Last week I had the pleasure of chatting with the editor of an alternative weekly in Atlanta. He’s in the process of writing an article concerning Chattanooga and how we’ve worked to prevent brain drain. He talked to a number of folks while he was here (no doubt all smarter than me), and I’m excited to see what they had say about the topic. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for you, you don’t have to wait to hear what I had to say…
When I first moved to Chattanooga, the city’s turnaround was well underway. In fact, it was at a point where the Design Studio was already hosting groups of visitors from other cities who wanted to learn how we did it. Our usual suspects addressed these groups and explained various aspects of our work: economic development, sustainability, infrastructure provision, the role of the public realm, the role of public input and the importance of partnership. As I sat in those meetings listening to my heroes tell their stories, however, I was stuck with one compelling consistency. Virtually everyone mentioned that the driving factor of all of work was to create a place that our young people would return to. This is one of those instances where a very complex set of issues can be boiled to a simple statement that everyone “gets”. Not everyone understands (or cares to understand) the somewhat esoteric urban design concepts we employed, but everyone understands the concept of creating places where people want to live.
“We want to create a place that our young people will return to.”
The statement implies that there is opportunity. Whether a young person is graduating from some level of school or simply making their way into the adult world, they all look for their chance. Healthy communities find a way to provide a range of opportunities for young people to support themselves, chase their dreams, and make their mark on the world. Where those opportunities don’t exist, young people leave in search of places that provide them. Heartbreakingly, for some leaving isn’t an option and the choices those young people have to make are desperate indeed. The promise of our simple statement is that the community will dedicate itself to creating opportunities for ALL of our young people.
The statement implies authenticity. For the last half of the twentieth century, sub-urban development thrust American cities into homogeny. The mall, highway, and chain stores of a sub-urb in one city are virtually indistinguishable from those of another. This is a direct result of the chain store philosophy that design supports brand, not place. When you hear me tilt against the Buffalo Wild Wings and Applebees of our downtown, this is the heart of the matter. Yes, there are issues with architecture, aesthetics and density, but the killer is a lack of authenticity. Those buildings say nothing about downtown Chattanooga, they contribute nothing to the unique character of our city, there is nothing special about them on any level. What we have seen recently, especially among young people, is an overwhelming preference for authentic places. Back in the day, we understood this and did a fantastic job of maintaining our identity despite the temptation of a quick buck. How easy would it have been to sell every corner near the aquarium to McDonald’s, Dollar General, or 7-11? What would have become of us had that happened? The promise of our simple statement is that we are dedicated to the notion that our city is Our City.
The statement highlights the familial relationships that are the foundation of community. Taken literally and personally, this panders to the heartstrings- we all love our children. I would love for Spence and Stern to leave Chattanooga and have fantastic experiences and adventures across the globe. I also want them to come back so I can be with them and (I can’t believe I’m writing this) my grandchildren. From a broader perspective, whether they are biologically related to us or not, I believe that children are our future. Pop culture references notwithstanding, the long-term sustainability of the community depends on the young people of the community growing and taking up the mantle of those that came before. The promise of the simple statement is that we value family and community and understand that they are key to the long-term viability of the city.
For as much as I have played up the importance of the “the statement”, in practice you could strip the children portion and it would still ring true. We have endeavored to create that people will return to- whether they be our children or not. We attract people because we are authentic and have nurtured our unique qualities. People come here because there is a range of opportunities for people who want to make their mark on the community and on the world. Young people come here because their contributions to the community are valued. We can talk all day about the billions of dollars invested, the design awards, and our advanced infrastructure, but the truest metric of what the community has accomplished is the number of people who are proud to call Chattanooga home.
...on Urban Design in Chattanooga. (and the Big C)
2.24.2014
2.17.2014
The Other S-Curve
Did we enjoy the weather last week? I certainly did. Having been out of town for the first round, it was nice to be home for the most recent snow days. Is it tough to get anything done when the boys are out of school? Yes, but while work comes and goes, the joy of pegging small children with snowballs is forever. (On an unrelated note: Dear baby Jesus, please forgive me for considering pegging other people’s children when those bastard neighborhood kids knocked down my finely crafted snowmen.)
Jefferson Heights Park was the perfect stage for a couple of days of snow. The park is my home and a place that I have written about several times before. It was two acres of snowball fights, sledding and snowmen for the two-dozen kids who live on the park (and no, I don’t really think they’re bastards). As well used as the park is, it could handle more. Because of the boundary constraints of Jefferson Heights (railroads, industry, big roads), the park is oversized for the neighborhood. The reality is that a) the park was never really “sized” according to open space standards, and b) later plans assumed that the park would serve a larger area than it does in practice.
The area that we now enjoy as a park was originally the site of an elementary school. Jefferson Street School was built in 1911, and in its heyday enrollment peaked at 406 students. By 1960, when student numbers dropped to less than half that it was designated as an all-black school and renamed the William J. Davenport school. The school was shuttered in 1971, the building was eventually razed, and the site designated a city park. The City probably figured that calling it a park and mowing the grass was far cheaper than maintaining an aging building. From a planning perspective, the site as a park was essentially an afterthought.
Fast forward a couple of decades to the mid-90s and the community had turned some its focus to the neighborhoods immediately south of Main Street. In all of those plans, Cowart Place (Rustville), Fort Negley, and Jefferson Heights were tied together by a strong 17th Street linkage. Main and 17th are the only two streets that run all the way through the three neighborhoods, but 17th is more neighborhood scaled and pedestrian friendly than Main. This linkage was designed to be a corridor for the neighborhood to access resources such as the stadium, the elementary school and Jefferson Heights Park. Unfortunately, a decision was made that compromised the viability of that concept.
The 17th street neighborhood connector got off to a great start when CNE did the Cowart Place townhouses. That momentum was carried on when we did the 17th Street streetscape and water tower project. The segment of 17th from Broad to Market is top-notch neighborhood streetscape. The plan was to carry that level of quality through Fort Negley and Jefferson Heights to the park. The corridor through Fort Negley proved to a bit more problematic as the right-of-way was constrained by stone walls on ether side of the street- while this was inconvenient, it is possible to design around that. The real problem came at the intersection with Rossville Avenue.
Rossville at 17th is the one intersection along this corridor where 17th takes a bit of a jog. In the early 2000’s there was an opportunity to make a simple maneuver to push the corridor through and create a cohesive order that would benefit adjacent property owners and the community as a whole. This opportunity wasshit upon, disregarded by the chicken plant and the traffic engineers. The extension of 17th through a small portion of the Chicken Plant land on the west, and through a small portion of an industrial property on the east would have reinforced the notion of the corridor and improved value for all parties involved. Mind you, this wasn’t easy- there were negotiations to make and land to buy. In the grand scheme of things, however, a group of reasonable adults with the greater good of the community as a common goal should have been able to broker a deal with wins for everyone. That didn’t happen. What happened was that the Chicken plant didn’t want to play, and the traffic engineers proposed a band-aid of a “solution” that worked for them (read: the car). The silly little “S” curve is hopelessly out of place and undermines the integrity of the corridor.
Since that missed opportunity, all three neighborhoods have grown explosively. The compelling and worthy concept of the 17th Street corridor is arguably more valid now than it ever has been. The connection of three vibrant neighborhoods to Finley Stadium, Battle Academy, Water Tower Park, Fort Negley Park, and Jefferson Heights Park should speak for itself. As fate would have it, the adjacent industrial site is on the market, I have heard that the chicken plant is trying to play nice with its new neighbors, and the people in charge of designing our roads are more enlightened than in the past. Unfortunately, I doubt anyone in a position to resurrect the concept is particularly fired up to do so.
Unfortunately, this is once again merely a symptom of the bigger problem. For every incomplete 17th Street project, there are a dozen other great ideas for projects that have been compromised or forgotten about. One of the beauties of an (essentially) independent design entity was that there was long-term institutional memory for plans, thoughts and ideas. The Design Studio didn’t turn over every four years and its focus on good design didn’t change with the priorities of different political administrations. Good ideas were nurtured and gestated until the time was ripe for implementation. We’re now in a position where we start from scratch every four years. That is my biggest lament for what the community has lost.
Jefferson Heights Park was the perfect stage for a couple of days of snow. The park is my home and a place that I have written about several times before. It was two acres of snowball fights, sledding and snowmen for the two-dozen kids who live on the park (and no, I don’t really think they’re bastards). As well used as the park is, it could handle more. Because of the boundary constraints of Jefferson Heights (railroads, industry, big roads), the park is oversized for the neighborhood. The reality is that a) the park was never really “sized” according to open space standards, and b) later plans assumed that the park would serve a larger area than it does in practice.
The area that we now enjoy as a park was originally the site of an elementary school. Jefferson Street School was built in 1911, and in its heyday enrollment peaked at 406 students. By 1960, when student numbers dropped to less than half that it was designated as an all-black school and renamed the William J. Davenport school. The school was shuttered in 1971, the building was eventually razed, and the site designated a city park. The City probably figured that calling it a park and mowing the grass was far cheaper than maintaining an aging building. From a planning perspective, the site as a park was essentially an afterthought.
Fast forward a couple of decades to the mid-90s and the community had turned some its focus to the neighborhoods immediately south of Main Street. In all of those plans, Cowart Place (Rustville), Fort Negley, and Jefferson Heights were tied together by a strong 17th Street linkage. Main and 17th are the only two streets that run all the way through the three neighborhoods, but 17th is more neighborhood scaled and pedestrian friendly than Main. This linkage was designed to be a corridor for the neighborhood to access resources such as the stadium, the elementary school and Jefferson Heights Park. Unfortunately, a decision was made that compromised the viability of that concept.
 |
| The 1996 Dover Kohl Plan (It's true, planning for the neighborhood started before 2005.) |
 |
| 17th Street in a simple and compelling diagram. An axis between two major green spaces that serves as an organizational framework for three neighborhoods. |
The 17th street neighborhood connector got off to a great start when CNE did the Cowart Place townhouses. That momentum was carried on when we did the 17th Street streetscape and water tower project. The segment of 17th from Broad to Market is top-notch neighborhood streetscape. The plan was to carry that level of quality through Fort Negley and Jefferson Heights to the park. The corridor through Fort Negley proved to a bit more problematic as the right-of-way was constrained by stone walls on ether side of the street- while this was inconvenient, it is possible to design around that. The real problem came at the intersection with Rossville Avenue.
Rossville at 17th is the one intersection along this corridor where 17th takes a bit of a jog. In the early 2000’s there was an opportunity to make a simple maneuver to push the corridor through and create a cohesive order that would benefit adjacent property owners and the community as a whole. This opportunity was
 |
| 17th & Rossville. What should have been. |
 |
| 17th & Rossville. When good plans go bad. |
Since that missed opportunity, all three neighborhoods have grown explosively. The compelling and worthy concept of the 17th Street corridor is arguably more valid now than it ever has been. The connection of three vibrant neighborhoods to Finley Stadium, Battle Academy, Water Tower Park, Fort Negley Park, and Jefferson Heights Park should speak for itself. As fate would have it, the adjacent industrial site is on the market, I have heard that the chicken plant is trying to play nice with its new neighbors, and the people in charge of designing our roads are more enlightened than in the past. Unfortunately, I doubt anyone in a position to resurrect the concept is particularly fired up to do so.
 |
| This was the solution that the engineers came up with...seriously. |
 |
| The most expensive section of streetscape along the corridor is also the worst. |
Unfortunately, this is once again merely a symptom of the bigger problem. For every incomplete 17th Street project, there are a dozen other great ideas for projects that have been compromised or forgotten about. One of the beauties of an (essentially) independent design entity was that there was long-term institutional memory for plans, thoughts and ideas. The Design Studio didn’t turn over every four years and its focus on good design didn’t change with the priorities of different political administrations. Good ideas were nurtured and gestated until the time was ripe for implementation. We’re now in a position where we start from scratch every four years. That is my biggest lament for what the community has lost.
2.10.2014
Spread the Love
Depression is setting in with the end of the American football season. The last bright glimmer was National Signing Day*. A day on which Alabama signed its fourth #1 recruiting class in a row. Unfortunately, we now face a seven month wait to see them take the field again. Not sure what to do with myself in the meantime. I guess I’ll go work or something. I am, however, a firm believer in the old saying that if you love what you do, you’ll never have to work a day in your life. So I've got that going for me...which is nice.
Speaking of love, I'm taking a Valentine's week break (or weak break as the case may be). I will, however, leave you with a couple of things to set the mood: Valentine's Day cards for planners, and perhaps the best episode of Mister Glasses (the sequence that starts at 3:48 and pays off at 4:30 slays me).
Have a great week and spread some love.
*Along with another great year for Alabama, this recruiting season reintroduced us to an old friend. You may recall that I shared a moment during the 2012 recruiting season, when Landon Collins’ mom received my inaugural Casey Anthony Mother of the Year Award for raining on her son’s big moment. This year, another of her sons announced, and she handled it much better. I must say that I feel for the poor woman. For Love's sake, can’t we get one of her kids to go play for The Hat? (just not Landon)
2.03.2014
Did I Miss Anything?
I was out of town last week. Did I miss anything?
I heard there was a bit of snow or something like that. While I missed the brunt of the storm, I did not escape unscathed. For one, I had to endure a couple of day’s worth of jokes about the ineptitude of Southerners in the snow. (My limp rebuttal was we were ill prepared since snow in the South is as rare as a BCS title is up north). My attempt to return home to The C was then impacted by the aftermath of the storm. The trip from DSM to CHA typically takes about five hours- this one started with a 6am flight (that was eventually cancelled), and ended at 11pm when my head finally hit the pillow. I have no complaints though- I was warm, had access to food, and most importantly, a variety of airport bars.
As an aside, I think there is a special place in hell reserved for the person who decided to co-mingle domestic and international flights on the same concourse. I'm just a simple businessman trying to make his way home and was forced to run a gauntlet of gates heading to such places as Rome, Amsterdam and London. This is patently unfair, and undeniably cruel. I was one overpriced Maker’s Mark and a missing passport away from waking up in Barcelona the next day.
I’ve since read a couple of pieces that trace last week’s dysfunction to our development patterns. They are, of course, right on the money. The gist is that the southern auto-dependent, sub-urban development patterns, were the cause of stranded motorists, parents not being bale to reach their kids, and scores of unplanned upon overnight stays at the Home Depot. Always one to pile on, I offer my thoughts.
part of the problem was that employers and schools called the day off at the same time, resulting in massive numbers of people on the same treacherous roads at the same time. Truth be told, no street system can deal with that type of situation perfectly, but some are better than others. The road systems throughout our country are predominantly hierarchical. This is the typical suburban system you know: local roads feed collectors that feed arterials that feed freeways. Traffic engineers love the model, and in truth, it’s difficult to envision a system that can handle long-distance automobile traffic any better. The trouble with that system is that if one of the elements fails, then all of the elements of the hierarchy below it fail as well. The system does not allow much room for choice or alternate decisions- the route from A to B is often pretty well fixed. Last week, we saw what happens to a hierarchical system when key elements fail.
The alternative to a hierarchical system can be found in a grid network. In this system, the streets are more or less equal, and property in the area is more or less equally served. Individual users have multiple choices for how to get from A to B and can react to any congestion they find in the system. The problem is that it doesn’t scale well- the system is suited physically and financially to denser situations such as a downtown.
In any event, and in either system, the root of the problem is monoculture. If everyone is doing the same thing at the same time, there are bound to be problems. In every other facet of life this is something we grasp easily. We “don’t put all of our eggs in the same basket”, financial advisors tell us to diversify our portfolios, and we understand that “variety is the spice of life”. When we have diversity, we are less subject to catastrophic outcomes when various elements of systems break the wrong way.
The point is not to abolish the sub-urbs or outlaw the car. The object is to remove the very real barriers to choice. Not everyone wants to live in the ‘burbs on an acre and drive a big car – but some do. Not everyone wants to live in a loft downtown and bike to work- but some do. One of our challenges is that the current system subsidizes certain lifestyles and provides barriers to others. Our goal should be to level the playing field and allow people to make choices that suit their philosophy and budget. If living in the ‘burbs makes the most sense for you and your family, great- but know that there are costs associated with extending infrastructure and extensive auto usage. If you want to live downtown, excellent- there are inherent cost efficiencies in inhabiting a smaller footprint and traveling shorter distances. The good news is that across the country, people are returning to downtown in droves. The better news is that those people will likely outlive (and eventually outvote) those wed to the doomed policies of the past.
I heard there was a bit of snow or something like that. While I missed the brunt of the storm, I did not escape unscathed. For one, I had to endure a couple of day’s worth of jokes about the ineptitude of Southerners in the snow. (My limp rebuttal was we were ill prepared since snow in the South is as rare as a BCS title is up north). My attempt to return home to The C was then impacted by the aftermath of the storm. The trip from DSM to CHA typically takes about five hours- this one started with a 6am flight (that was eventually cancelled), and ended at 11pm when my head finally hit the pillow. I have no complaints though- I was warm, had access to food, and most importantly, a variety of airport bars.
As an aside, I think there is a special place in hell reserved for the person who decided to co-mingle domestic and international flights on the same concourse. I'm just a simple businessman trying to make his way home and was forced to run a gauntlet of gates heading to such places as Rome, Amsterdam and London. This is patently unfair, and undeniably cruel. I was one overpriced Maker’s Mark and a missing passport away from waking up in Barcelona the next day.
I’ve since read a couple of pieces that trace last week’s dysfunction to our development patterns. They are, of course, right on the money. The gist is that the southern auto-dependent, sub-urban development patterns, were the cause of stranded motorists, parents not being bale to reach their kids, and scores of unplanned upon overnight stays at the Home Depot. Always one to pile on, I offer my thoughts.
part of the problem was that employers and schools called the day off at the same time, resulting in massive numbers of people on the same treacherous roads at the same time. Truth be told, no street system can deal with that type of situation perfectly, but some are better than others. The road systems throughout our country are predominantly hierarchical. This is the typical suburban system you know: local roads feed collectors that feed arterials that feed freeways. Traffic engineers love the model, and in truth, it’s difficult to envision a system that can handle long-distance automobile traffic any better. The trouble with that system is that if one of the elements fails, then all of the elements of the hierarchy below it fail as well. The system does not allow much room for choice or alternate decisions- the route from A to B is often pretty well fixed. Last week, we saw what happens to a hierarchical system when key elements fail.
 |
| The classic traffic engineer's diagram. I wonder how many people stuck on the freeway in Atlanta last week felt that their movement and speed was increased. |
The alternative to a hierarchical system can be found in a grid network. In this system, the streets are more or less equal, and property in the area is more or less equally served. Individual users have multiple choices for how to get from A to B and can react to any congestion they find in the system. The problem is that it doesn’t scale well- the system is suited physically and financially to denser situations such as a downtown.
In any event, and in either system, the root of the problem is monoculture. If everyone is doing the same thing at the same time, there are bound to be problems. In every other facet of life this is something we grasp easily. We “don’t put all of our eggs in the same basket”, financial advisors tell us to diversify our portfolios, and we understand that “variety is the spice of life”. When we have diversity, we are less subject to catastrophic outcomes when various elements of systems break the wrong way.
The point is not to abolish the sub-urbs or outlaw the car. The object is to remove the very real barriers to choice. Not everyone wants to live in the ‘burbs on an acre and drive a big car – but some do. Not everyone wants to live in a loft downtown and bike to work- but some do. One of our challenges is that the current system subsidizes certain lifestyles and provides barriers to others. Our goal should be to level the playing field and allow people to make choices that suit their philosophy and budget. If living in the ‘burbs makes the most sense for you and your family, great- but know that there are costs associated with extending infrastructure and extensive auto usage. If you want to live downtown, excellent- there are inherent cost efficiencies in inhabiting a smaller footprint and traveling shorter distances. The good news is that across the country, people are returning to downtown in droves. The better news is that those people will likely outlive (and eventually outvote) those wed to the doomed policies of the past.
1.27.2014
On the Edge
It hasn’t been cold enough for me in Chattanooga. By the time you read this, I will be in a land where the high temperature of the day will be zero. Zero (0), zip, nada, nothing. There are no degrees. It might be cold outdoors, but we’ll make it hot inside with some riverfront and downtown planning fire. I’m excited about the work and as it starts to take shape, I’ll be sure to share. In the meantime, be thankful for the balmy weather in the Scenic City.
My thoughts have been scattered this week, and that has manifest itself in the form of three half-written posts for this week. Good new for the future, bad news for today. In absence of original thought, I will point you in another direction.
This week, as I was talking over a potential project, I was reminded of a reading I was assigned in college. (Remembering any reading from my undergraduate days attests to its substance). Edgier Cities was an article written by Joel Garreau as a follow-up to his seminal book Edge City: Life on the New Frontier. The article describes the author’s vision for how the sub-urbs might evolve over the next three generations. I have a vivid recollection of the handout- a dog-eared, three-pager with the telltale illegible graphics and barely legible text of photocopies that have been photocopied one too many times. I have an equally vivid recollection of one of the passages in the article regarding the bohemian reinhabitation of an abandoned strip center:
“on the land no longer needed for parking, the artists muse over why that parking lot is so ugly, and they do something about it ... In the parking lot they plant trees and vegetable gardens and erect sculptures, paintings, band shells, tot lots, playgrounds, volleyball courts with imported sand, and farmers markets. Whenever a pothole emerges, it is seen as an opportunity to create a garden... The artists go to the great trouble of digging up the old drainage-system pipes. Now storm water flows on the surface, in the form of streams and marshes”
The article is now twenty years old, and of course has not perfectly predicted the future. Some of the article, however, rings true in an “Occupy” sort of way. In any event, you should go here to read it. Enjoy!
My thoughts have been scattered this week, and that has manifest itself in the form of three half-written posts for this week. Good new for the future, bad news for today. In absence of original thought, I will point you in another direction.
This week, as I was talking over a potential project, I was reminded of a reading I was assigned in college. (Remembering any reading from my undergraduate days attests to its substance). Edgier Cities was an article written by Joel Garreau as a follow-up to his seminal book Edge City: Life on the New Frontier. The article describes the author’s vision for how the sub-urbs might evolve over the next three generations. I have a vivid recollection of the handout- a dog-eared, three-pager with the telltale illegible graphics and barely legible text of photocopies that have been photocopied one too many times. I have an equally vivid recollection of one of the passages in the article regarding the bohemian reinhabitation of an abandoned strip center:
“on the land no longer needed for parking, the artists muse over why that parking lot is so ugly, and they do something about it ... In the parking lot they plant trees and vegetable gardens and erect sculptures, paintings, band shells, tot lots, playgrounds, volleyball courts with imported sand, and farmers markets. Whenever a pothole emerges, it is seen as an opportunity to create a garden... The artists go to the great trouble of digging up the old drainage-system pipes. Now storm water flows on the surface, in the form of streams and marshes”
The article is now twenty years old, and of course has not perfectly predicted the future. Some of the article, however, rings true in an “Occupy” sort of way. In any event, you should go here to read it. Enjoy!
1.20.2014
Things That Make You Go Hmmm
I’ve spent the past few weeks writing about Alabama football, travel, and family. Thanks for indulging me. I will reward your patience by getting back on topic. Before I jump into the issue du jour, however, I feel compelled to comment on another piece of local news.
You have no doubt heard about the cyclist who was allegedly harassed and attacked in Marion County. If the allegations prove to be true, that is a disgraceful and evil act, and hopefully justice will be served. As that story evolved over the course of the week from Facebook post, to local news story, to national media event, something else occurred to me. One cyclist got shot in the mouth with pepper spray, but lived to tell his story. This story has run all over the place. At the same time, Chattanoogans are getting shot with bullets and dying. Those stories come and go with little fanfare. That is, as Arsenio Hall once said, a “thing that makes you go hmm”. Moving swiftly on to things I better understand…
In the realms of urbanism, design and planning, things in our humble burg seem to be popping off. Below is a list of plans, projects, and initiatives currently underway in downtown and the surrounding urban neighborhoods. These are all big, district-scaled works, there are plenty of other things going on out there, so if I forgot to list one that you feel is important, please accept my apologies for the oversight. In the meantime, witness:
Center City
With the help of a handsome and talented consultant team, the River City Company has just completed The Center City Plan. A product of months of stakeholder meetings and a week-long charrette, the plan makes specific recommendations for the provision of new housing, the re-imagining of Miller Park and Patten Parkway, sustainable infrastructure projects, and the creation of a more balanced transportation system. Before the plan was completed, the city used our narrative and renderings as the basis for a grant application for the city’s first protected bike lanes on Broad Street. I suspect that in short order we will hear another couple of big announcements- keep yours ears on.
St. Elmo
CNE is about to undertake an even more robust plan for St. Elmo. The goal of the plan is to “bolster its downtown businesses and attractions, attract new housing opportunities and promote a pedestrian and bike friendly atmosphere.” If you want to get involved, the charrette starts at 6:30 on Thursday at the South Chattanooga Recreation Center.
U.S. Pipe/Wheland Foundry
This potential project, which has been harried by the recession, appears to be back on. You may recall that several years ago a $1 billion plan (that’s billion with a B) was drafted for the development of those 140 acres. It looks like they are now ready to move on the first piece of that project which comprises 2 acres of mixed-use development near Broad Street.
Glass Street
As you well know, an intrepid group of young people have taken on the revitalization of a portion of East Chattanooga. The group has been humming along with projects and events and is now offering a program to fill vacant storefronts with resident artists.
Harriett Tubman
Just down the street from the Glass House crew is the Harriett Tubman site. This vacant, former housing project was in the news this week as the CHA board declined to extend a deadline for private acquisition of the property. The City has indicated that it is interested in acquiring the site and redeveloping it for industrial use. Whatever the use, 35 acres of new development is a substantial project.
M.L. King
Word on the street is that the time has come for the M.L. King district. I suspect that with UTC bursting at the seams, big projects coming online, and some small businesses doing well, the district will become a focus of a push to get it “over the hump”. As we all know, there is tremendous opportunity on the Boulevard, there is space to make an impact, and some small projects are already proving the market.
Westside
If you believe what you read in the papers, this will be a big year for the forgotten side of downtown. On one end of the spectrum, a $40 million mixed-use, riverfront development is slated for construction this year. On the other end, time might be up for College Hill Courts. This, of course, has very real human implications in addition to the obvious economic ones.
UNUM
Our friends at UNUM have indicated that they are considering the future of their property. Who knows what that investigation will produce, but whatever it is will be important. Rest assured that the development of six contiguous vacant city blocks nestled between the riverfront and the city center will have a massive impact on the city.
What then, does all of this activity portend? I believe that each of those plans and projects are worthy endeavors. Considered on a project-by-project basis, they all seem feasible. The reality, however, is that they do not exist in a vacuum. The players in each of those projects are playing in the same small sandbox, and their fortunes will definitely affect one another. They will be competing with each other (and other neighborhoods in the city) for homeowners, renters, restaurants, employers and employees. The community has a finite pool of resources. Those resources include quantifiable things such as government funds, non-profit funds, new homebuyers, business start-ups, and consumers. We also have a finite pool of the less tangible resources such as focus, energy, buzz, and effort. All of this activity is very exciting, but it begs the question of whether or not we have the capacity to divide our finite resources by eight (plus everything else going on in town) and still make the type of impact that is required to spark revitalization in each of those places. That is a serious question that we will have to grapple with, but I suppose having too much going on is a good problem- it certainly beats the alternative.
You have no doubt heard about the cyclist who was allegedly harassed and attacked in Marion County. If the allegations prove to be true, that is a disgraceful and evil act, and hopefully justice will be served. As that story evolved over the course of the week from Facebook post, to local news story, to national media event, something else occurred to me. One cyclist got shot in the mouth with pepper spray, but lived to tell his story. This story has run all over the place. At the same time, Chattanoogans are getting shot with bullets and dying. Those stories come and go with little fanfare. That is, as Arsenio Hall once said, a “thing that makes you go hmm”. Moving swiftly on to things I better understand…
In the realms of urbanism, design and planning, things in our humble burg seem to be popping off. Below is a list of plans, projects, and initiatives currently underway in downtown and the surrounding urban neighborhoods. These are all big, district-scaled works, there are plenty of other things going on out there, so if I forgot to list one that you feel is important, please accept my apologies for the oversight. In the meantime, witness:
Center City
With the help of a handsome and talented consultant team, the River City Company has just completed The Center City Plan. A product of months of stakeholder meetings and a week-long charrette, the plan makes specific recommendations for the provision of new housing, the re-imagining of Miller Park and Patten Parkway, sustainable infrastructure projects, and the creation of a more balanced transportation system. Before the plan was completed, the city used our narrative and renderings as the basis for a grant application for the city’s first protected bike lanes on Broad Street. I suspect that in short order we will hear another couple of big announcements- keep yours ears on.
St. Elmo
CNE is about to undertake an even more robust plan for St. Elmo. The goal of the plan is to “bolster its downtown businesses and attractions, attract new housing opportunities and promote a pedestrian and bike friendly atmosphere.” If you want to get involved, the charrette starts at 6:30 on Thursday at the South Chattanooga Recreation Center.
U.S. Pipe/Wheland Foundry
This potential project, which has been harried by the recession, appears to be back on. You may recall that several years ago a $1 billion plan (that’s billion with a B) was drafted for the development of those 140 acres. It looks like they are now ready to move on the first piece of that project which comprises 2 acres of mixed-use development near Broad Street.
Glass Street
As you well know, an intrepid group of young people have taken on the revitalization of a portion of East Chattanooga. The group has been humming along with projects and events and is now offering a program to fill vacant storefronts with resident artists.
Harriett Tubman
Just down the street from the Glass House crew is the Harriett Tubman site. This vacant, former housing project was in the news this week as the CHA board declined to extend a deadline for private acquisition of the property. The City has indicated that it is interested in acquiring the site and redeveloping it for industrial use. Whatever the use, 35 acres of new development is a substantial project.
M.L. King
Word on the street is that the time has come for the M.L. King district. I suspect that with UTC bursting at the seams, big projects coming online, and some small businesses doing well, the district will become a focus of a push to get it “over the hump”. As we all know, there is tremendous opportunity on the Boulevard, there is space to make an impact, and some small projects are already proving the market.
Westside
If you believe what you read in the papers, this will be a big year for the forgotten side of downtown. On one end of the spectrum, a $40 million mixed-use, riverfront development is slated for construction this year. On the other end, time might be up for College Hill Courts. This, of course, has very real human implications in addition to the obvious economic ones.
UNUM
Our friends at UNUM have indicated that they are considering the future of their property. Who knows what that investigation will produce, but whatever it is will be important. Rest assured that the development of six contiguous vacant city blocks nestled between the riverfront and the city center will have a massive impact on the city.
What then, does all of this activity portend? I believe that each of those plans and projects are worthy endeavors. Considered on a project-by-project basis, they all seem feasible. The reality, however, is that they do not exist in a vacuum. The players in each of those projects are playing in the same small sandbox, and their fortunes will definitely affect one another. They will be competing with each other (and other neighborhoods in the city) for homeowners, renters, restaurants, employers and employees. The community has a finite pool of resources. Those resources include quantifiable things such as government funds, non-profit funds, new homebuyers, business start-ups, and consumers. We also have a finite pool of the less tangible resources such as focus, energy, buzz, and effort. All of this activity is very exciting, but it begs the question of whether or not we have the capacity to divide our finite resources by eight (plus everything else going on in town) and still make the type of impact that is required to spark revitalization in each of those places. That is a serious question that we will have to grapple with, but I suppose having too much going on is a good problem- it certainly beats the alternative.
1.13.2014
The Pachuta Connection
Please allow me to state the obvious- urban design in Chattanooga is a niche topic. Trying to keep things fresh after three years and 149 posts can be a challenge. At a loss for what to write about this morning, I collared my oldest as he walked by and pressed him for a topic. The boy is gifted, but if not prompted he has a one-track mind (that one track being sport). “Why don’t you write about our trip to the Sugar Bowl?” was his inevitable reply. There is, of course, no way in hell I’m writing another post about college football after the events of the past eight weeks (I just need a little time, that's all). No father wants to disappoint his son, however, so this week I’ll draw on a detour we took while on our trip.
My PaPa and BaBa grew up just outside of a tiny town called Quitman, which is outside of a small town called Meridian, which is in rural eastern Mississippi. As men of his generation did, he joined the military and the two of them traveled globe and country before settling in Montgomery. No matter where PaPa and BaBa happened to be, however, their home was in Mississippi. Whenever they any spare time, they traveled back to see their brothers and sisters in the country. After PaPa passed, Baba continued the practice and brought me along. I hated most of those trips. I was far more interested in the comforts of the “city” (the metropolis of sub-urban Montgomery), than roaming the back forty of the family land (Pahcuta, MS makes the sub-urbs of Montgomery look like Times Sqaure). In hindsight, however, there was no more carefree time than that spent wandering the woods alone, whittling spears out of pine limbs, and chucking dirt clods at my brothers. (My claim to fame in the extended family was that in addition to being Luke's grandson, I was the little angel who shot out the lights in Uncle Dave's barn with a bb gun.)
One of the tragedies of my life is that I never had the chance to know Luke Britton. He was, by all accounts, a great man- kind, generous, loving, unselfish, and a man of principle. I’ve never heard anyone speak an ill word of him. While he had the great fortune of meeting me, I was too young to have any recollection of him. He was, however, a constant presence in our lives. Big Luke’s name and memory was always in the air. A constant about PaPa is that whenever the family talked about him, they also talked about his connection to a place. Pretty much any time BaBa talked about PaPa, the story ended with a discussion of “the land”. Somewhere along the line, PaPa bought a hundred acres near where he grew up. His unfulfilled dream was to eventually move back to the land that he dubbed the Rockin’ B. People who live off of the land tend to have a special connection to it, and this was certainly the case for Luke. The land had significance for him because it was a symbol of home and family no matter where in the world he happened to be. After his passing, that land took on added significance.
BaBa, having been raised in the country as well, held the same deep-seated connection to land as Luke did. That particular land, however, evolved into a tangible representation of the man that she loved and lost. For my Mom, who is decidedly not about a subsistence-based connection to the land, the land is a symbol and a memory of her father. My two (decidedly less handsome) brothers and I have been told of the significance of the land our whole lives, and in a sense, the place has taken on an almost mythic quality. Because the land was originally important to Luke, it has become important to us all.
As the boy and I were driving back from New Orleans after the game, it occurred to me that we should make a detour and let him see the land for the first time. Taking my oldest child to see our ancestral homeland, a place deeply imbued with meaning is a significant life event for us both. In a more romantic world, that event would have involved a fly-over by an eagle, a glimpse of a deer, or the sweet smell of the pine forest. As it is, my recollection is that I really needed to relieve myself, I had an Icebreaker stuck in one of my teeth, and the boy was in some discomfort after rubbing his nose with fingers dirtied with Golden Flake Louisiana Hot Sauce Pork Skins (don’t tell his Mom, but we indulge in such things during football trips). We didn’t hear angels or trumpets, or see anything spectacular. The visit was, dare I say, boring. In the process of writing this post, however, I discovered a jewel in that little excursion.
This was the first time I have been back to the land since Baba passed, and I saw the place in a slightly different light. It’s a fine piece of land, mostly flat pine forest with a lazy creek that runs through it. From an objective standpoint, however, I realized that it’s not exceptionally unique or beautiful. My brothers and I (living in Aspen, Athens, and Chattanooga) could easily find a piece of land that is more dramatic, idyllic, or productive. We would not, however, be able to find any place more valuable. That observation led me to a fundamental truth- a place is only as important as people deem it to be. That is as true for downtown Chattanooga as it is for land in rural Mississippi.
Architecture and urban design in our city only matter when people believe that downtown is important- the greater our belief, the greater the importance. Our downtown sucked in the sixties and seventies because few people cared about it. Our turnaround was only achieved after the community rallied around the concept that downtown was a special place. While we stress the importance of design, the more fundamental task is nurturing the concept that the places where people live/work/play are important.
By observing the family's reverence for a mans connection to the land, I've been learning a lesson subconsciously for forty years: places have no inherent value, they only become important when people give them meaning. It is quite possible (and perhaps probable) that my career spent working in the physical environment is a direct product of Luke Britton’s love for a piece of land in rural Mississippi. What a jewel- a gift from a grandfather I never knew, that took me four decades to see.
My PaPa and BaBa grew up just outside of a tiny town called Quitman, which is outside of a small town called Meridian, which is in rural eastern Mississippi. As men of his generation did, he joined the military and the two of them traveled globe and country before settling in Montgomery. No matter where PaPa and BaBa happened to be, however, their home was in Mississippi. Whenever they any spare time, they traveled back to see their brothers and sisters in the country. After PaPa passed, Baba continued the practice and brought me along. I hated most of those trips. I was far more interested in the comforts of the “city” (the metropolis of sub-urban Montgomery), than roaming the back forty of the family land (Pahcuta, MS makes the sub-urbs of Montgomery look like Times Sqaure). In hindsight, however, there was no more carefree time than that spent wandering the woods alone, whittling spears out of pine limbs, and chucking dirt clods at my brothers. (My claim to fame in the extended family was that in addition to being Luke's grandson, I was the little angel who shot out the lights in Uncle Dave's barn with a bb gun.)
 |
| Big Luke, rocking the fez in front of Khafre's pyramid. |
One of the tragedies of my life is that I never had the chance to know Luke Britton. He was, by all accounts, a great man- kind, generous, loving, unselfish, and a man of principle. I’ve never heard anyone speak an ill word of him. While he had the great fortune of meeting me, I was too young to have any recollection of him. He was, however, a constant presence in our lives. Big Luke’s name and memory was always in the air. A constant about PaPa is that whenever the family talked about him, they also talked about his connection to a place. Pretty much any time BaBa talked about PaPa, the story ended with a discussion of “the land”. Somewhere along the line, PaPa bought a hundred acres near where he grew up. His unfulfilled dream was to eventually move back to the land that he dubbed the Rockin’ B. People who live off of the land tend to have a special connection to it, and this was certainly the case for Luke. The land had significance for him because it was a symbol of home and family no matter where in the world he happened to be. After his passing, that land took on added significance.
BaBa, having been raised in the country as well, held the same deep-seated connection to land as Luke did. That particular land, however, evolved into a tangible representation of the man that she loved and lost. For my Mom, who is decidedly not about a subsistence-based connection to the land, the land is a symbol and a memory of her father. My two (decidedly less handsome) brothers and I have been told of the significance of the land our whole lives, and in a sense, the place has taken on an almost mythic quality. Because the land was originally important to Luke, it has become important to us all.
As the boy and I were driving back from New Orleans after the game, it occurred to me that we should make a detour and let him see the land for the first time. Taking my oldest child to see our ancestral homeland, a place deeply imbued with meaning is a significant life event for us both. In a more romantic world, that event would have involved a fly-over by an eagle, a glimpse of a deer, or the sweet smell of the pine forest. As it is, my recollection is that I really needed to relieve myself, I had an Icebreaker stuck in one of my teeth, and the boy was in some discomfort after rubbing his nose with fingers dirtied with Golden Flake Louisiana Hot Sauce Pork Skins (don’t tell his Mom, but we indulge in such things during football trips). We didn’t hear angels or trumpets, or see anything spectacular. The visit was, dare I say, boring. In the process of writing this post, however, I discovered a jewel in that little excursion.
This was the first time I have been back to the land since Baba passed, and I saw the place in a slightly different light. It’s a fine piece of land, mostly flat pine forest with a lazy creek that runs through it. From an objective standpoint, however, I realized that it’s not exceptionally unique or beautiful. My brothers and I (living in Aspen, Athens, and Chattanooga) could easily find a piece of land that is more dramatic, idyllic, or productive. We would not, however, be able to find any place more valuable. That observation led me to a fundamental truth- a place is only as important as people deem it to be. That is as true for downtown Chattanooga as it is for land in rural Mississippi.
Architecture and urban design in our city only matter when people believe that downtown is important- the greater our belief, the greater the importance. Our downtown sucked in the sixties and seventies because few people cared about it. Our turnaround was only achieved after the community rallied around the concept that downtown was a special place. While we stress the importance of design, the more fundamental task is nurturing the concept that the places where people live/work/play are important.
By observing the family's reverence for a mans connection to the land, I've been learning a lesson subconsciously for forty years: places have no inherent value, they only become important when people give them meaning. It is quite possible (and perhaps probable) that my career spent working in the physical environment is a direct product of Luke Britton’s love for a piece of land in rural Mississippi. What a jewel- a gift from a grandfather I never knew, that took me four decades to see.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)