Mark
and I have been reading Strong Towns by
Charles L Marohn, a chapter at a time. It
becomes the focus of our walking conversations—a vast improvement over the
latest corona virus details or fuss over local politics. Right now, Mark is
ahead, so he keeps dropping tantalizing hints as to what is to come. Last Sunday,
we walked out to the edge of the city to deliver some quick breads. On the way back,
right at the edge of town, we passed a patch of untrimmed blackberries about to
take over the sidewalk. “That’s exactly what he’s talking about!” I realized.
Here, in Corvallis, we have infrastructure that we cannot maintain over the
long haul.
The basic premise of Strong Towns is that we have broken our
old development patterns of incremental growth and slow upgrading of “infill”
in favor of building out entire neighborhoods far from the economic centers of
towns and cities. Even if developers pay for the original infrastructure
(roads, pipes, storm water run-off, parks), the city will be paying for the
upkeep and maintenance for hundreds of years. And, because we have sprawled
over the landscape, we do not have the money to do so. He is also worried that
these neighborhoods will all “fail” at the same time; every house on the block
will need major repairs within five years of the first house. Just think of 25 year roofs; even if a few last
longer, they will all need to be replaced at about the same time. If the
repairs are not done, the housing stock will degrade very quickly, as will the
tax base. It’s a grim future he sees for many cities and suburbs in the United
States. I am a little over half way through, so I am hoping that he has a
glimmer of hope for us all.
The blackberry vine taking over the
sidewalk encapsulates the problem. First, it is on the public side of a
backyard fence of a house that was built on a cul-de-sac, a recent development
pattern. Cul de sacs are “good” for families
because they provide a “safe” place for kids to play, but they are bad urban
design because they reduce connectivity, which supports walking and biking,
thus discouraging community interaction. They also create some nasty sidewalks,
because people want privacy, so they build fences along the back yard, which is
often along the sidewalk of the larger collector street. It is not comfortable
to walk long blocks of fences in various states of repair, dodging overgrown shrubbery
that belongs to everyone, thus no one maintains it. That aggressive, thorny Himalayan Blackberry, grown
from a casual seed dropped by a bird, becomes a menace. And, because we have so many collector streets
in the newer parts of town, it is impossible for the city to trim them all back
in a timely fashion.
The blackberry is only one example
of this problem. Keeping all of our streets maintained to a decent level to
reduce even more costly repaving projects, fixing leaky pipes so that we waste
less water and the energy needed to clean it at both ends, planting and pruning
street trees, keeping the park bathrooms open….the further from the town
centers we go, the more expensive it becomes to do all of this. Marohn argues
that we have to acknowledge this problem and make some hard decisions. What
areas of our cities do we need to hold onto? What areas will be let go? His
primary audience, I believe, is me, as a city councilor wrestling with budgets
and policy decisions, but it’s a clearly written, if not frisky, piece of work.
And it will change the way you view that blackberry that just snagged your
sweater as you walk by.
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