Where Goes the Neighborhood?

By Tom Breuer, The Scene. Posted July 17, 2002.

James Howard Kunstler has a pretty interesting theory about why EuroDisney flopped in France while its counterparts in America continue to be wildly popular.

In "Home From Nowhere," Kunstler's follow-up to his pull-no-punches "The Geography of Nowhere" -- his original jeremiad on the diminishing returns of our nation's growing suburban infrastructure -- Kunstler says it all has to do with the way America organizes its public spaces.

Accustomed to sprawling commercial districts, disconnected residential areas and characterless work environments -- an unattractive, sprawling landscape which, he says, is geared wholly toward the needs of the car rather than the needs of people -- for most Americans, Disney World's plastic, faux neighborhoods, with their "quaint" park benches and street lamps, represent a soothing slice of nostalgia.

In Europe, where public spaces are still attractive, connected, easy to get to, geared more toward the pedestrian, and, perhaps most importantly, feel like real neighborhoods, the Disney magic falls flat.

"The public realm in America became so atrocious in the postwar decades that the Disney Corp. was able to create an artificial substitute for it and successfully sell it as a commodity," writes Kunstler. "That's what Disney World is really about. In France, where the public realm possesses a pretty high standard of design quality and is carefully maintained as well, there is much less need for artificial substitutes, so few people feel compelled to go to EuroDisney."

Although Kunstler is extremely pessimistic about the prospects for many of America's living spaces, his rather forceful criticisms do resonate with many who have found more malaise than kinship in today's suburban neighborhoods.

While environmentalists tend to see suburban sprawl as an unsustainable form of growth that continually gobbles up a limited amount of land, critics like Kunstler see another form of devastation: to cities' aesthetics, their sense of community, and the city centers which have been abandoned for the promise of big houses and big discounts outside of town. But while suburbia and sprawl development have become the dominant forms of growth in America, slowly a small chorus of voices tied into what has been dubbed the New Urbanism is starting to raise objections.

In a nutshell, the New Urbanism is about building neighborhoods the way we did before World War II, with mixed-use zoning (so people have easy access to employment and shopping), streets that are safe and welcoming for pedestrians, architecture that is attractive and inviting (with front doors, porches and windows facing the street), and neighborhood centers with formal civic spaces and squares.

In short, New Urbanists say, towns and cities should be a lot more like the older infrastructure in our cities, which to some degree still exists in our downtowns and older neighborhoods, and a lot less like the isolated residential, commercial and office conclaves that characterize suburbia. They should be neighborhoods, where people can meet, go to a corner store, get to work without relying on long, wearying commutes, and where kids and the elderly can have a full stake in public life without having to beg for rides.

While the Congress for the New Urbanism charter talks high-mindedly about encouraging architecture and landscape design that celebrates local history, climate, ecology and building practice; about fostering universally accessible public places and community institutions; and about creating neighborhoods diverse in use and population, much of the real appeal of these ideas can be summed up in what the congress calls the "Popsicle test": An 8-year-old in the neighborhood should be able to walk to a store to buy a Popsicle, without having to deal with fast-moving cars.

Even though some see such a criterion as naive, starry-eyed nostalgia that hearkens to a world that's gone and all but forgotten, in some areas such concepts are actually on the way back, thanks to New Urbanist principles. In Hartford, Wis., a Milwaukee-area suburb, some of the ideals of the New Urbanism have taken root. The town of 11,077 has adopted the motto "work where you live, live where you work" and has taken steps to make that motto work.

"We don't want people going to work in Milwaukee and then buy groceries on their way home to Hartford to sleep," said Hartford city planner and community development director John Spielmann in a December story in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. "We want to attract and keep residents who have a stake in their community."

The city does this in part by ensuring a healthy mix of affordable and higher-cost housing. It allows construction on smaller lots than do typical suburbs, helping encourage abundant and diversified housing. This is not only more egalitarian, but better allows people to maintain residence close to their jobs.

Some New Urbanist principles are also evident in the current Streetscape renovation of downtown Appleton, Wisconsin. A greater focus has been put on pedestrians. And certain design elements, like the mouse-eared bumpouts at intersections that make walkers more visible and slow down traffic, are intended to make it easier going. "The word they use in the technical books is 'calming,'" said Lee Parker, one of the founders 12 years ago of Appleton Downtown Inc., and a long-time downtown advocate. "It's a traffic calming effort, and I would parallel that with the little boy being able to walk to the store to get his ice cream cone. ... Why is the lighting going to be as stunning as it is? Why does it matter that there will be no shadows on the Avenue? Because it's an invitation for all of us to come back down and meet each other."

While not a disciple of New Urbanism per se, Lee Parker echoes many of the concepts that have become part and parcel of the movement. Parker is a long-time advocate for remodeling and renovating his downtown of Appleton, Wisconsin. Among the cornerstones of his redevelopment ideals is the need for people to interact with each other -- and for environments that make that possible.

As Parker says, U.S. cities need a downtown where "the mom with the stroller doesn't have to run like hell to get across the street." "We've got to get back to that," said Parker. "We have to, because where else are we going to go? There's so much technology, so much concrete. We need more grass, we need more flowers, we need more gentleness. People need people more than they need things, and one of these days this culture is going to figure that out."

Unfortunately, the sorts of neighborhoods that would seem to foster the kind of togetherness Parker rhapsodizes about have not just fallen out of fashion; to a large extent they've been made illegal. Many areas prohibit mixed-use neighborhoods that allow easy, walkable access to shopping, and also mandate large lots that promote sprawling residential development. Kunstler himself has advocated getting rid of such zoning laws, which he says would go a long way toward creating the kinds of neighborhoods people care about.

Indeed, one can perform an easy experiment by strolling through one's downtown or older residential areas, and then trying to do the same thing in the suburban residential and commercial districts. Which feels more like a neighborhood, which feels more welcoming, which is more attractive, and which best fosters a sense of community? The answer is easy.

Granted, many would say the world has changed, along with our built environment, and there's little we can do. But go to the Congress for the New Urbanism Web site, and you'll be able to look at newer developments and neighborhoods that have been patterned after the old, pre-World War II, pre-car-dominant, pre-suburban sprawl model. It's striking how much more they look like traditional neighborhoods, how much more attractive they are, and how much more welcoming they feel compared to what is currently on the outskirts of most of our nation's cities.

While some berate New Urbanism-styled downtown redevelopment schemes for their naivete and hopeless nostalgia, if Kunstler and critics like him are right, its pedestrian-friendly, traditional concepts may in fact be the wave of the future.

Indeed, as Disney World proves, the traditional neighborhood is what people want, whether they know it or not. "Main Street USA is America's obsolete model for development," writes Kunstler. "We stopped assembling towns this way after 1945. The pattern of Main Street is pretty simple: mixed use, mixed income, apartments and offices over the stores, moderate density, scaled to pedestrians, vehicles permitted but not allowed to dominate, buildings detailed with care, and built to last ... Altogether it was a pretty good development pattern. It produced places that people loved deeply. That is the reason Main Street persists in our cultural memory."

Tom Breuer is the editor of the Scene, based in Appleton, Wis.

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