Connectivity barriers: When is it worth breaking them?

Portland's Reedway Street at the Union
Pacific railroad. Try crossing this! Actually,
don't. Image: author.

Why did the chicken cross the road? You know the rest. But what if that road is a 16-lane freeway, or the busiest railroad in the state? Or, what if it is a natural “road” – a river, gulch, canyon, arroyo, cliff or hillside?  To get to the other side, the chicken would need to somehow avoid dismemberment or drowning. More probable is that our feathered friend would stay on its side of the road, or take a circuitous route that increases the length and time of its trip by a large factor. As such, the chicken may be encouraged to get in its chicken car and drive two miles to a destination that is really just 200 feet away for a more flight-capable bird.

Transportation facilities – linear features intended to provide mobility – sometimes reduce it instead. Much has been written about mid-century freeways severing urban neighborhoods that, due to their disenfranchised minority populations and blighted housing stock, were deemed disposable. And most Americans have heard the expression that someone “grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.” While we have enjoyed the economic benefits of freeways and railroads, they came with a steep social price that we are still paying today.


Sometimes, if a community gets sufficiently annoyed about the gulf separating them from where they want to go, they organize and ask their leaders for a crossing. If they’re lucky, someone listens, finds a few million bucks, and gets it built.

This presents a series of policy questions. When is it worth spending millions to connect two sides of a freeway, railroad or river with a grade-separated crossing? What are the density thresholds or other criteria that make it worthwhile? How far apart should these crossings be spaced in urban, suburban and rural contexts? Should a new crossing be just for people on foot or bike, or should it be a complete street, or even a new interchange? How about just peds, bikes and emergency vehicles? Conversely, when is it okay to say, “No, you people don’t need to get from point A to point B in any sort of direct fashion”?

The answer is usually, “It depends.” But that’s not very helpful. Short of a doctoral thesis project, we can at least take an anecdotal look at how transportation planners have responded to these questions in practice.

The South Could Learn From The South

When one thinks of innovative, sustainable urban planning, the American South doesn’t come to mind. As the story goes, the South’s most significant boom took place after World War II, spurred by the advent of air conditioning and the growth of defense-related industries. We know what forms of development the mid 20th century brought: sprawling, looping subdivisions with homes on oversized lots; seven-lane arterial roads with big box stores and garrish signage; downtown urban renewal schemes with brutalist concrete architecture and dead streets. Really, it was the same stuff being built everywhere else in mid-century America, just more of it, and worse. And with Piggly Wigglys.

Attack of the house clones!

In the spirit of Halloween, I’ll tell you what spooks me. It’s not ghosts, ghouls, goblins, the Frankenstorm, or the prospect of a Romney presidency. No, it’s the outsized neo-traditional house clones that are popping up en masse in many a Portland neighborhood. Like zombies, they rise from the graves of once-affordable properties. What are these strange, deformed creatures of the night, with names like Meriwether, Ainsworth and Montgomery? They are the Renaissance Homes Vintage Collection – new homes with “all the updated charm, built-ins and period details of the Portland homes you’ve come to love.”

Okay, in the scheme of things, a recovering housing market is nothing to be scared of, and I applaud the effort to design homes that attempt to blend into the milieu of older neighborhoods. But I take issue with these offerings from Renaissance for several reasons:

Planner visits Vegas, isn't horrified

Bellagio fountains. Image: author

It’s Saturday night in Las Vegas, Nevada - 11:30pm in front of the Bellagio fountains, to be exact. It’s still a toasty 90 degrees after a daytime high in the mid-100s. My wife and I are standing near the intersection of two ten-lane roads packed with cars – Las Vegas and Flamingo boulevards, arguably the “100% intersection” of the entire region. We’re not alone. In fact, I can think of only one other place in America where I’ve seen this many people on a sidewalk without a special event taking place. That would be Times Square. Clearly my preconceptions about Vegas are a bit off.

Where should affordable housing go?

A family member of mine who works at a non-profit affordable housing consultancy in Portland was understandably irritated at The Oregonian’s Sunday feature story, “Subsidizing Segregation: Taxpayer money meant to create affordable and desirable housing for the poor and people of color instead pushes them into the metro area’s worst neighborhoods.”

Patton Park Apartments. Photo: Reach CDC

I agree that the article has a pejorative tone, and deemphasizes any success stories or positive sides of the issue. Hundreds of housing professionals work tirelessly to provide decent places to live for our region’s less well-off. Far beyond tilting up four walls and a roof, our region’s housing agencies have created remarkable communities with state-of-the-art design and amenities. I’ve seen the quality first-hand during tours of North/Northeast Portland’s Patton Park and Shaver Green Apartments.

Asking urban planners to be job counselors

All across America, urban planners are being reassigned (if they still have jobs at all.) Nowhere is this truer than at urban renewal and redevelopment agencies. Experts trained and experienced in things like land assembly, mixed-use development and streetscapes are now being asked to work on more nebulous pursuits like capacity building, workforce development and corporate recruiting. It’s a sign of the times – times of anemic job growth, timid real estate markets, cash-strapped city budgets and anti-government movements. There is public pressure to stop messing with property and start creating jobs. In an extreme example, California has disbanded and outlawed all redevelopment agencies – an unusual move for a blue state.

This great reassignment is not going entirely smoothly. At the very least, it has reduced job satisfaction and self-worth among many planning professionals. At the worst, it has cost people their jobs and eliminated an entire sector of urban planning. The tragic irony is that now would be an ideal time to think big and put people to work on major redevelopment and infrastructure projects. But that’s not where we find ourselves.

What Portland could learn from L.A.

The image of Portland in urban planning and transportation circles is of a compact, walkable downtown, surrounded by leafy neighborhoods with vibrant commercial districts, all connected by light rail and innovative bikeways.

These things do, in fact, exist, and they are mostly wonderful. But Portland also has a dirty, not-so-little secret. There’s an entire district – representing about a quarter of the city’s land area and population – that is the exact opposite of that picture-perfect planning ideal. Think strip malls; cheap, poorly-designed multi-family housing; dangerous five-lane arterial roads with nowhere safe to walk; sparse transit service.