Winter Streets: The Inauguration as Pedestrian Utopia

Last summer, New York City launched its "Summer Streets" program, closing seven miles of streets to all traffic except pedestrians and bicycles for a day. At first this may sound nonsensical. Why would people want to close off the primary arteries? wouldn't this cripple the economy? However, the response to the street closures was generally positive, people became aware of how much space roadways occupy in cities, and the economy seemed to continue unabated.

During the inauguration, a roughly 3 square mile area will be closed to emergency and law enforcement vehicles only, and I-395 will be closed to all vehicles except pedestrians. So far, the reaction here in Richmond has just been to grumble about how much traffic this will generate. But what if we take the approach that closing these streets will make he environment that much better for a day - especially for an inauguration day?

The I-395/third street tunnel will be closed for a 24 hour period beginning at midnight Jan 19/20, as will many of the bridges. Instead of griping about the traffic, try taking a stroll over the deserted streets - maybe wait a while after the swearing in has happened so they're not too packed. It just might change the way you think about streets.

Steve Patterson, Man of Urban Influence - Part 2

Steve didn’t have any engagements immediately after this, so he agreed to show us around St. Louis. Naturally, he showed us the Arch and the Old St. Louis Courthouse. Apparently, a park used to extend 20 blocks west from the arch, but some of the land had been converted into office buildings, which Steve described as “hideous”.


To the south, we saw the outline of Busch Stadium. We asked if it was more convenient to have the stadium close to downtown, he told us it was actually kind of a nuisance since the stadium put in as much parking as it would in the ‘burbs, and it created congestion without contributing much to the neighborhood. We turned northward, passing a group of back to back parking lots. Steve was concerned about how bland the exteriors of the parking lots were, and talked about how St. Louis’s zoning was stuck in the 1940s.


One block to the north was 1920s era building with an elegant façade, which Steve praised. We passed an abandoned shopping mall, which Steve told us was St. Louis’s great hope of downtown revival in the 1980s. It was only partially new at the time; abandoned skyscrapers nearby had been built in an older style, and were converted into department stores and linked to the newer mall building with glass-encased overhead walkways. The whole complex was closed now, except for a Macy’s in one of the older buildings and the parking structure across the street. Apparently, there had been a Rite-Aid in the ground floor of the structure, but that had closed and had since been converted into more parking.

We turned left onto Washington St., and Steve told us a bit about the history of each of the buildings we passed. There was an office complex which had demolished and old theater to build an open plaza which eventually became more parking, and a newly built entry to St. Louis’s convention center. He then took us by the American Institute of Architects, whose headquarters were in a hotel nearby. He knew everyone who worked there, and introduced us. When they heard we were going to the inauguration, they were excited for us, and also worried for our safety. We assured them we’d be okay. The lobby was filled with books about the St. Louis area, and since Anheuser-Busch was headquartered in St. Louis (prior to its acquisition by InBev), there were pictures of the Budweiser Clydesdales in one of the books I was browsing through. The woman behind the desk assured me that they were enormous, and scary to stand next to.

We left and continued west with Steve; he showed us a building with gargoyles that sprayed steam, which we all found fascinating. We walked into the former garment district, although there wasn’t as much in the way of garment production happening nearby anymore. Instead, many of the old factories had been converted into lofts, and there were stores and restaurants on the ground floors. The street had actually been made narrower; a lane was subtracted in each direction and the sidewalk was widened. Since this was the garment district, the double-yellow divider in the street was replaced by tiles placed to resemble a closed zipper. Steve was generally happy with these changes, but he was unhappy that some of the side streets had also been closed. Most of the lofts appeared to be doing well, but some of the loft conversions had unceremoniously been scrapped. One of the loft companies had gone out of business right before a conversion was scheduled to happen, and signs advertising loft living had been left up in a still abandoned building.


Steve took us past the St. Louis City Museum, which he said was a must see. It was certainly unique; it looked as if Rube Goldberg was left to make a machine using only materials he found in a junkyard. Slides connected the heads of life size dinosaurs, and school buses teetered from the top of a nearby building. We didn’t really have time to go in, but it was certainly interesting to look at.


Steve was kind enough to take us to the rooftop of his own loft building. The clouds had lifted somewhat, and the view was great in both directions. We took a few pictures of the skyline, as well as a few with him in the foreground (see previous post). He had to get going at that point, so we parted ways. He said he would be looking to our blog for more on the inauguration. We'll do our best to keep you posted, Steve.

We walked back, stopping by the St. Louis Library on the way. St. Louis ain't half bad, and we'll do our best to go back soon.

Unstapled: How an International Airport Became Mayberry

Obamathon Man and his associate were driving across Denver to investigate Park Hill, and as we exited the freeway, we noticed an odd hotel. It was large, drab, and looked like it was designed by the Aztecs, but the weirdest thing about it was that a hotel of its size had been placed in this relatively remote area in the first place. We passed two more large hotels, still confused. Then as we looked to our left, we noticed what looked to be an abandoned control tower, and suddenly everything made sense: this is where the old Stapleton Airport used to be.

I remembered flying into Stapleton once when I was in first grade. For my extended family who lived here at the time, the construction of DIA was a big deal; for us it was a minor civic footnote and a longer drive when we flew in. We forgot about Stapleton, and had never devoted any thought to what became of the place, other than once speculating that with a name like "Stapleton" they should convert it into a staple factory.

The eerie control tower prompted us to park and take a few pictures. We found a nice looking park full of baseball diamonds and basketball courts, and parked in the nearby neighborhood - it was the kind of neighborhood you'd expect to be near a major airport. After crossing the park, we found that on the other side was an entirely different neighborhood. The homes were lavish and immense, each one could easily fit four bedrooms and bathrooms. And they were perfect, down to the last picket on each of their fences. You could easily imagine each of these houses as the home to 2 cars and 2.5 children. It occurred to us that this area actually used to be part of the airport, and that screaming jet engines had been replaced with suburban idyll.


It was all very pleasant, but at the same time there was something unsettling about the place. No one entered or left the houses, and the only sound was an occasional gust of wind. It felt as if we were the last survivors of a nuclear winter, that the houses had been preserved and the inhabitants had long since perished. Looming over every rooftop was the control tower, and my mind began to craft horror stories about radioactive Gollum-like miscreants, scanning the vacant neighborhoods from their vantage point in search of prey.

Upon later research, I found that the Stapleton redevelopment plan was considered extremely environmentally friendly, and had a website as hip as the opening credits from Juno. But why did the area have to be developed at all? Why couldn't they have done what Orange County did with the former El Toro Air Station and turn it into a giant park (one of the few things OC has gotten right)? At this point in America's history, we have enough suburbs. Hopefully, the new administration will bring with it a new attitude toward civic planning that reduces expansiveness and promotes shared space.

Good Hoods

This just in! Denver's Greater Park Hill has been named one of the top ten neighborhoods in the country by the American Planning Association. Park Hill is located just east of the historic City Park, and on top of a hill, thus "Park Hill". Obamathon Man has been to City Park in previous Denver trips, but never really dug into this neighborhood. But with its free jazz concerts nearby, I dig this neighborhood already. Be on the lookout for follow-up posts!

In other news, the APA has also named one of Obamathon Man's hometown haunts to its list of glory: Echo Park! Rock on, you latino/hipster hood.