Steven Dale

Steven Dale

Steven Dale is the Founding Principal of Creative Urban Projects (CUP or CUP Projects for short). He splits his time living and working in Toronto, Canada and a small village in central Switzerland. He doesn't drive; knows far more about using ski lifts as public transit than any rational individual should; and has a 6 year old beagle named Joy.

 

Tower Renewal concept from ERA Architects.

When you read D&L there are numerous moments where Jacobs seems uncannily prescient. So often I find myself basically living through what she forecasted 50 years ago and I shake my head wishing that stock analysts and weathermen were as accomplished in their careers as prognosticators.

Of course I recognize this isn’t actually the case – at least not all the time. Skeptically and objectively, one has to trust that Jacobs inspired future events more than she predicted them.

That’s where I found myself at the end of Chapter 20: Salvaging projects.

After my first read-through of the text I couldn’t help but feel as though Jacobs ideas and concepts were visions of two fast-moving urban trends: Vancouverism and Tower Renewal. It would be foolish, of course, to say that Jacobs predicted either Vancouverism or Tower Renewal. She didn’t predict them. But she clearly inspired them. And inspiring action in others, I believe, is far more important than predicting them.

A curious product of the last generation of planners, Vancouverism is an architectural and urban design philosophy developed in Vancouver, Canada whereby density is concentrated in so-called point towers that sit atop 3-5 story podiums of mixed-use retail, commercial and residential uses. It is to the early 21st century what New Urbanism was to the 1980’s and 90’s and Radiant City was to the 1940’s and 50’s.

Tower Renewal, meanwhile, is very much a product of Toronto, Canada. In Tower Renewal schemes, post-war high-rises developed on the Radiant City model of planning are terraformed in such a way that they meet the ideals espoused in a Vancouverist tower-and-podium design.

As far as I know, Tower Renewal concepts never explicitly invoke Vancouverism, but the end result is clear. At a very basic level, it’s about (at least in part) turning this:

Post-war apartments in Toronto built to reflect Radiant City principles. CC image by flickr user vipez.

. . . into this:

A condominium/townhouse design in keeping with Vancouverist principles. CC image via flickr user Concert Properties Ltd.

As you read chapter 20 you’re basically presented the blueprints for both. While the tactics presented are explicitly a prescription for reweaving torn Radiant City neighborhoods back into the urban fabric, one can read it as instructions for how to prevent the damage in the first place. It’s like being told that exercise cures obesity. Looked at from another angle, it’s also a a lesson in how exercise also prevents obesity.

Vancouverism is nothing more than the act of preventing the need for Tower Renewal in the first place. That’s not meant to demean Vancouverism. As the old cliché goes, an ounce of prevention beats a pound of cure and that’s no less true here.

Vancouverism and Tower Renewal are two concepts bizarrely joined-at-hip that present an urban surrealist’s analogy for what makes Vancouver Vancouver and Toronto Toronto; two very similar and very different cities both at the same time.

In Toronto’s case, we have an older city struggling to reach an ideal by transforming the mistakes of its past through Tower Renewal. In Vancouver’s case, we’re presented with a much younger city unencumbered by the inevitable mistakes history brings with it. Vancouver, after all is Vancouverism.

Both cities strive to a similar ideal but one has the advantage of starting with a clean slate.

The unfortunate thing about Tower Renewal, however, has been its relative lack of rigorous interest in and application of the tactics Jacobs presents in chapter 20. Most Tower Renewal programs (at least those that I’ve encountered, so please correct me if I’m wrong) focus on the rehabilitation of the existing buildings from a building materials and environmental-stewardship angle.

Issues of walkability, place-building and urban design are superficially addressed, but appear to the outsider to be little more than lip service with the typical plannerspeak of things like “improved pedestrian connectivity,” “upgraded public space,” and “picnic tables.” As though more picnic tables were somehow going to transform our post-war tower slums into thriving and bustling neighborhoods.

Consider the city of Toronto’s Tower Renewal Implementation book. In it, they state “walking is an important part of living in a city, as Jane Jacobs so often pointed out.” Within that 100 page book that is the lone mention of Jacobs, and Social/Cultural Objectives (their words, not mine) are given a mere 4 pages of attention.

Most egregiously, when the book discusses matters of job creation it focuses purely on developing and exporting a Tower Renewal industry. There is no mention of creating jobs for those people living in the towers themselves through renewing the neighborhood such that it’s capable of creating and maintaining jobs from within. Instead the residents are offered typical “labour market information; placement and referrals; and links to existing employment supports.”

As I discussed in my first book club post, the co-opting of Jacobs’ persona coupled with the wholesale dismissal of her ideas is as common to planning practice as flour is to bakeries, but rarely have I seen Jacobs’ name invoked in so condescending and dismissive a way.

In fairness to the Tower Renewal movement, there is no reason they need to be bound by Jacob’s writing. Tower Renewal, after all, is mostly about renewing towers. If the concept was dubbed Empty Space Around Tower Renewal I might have the right to kibitz, but it’s not called that. Nevertheless, kibitz I will.

Tower Renewal without Space Renewal is at best a temporary fix. Without the necessary street level improvements won’t these buildings decay in much the same way they did before? To maintain the buildings long-term there needs to be a committed groundswell of people dedicated to making these areas their homes for the long term. And that means improving the street level to such an extent that it is safe, vibrant, diverse and bursting with jobs.

Most importantly, as Jacobs points out, they must “be capable of holding people by choice.”

You can upgrade those water pipes and install solar panels all you want, but those aren’t the things that make people take ownership of a place. Furthermore, those pipes you install are still going to corrode and need replacing a generation from now. With the the proper level of community development, those pipes get fixed in a jiffy. Without, they’re just going to require Tower Renewal 2.0 a generation from now.

That might be great for a Tower Renewal industry, but terrible for the neighborhoods that industry purports to want to help.

Random Thoughts

  • Tower Renewal is a big, big topic. I’ve intentionally simplified my discussion of it due to space constraints. Generally speaking, I’m positive on Tower Renewal and ERA Architects of Toronto – commonly thought of as the movement’s originators. I’m just not big on Toronto’s application of it. You can read ERA’s treatise on Tower Renewal here.
  • My favourite part (for all the wrong reasons) of Toronto’s Tower Renewal Implementation Book is where they unironically state that “the following improvements to (a) park would encourage residents to use the park more often: Seating areas, e.g. benches; picnic tables; shelters or gazebos; trees, bushes, shrubs and flowers; plant containers; playground; mural project.” Aren’t those the very things most post-war housing slums possess in droves?
  • Perhaps the most unfortunate part of the whole Tower Renewal situation in Toronto is that the vast majority of the infill development around towers is not going towards mixed use retail and commercial but instead towards residential condos. Further complicating matters is that most of these developments are occurring in areas with above average wages, thereby suggesting that the communities most in need of genuine Tower Renewal aren’t getting it. A report by the city of Toronto called Infill on Apartment Sites in Toronto documents the problem entirely. Sadly, that report doesn’t seem to actually acknowledge that this is a problem.
  • I genuinely love Vancouver and think Vancouverism is great. There are two things, however, that I don’t like about Vancouver. One: The word “Vancouverism.” Obnoxious to anyone but a Vancouverite. Two: The tendency of Vancouverites to consistently tell visitors that the reason Vancouver is so great is because “you can go skiing in the morning and golfing in the afternoon.” It’s practically the city’s motto.
 

There's a joke in here somewhere, but I don't know where. CC image by flickr user Marika.

Throughout this whole process I’ve dreaded writing about chapter 18 of D&L. It’s not because it’s a long chapter (it is). It’s not because it’s a hard chapter (it works to be). And it’s not because it throws so many ideas at you that it’s hard to keep track of them all (it does).

The reason I’ve dreaded this chapter so much is that unlike the other chapters, it confronts directly that most personal (and controversial) of North American possessions – the private automobile. And as such, there’s no way to write about the chapter without irritating someone. Transportation is the topic everyone knows nothing about but is certain they know how easy it is to get from A to B. Everyone takes it personally, everyone’s got an opinion and everyone thinks their opinion is right.

So here goes …

When you read most of D&L, Jacobs’ talks in ways that empower people to take control of their lives and their communities by taking ownership of their own actions. Her special brand of sideway blows are reserved for institutions, governments and agencies but never against communities and their residents’ behaviors. She wants to see government and planners getting out of people’s way so that they may “struggle with plans of their own.”

But in Chapter 18 her tone changes and her tactics shift. Suddenly a person’s choice to use the automobile must be challenged. Despite qualifiers like “automobiles are hardly inherent destroyers of cities” Jacobs behaves as though they most certainly are. Note how her language is tinged with the language of combat. The entire chapter is peppered with words like attrition, war and conflict. Continue reading »

 

A 1936 map showing redlined or blacklisted neighbourhoods in Philadelphia.

In the early 1980’s my mother was a single mom in her mid-thirties raising an incredibly clumsy son with a habit of accidentally breaking things – himself included. Prudent woman that she was, she thought obtaining a credit card was a wise idea to provide a fallback in the event of any emergencies.

Trouble was, she was as single mother and banks weren’t in the habit of giving out Visa cards to that ‘blacklisted’ demographic. Though she was always frugal, employed and completely without debt, it still took her a couple of years and multiple applications to finally be granted entry into the world of consumer credit.

Fifteen years later and at the age of nineteen, I too, would be admitted to that world. And like my mother before me, my motivation for a credit card was motivated solely to protect myself in the event of an emergency – during a five month long trip to Spain.

"No, you don't understand, this IS an emergency - I NEED another cerveza." CC image by flickr user landahlauts.

The application process took roughly 15 minutes.

Nowadays, 16 year olds are solicited by mail with offers of pre-approved, high interest credit cards.

Chapter 16 of D&L is initially hard reading because of that very dichotomy. So much of the chapter revolves around the antiquated idea of blacklisting (and its unmentioned, more nefarious cousin, redlining) districts such that anyone within the district can’t obtain credit to gradually improve their lot in life (and by extension, improving the surrounding district and city). The chapter’s focus on hard-to-obtain credit is a bizarre concept for contemporary readers.

This kind of credit is what Jacobs calls “gradual money” and she theorizes that the kind of gradual improvement and change that comes of it is essential to the growth and viability of cities.

Trouble is, 50 years ago the idea that a successful business owner would be unable to obtain said “gradual money” (in the form of a loan) to improve his company solely because of the neighborhood he was located in was common. Today, the concept is completely foreign. Today you can use an Amex card to buy a $0.99 virtual whoopee cushion for your iPhone – instantly.

(Actually that’s incorrect, I’ve misspoken. It’s not that you can use a credit card to pay for said whoopee cushion; as there are no other payment options allowed, you must use one. That’s how far the credit pendulum has swung in the opposite direction.)

Today gradual money’s everywhere. And that should be a good thing. But, as always, there’s a catch.

On the flip side is what Jacobs calls “cataclysmic money.” That is, the kind of large scale investments and developments driven by heavy duty investors, funds and government renewal schemes. Cataclysmic money is, in Jacobs’ view, one of the fundamental reasons we have what she derisively calls Radiant Garden City Beautiful planning. 

That money we’re all too familiar with and it’s only gotten more extreme, rather than less. It’s the kind of money that gives us Las Vegas CityCenter, Dubai’s The World archipelago and Disney’s Celebration, Florida. It’s money detached from time and place brought to bear upon whatever investment seems most ripe for the picking.

Rumour has it the islands shaped like Iceland and Greece can be had for next to nothing.

This is where chapter 16 becomes relevant for contemporary readers.

The existence of so much gradual money (read: cheap credit for everyone) translates into even greater amounts of cataclysmic money. Rather, however, than have a handful of investors or government agencies directing a few large pools of money at a project, now we have developers and investors funneling massive numbers of small pools of money at a project.

Think about it: Downtown condo towers or tract suburban bungalows are only enabled by the ability of a few hundred reasonably employed yuppies and/or families to obtain a cheap mortgage. All those hundreds of mortgages are pooled together to allow developments to happen. In our world, the gradual money that’s been democratized for everyone has been co-opted by the barons of cataclysmic money.

It would be easy at this point to direct our collective anger and resentment at this end result towards the development industry, the banks and the mortgage underwriters. After all, those are the people that got us into the mess and largely undermined the entire world’s global financial system through the standard tools and instruments of cataclysmic money.

But that would be misplaced anger. Like the mortgage crisis today, Jacobs was spot on when she observed 50 years ago that “private investment shapes cities, but social ideas (and laws) shape private investment. First comes the image of what we want, then the machinery is adapted to turn out that image.”

Just as the redevelopments of the 1940’s, 50’s and 60’s were largely catalyzed by government policy. Our cheap credit and housing boom was largely catalyzed by North American governments addicted to growth at all costs (in the former case), and a misdirected policy of homeownership for everyone (in the latter case).

All this is to say that while chapter 16 of D&L may seem dated to some, there are nuggets of truth in there that allow us to understand our contemporary urban surroundings. Jacobs shows us that money isn’t one singular entity but rather a family of differing typologies that have vastly different impacts on our cities.

Money doesn’t guarantee a successful city, but a successful city cannot exist without it.

Random Thoughts

  • Jacobs’ concept of a “third kind of money from a shadow world” confuses me. Her invocations of 80 percent interest rates and slumlords conspiring with government come off as paranoid and her lack of examples and evidence make it all the more problematic. I’m not saying such things didn’t exist (or still do), but her discussion of them isn’t nearly as intellectually rigorous as the rest of the book, thereby casting doubt on the reality of the situations she describes. I actually would’ve liked her to delve more into these issues.
  • When Jacobs writes “I hope we disburse foreign aid abroad more intelligently than we disburse it at home” I could only think of John Perkins’ shocking memoir Confessions of an Economic Hitman. Read it.
  • “We, the people, will work out our own destiny.” Love it.
 

“Even when a major border has concentrated city intensity, as in (San Francisco and Manhattan’s respective waterfronts), the zone along the border itself seldom reflects that intensity, or garners a fair share of it.”

Why is that?

Simple: Geometry.

In chapter 14 of D&L, Jacobs goes to great pains to discuss what she calls the “curse of border vacuums” but does little to differentiate the types of border vacuums that exist and how some may be more or less harmful than others.

For example: Water is – admittedly, arguably – the single most influencing factor on how, where, why, and when cities are conceived. It’s kinda like the new year’s champagne that results in a newborn son or daughter nine months later; one often follows the other. We can’t ignore it.

Trouble is, not all city-bearing water is the same. There are waterfront cities (those on lakes, seas and oceans), there are riverfront cities (those on rivers), and there are hybrids.

Continue reading »

 

Unsurprisingly, Jane Jacobs does not approve of junkyards as a tool to promote diversity. Her feelings about Junkyard Dogs, however, remain uncertain. CC image by flickr user waltarrrrr.

If you’ve made it this far along with us, congratulations; because this is a big, long book that can certainly intimidate a person.

As we reach the end of section 2, there’s a good chance some of you have reached a point where you find yourself thinking so what can we do about it? only to be confronted with whatever the written word equivalent of silence is.  

Jacobs is so exhaustive in D&L at cataloguing the problems of contemporary North American city-building, that one can be forgiven for feeling utterly overwhelmed and helpless.

It’s one of the criticisms I’ve often seen levied at D&L - that the book is long on problems and short on solutions. And it’s a fair enough argument. Jacobs is masterful at spotting problems of the urban form but is almost mute when it comes to implementing policies that would allow us to realize the ideal urban environments she speaks of.

We’re never (at least thus far) shown a light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, the list of problems continuously builds, unrelentingly, with nary a whisper of hope in sight. Our parks are wrong. We don’t have old enough buildings. We don’t have short enough blocks. We aren’t diverse enough. We aren’t mixed enough. Etc.

Again, we’re left as an audience feeling helpless – so what can we do about it? Continue reading »

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