briefly quotes Rosanne Haggerty, my social entrepreneurial heroine, and instead relies on testimony from the crafty, sly fox of the unhoused, Bob Hayes. I would like to know more about the Haggerty’s departure from the path-breaking Common Ground and that organization’s transformation into Breaking Ground, now a central institution in what Haggerty calls the homeless/industrial complex. The current state of services for the homeless in New York is the result of bad data, misinformation and worse public policy, which Dyja doesn’t clearly explain.
Oddly, NY x 3, provides more detail and moves more slowly through the early Koch years and accelerates the narrative pace during DeBlasio Administration. It’s the opposite of how history is usually recounted – with the past receding and the present in the forefront. As a result, the beginning of the book is a rewarding slog, and the end of the book feels rushed and less detailed. There is a great deal about David Rockefeller (Chase) and Walter Wriston (Citi), but nothing about Jamie Dimon (Chase) and Dick Parsons (Citi) (another one of my heroes). That, notwithstanding, Dyja provides the most telling analysis of the eight years of DeBlasio’s mayoralty of which I am aware; which is impressive, given that we’re it is only months behind us. While I was a middling official in City government during DeBlasio’s last four years, I wasn’t sure of what was hitting me. I was a believer in DeBlasio’s attempts to improve the situation of the city’s worst well off, but was mystified by the chaos, lack of direction and just plain bad decision making that seemed to be trickling down from above. Dyja sympathetically explains DeBlasio’s lack of managerial skills, diffidence and indecisiveness.
Typical of the kind of small inaccuracies that creep into daily journalism, I was counsel to all three BIDs. Taken by the Times at a City Council hearing in 1996.
The book made me long for the New York of my youth. Not because the era was more fun or interesting, but because City government during the 80’s effectively implemented policies that made a difference – and the Mayor and Deputy Mayors (like Ken Lipper, Nat Leventhal and John Zuccotti) backing up risked taking innovative managers like Gordon Davis at Parks and Paul Crotty at Housing. What we are now left with is a sclerotic, risk averse local government that is strangled by its outdated, dysfunctional personnel, legal and contracting procedures. What we have inherited is ineffectual public administration by press release. I was privileged to be a part of the private sector effectiveness of New York’s largest business improvement districts, which Dyja also focuses on (although, in a small detail that perhaps only matters to me, he glancingly misses why Rudy Giuliani had Dan Biederman and me fired from Grand Central Partnership). So, I don’t really have much to complain about on that score.
The book’s epigraph is a quote from the wonderful and underappreciated Whyte, whom I also knew and tremendously admired. Whyte was the father or godfather of Bryant Park. Perhaps Dyja’s recognition of Holly, whom he cites through out the book, and Richard Rein’s revelatory recent biography, will give Holly his day. As Deja makes clear, Holly Whyte has given us the tools to create create great urban places. I, for one, will ever be grateful to Dyja for his superhuman research and telling this story with so much elan and passion. I’m assigning New York, New York, New York to my children, who take a safe and vibrant New York City for granted, so that they can get something of a feel for what Dad was doing while they were growing up.
The week after the national election in France we walked from Cahors to Moissac in southeast France along the Way of St. James (the GR 65, Le Chemin de St. Jacques de Compostelle), a distance of about 80 kms (50 miles) over four days. The walk went from the department of the Lot to the department of the Tarn-et-Garonne. Cahors includes a beautifully preserved medieval district, and some very good places to eat. Moissac is famous for its 12th Century cloister with over 70 beautifully carved capitals and an imposing tympanum over the door to the abbey church. In between, we walked through handsome, rolling, agricultural countryside, planted in vines, fruit trees and grain. Along the way are the lovely towns of Montcuq and Lauzerte. The food was uniformly very good (of course). Both the built and natural environments are wonderful. The residential real estate is inexpensive (I would guestimate at around $150 per square foot, from my perusal of the listings in the windows of the real estate agent offices along the way). So, what’s the problem?
I write this, against the background of the ground war in Eastern Europe not 2,000 land miles away. As we walked, the war could have been on another planet. I did have a nagging concern about being vaporized without warning while on the pilgrimage. But it didn’t happen. And the peace of the French countryside was yet another thing about which to be grateful.
We walked from Cahors to Moissac as shown as the bottom half of the route above.
Before leaving for our trip, I followed the French national election in the New York Times. One read of a tremendous public personal dislike for the winner, Emmanuel Macron, a centrist, who leads a political party he founded for the purpose of advancing his career. His opponent in the final round of the election was Marie La Pen, the scion of the nationalist, anti-immigrant party, who he defeated handily, after a great deal of advance media hand ringing. The traditional Socialist and Christian Democratic parties are no longer factors. Perhaps the most powerful political vector in France of recent years was the mouvement des gilets jaunes, the yellow vests – catalyzed by an increase in gas prices four years ago (and, of course, they hadn’t seen anything yet, with even higher fuel prices yet to come as Russian gas gets turned off). The yellow vests had a list of grievances familiar to Americans – rising prices, resistance to perceived cultural changes, particularly thought to be due to immigration, anger at a powerful political and cultural elite seemingly out of touch and disdainful of “ordinary” French citizens, and a sense of declining economic fortunes.
Personally, Macron is a clear winner in the French national meritocratic sweepstakes. He a graduate of elite schools. He worked in international investment banking. His economic/technocratic strength is that he gets what that institutional restraints are on future French economic growth and has tried to reform them – sclerotic labor and pension systems in particular. Changing those expensive, inflexible systems certainly gores the ox of the non-elite, rural French family – in the name of long-run economic dynamism. Most recently he proposed raising the national retirement age to 65 from 62. Quelle horreur!
The one thing we heard from people we talked with in La France Profonde (the French heartland), in the person mostly of hotel, restaurant and business operators (the people with whom a tourist would tend to come into contact) was the difficulty in getting people to work for them. One hotel-restaurant we ate at and stayed in converted to take out only, because of the difficulty the owners found in keeping service and kitchen staff. We were told that employees tended to be cavalier about attendance, wanted to set their own hours and often quit without notice when the spirit moved them.
Moissac, the destination of the walk (population 13,000), struck me as a somewhat gritty little town, with a larger immigrant population than any of the places through which we had previously walked. On a Sunday and Monday of the weekend of May 1 (the French labor day), the town had only one open place to eat. Because of the Abbey and Cloister, it is a major stop on the Way of Saint James, so quite a few walkers come through the town. It didn’t have much charm, although the riverfront and canal du midi are nice features.
This is in contrast with Lauzerte, only 23 km (17 miles) away; a very attractive, highly manicured medieval hilltop village – advertised as one of the fifty most beautiful villages in France (pop. 1,500). There were fancy renovations going on throughout the town. The well-maintained facades were nearly uniformly medieval and renaissance. The retail district lay outside and below the historic district, which was located on the top of a hill. From peering through gates and looking at photos in real estate offices (with English names), the houses seemed to be stylishly decorated and to be either second or retirement homes. Montcuq (pop 1,200), about 13 km (8 miles) from Lauzerte, was another well maintained hilltop village, which we found to be more authentic – with cafes, bakeries and butcher shops actually in the town. It also had a very charming English language bookstore (https://www.livresbooksandcompany.com) and a tall 13th century keep. Both appeared to be great places and superb towns in which to live.
So, what’s the problem? Why so cranky? I would argue that the French have it pretty good! And, it’s important to point out, immigration is essential to the French labor market and economy – because the French have a birthrate of 1.87, against a generally acknowledged replacement rate of 2.1. Part of the it may be the discontent caused by the increasing wage and wealth inequality of the West, amplified by the media ubiquity of the wealthy and their stuff. You see these other people with their private planes and yachts and wonder why they have them and you don’t. This is especially obvious in France, the very home of luxury goods. Two of the highest profile billionaires in France are François-Henri Pinault and Bernard Arnault (the third wealthiest person in the world and the wealthiest in Euope), both of whom are highly visible in French media and derive their wealth from the sale of luxury goods.
Also, contributing the dissatisfaction is sense of loss of traditional French culture, generated by media about both immigration and the growing distance between a perceived, internationalist cultural elite, exemplified by Macron, Pinault and Arnault. But as an American spending time outside of Paris, that perception seems exaggerated. What’s great about provincial France (and I use that term without the intent of any pejorative connotation), is its cultural uniqueness expressed through food, wine, language and the built environment. Walking the GR 65 (part of a system of walking paths through France called Les Grandes Randonnée [the great routes]) gives the pilgrim a deep sense of history, and particularly religion and spirituality. It comes simply from being in the space. The feelings are inchoate, but powerful. I would advise the French not to worry. Their cultural “brand” is secure, unique and important (as well as marketable). An outsider does not perceive its being diluted.
In sum, from a ten-day visit by a tourist, the French seem to have it pretty good, and they should (like our fellow similarly aggrieved Americans) stop whining. This is true particularly in light of what’s going on in Ukraine. Now, no one likes to be called a whiner and being a card-carrying member of the international elite, advice from such as me to the French working class is sure to be unwelcome, to say the least. But we need to figure out the messaging as to how to make the culturally discontented feel more positive about their lot. This is worth a great deal more thought. I suspect it has something to do with asking people how they are doing, right at this moment, as opposed to about abstract problems other people might seem to have, or hypothetical problems off into the future. I’d be interested to ask a member of the yellow vests: “How is your life. How are your food, housing, health care? What do you enjoy on television and the internet? What else do you do in your spare time?”
Two other brief notes. Things also seemed pretty great in Paris. I saw very few empty retail storefronts. The streets were clean. The presence of the clochards (homeless) was minimal, and non-existent in the crowded Metro. Lots of young people are riding bikes and scooters in the protected bike lanes built by the much loathed Mayor Anne Hidalgo (who is said to be more popular in New York than in Paris) all over central Paris. The city was hopping in many places at night, with kids jamming bars and restaurants. I particularly enjoyed seeing a diverse group of a couple of dozen young people who had set up a speaker in a plaza in a commercial area on the right bank to dance (traditional social dancing, at that) very late at night. We ate in a new restaurant run by the famous Bras family in former stock exchange building restored and developed by Pinault. Our visit to the Louvre was marred by the lines and crowds on entering and leaving the building and in the Italian Renaissance galleries (thank you brother Leonardo). Paris generally struck me as clean, safe, vibrant and fun. And, in the past, I have generally not been a fan of the place, preferring the French countryside.
I would be remiss in not highlighting the night we spent in Le Clos de Gamel, in Lascabanes slightly off of the Chemin. We ended up there because we split one of the usual walking days set by our excellent travel agent (https://followthecamino.com/en/), in order to attempt to keep each day’s walking to less than 25km, and they had to find a place between their usual accomodations – particularly challenging as we made our arrangements late in the season. They found Le Clos de Gamel, which is the family farm of David and Christelle Bernadou, to which they have added over the years. It has accommodations in several buildings and features a pool and hot tub – much appreciated after a long day of walking – and not a regular feature of places to stay along The Way. The Bernadous were gracious hosts, served us a wonderful house-made aperitive and red wine (from their vineyard) – along with a delicious dinner. It was quite a find, and is much recommended – even as a destination in itself, for those not traveling on the Chemin.
Gustuvo Dudamel has never done much for me. I’m actually more a fan of his avatar played by Gael García Bernal in the TV series “Mozart in the Jungle” (which, admittedly takes place in NYC). I’ve also long thought that the Los Angeles Philharmonic is at best a second rate band, which is remarkable because it’s recent conductors have included top shelfers Simon Rattle and Esa-Pekka Salonen (not to mention the storied Carlo Maria Guilini in the more distant past) and its managers have been industry legends Ernest Fleischman and Deborah Borda. Why are those people so well-recognized when the orchestra has never been better than pedestrian?
We were in LA for Du Yun’s “Our Daughter’s Eyes” presented at REDCAT by Beth Morrison Projects and the LA Opera. We also took in Fidelio at the Philharmonic while we were there. I will tread lightly about the LA Phil, as the house professional critic has written about both for the Wall Street Journal. It was also interesting to be in Disney Hall after recently experiencing its acoustic doppelganger in Kansas City. While we were settling in to seats about three quarters of the way back in the hall, the bassoonist was warming up on stage and sounded like he was sitting in our laps. But once the performance started it seemed really far away. Not that the orchestra offers much to hear. The strings of the LA Phil can be accurately described as scrappy for a supposedly world class band, and the ensemble was almost disorganized. Maybe because of Gustavo’s jetting around (he’s also the cappo di cappo at the Paris Opera) rehearsal time may have at a premium for a complicated production, but that seems unlikely given the show’s high profile.
This photo of Maestro Dudamel appears several stories high on the facade of Disney Hall.
The New York critical fraternity spent a good deal of time this spring panting for Dudamel to replace the unsuccessful Jaap van Zweden at the New York Philharmonic after van Sweden’s contract comes to an ignominious close next year. Dudamel spent two weeks with the NY orchestra in March playing Schumann, and the New York press went into a frenzy. OK, the guy has terrific hair, a gleaming smile and an interesting life story. But, to these ears, he just isn’t that interesting a musician. In any event, my money is on the exciting Finn, Susanna Mälkki taking the reins at the NYP (you read it here first).
The show’s raison d’être was the involvement of deaf actors doubling the singers and the involvement of a signing chorus from Dudamel’s home of Venezuela. The musical aspects of the evening were disappointing from top to bottom, except for the fine performance of Ryan Speedo Green, who this year has become the Met’s reliable all round utility bass. Dudamel pushed the band to break-neck speed, at which they were incapable of playing beautifully. Once upon a time, the LA Phil was known as an outstanding group of LA studio musicians, moonlighting as classical players. Now, as a full-time orchestra with a 52 week contract, they aren’t even that. I’d rather watch reruns of MITJ.
I would be remiss not to crab about how Disney Hall doesn’t relate to the street and is anti-urban. I will also please my readers by avoiding the opportunity to once again crab about Pershing Square which continues to suck.
But here is the headline – Downtown LA has become almost walkable over the course of the pandemic. Across the street from the loathed (by me) Disney Hall, Gehry has designed a nearly completed massive mixed-use development (1.2 million sq ft, 500 apartments, 20% affordable) that DOES relate well to the street and is massed in a fascinating manner that breaks up its bulk. The building is broken up into two towers of offsetting rectangular forms that humanize it’s scale. It’s mixed uses, including a good deal of street level retail, should seriously animate that stretch of Grand. A hearty bravo to Mr. Greenburg and his patrons at Related. There is lots of other residential development activity that has been recently completed within walking distance.
I chose not to rent a car for the first time in a trip to La La Land. We took Ubers from Manhattan Beach to Downtown, as well as round trip to The Getty Center from our downtown hotel. All three trips were shit shows. I just can’t understand how Angelenos can put up with it. The trip back from Malibu to DTLA was almost two hours. The Getty Center is magnificent – and its public spaces are uplifting (which is surprising given the extensive use of hardscape. Water features and movable chairs and table soften the experience. The special exhibit of Poussin we visited was lavishly presented. While it goes without saying, it is good to have unlimited money.). But how am I ever going to go there again unless I sleep over or take a helicopter.
The rest of the visit we walked around downtown. We breakfasted at Grand Central Market and walked along Broadway in historic DTLA. Broadway has made only some progress since the onset of the pandemic. It’s still more than a little rough around the edges. Yes, there is considerable loft conversion, and lots of interesting architecture. The many former movie palaces convey a sense of what tinsel town once was. However, there are still many, many empty, or underutilized, poorly maintained architecturally significant structures. The potential is tremendous.
By contrast, the Arts District near downtown appears to be a happening place (who knew that LA had an arts district?). The neighborhood is small, and the amount of adaptive reuse is patchy, but apartments are being developed there and there are some cool other uses. We had an excellent meal at a rooftop restaurant, with a rather obscurely marked door at street level. The place (La Cha Cha Cha) was large, entirely outdoors, comfortable and landscaped with cacti. Next door was a club ominously named Death & Co. that we were assured was super cool and had great drinks. The neighborhood was walking distance from downtown.
I should note that, yes, downtown Los Angeles has a noticeable homeless population, like many other American cities. There are interesting signs around downtown designating special enforcement zones, prohibiting camping and sleeping on the sidewalk. I can’t say the issue appears to be worse than other big U.S. cities or that we ever felt overwhelmed or unsafe. I suppose this has become something of the new urban normal. But by no means did we feel that DTLA was apocalyptic or a set for a new installment of Bladerunner (as I have argued elsewhere, this is a problem that is not principally about housing and is solvable if the political will and data driven social services can be mustered).
A view down Grand Avenue. The Broad is on the left.
Downtown is brimming with newly built and converted residential developments. The streets still aren’t very active, but the plazas at 1 and 2 Cal have water features, retail, movable chairs and tables and lots of potential. Grand Avenue now has an attractive string of cultural institutions (including Disney Hall, the newish Broad Museum, the Museum of Contemporary Art and the expanding Colburn School facilities), even if nobody appears to much walk between them. You can have a pleasant walk from the towers of Bunker Hill through the Civic Center, El Pueblo de Los Angeles, Little Tokyo through China Town. On my first trip to LA in about 1976, Olvera Street in the Pueblo was regarded as a tourist trap. Today it is rather charming. We had lunch at El Paseo (which has been there for decades) and the other diners were wearing Dodger regalia and appeared not to be tourists but locals pre-gaming (it was opening day, albeit not for five hours).
A note to Christopher Hawthorne, LA’s Chief Design Officer (and the Time’s former architecture critic): how about paying some attention to the landscaping in the area around City Hall? There are decrepit planters and garden beds among the brutalist 60’s municipal buildings. The plazas are strewn with trash and poorly maintained. I’m sure the Mayor, being a serious Angeleno, never gets out of his car when going between municipal structures, but if LA is serious about design, it really ought to start with its front yard.
Notwithstanding the foregoing, as we lawyers say, DTLA is actually getting to be walkable. Who have thunk it. Joel Kotkin must be shocked. Between the cultural institutions, the street level retail, the varied neighborhood offerings and the improved landscaping, someone might actually live downtown and rarely need access to their car (which, under the circumstances, would be advantageous). Grand Avenue is a happening place. And you can go hear Gustavo Dudamel conduct the LA Philharmonic as often as you want – which is fine with me.
Musical Group on a Balcony. Gerritt van Honthorst. 1622. The Getty Center. A theorbo and two lutes.
After parking my car at the Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts and leaving the elevator from the garage to go to Helzberg Hall to hear the Kansas City Symphony, I noticed something that I found odd. The outdoor temperature was in the mid 40’s and yet none of the men going to the concert were wearing overcoats. How could that be? It was cold. I was wearing a coat, a hat, a scarf and gloves. At intermission it dawned on me – people went from the garages in their homes in the suburbs, into their cars, to the garage at the Kauffman Center and up into the concert hall via escalator. Why would they need a coat? They never went outside to get from home to the concert. It was all very comfortably and conveniently arranged. This, in nutshell was my experience in Kansas City, Missouri.
An entrance to an office building parking garage. Note the roll down gate, which rolls up when you put your ticket in the gate.
Kansas City defied my expectations of what successful cities are supposed to be all about. The city seems to work for most of its citizens. The downtown, while dense, has no street life. The downtown’s public spaces were deserted when I visited. There is hardly any street level retail downtown. And yet, the city, the largest in the state, has consistently grown over the years to a population of 500,000, its highest ever; in a metro of about 2.3 million. It is the country’s 31st largest city andits 26th largest metro. It has a symphony, an opera company, a ballet, a notably well funded public library and an important art museum (the Nelson-Atkins). Unlike most other successful cities, it does not have an important university or medical center. Notwithstanding its representation in the U.S. Senate by the loathsome anti-government, Joshua Hawley, its largest employer is the Federal Government. It’s the home of Hallmark, Commerce Bank, and T-Mobile is a major employer.
It isn’t the way an Upper West Sider would choose to live, but it appears to be very pleasant. Certainly, it is tough to make an argument that waiting for a subway, crowding into a train car and being hustled for money by someone on every ride from my apartment to Lincoln Center is a superior way of life. What’s wrong with living comfortably, prosperously and conveniently? (The Helzberg family, after whom the hall is named, by the way, sold their regional jewelry store chain twenty years ago to Berkshire Hathaway in an all stock transaction. That tells you what you need to know about the hall’s name. Mr. and Mrs. Helzberg were at the concert I attended, and I am pleased to report that they are hale and hardy.)
A typical Country Club Plaza block.
Before my first visit, I knew very little about the city. What I did know was that it is the home of Country Club Plaza, built by the legendary J.C. Nichols and considered to be, perhaps, the most visionary real estate development project in American history. Country Club Plaza is an open air shopping mall, allegedly designed in the Moorish Revival style covering 55 acres and completed in 1923. Country Club Plaza is whimsical in design and high end in its retail offerings. While it is sort of walkable, it has copious free structured parking, wide streets (more like boulevards) and narrow sidewalks. It is echt Kansas City – in that it is a shopping experience not in the downtown, designed to be driven to. The architecture and landscaping (with many fountains) is however completely entertaining. Unfortunately, COVID has had a seriously deleterious impact on its retail leasing. It appeared to me about 15% of the storefronts were vacant. I was told that the stores that closed were the international high end brands. The stores that remain are familiar national high middle market chains.
Downtown Kansas City has dozens of blocks of office towers, ranging from art deco to glass and steel. There are block after block of high rise buildings, with little to no street level retail. It was not clear to me where office workers grab lunch. Whatever single story or less than, say, ten story structures ever existed in downtown were demolished long ago. The most high end suburbs are about a half hour drive from downtown. It appears that the city’s commercial center was designed to be driven to. You park in a garage, most conveniently in the office building in which you work, you spend your day toiling in that building, and you drive home at the end of the day.
From 2007 to 2017, downtown residential population in Kansas City quadrupled and continues to grow. The area has grown from almost 4,000 residents in the early 2000s to nearly 30,000 as of 2017. A significant number of office towers of all vintages are empty (including, unlike in most other cities, some post war buildings) and are being converted to residential lofts. There is strong demand for downtown living – even without much street life, downtown restaurants or shopping. The appeal must be large, light spaces with views, and not having to worry about shoveling the snow or fixing the roof.
Main Street, which traverses the downtown, has a futuristic looking streetcar, which I didn’t see many people riding. Main Street had almost no pedestrian activity on the early spring day of my trip. I visited two large downtown public spaces, one in the civic center and the other across the street from the convention center. Both were unprogrammed and entirely devoid of people. The civic center lawn featured rows of movable chairs (perhaps for an event). It is the only occasion on which I have been in a space with movable chairs with no one sitting in them. The convention center space was entirely comprised of concrete surfaces, with some very stern signs about behavior at the entrances. It was March. It was cold. But still, no people? Not one?
The Kansas City Convention Center
Same deal with other urban functions. The city has a humongous convention center, a number of downtown theaters, as well as the ten year old, Moshe Safdie designed, Kauffman Center. All of these amenities were designed to be driven to. At the Kauffman Center, I couldn’t find a major entrance to the street. Everyone appeared to enter and exit though the garage. The lobby faces a more than triple height wall of windows with an expansive view south (not of the downtown). When you look immediately down out of those windows, you see a line of parked, high end vehicles. There is no relationship between the Center and the street, and Kansas City residents seem to like it that way.
The Kansas City Symphony pays its players for 42 weeks of service and has a budget of almost $20 million. It is in solid financial shape, with a substantial endowment, and generous annual giving (about 40% of total revenue). It plays fourteen pairs of classical concerts a year, with the balance of its season made up of pops concerts and pit band duty for the ballet and opera. Its music director for 18 years has been the avuncular Harvard and Curtis educated Michael Stern, son of legendary violinist and man of the world (and Upper West Side resident), Isaac Stern. The orchestra plays in a 1,600 seat hall with “vineyard seating,” much like Disney Hall in Los Angeles, and, indeed, shared Disney’s acoustician. The stage juts out into the auditorium, and the seats are steeply raked – from the front of the stage to the back of the hall is apparently less than 100 feet. The audience member certainly feels like he or she is in on the action. The sound of the orchestra in the space is forward and bright – not necessarily ideal for this group of talented and rambunctious young players. The program I heard included This Midnight Hour by British composer Anna Clyne as well as two crowd pleasers, Debussy’s La Mer and the Brahms Violin Concerto, with Midori as soloist.
Music director Stern projects the affect of a regular guy. To my effete eye, his jacket and trousers didn’t match, and the jacket most obviously didn’t fit properly. Some (many) might find that endearing. He also wore a yellow tie and started the concert with a few appropriate words and the Ukrainian national Anthem. The Clyne piece was an atmospheric curtain raiser based on two poems, by Juan Ramón Jiménez and Charles Baudelaire, which were printed in the program. The most effective moment of the work featured two mournful antiphonal trumpets on either side of the stage. Stern conducted the Debussy from an obviously well-used study score, with yellowed-brittle pages, some of them ragged. This is one of the most difficult pieces in the orchestral repertoire to get right. There are temptations galore for the brass (particularly trombone and tuba) to go for the gold, which are best avoided. The piece depicts the restless churning of ocean water and the constant rhythm of surf, with an overlay of a broad range of orchestral colors. It demands restraint and subtlety, as I heard last fall in San Francisco under Esa-Pekka Salonen. The KCS caught the bright colors and pounding rhythms (but, as Richard Strauss once said, “Schauen Sie sich niemals die Posaunen an, es ermutigt sie nur”).
I haven’t heard Midori play in decades. She has long been one of the most popular and acclaimed artists in the classical music world, and while there were surprisingly quite a few empty seats in Helzberg Hall (given the soloist’s popularity and celebrity), Midori delivered. This is one of the two or three most played violin concertos, and Midori must have been called on to perform it in public hundreds of times during her career – but her performance was fresh, committed and perfectly beautiful – in the best sense. The more classical sized orchestra (read: no trombones) provided a supportive accompaniment. The concert was enjoyable experience.
The orchestra must be something of a way station for orchestral musicians on the way up, as a number of the principal chairs were open, and most of its members appeared to be early in their careers. The concertmistress was a visitor from Dallas, trying out for the position. That the country’s 31st largest city sports an orchestra of this quality, speaks (generally unspoken) volumes about classical music and culture in this country. I would guess that the Staatskapelle Halle (founded in 1852) in Halle, Germany (it’s 31st largest largest city), doesn’t play nearly at this level.
There was one black player in the orchestra, and I only noticed one black attendee at the concert. The city is 30 percent black and 10 percent Hispanic. I had a very nice chat with the black woman who runs the city’s visitor’s center, who was upbeat about issues of diversity in the metro. I was, therefore, unable to get a sense of the reality of life for people of color and lower income folks in Kansas City, so my observations are presented with that caveat.
The place where I tried Kansas City BBQ in Country Club Plaza (which was recommended to me by the staff at the terrific nearby Raphael Hotel) wasn’t quite up to the standard of the BBQ at St. Louis’ Pappy’s. I found the pork and beef tips dry (I did think the potato salad was outstanding). But Pappy’s, in my book, is the ne plus ultra of BBQ.
I drew from my trip a broad lesson about the divisions in our national politics. [Missouri is a red state, while Kansas City, like St. Louis, is something of a blue stronghold within that conservative culture. Interestingly, the folks who live on the Kansas side of the state border within the metro, I was told, tend to be even more liberal and Democratic than the rest of the area. That border isn’t one of the two large rivers (Missouri and Kansas Rivers) that runs through the region. I couldn’t figure out where it was.]. Many Americans like to drive. They like houses with yards. They prefer a short commute. They like to shop and eat at national chains (most Americans don’t remember what a crap shoot eating on the road was before the standardization of chains. I remember some pretty terrible food when traveling as a kid. Howard Johnson’s was a reliable oasis.), and to have convenient parking for their shopping (as for their working). It is unsurprising if they feel judged and treated disrespectfully by those of us on the coasts (all three of them), who think cities should be walkable, people should ride bikes and take transit, and that restaurants should be local and vegan. [And alienating, grandiose, high volume lectures about the imminent threat of climate change caused by a car-based life style don’t win any friends or influence any people, no matter how urgent and important the issue may be.] Kansas City works – and while it doesn’t feature most of my personal touchstones for a successful downtown – it would be outrageous for me to be judgmental or make recommendations for improvement based on my experiences, since many people there obviously enjoy how they have chosen to live and the city’s economy seems to be prospering. We coastal elites need to get with the program on that or we are going to be seeing a lot more of Ted Cruz and Josh Hawley, whose political success is drawn from channeling such resentment. And, next time I go to hear the KCS in March, I’m going to leave my coat in my hotel room.
It is a surprising thought, but the past has actually been very good to Pittsburgh, leaving it with both an excellent architectural and institutional infrastructure. The downtown, at the juncture of, and surrounded by, the Monongahela and Allegheny Rivers, is crammed with great examples of early skyscrapers, art deco office buildings and even distinctive 1980’s glass and steel towers. On a recent very cold mid-winter weekday afternoon there was a fair amount of pedestrian activity in the downtown – and a few dozen hearty skaters taking advantage of the rink in PPG Place (Johnson/Burgee, 1984). Pittsburgh, with a current population of about 300,000, has the amenities of a much larger city, with two large universities and the center of a huge regional health care system (metro population of 2,400,000, 20th in size in the U.S.). At its maximum, the city’s population was almost 700,000, the 12th largest in the US. Today it is the 66th largest). The legacies of the Frick, Heinz, Mellon and Carnegie fortunes, in terms of both private philanthropy and cultural institutions are evident. The Carnegie Art and Natural History Museum has important collections, and the Symphony is one of the country’s historic important orchestras (although never considered one of the “Big Five”).
One of the things that appears to make Pittsburgh’s success as a city is a relatively unified and enlightened civic leadership. Of course, a “power elite” can be an opaque and anti-democratic force, exclusive of historically disempowered communities. Pittsburgh’s population is over 20% African American, and its black community has been legendary for creating its own independent culture – importantly chronicled by one of America’s most gifted playwrights August Wilson. The Pittsburgh Courier was a Black newspaper of national significance, publishing from 1907 – 1966. That progressive elite leadership continues in the form of the The Pittsburgh Cultural Trust, which, among other things, is a major Downtown property owner. I note with pleasure that Don Carter, a Pittsburgh architect and urban planner, sits on the Trust’s board. Don is one of the most thoughtful and articulate people I know in the field. He is a tremendous resource for the city. Also to be noted, is that Richard Florida was a member of the community when he taught at Carnegie Mellon for eighteen years.
Walking around the downtown, even in subfreezing weather, is a pleasure – with its great store of architectural gems, quite a few of which have been, or are the process of being converted into residential structures. One loft conversion advertises in its windows that units are available in the “800s.” By any measure the downtown seems to be a success – even without major shopping offerings (the 1.2 million square foot former Kauffman’s department store closed in 2015 and looks to be largely empty). Downtown Pittsburgh has a “gap-toothed” quality and lacks a critical mass of street level activity. This is something that the Trust might focus on among its holdings on Penn Avenue, including a major undeveloped parcel at 8th, now used for parking.
By contrast, The Strip District, north of downtown, does have that critical mass of activity that has developed organically. At 10 PM on a Saturday night with temperatures in the teens, local bars were jammed, and parking lots were full. The Strip was historically the wholesale food market for the region. It continues to have a diverse array of food offerings, many of them of ethnic character. Former commercial buildings have been adaptively reused for both commercial and residential purposes. We had lunch in a second floor food court that included both beer and wine bars with wide selections. Residential developments were scattered among more commercial uses, with a feel something like Long Island City, without any high rise development. A good deal of the land is devoted to parking lots and garages. Even so, Penn and Liberty Avenue feel like they prioritize pedestrians. Downtown needs exactly more of that feel.
The cultural district to the south of The Strip has its own presence and potential – while not yet quite as active at street level. The Pittsburgh symphony plays in a former movie and vaudeville house in the cultural district, part of the downtown. The Heinz concert hall is surrounded by places to eat and drink. It seats about 2,700, with a very large mezzanine, feels huge and has a neutral acoustic. The performance I attended was about two thirds sold to a very engaged and enthusiastic audience, including a great many young people (although the only person of color I noticed was an orchestral flute player). Unfortunately, the orchestra’s press staff chose to seat me in the fifth row on the side, which was far to close to the orchestra given the size of the hall and the program for an optimal sonic experience. The ensemble is led by Austrian maestro Manfed Honeck, whose recordings with the PSO have been widely praised in the press.
The program began with a chestnut, The William Tell Overture (for those of a certain age, the source of the theme from The Lone Ranger) by Rossini and concluded with the Strauss showpiece, Ein Heldenleben. While the Tell Overture was once a pops staple, the opera itself is something of rarity, because despite some wonderful music and a dramatic story, it feels endless. The high ranging tenor part is also difficult to cast. In between, the Orchestra presented the world premier of a Concerto for two bassoons and two clarinets, by composer, Juilliard dean and Serkin family scion, David Ludwig. The lively, shortish concerto was a virtuosic showpiece for members of the of the orchestra and could become a popular curtain raiser for orchestras with players with the chops for the solo parts. The concerto is made up of eight short movements named for renaissance dances (familiar to lutenists. The balances between the more penetrating sound of the clarinets and the muted bassoons, were difficult to maintain, but the piece was skillfully composed for both soloists and orchestra and was clever and entirely entertaining. In remarks before the performance Ludwig noted that he had tried to write a joyful piece. He succeeded. Joy is right now at a premium and is certainly much appreciated. I also heard a new work by the Pittsburgh Opera, while I was in town, but that is not my department (Heidi’s review can be found here: https://wordpress.com/posts/andymanshel.nyc, The performance was at the Bitz Opera Factory, an adaptive reuse of a commercial structure in The Str. It is significant and worth noting that two local musical organizations presented the debut of new works in the same weekend (both by New York City based composers).
The Orchestra is the equal of any major American ensemble. All of the sections were equally strong, with no apparent weak links. Honeck left the setting of tempi and balances to rehearsals and focused his performance efforts on phrasing and articulation, which were clean and superlative. The Rossini was appropriately very fast in the prestissimo, beginning with a beautifully played cello solo, by associate principal David Premo (marked Andante). The required rush of blood was induced by the performance.
There is also a rather Alpine feel to Strauss’ Op. 40, which has one of my favorite Strauss themes in the horns (at marking 74 in the score), beautifully played by the Pittsburgh brass. Also extraordinarily beautifully played were the violin solos by guest concertmaster, soloist and chamber player, Daniel Chong (the concertmaster position in Pittsburgh is open). The orchestra’s of performance of Ein Heldenleben was balanced, controlled and splendidly executed. It’s extraordinary that America has two great orchestras based within 130 miles of each other (the other being Cleveland), a legacy of the region’s mighty industrial past.
Pittsburgh has skillfully transformed itself from a metropolitan area of dying, environmentally degrading heavy industries (glass, coke, steel) to one of the country’s most livable metros. The legacy of those industrial giants has been leveraged to sustain major social and cultural institutions. The transition has been a great success. The city is now known for advanced manufacturing, healthcare, energy, financial and business services, and information technology. Legacy companies maintaining a presence in Pittsburgh include U.S. Steel, Alcoa, PPG, H.J. Heinz and BNY/Mellon.
The city needs to bring a little of the density of activity of the Strip District to the downtown. Market square is a fine example. It is adjacent to PPG Place but doesn’t relate to it well. On a cold winter day, while the skaters animated PPG Place; Market Square, with a number of active restaurants facing it, seemed deserted. There is a market and a night market in the square from May through October. Perhaps the season for the markets, particularly for the night market need to be extended. The square ought to have movable chairs and tables – yes, even in the winter. Similarly, Mellon square has been completely abandoned for the winter months – being roped off (although it sports a few desultory chairs). The local Conservancy has posted a sign saying it has thrown in the towel on keeping the space safe to use in the off-season. As I’ve noted in the past, I’m wary of flying into town for an overnight trip and making judgements on local decisions, but in my book closing off a major downtown public space is a bad business. My thought is that the resources ought to be found to program and maintain Mellon Square year-round.
I also noticed a number of interesting lighting features around the cultural district. Here is another example of why critical mass is so important. On their own they have very little impact. A more extensive program of light features that are within view of each other can make an important contribution to animating public space during the long, dark periods of winter. There need to be more of them!
Also remarkable are the narrow streets, like Fourth Avenue, with a wonderful array of architecturally significant structures, many converted or in the process of being converted to housing. Those structures, built as headquarters for financial institutions, were not designed to host first floor retail activity, so, much like the office canyons of Downtown Manhattan, they will be problematic to animate. This presents a issue for the perception of safety and quality of life downtown.
Similarly, while there are many beautiful and interesting buildings downtown, there are also a great many generic taxpayers, with either empty or obsolete retail uses. This, perhaps, is where the Cultural Trust can play a major role in continuing to build a critical mass of lively ground floor uses in the cultural district, like Vine Street down the river in Cincinnati, which then might spread more widely around downtown. Frankly, downtown needs more to attract more shoppers. The street level Phillip Injeian Violin shop is the kind of funky use that needs encouragement to flourish. Even with its two dozen or so modern office towers scattered throughout the downtown (notably, the US Steel Tower [Harrison, Abramowitz, 1988]) Pittsburgh has the potential for a truly twenty-four-hour mixed-use downtown. Those towers, while breaking up the continuity of the street wall, provide a density of potential shoppers, eaters and drinkers that could be essential to retail success.
Pittsburgh’s evolution, taking advantage of the wave of urban revitalization of the last two decades is gratifying. It has built on its legacy institutions to compensate for the loss of manufacturing jobs, to become a 21st century city. It is a great American success story that needs to be more widely recognized in a time when the public sphere is dominated by news of failure, decline and self-recrimination. My contention is that the U.S. doesn’t have a housing “crisis.” It needs more great places – and Pittsburgh is shining example of what that looks like. As recognized by composer Ludwig, we need more joy, and Pittsburgh, like its symphony, delivers it. The beauty part is that there is room for Pittsburgh to grow (its metro once had 400,000 more residents) and continue to expand its appeal.
American Urbanist: How William H. Whyte’s Unconventional Wisdom Reshaped Public Life, Richard K. Rein, Island Press, 2022.
Richard K. Rein has written a much needed, well researched, beautifully composed biography of William H. Whyte. That, I hope is a clear, declarative sentence of the sort which Rein tells us Whyte would have encouraged and approved. Rein not only skillfully relates the story of an important, if much neglected, thinker on a wide range of social phenomenon, but also puts in the hard journalistic work of drawing together the many seemingly disparate strands of his life’s varied work to highlight its significance. Of course, Whyte was the mastermind of the revitalization of Bryant Park and the careful observer of human behavior in public spaces. But he did so much else. He was the author of one of the most influential books of the 1950’s in the U.S., The Organizational Man, which described the social forces within the new, post-war, highly successful American corporations (and other large institutions) then dominating life in the West. Whyte, according to Rein, created the vehicle of the conservation easement, a key tool in preserving not just open space, but also structures of historic and architectural significance. He enlisted in the Marines, saw action at Guadalcanal and went on to do important strategic thinking for the military. He was influential in shaping the character of Fortune Magazine, an important cultural force in America in the 1940’s and fifties. And, perhaps, most unrecognized, Whyte encouraged and published the work of Jane Jacobs who, while acknowledging Whyte’s contribution to her work, thinking, writing and career, obscured recognition of Whyte’s major cultural, social and political impact.
Whyte worked quietly. He rejected being the leader of any kind of movement. His work was based on careful observation of social phenomenon, notably using time-lapsed photography in his research in seeking out patterns of human behavior in public spaces. Also key to his technique was listening. He placed a high value on encouraging and heeding what citizens contribute to public decision-making processes about local issues. He was, unusually, a highly disruptive thinker, without being a disruptive person. He was culturally part of New York’s establishment – a denizen of the prestigious and exclusive Century Association on West 43rd Street for fifty years. He was supported by Rockefeller related organizations and Laurence Rockefeller personally for decades. Fortune Magazine was a bedrock institution of the mid-20th Century American corporate establishment. But in his good humored, wry way, he didn’t hold back. He shared with the world the conclusions he drew from the data he reviewed, even if they seemed incredible and at odds with the prevailing conventional wisdom. His work from the 40’s on was about making social institutions more effective by challenging their first principles, without threatening their powerful principals. His insights were usually spot on, and not just intelligent – but useful. His personal example, philosophy and modus operandi remain highly relevant and important, even more important, today. His self-abnegation, kindness, thoughtfulness and seriousness of purpose are exactly what our public realm needs more of.
Whyte came from the world of WASP privilege (St. Andrews School, Princeton University), enlisted to serve his country in combat and made major contributions to the American quality of life, particularly the return to the City of the 1990’s signified by the success of the reopening of Bryant Park. But, unfortunately, Whyte ended his life in semi-obscurity and not-so-genteel poverty. There seem to me to be two lessons from this arc. First, is the decline of WASP culture in America, and second the ascension of an American “meritocracy” that rewards aggression and attention seeking – qualities that WASP culture famously (and probably not actually entirely) rejected.[2] Rein, a Princetonian both by education and by current residence, gets this precisely right.
While a white, male Episcopalian, Whyte did not come from particularly great wealth. For years, according to Rein he was reliant on Rockefeller largess. He did not seem to desire fame or money – but did appear to enjoy operating at a high level – testifying before Congress, consulting with important government entities and writing in important publications. He, unlike Jane Jacobs, was not a rabble rouser. My sense is that Janites, who are particularly protective of the legacy of a woman whose professional accomplishments were remarkably ahead of her time, see recognition of Whyte as casting shade on Jacobs. It has also been in the particular professional interest of a number of strong-willed, skilled, self-promoting individuals who owed their success in large measure to Whyte’s ideas and support, to, while crediting Whyte for thought leadership, minimize his contributions to their own success. For example, Rein tells the story of how Whyte was excluded from the dais at the 1992 re-opening of Bryant Park, while Whyte’s work was absolutely the bedrock of that revitalized space’s extraordinary success. Rein sadly recounts how when Whyte’s health and finances were failing in the 90’s, unlike some others, he received little by way of financial benefit from that success. While the Rockefeller family provided him with philanthropic resources, given Rein’s recounting, it seems hard to describe that support as generous.
In addition, the simplicity and counter-intuitiveness of many of Whyte’s ideas (like the deployment of movable chairs in public spaces, to which the poo-bahs of Princeton University, according to Rein, continue not to get) make the essence of his thinking a difficult sell, particularly to the politically attuned. Urban planners and policymakers still see the implementation of Whyte’s ideas as risky, requiring the surrender of control, and subject to derision upon failure. While every major city seems to want a Bryant Park, few are willing to give themselves up to Whyte’s wisdom – of which Pershing Square in Los Angeles is a prime example.
Rein’s research is comprehensive and impressive. His journalism is impeccable. Whyte’s life history is recounted including many telling details. Rein, probably wisely, doesn’t attempt to sort out the current state of affairs among Whyte’s acolytes and evangelists. The complete history of the founding and recent changes at Project for Public Spaces remain to be fleshed out. Rein talks also about Whyte’s influence over the “New Urbanist” movement, which has, however, unfortunately focused for much of its history on greenfield development outside of major cities and has had little impact on improving historic downtowns. There is no getting around the fact that the public space improvements encouraged by Whyte’s ideas lead to what many now characterize negatively as gentrification, making people pointed to by Rein in the book as keepers of the Whyte flame, including at Project for Public Spaces, uncomfortable with Whyte’s legacy (and happier with citing Jacobs as an influence). The current situation of Whyte’s immediate legacy is unfortunately complicated by competing egos and personal agendas, which is ironic, but perhaps unsurprising, given Whyte’s personal modesty and soft-spoken manner.
As Rein makes clear, the power of Whyte’s ideas may ultimately prevail. Richard Florida, perhaps the most influential urbanist of our time, has begun to say that he recognizes that no writer and thinker in urbanism has had more influence over his work than Whyte. Whyte’s message of the importance of maintaining an open mind, listening to community members and the value of disruptive thinking based on factual evidence presented with humility and a willingness to be found incorrect present a clear path forward to addressing the most important problems facing the U.S. and other Western democracies. The need for the toleration of risk taking, and even idiosyncrasy with organizations is, perhaps, Whyte’s most universal lesson[3]. Whyte’s was a quiet but imperative voice to which we would be well advised to listen, as Rein so persuasively makes clear.
[1] With apologies and thanks for swiping his title, to the late, great David Swensen.
[2] The novels of Centurion, Louis Auchincloss, describe this process in detail.
[3] Whyte, himself, was occasionally described as idiosyncratic – usually by establishment types.
When I returned to Cleveland this past week, after a five-year absence, I was optimistic that Public Square and its environs drawing on our recently acquired national collective knowledge of what works in downtown revitalization would have improved. Often when I visit a city, I feel a bit like a colonialist, parachuting into town for a few hours, and making judgements about how the downtown is doing and thinking and writing about it based on admittedly limited information. Cleveland for me is different. I first visited Northeastern Ohio in 1973, and spent four years near there attending college. I’ve been a regular visitor (several times a year) since. However, I haven’t visited since November 2016 when I served as a poll watcher in Lakewood, a close-in Cleveland suburb. I haven’t been able to get myself to return to where I spent a miserable evening at a bar in a Mexican restaurant watching the returns come in on the television.
In fact, my first blog posts were about Cleveland after a one week stay during the summer of 2016. (http://www.theplacemaster.com/2016/07/09/photos-from-clevelands-public-square/http://www.theplacemaster.com/2016/07/08/when-will-we-ever-learn/). I was distinctly unimpressed with the city’s then recent $50 million redesign of Public Square, the city’s most high profile public space. And since that time, the situation in Public Square has gotten … worse! My recent visit included downtown Cleveland, an orchestra concert, and the Mid-town area, where Euclid Avenue was once the site of magnificent homes (https://www.abebooks.com/Showplace-America-Clevelands-Euclid-Avenue-1850-1910/30406229480/bd), and had over the decades become an environment of empty lots, liquor stores and derelict structures.
Public Square Ice RinkJersey barriers in Public SquareMetal ramp to deal with access problems created by barriers
Public Square was nearly deserted on the day of my visit, which was sunny and cold. The space was minimally maintained, with the only visible activity being the hanging of some decorative lights on trees. A cheesy ice rink was being installed – surrounded by unsightly shipping containers. The food kiosk was reasonably busy, but the picnic tables outside of it were completely unused. Most appalling was that the space was littered with concrete – planters and jersey barriers – placed in the space for “security reasons.” Why in the world would you spend $50 million to “improve” a space and then install horrible, unsightly objects – even for the best of reasons? There were round green planters (with one scraggly tree planted in each) to keep cars from driving on the pathways, and huge white barriers blocking carefully designed curb cut ramps, intended to make the spaces more open and accessible. In fact, one of the dumbest public space “amenities” I’ve ever seen were the flimsy, poorly maintained metal ramps over the curbs, to make the spaces accessible, since the original ramps had been blocked off and were unusable to the mobility impaired. How can this have happened?
Unused tables in the shade outside of Public Square food kiosk
I also noticed, since this was a late autumn visit (as opposed to my earlier summer visit), that Terminal Tower, one of Cleveland’s iconic structures, blocked the winter sun from the space during much of the day. The food kiosk was placed directly in that shadow, and obscured the view of the tower from the Square. The Square was mostly dark and windy.
In order to improve the level of activity in the Square, as I argued five years ago, the Square needs to be more heavily programmed. It needs movable chairs, especially to enable users to catch whatever sunlight there is in pockets outside the shade. It needs more stuff for sale, particularly food, in order to generate activity. A market would be great. The existing kiosk needs to be more open. It’s single rest room looks like a war zone. Public Square needs a more visible maintenance and security presence. The horticulture needs to be better maintained and designed (it appears to have been designed for minimal maintenance – a bad idea, badly executed).
Rendering of planned Sherwin-Williams headquarters
There is clearly a bunch of old, discredited thinking going on in Cleveland regarding economic development and downtown revitalization. Cleveland’s civic leaders believe they have scored a win attracting plans for a newly constructed headquarters for Sherwin Williams on what are now parking lots adjacent to Public Square. This, in a city with almost three million square feet of available office space, much of which is in architecturally significant buildings. The planned development is a 36 story, one million square foot tower complex, with no ground level retail, set back from the street. While, yeah, this will bring some investment and jobs downtown, and it is better for the civic psyche than losing the company to somewhere else, the likely net improvement in the quality of the experience in downtown Cleveland is likely to be minimal. I thought architects and planners have learned not to do this kind of anti-urbanistic stuff. The building is likely to be surrounded by a dead plaza. And senior Sherwin-Williams executives are probably going to be driving from the suburbs into the complex’s garage, having lunch in the corporate dining room, and leaving for the suburbs at the end of the day. Having a development that activates the street level would be far preferable, especially at this key location adjacent to Public Square.
Downtown Cleveland was relatively free of pedestrians on my Friday visit. I had a difficult time finding a place open to eat lunch. The major pre-covid economic trend in the downtown was the conversion of historic office structures into luxury housing. There is now a large amount of product apparently ready to come on line and flood the market, so the continuation of that trend is likely to slow post-pandemic – and isn’t going to be sufficient to sop up the tremendous amount of empty commercial space in the downtown. One unusual thing about the Cleveland downtown is that it has so much empty office space above active retail space. My experience is that downtown is livelier at night than during the day, particularly when there is a ball game.
Cleveland Gallaria
Downtown Cleveland has amazing historic social resources – including its fabulously beautiful commercial arcades. It is frustrating that developers and civic leaders have been unable to capitalize on Cleveland’s many strengths. This is particularly true because at the other end of Euclid Avenue is one of the most important health care complexes in the world, the Cleveland Clinic at University Circle. Also at University Circle are Case Western Reserve University, one of the country’s great art museums, and Severance Hall, home of what is arguably the finest American orchestra, and at the same time, perhaps the most acoustically congenial space for orchestral music in the country.
The Cleveland Orchestra is a remarkable institution. It’s existence in Cleveland, a city without the plutocratic wealth that has become a major factor in gateway cities across the country, is remarkable. Orchestra patrons probably dig deeper into their pockets to support the orchestra than any cultural institution in any other city in the United States. The philanthropists supporting the Orchestra are in large measure professionals (doctors and attorneys), rather than people in finance or real estate.
The concert I attended was not what I had signed up for. Conductor, Semyon Bychkov, cancelled on relatively short notice, and was replaced by Thierry Fischer, music director of the São Paulo and Utah Symphonies. Tchaikovsky’s First Symphony and Dvorak’s “In Nature’s Realm,” were replaced with Messian’s “Les Offrandes oubliées” (The Forgotten Offerings) and the Mussorgsky/Ravel chestnut, “Pictures at an Exhibition.” The Ravel Piano Concerto with 21-year-old Israeli pianist, Tom Borrow, was the sole survivor. The loss of the Dvorak and Bychkov were regrettable, but the addition of the Messian piece, new to me, was a plus. While the orchestra sounded great, the concert was a disappointment.
Admission to the concert required proof of vaccination and ID and the hall was mostly full. The audience was wildly enthusiastic especially after the coloristic Mussorgsky. I was definitely the odd person out in my reaction. I was happy to hear the Messiaen, written in 1930 when he was 22. Messiaen is a favorite composer of mine, and his influence on composers in the late 20th and early 21st centuries, like Glass, Saariaho and Reich, is yet to be fully appreciated. Hearing an early work of this composer, revealed much about the development of Messiaen’s distinctive voice. The piece, unsurprisingly, draws much on Debussy, without the cragginess that later became part of Messiaen’s signature musical vocabulary. Drawing firmly on his deep Catholic spirituality, it made clear how the composer developed his unique world of sound. The orchestra’s performance, as it was throughout the evening, was warm and glowing – by contrast with the edgier, brighter sounds of the New York Philharmonic and San Francisco Symphony I had heard earlier in the season.
Borrow’s rendition of the Ravel was showy, speedy and virtuosic in the worst sense of the word. It was essentially empty. The fast tempi he set in the first and third movements prevented Ravel’s humor and savior faire from being reflected in the orchestra. Borrow, clearly technically gifted, needs to step back and take a deep breath, less he end up a Western Laing Laing.
The “Pictures,” a Ravel transcription of a Mussorgsky piano suite, suffered similarly from an impulse to highlight its bright colors and distinctive effects. Having recently heard the Met perform the composer’s Boris Godunov in his original orchestration (rather than the usual souped-up Rimsky-Korsakoff edition), I was primed to understand the significance of the widely held, but perhaps mistaken view, that Mussorgsky was something of an unschooled musical savant, whose work needed the domestication of the musically more lettered in order to be accepted in polite company. While the Orchestra’s sound was nothing short of glorious, certainly avoiding the vulgarity that Ravel’s technicolor meddling encourages, the performance was ultimately crowd pleasing and unsatisfying; certainly more French than Russian in spirit.
I particularly admired the dark passion of the string playing during the entire evening. It appeared to me that the violin and viola players worked to produce a full, rounded, less tense effect. Similarly, the winds never blared, and in the French manner produced a characteristically complex timbre. Unfortunately, Maestro Fischer, in both the Ravel offerings, went for the easy wins, failing to capitalize on this orchestra’s particular virtues. The orchestra remains a wonder, and a treasure for Cleveland. I need to go back soon to enjoy a more substantive program (this, BTW, was my fourth orchestra to hear this season, including the two mentioned above, and the Philadelphia (whose Shostakovich’s entertaining, witty piano concerto with Juja Wang, was, in stark positive contrast to Borrow’s humorless Ravel) earlier in the season.
Euclid Avenue view
I had high hopes for the positive redevelopment of Euclid Avenue, the link between downtown and University Circle, which must be an essential element of a revived Cleveland. Bus rapid transit infrastructure, called the Health Line, was installed in the mid-teens along the length of the Avenue – and in 2016 appeared to be catalyzing mixed-use, mixed income development, particularly at corners where it had station stops.
Health Line stop
Significant progress has been made in removing much of the decay along the avenue, and grassy lots have replaced all of the derelict structures. There has been some scattered residential development, as well as a hotel approximately midway between downtown and the Clinic. However, the importance of density and critical mass to successful revitalization appears to have been lost on the developers and planners involved in Mid-town redevelopment.
The most glaring example of this is the construction of townhouses along a portion of Euclid, the most prominent features of which are driveway and garages off a service road set back from the Avenue. I get that Cleveland is a heartland city, where the car continues to dominate the market, but to build automobile-centric development along an expensive transit corridor investment seems like both backward thinking and a lost opportunity. Similarly, the mid-rise, multiple dwelling unit construction along Euclid lacked street level retail. As result, the development of Euclid so far will not produce a walkable neighborhood. Going to the newly built Aldi’s to pick up groceries will still require resort to a car (reflected in the store’s large parking lot). The door to the store faces the lot, and not the street. No one walks on Euclid, and I didn’t see anyone get on or off the Health Line during my couple of hours scouting around. Dense, mixed-use development at the transit nodes wasn’t happening. Development activity was spread out in non-adjacent lots along the Avenue, preventing the possibility of essential secondary, symbiotic effects. Critical mass is an absolute necessity for neighborhood revitalization. One or two transit stops should be selected for the focus of improvement activity in order to promote such effects. Nondescript, 66th Street has been selected for the focus of future investments, even though it did not appear to have any particular existing social, cultural or infrastructure assets.
One interesting problem facing Mid-town Cleveland is how small the number of historic residents raising the specter of “gentrification” is: fewer than a couple of thousand. Those two thousand people appear to have outsized political force in inhibiting the possibility of neighborhood revitalization for possibly tens of thousands of new residents, with concerns about changing neighborhood character and rising rents. Apparently, what those folks most need is improvements to their current sub-standard housing conditions, something that, given the small numbers involved, shouldn’t be all that expensive to provide an assist to. The value proposition for Cleveland as a place is its high-quality social infrastructure combined with low local housing costs. Attracting new, college educated residents looking for inexpensive space, while improving the existing housing stock for current residents – ought to be at the center of any redevelopment strategy for a city that once had a population of over 900,000 and now is less than 400,000.
My visit to the office of the Mid-town area’s local development corporation (one of dozens in Cleveland, all still supported by the declining Federal Community Development Block Grant funding), was delayed by my foolishly trying to access its office through the building’s locked front door on Euclid. The entrance to the building was through a huge, empty rear parking lot. To me this was a symbol of the old school thinking still governing urban policy in Cleveland. As one Cleveland leader cleverly told me, “we think in the IEDC rather than the IDA framework” (International Economic Development Council/International Downtown Association). That is, focusing on automobile-oriented, large scale subsidized development, rather than placemaking and transit-oriented, neighborhood walkability. Cleveland remains in the derriere garde of the revitalization of American cities. Leaders in cities across the country have drawn on Jane Jacobs and William H. Whyte’s thinking about how urban social infrastructure works and made great strides in improving the quality of life for their residents. Another Ohio city, Cincinnati is a great example. Not in Cleveland.
If I were running that LDC, I’d make sure that the ground floor of the building where my office was located had a coffee shop, restaurant or bookstore (which I would subsidize, if necessary), with chairs and tables on the sidewalk out front, and that the welcoming entrance was through the door on Euclid, to make the point about what is possible on what once was called “America’s Showplace.”
San Francisco is one of the most desirable places on the planet to live, both because of its climate and because of its amenities. As a result, many, many people want to live there. A good many of those people have substantial resources. A lot of those people are also highly skilled and/or unusually creative. That is why real estate in San Francisco is expensive. High demand. Step-function availability of supply. Basic economics: demand outstrips supply. Result: high prices. It is just not very complicated. And, more importantly it is a good, rather than a bad, thing.
Admittedly, my recent visit was on spectacularly beautiful, cloudless days. The adjective “Mediterranean,” often used to describe the climate, could not have been more apt on this trip. We went to North Beach for a classic cioppino at Sotto Mare, we took the bus to the Pacific and sat on a park bench in the sun facing the ocean (with no sign of the generally ubiquitous “Carl the Fog”), reading the wonderful new, posthumous La Carré novel. We took in the Symphony and the Opera. We lingered at the new Salesforce Park. I was ready to start shopping for a new place to live. San Francisco, another city, like New York, is often described by the punditocracy as an astronomically priced hellscape; inhabited only by trustafarians, over-paid young techies and the wild-eyed, violent homeless. Sorry: not.
We stayed at the wonderful Intercontinental in SOMA. The hotel has over thirty stores and floor to ceiling windows, with spectacular views of the City (many older San Francisco hotels are short and dark, with small rooms). However, the location, at Howard between Fourth and Fifth, exposes the walker to the epicenter of San Francisco’s un/under-housed population, which appears to be at 7th and Mission. The walk through the Civic Center on a Saturday night after a concert by the Symphony, while not dangerous, required passing through large groups of individuals sleeping on the sidewalks, selling things from blankets, with some acting out and appearing to be seriously mentally ill, surrounded by piles of stuff. Avoiding feces on the sidewalk was a non-trivial endeavor. There were pairs of men who appeared to be a private unarmed security force labeled “Urban Alchemy,” who appeared to be ineffectual. We also passed people sleeping in doorways in The Castro and other folks who pitched tents around highway ramps near the Embarcadero. My rough estimate is that the total number of individuals occupying public space we passed was more than 500 and less than 1500. Notably, in most other neighborhoods we visited, people visibly living in public spaces or behaving in obviously unpredictively ways were not present (Richmond, Sunset, North Beach, Glen Park).
It’s worth observing that it is individuals visibly acting out who most contribute to a perception of physical danger. People yelling at passers-by or even to themselves, punching the air, kicking the sidewalk or zigzagging along the sidewalk appear unpredictable. They create for many pedestrians the possibility of unwanted physical contact. These, perhaps clinically psychotic folks, can also be the most difficult to engage and reach for professional outreach workers.
While this sounds like a large population, it is by no means beyond addressing. Walking down Market Street, and particularly at 7th, it is apparent this is not a problem primarily about housing – there is social activity taking place among these San Franciscans that is part of what draws them to these locations, and their issues need to be addressed socially. At the same time, despite what I have been reading in the national media, there is new multiple dwelling unit residential construction happening all around the downtown, and lots of recently completed projects – even on Market Street itself. We spent an intrigued hour watching the process of the erection of an enormous construction crane across the street from our hotel.
We went for a walk in the expanding Mission Bay community, just south of the baseball stadium (the Giants lost the playoffs to the Dodgers our first night in town); a midrise, mixed-income, mixed-use neighborhood being built from the ground up. All the right moves seemed to have been made. While eating lunch in a parking space shed (kombucha soda, falafel sandwich — $45 dollars for two), I was reminded of our West End Avenue mid-rise neighborhood in New York, a highly desirable and successful product type. THIS is what Hudson Yards should have been. A vital, human scale place to live.
San Francisco needs to get past its politics and adopt a data driven, client centered approach to addressing the needs of its citizens living in public spaces. It should recognize that the issue ISN’T (just) housing and come to terms with that it’s never a rational life choice to sleep on the sidewalk. It needs Built for Zero and Community Solutions (https://community.solutions/built-for-zero/). It’s also important for the community to come to a consensus that people living in shared public space are monopolizing places that belong to everyone and should be available to be used in common. Someone playing loud music, engaging in commercial activity or even laying in a sleeping bag on the sidewalk, is EXCLUDING other folks from enjoying the experience of public space that, particularly post-COVID, we have learned is absolutely essential to urban living. No one should have the right to exclude others from quiet enjoyment of the limited resource of urban public space.
Creating a data base that includes a record for each client, working with them as individuals to get a medical and person history, building a trusting relationship with (potential) clients, and then linking them up with the benefits to which they are already entitled and the services they require. This is difficult, time-consuming work. But it can succeed, as Community Solutions is demonstrating across the country. In a city of 900,000, reaching a couple of thousand of people in distress, while important, is by no means a monumental task. It also doesn’t define the city.
Given the breadth of cultural offerings available in San Francisco, it is easy to forget that it a relatively small city. The depth of cultural and social resources is just remarkable. During our visit we took in an intellectually and visually overwhelming show of the paintings of Joan Mitchell at the SF Museum of Modern Art, a production of Fidelio at the Opera and a fascinating and engaging program at the Symphony. While I will leave to those more knowledgeable than myself to comment on the Mitchell show (Jed Perl has a long essay in the New York Review: https://www.nybooks.com/articles/2021/11/04/joan-mitchell-painting-colors-conversation/) and to my spouse to review the Beethoven (staying in my conjugal lane), I would like to talk a bit about the Symphony concert. In fact, over the coming months, it is my plan to visit a different city every month, hear its orchestra and spend some time visiting and thinking about its downtown. Next month I’m planning to visit Cleveland. I’m particularly eager to go to Kansas City and Indianapolis – places to which I’ve not previously been.
The San Francisco Symphony has been widely admired in recent years both for its sound, as well as for its unique programming under its music director of two decades, Michael Tilson Thomas (now, unfortunately, recovering from surgery to remove a brain tumor). Most critical observers agree that the orchestra is the most interesting one, certainly west of Chicago, and perhaps in the country. With MTT’s retirement last year, he was succeeded by Essa Pekka Salonen, the former music director in Los Angeles – and long the object of desire of the New York Philharmonic, of which he has made clear he wants no part. The program that the SFO presented was a knock-out, including Debbusy, Messiaen and Saariaho, following an important stream of French composition from the late 19th through the early 20th Century – a current of compositional thought to which I am particularly drawn. Under Salonen’s baton the orchestra sounded, sharp, bright and tightly disciplined. While it didn’t particularly convey that characteristically mellow, French sound for which the Boston Symphony, for example, was once known, the performances did great justice to the music presented, and at the conclusion of the concert, I was delighted not to have to peel myself out of my chair as a result of the enthusiasm of the brass section as is so often the case at the end of Debussy’s La Mer. Debussy also kicked off the concert with Prelude à L’Après-midi d’un faune, showcasing the distinctly personal playing of the woodwind soloists.
But the concert’s featured events were (Oberlin alums) Jeremy Denk playing Oiseaux Exotique and Claire Chase playing Saariaho’s 2001 flute concerto Aile du Songe. Both were outstanding. Worth remaking on is that the Messiaen dispensed with the ensemble’s string sections and the Saariaho was played without winds other than the soloist, setting up an engaging contrast. Both performances made compelling arguments for each of the works. Denk, playing this rhythmically non-intuitive piece from memory, demanded attention – highlighting the contrasts with orchestral writing, and stressing the exotic nature of the bird calls that form the inspiration of the work. Chase’s performance was theatrical and intense. In both cases the orchestra was a committed and skilled partner, making the most of the coloristic writing of these composers, without blurring their impressionistic edges. The playing in La Mer sounded highly rehearsed and polished, reserving dramatic power for the appropriate places. One might argue, after hearing this concert, that the harmonically complex, French impressionist compositional style has ultimately proved a more productive path for composers than the spiky, audience alienating Second Viennese School – which seems to have proved to be something of a dead end.
This engaging program is one, unfortunately, we would be unlikely to ever hear in New York, and it must be said that about a quarter of the auditorium was unsold. This was the sixth concert in a big auditorium we had attended this fall (two at the Met in New York, one at Carnegie, one at Chicago Lyric and one at St. Ann’s warehouse), and while masking is certainly a suboptimal experience, all of those other shows played to full or nearly full houses and I have lived to tell the tale (so far). Fidelio at SFO also appeared to be fully sold.
We visited San Francisco’s newest public space, Salesforce Park, which is on the fourth-floor roof of the new downtown transit center. The transit center is actually a surprisingly appealing bus station – a more unlikely application of an adjective I can scarcely imagine. The loading platforms are airy and bright – as different from New York City’s Port Authority Bus terminal as one might possibly conjure! The park is six acres (the same size as Bryant Park), and most distinctively features a fabulously wide array of plant species from Mediterranean climates around the globe. The creation of roof soil and irrigation conditions to support this biosphere, particularly mature tree specimens of considerable height, is absolutely remarkable.
The operation of the park by BRV Redevelopment Ventures is nearly flawless. The “B” in BRV is Dan Biederman, my former Bryant Park boss, who has outdone himself, fixing a number of the problems we faced on Sixth Avenue, with the possibilities presented by ground-up new construction – particularly an attractively designed and appropriate performance area, something that Bryant Park lacked from day one. The park incorporates the successful Bryant Park tropes – movable chairs, well maintained restrooms, a complete slate of daily programs, a working water feature, meticulous trash removable and discreet security. The sinuous path around the space is often flanked by shaded benches facing the continuously varied gardens. The maintenance of those complex planting beds has to be a major undertaking. Bravo to Dan, his staff and to the design team for a massively, magisterially successful collaboration.
Certainly, the park can only be accessed by a one-way gondola from the Salesforce Plaza and a reasonably large number of elevator banks (and we thought Bryant Park was set off from the street!), making it somewhat inaccessible. I visited on a quiet Saturday – so I didn’t experience the park with a large crowd. But simply the idea of a quiet Saturday in the park is a luxury no longer afforded by Bryant Park, even on a rainy day. That inaccessibility presents the challenge for the park of becoming only an amenity for workers in the Salesforce Tower (now San Francisco’s tallest). But, unlike New York’s High Line, Salesforce Park is a real park (rather than a tourist attraction) which can be enjoyed in a multitude of ways (rather than being principally the experience of walking from one end to the other). It is a triumph for San Francisco and will likely increase in viability and strength as food and other concessions are developed over time.
San Francisco is a great, livable, vibrant city – and its real estate is expensive as a result. It has some serious problems, particularly its underperforming school system. Our reaction to San Francisco as urbanists shouldn’t be to denigrate or bemoan its success, but to work for the creation of more great places in order to enable more people to enjoy the benefits of living in a vital city.
On an August night in 1993, I was five years old and sitting in Bryant Park on a blanket on a lush bed of grass with my parents, their friends, and 2,000 fellow New Yorkers. We socialized, ate snacks, and took pictures of ourselves with a guy in a gorilla suit. As the sun went down, we settled in to watch “King Kong” on the big outdoor screen. It was the first year that the park, with support from HBO, screened films on the lawn, an activity that has continued for nearly three decades. It is one of my formative memories of growing up in the city, and I later realized that most of these details—a kid at a large social gathering in Bryant Park, sitting on a luxurious lawn in Midtown at night—would, a few years earlier, have been almost unimaginable. But I was growing up in the midst of a massive transition from the high crime, poorly maintained, economically distressed New York of the seventies to the lower crime, better maintained, more prosperous (though more deeply stratified) city of the late 1990s and 2000s.
The process and planning philosophy behind these changes is the subject of Andrew W. Manshel’s Learning from Bryant Park: Revitalizing Cities, Towns, and Public Spaces. Manshel was the Associate Director and Counsel for the Bryant Park Restoration Corporation from 1991-1998, pivotal years in the turnaround of the park and the city. He argues that Bryant Park is one of New York’s great success stories, and that it should serve as a model for other local neighborhoods (in particular he focuses on downtown Jamaica, Queens) as well as communities around the country.
Bryant Park’s revitalization, the result of changes large and small, is best seen in Manshel’s compelling and detailed description of how the BPRC settled on the park’s now-iconic green French bistro chairs, the trial-and-error journey to the park’s centerpiece, that impeccable lawn, the plantings that create a cheery scene every spring, and the park’s famed public bathrooms, with their flowers and classical music, that have been variously described as “luxurious,” “the Tiffany’s of public restrooms,” and “fit for Brooke Astor.”
Manshel views Bryant Park as the embodiment of William H. Whyte’s ideas about placemaking: that a space should be designed in response to peoples’ established needs and their observed behavior, and that careful concern for park maintenance and design creates a sense of safety, leading to a decline in crime and antisocial behavior in public spaces. William H. Whyte studied Bryant Park in the late seventies and early eighties, and a nice feature of the book is an appendix including his observations. Whyte’s initial report allows readers to see how his observations and principles guided the eventual changes to the park. Manshel appends a few key points of his own:
Maintenance and programming is actually more important than design and construction.
Placemaking is an “iterative process” of small steps responsive to public use and feedback.
Embracing some commercial uses can be good for the long-term health of parks.
Lawn maintenance, at Bryant Park. Photo by author, 2019.
When it comes to the larger implications of placemaking for economic development, the book takes a turn for the controversial and even defensive. Manshel, a strong proponent of business improvement districts (BIDs), is dismissive of those who criticize public-private partnerships, conservancies, and BIDs as undemocratic entities that may drive gentrification. Notably, Manshel repeatedly places “gentrification” in quotes as if to question its very existence. He does the same for “progressives” and “community activists,” as if to imply that those who may oppose BIDs and their development plans have ulterior motives or are merely obstructionists.
In his section entitled “Gentrification is Good,” Manshel cites a 2015 Furman Center report to support the idea that gentrification leads to greater integration and the improvement of neighborhood quality of life; the report claims that the majority of those who move into gentrifying neighborhoods are moving into new units and are “not, for the most part, displacing existing residents [emphasis Manshel’s].” These are debatable claims that need more evidence; if Manshel wants to make a convincing case for gentrification he should have earnestly considered concerns about its effects—rising rents, displacement, the loss of affordable retail space, and over-policing. Instead, he sidesteps most of those issues and dismisses the rest as trivial.
BIDs and other forms of public-private partnerships can be effective in improving maintenance and fueling economic development. That said, as numerous urbanists like Susanna Schaller, Tarry Hum, and Samuel Stein have noted, these changes can also be deeply disruptive to parts of the community, often pitting property owners against renters and leading to displacement. Even if one agrees that Bryant Park was a tremendous success, the claim that its lessons are transferable to other localities needs to be questioned. Strategies that worked in the successful revitalization of a 9.6 acre park located between Grand Central Terminal and Times Square, in an area surrounded by office towers, hotels, and tourist attractions, may not be applicable to residential or mixed-use neighborhoods or even most business districts.
Manshel’s book, much like Dan Doctoroff’s 2017 book Greater than Ever: New York’s Big Comeback, is an engaging study and has a propulsive energy that encourages readers to embrace its author’s strongly asserted point of view. But it is best read with some skepticism and in conversation with other authors and voices.
Katie Uva is a PhD candidate in history at the CUNY Graduate Center, where her dissertation examines the 1939 and 1964 World’s Fairs and their impact on New York City. She is an Adjunct Lecturer at Baruch College, an editor at The Gotham Center for New York City History, and worked for several years at The Museum of the City of New York.
Development in downtown Jamaica, Queens has exploded. There are dozens of projects under construction, and a few, new completed projects. Having received my second dose of vaccine and being mostly recovered from having dislocated and fractured my right elbow in January while walking the obstreperous Sir Toby Belch, Australian Cattle Dob, I hit the road (the Grand Central Parkway) and took a driving tour of the Downtown. The amount of activity going on is simply amazing – unlike anything I might have anticipated.
One of the things I learned in working in Bryant Park is that success is difficult to manage and control – what Jim Collins calls “the Flywheel Effect,” the increasing acceleration of a virtuous cycle. This phenomenon is evident in Jamacia. There are hotels being developed in a scattered range of sites – including in the middle of otherwise residential blocks. Subsidized housing developments that attempt to maximize the amount of developable space on their lots are huge. Designs generally tend to the lowest common denominators.
The most important and interesting question is “Has the neighborhood improved?” This can be interpreted in a number of ways. Is the quality of life for pre-existing residents better? Have new housing opportunities improved the quality of life for those new residents? Is the impact on all city residents and visitors generally better? In the middle of all this change, a definitive answer is impossible. But to my eye, the immediate answer is that the changes to Jamaica have been more of the same. Street conditions are worse. The perception of a pleasant experience in public spaces is worse. This may improve as construction is completed and more people move into the Downtown. But right now, in March 2021, the streets and sidewalks appear to be chaotic. Most of the retail facades are in worse shape than they were five years ago. Pedestrians are walking to swiftly to get where they are going – there isn’t my lingering in public spaces. Admittedly, my visit was on a grey, drizzly Palm Sunday. But my experience of Jamaica over fifteen years, I think gives me a broad enough basis of comparison under a range of conditions to draw reasonable conclusions.
First the good news:
Retail storefronts appear to have a low vacancy rate. While the retail mix hasn’t changed that much, new similar retailers have filled in where previous tenants have left. Both of the restaurant major failures have been replaced with new brands.
ParkHill City, developed by The Chetrit Group, at the former site of Mary Immaculate Hospital on King Park is a triumph (http://hillwest.com/project/89th-avenue/). Kudos to all concerned. And we, at Greater Jamaica Development Corporation, were afraid of the hospital being converted to a homeless shelter when the property was sold in bankruptcy by the State Dormitory Authority around 2010. The project is market rate and received no government subsidy (in fact the real property taxes on the site when it was no longer exempt as result of hospital ownership were punishing as a result of its long being off the tax rolls). The adaptive reuse of the original hospital structure on the east side of the site is brilliant and beautiful. The landscaping around the project is all imaginative, includes seating and is being well-maintained.
Target has just opened a store in United American Land’s project at 160th Street and Jamacia Avenue, joining Burlington Coat Factory, H&M and Chipotle, in what was formerly a derelict property owned by the Stark Estate.
UAL has also done a beautiful job restoring the façade of the formerly abandoned historic Jamaica Savings Bank building. Signs in the windows say that a Jolly Bee is slated for tenancy in the storefront (unfortunately, UAL needs to pay a bit more attention to the other facades in its assemblage, which don’t look as well tended).
Thousands of desperately needed new affordable units are being created across the downtown in more than a half dozen major projects. More appear to be in the pipeline.
And the rest:
Because we were looking to induce commercial development around the station area, the sites there were over-zoned. The project at Archer and Sutphin overwhelms the site. It is massive and intimidating. The 94th Avenue corridor, east of Sutphin, is a narrow canyon between two oversized developments. The site on the southeast corner of 94th and Sutphin remains vacant. The site was cleared using City funds in the mid 00’s. Most likely it has not been developed because the owner is seeking the maximum return from its hundreds of thousands of buildable square feet – and a project of that scale is neither desirable nor economic.
The design of the major projects is oppressive. The project at Sutphin and Archer looks like a gigantic prison, in part because of the ratio of glazing to brick and in part because of the materials used. The project on 168th Street between Jamaica and Archer Avenues looks like something from a Leni Riefenstahl film from German in the 30’s – huge, square, relentless. That site was owned by the City (it was a decrepit police garage) and was deaccessioned by the Economic Development Corporation. One would like to think a more humane, urbanistic design would have been implemented. But such was not to be.
Hotels are being developed higgly piggly on smallish sites all over the downtown, many in places that require a walk from transportation. Two hotels are at Liberty Avenue and Sutphin Boulevard, an automobile-oriented location, a desolate ten minute walk from the transit center with no nearby amenities.
The largest hotel development, on Archer Avenue between 165th Street and Sutphin, which has been in development for fifteen years and still has not been completed, is undistinguished in design and relates poorly to the street.
The hotel site at 94th Street and Sutphin shows no sign of activity. This very expensively assembled, and troubled site was transferred to a developer in 2015.
None of the new downtown projects are urbanistic at the street level. They don’t have contiguous ground floor retail and are generally dead to the street. There isn’t any sense of “neighborhood” associated with any of the residential projects, other than at Park Hill City.
Placemaking activity appears to have stopped and the results appear to me to be obvious. The horticultural program appears to be dormant (which is worse than not having one). There were cars parked routinely on all of the 165thStreet Mall. Scores of private vehicles of police officers were illegally parked around the 103rd police precinct. The Q44 Select Bus Service infrastructure appears to be abandoned.
The optimistically named and ill-conceived “Shops at Station Plaza,” in the LIRR Sutphin Boulevard underpass seems neglected. It has one storefront that has never been rented. The Dunkin Doughnuts store had a badly broken window. The elaborate multi-colored lighting schemes appears not to be maintained.
It’s clear that after decades of stagnation, major investment in housing and hotels has finally arrived in Jamaica. With more people living in and visiting downtown, perhaps demand for wider range of retail offerings, including restaurants and bars, and improved conditions in public space will follow.
PHOTOS FROM MY TOUR FOLLOW:
The largest project in the downtown, 700,000 square feet of affordable housing and retail at Sutphin and Archer. Looks to me a little like The Tombs in downtown Manhattan.
The canyon on 94th Avenue looking west. Affordable housing projects on either side of the street. A 60,000 acre development site, demolished and remediated 15 years ago by NYCEDC.The 60,000 square foot site at 94th Avenue and Sutphin Boulevard was likely over zoned to a 12 FAR, making development uneconomic. The result of the incredibly expensive and ill-conceived Shops at Station Plaza in the Sutphin LIRR underpass. Blank windows. There is also an empty storefront.The site of a small new hotel set among single family homes just south of the LIRR tracks. The result of the incredibly expensive and ill-conceived Shops at Station Plaza in the Sutphin LIRR underpass. Blank windows. There is also an empty storefront.Plinths with the ticket machines removed for the Q44 Select Bus Service. Nothing says neglected public space like obsolete street furniture. A very large hotel project at the foot of 148th Street and Archer Avenue. This project has been in development for 15 years. A hotel project on the north side of Archer Avenue between 148th and 149th. The former site of an HRA office building on Sutphin Boulevard. A strategic locating set among fast food, bank branches and fish stores. Main entrance to ParkHill Village. 400 units of market rate housing. Adaptive reuse of one of the former Mary Immaculate Hospital buildings for ParkHill City. Lovely landscaping with benches. 168th Street between Jamaica and Archer Avenues on the site of a former derelict NYPD garage. The new Target store at 160th Street and Jamaica Avenue. We worked for years to try to attract target. Also in the project are H&M, Burlington Coat Factory, Chipotle, and Panda Express. The landmarked original Jamaica Savings Bank facade, nicely restored. The window signs say soon to be Jolly Bee.The view of the ParkHill City project from the north looking down 150th Street. It changes radically the skyline of the downtown.
