The History of Atlanta (Part 2): Other People

The Braves' abandonment of the city for the suburbs got me interested in the impact of the team on our city, so I've been reading.  One of the things I've read is a fascinating essay from Georgia State University about the changes in the neighborhoods surrounding the stadiums (Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium and Turner Field).  This image is from that essay:

People used to live there, but the city forced them out not only to build two stadiums but before that to build expressways to connect the city with the suburbs.  In those days there was no requirement that "urban renewal" projects make any provision for the people who are displaced, so no one knows what happened to those people.  Larry Keating's book, Atlanta:  Race, Class, and Urban Expansion, details the pattern over decades of redevelopment plans that get rid of housing and neighborhoods where poor people live -- especially poor black people -- without (for most of the period) any effort to provide a place for them to go.  Neither the white businessmen who used to directly led the city or the black political class that replaced them paid any attention to this until the Federal government eventually forced them to, and even then efforts were half-hearted and promises were rarely kept.

It wasn't just the interests of the poor, mostly African-American, citizens of Atlanta whose interests were ignored.  The city also had a terrible track record of supporting the interests of middle-class white residents, which its support for Georgia Department of Transportation plans to turn intown neighborhoods into even more expressways so all the people who moved out of the city during desegregation could come back every day to go to work.

The Washington-Rawson neighborhood was destroyed in an early round of urban renewal, and became Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium.  With little regard for the neighborhood, Turner Field was built just south of the older stadium and has adversely impacted Summerhill, Peoplestown, and Mechanicsville.  Now Mayor Reed is promising "one of the largest developments for middle-class people that the city has ever had” will replace Turner Field.

Let's just say, for purposes of discussion, that that actually happens.  What happens to the people who've lived in the area, all these years, putting up with empty lots that fill up with cars on game day and traffic and the asphalt sea that is Turner Field and no supermarket?  Just as the city's leadership -- both elected and unelected -- have felt free to make bad decisions about other people's money, they have not shown more regard for other people's homes and lives.

We'll see if this time it's different.

The History of Atlanta (Part 1): Other People's Money

On November 11, the Atlanta Braves announced that they were leaving Atlanta and moving to Cobb County.  Although I'm not a big basefall fan and have only been to Turner Field a couple of times, I couldn't believe our team -- our team! -- would abandon the city for the MARTA-refusing, car-dependent suburbs.  Baseball is an urban game.  It was just wrong.  And this lame excuse that they were moving to the I-75/I-285 area in part because of traffic?

I'm still angry but now I'm angry at others in addition to Liberty Media, the owner of the Cobb County Braves.  Soon after the announcement, there was a wonderful piece from Georgia State posted on line that detailed the impact of the stadiums -- not just Turner Field, but also Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium, that preceded it -- on the neighborhood.  There were several other sources referenced -- an excellent article by Rebecca Burns that appeared in Atlanta Magazine last summer, and several books.  Since then I've been reading.  One of the books, Kevin Kruse's White Flight:  Atlanta and the Making of Modern Conservatism, I've now read most of, but I have to admit that I haven't quite finished it because it's just too depressing.  The other one is Larry Keating's Atlanta:  Race, Class, and Urban Expansion, which I finished yesterday.  It was pretty depressing too.

It's very striking, especially in Keating's book, how recurrent is the theme in recent Atlanta history of the power structure of wealthy white businessman and the black political class making decisions that didn't make fiscal sense.  Professional sports teams are not financial winners for cities, and the city has paid dearly to have the Braves here.  MARTA was not projected at the time it was built to have much ridership, but estimates were made based on anticipated high-density development around transit stations -- even though land use policy continued to allow low-density development in those areas.  But city leaders thought "real cities" had train systems, so Atlanta had to have one.  There was the Underground Atlanta debacle.  There was a continued disregard for thoughtful planning with placement of the civic center, multiple stadiums, and Centennial Olympic Park and public investment in the name of economic development in things which ended up not being good investments at all, and by people who should have known better.

Towards the end of the book, Keating wrote:

An obsession with image, however, does not fully explain why a business-led coalition would have repeatedly pursued redevelopment projects that were ineffective in terms of economic development.  A desire to enhance Atlanta's prestige explains why the city's governing elite has found glamourous, high-profile projects so appealing, but it does not explain why the governing elite has consistently ignored practical realities.  Oddly, the fundamental reason for this impracticality is that narrowly defined private interests have viewed public investment differently from private investment.  The Atlanta business powers have been willing to pursue projects that were poorly conceived from an economic standpoint because these projects either have been paid for directly with taxpayer money or have been indirectly subsidized.  City leaders have not felt that a satisfactory return on public investment should guide their actions, as would be the case with private investment.  In undertaking expensive redevelopment projects, they have not felt fiscally constrained, and as a consequence have been irresponsible guardians of the public purse.

Going back to what started this -- the Braves' move to Cobb County, to a taxpayer-subsidized stadium -- good luck with this, Cobb County.  I hope it works out better for you than it did for us.

Hidden in Plain Sight

I probably was in middle school when I read the story; it was about a boy who lived in a space inside of a bridge.  Looking back on it now, as an adult, the premise was frightening, and I don't know why it was in a middle school anthology -- a boy without caretakers or a home, living alone in a city -- but I probably first learned, reading it as a child in a small town in Kansas, that in cities there was a world that was invisible, underground or in spaces we didn't even know were there.  I am still fascinated by the stories of what's in the tunnels under Paris or London or New York City, abandoned metro stations, the places that urban explorers surreptitiously go.

But you don't have to go underground to find places you didn't know were there to explore in cities, and urban exploration doesn't have to mean creeping into abandoned buildings or utility tunnels.  There are other places where streets don't go that are empty spots on maps, and I wonder about them too.  Often these places are private property, and exploring them risks a trespass charge.  But there are the spaces under elevated highways, the cleared areas under major power lines, and sewer easements along creeks that are not necessarily accessible and sometimes not even visible from the street or sidewalk.  We all know about the accessibility that streets and sidewalks provide, but what if these invisible places got stitched together into a network?  Where could a pedestrian go?

When the Lindbergh-LaVista Corridor Coalition worked with the Georgia Conservancy on development of a plan for their community a few years ago, one of the themes identified was a desire by the neighborhood to be more connected, and not just by streets.  There's a lot in the report about improving the pedestrian environment and access to the streets by bicycles, but the authors also talk about how trails could help bring the neighborhood together.  The North Fork and the South Fork of Peachtree Creek converge there, and there is green space, some flood plain, and access via sewer easement along the creeks.

I don't know when exactly the South Fork Conservancy got started; by the time I first learned about them, they were a well-established organization, working with Park Pride on a visioning exercise for the South Fork of Peachtree Creek.  This is when I first learned about the work the Conservancy was doing to develop trails along the creek.  Since then, they've put an enormous effort into Dekalb County's new park in the Zonolite area, near us, but they've also been working with the Lindbergh-LaVista group, and now there's something to show for it.

Last Saturday two Board Members of the South Fork Conservancy led a small group on new trails in Lindbergh-Lavista.  At the end of Armand Road we walked past the private property sign (we have permission, we were assured) and onto trail that went along the sewer easement on the north side of the South Fork.

Walking these trails, there's a sense of wonder.  You know you're in the city, not far away from streets we drive on all the time, but you've never been here before and you didn't even know it was here.  But it is, and there's the creek, and even though you can hear the roar of traffic it's like you're in a hidden place that doesn't have anything to do with cars and traffic.    

The trail extends under I-85 to the confluence of the South Fork and the North Fork of Peachtree Creek.  I always wonder about the places under interstates so it was a treat to get to walk through the space.  This one is better suited for art exhibit space than, say, a pop-up restaurant.

Under the expressway there was lots of unsanctioned art work.

On the other side of I-85, it was a short walk to the point where the South Fork (on the left, in the photo below) converges with the North Fork (on the right) to form Peachtree Creek, which at the horizon of this photo is heading toward Piedmont Road.

At this point, the trail currently ends; another group is planning trails along the North Fork, and there is not yet a bridge to cross the North Fork.  So we walked back and entered the trails along the North Fork from Lindbergh.

We climbed over the guardrail to the trail that went along the North Fork.  I drive by here all the time and I had no idea there were trails here.  They aren't long, though, ending back at I-85, where large rocks make continuing under the expressway currently hazardous.

More is planned -- the Department of Transportation is building some trails on the other side of Lindbergh, and there's a planned connection somehow with the Beltline.  I've always been a little spatially challenged but it's hard to imagine where these spaces are if your view is constrained by what you've seen from the street in a car.  

One of the new DOT trails is supposed to be open in early 2014.  I don't quite understand where they are and where they go, but when it's open I'll walk it and see more of the city that I've never seen before, parts that are hidden in plain sight.

No Longer For Rent

The "For Sale" sign went up at the duplex, a few houses up the street from us, a couple of months ago.  This picture was taken in mid-September, when the grass was still green.  I haven't known any of the people who lived here for a couple of years, although Tom and I did talk to one of the residents a couple of weeks ago, when a dog from across the street had gotten out of the yard and there was some discussion about where the dog belonged.  He introduced himself and told us his wife was a teacher at a nearby public school.  The only person who lived there that I ever knew very well was our former neighbor Mathew, who played guitar at block parties.  He used to toss a Frisbee in the front yard for his dog to retrieve.  I suspect Iain has fond memories of watching Mathew and a friend of his shoot off fireworks one 4th of July.

Even though the "For Sale" sign was up, a "For Rent" sign appeared too and I hoped that that indicated that the intent was to keep it as a rental property.  One day a few weeks ago there was a man walking around the front yard.  He asked me if I knew what the place rented for.  I said I didn't know; he said that someone he knew was thinking about buying it and he'd been asked for a second opinion.

Then a couple of weeks ago a well-dressed older woman got out of a car and took down the "For Rent" sign and put it in the trunk of a car.  I asked if the place had rented, and she said no, that it had sold.  Is the owner going to knock it down and build something new?  Probably, she said.

After that the surveyors came, and left orange tape at the edge of the property and and a sign in the front yard.

Monday night when I walked the dog I noticed that there is now a sign that says the property is "Under Contract."  There was a vacuum cleaner and a mattress and springs and small dresser at the curb.  

By this morning the dresser was gone, but the vacuum cleaner and mattress and springs were still there.

The True Cost of Parking

I was in Boston in July and went to an event at Fenway Park.  The Red Sox weren't in town, so we had the ballpark to ourselves.  We got a tour; I got to sit in the press box as well as in one of the coveted seats that were added above the left field wall 10 years ago.  The Red Sox have played in Fenway Park since 1912; in 2012 it was added to the National Register of Historic Places.  But here is what was most notable to me about Fenway Park (even though the picture does not capture it very well):

Look on the righthand side of the photo.  On the other side of Yawkey Way, there are bars and restaurants, and I bet it's fun being there on game night even if you don't have tickets to the game.

On the other hand, let's look at the area around Turner Field.

All there is, almost as far as the eye can see, is asphalt.  And yet, it wasn't enough.  The businessmen who run the Atlanta Braves who announced yesterday that the team is moving to Cobb County cited not enough parking along with traffic and "the fan experience" as the reasons for the move.

So they are moving outside the Perimeter, to an area near the junction of I-75 and I-285, and building a brand new stadium with multi-use development around it with bars and restaurants.  And parking -- lots of parking.

Yesterday, when I heard the news that the Braves were abandoning a city that supported them through the bad years for a county that refuses to allow MARTA to be extended there, I went pretty much straight to anger and I'm still there.  I'm angry at Liberty Media, the owner of the Braves, and think they should be honest about it and change the name of the team to the Cobb County Braves.  I'm also angry at multiple city leaders and the Atlanta Fulton County Recreation Authority for not doing more to mitigate the impact of the stadium on the neighborhood, which would have had the additional benefit of "improving the fan experience."

Let's be really clear about this.  Developers can build malls and theme parks, but it's pretty hard to build a neighborhood from scratch.  And they don't want MARTA in Cobb County, so they are going to have to have spaces for 40,000 people and then some to park their cars.  Look at that photo of Fenway Park.  It's not just different from Turner Field because it's a hundred years old and on the National Register of Historic Places; there is almost no where nearby to park, and that's just fine because it's close to the Kenmore Square stop on the Green Line.

The problem is cars.  As long as we drive them every where we go, we *can't* create great places, because we have to have places to park.

Good luck with that theme park.

The Neighborhoods We Want

It's a good thing that people want to live in Atlanta's older walkable neighborhoods, the neighborhoods that were built as streetcar suburbs in the 1920s or even earlier.  These older intown neighborhoods have many lovely older homes, and many have within them small commercial areas that provide walkable destinations, with neighborhood restaurants, coffee shops, bars, and small shops.  As more people want to live in these kind of neighborhoods, there's demand for housing in them.  Some people want to live in the neighborhood but want a bigger house with all the modern amenities.  So older homes are being purchased, demolished, and replaced with bigger houses.  In most parts of the city, the only requirement for newly-constructed houses is to comply with the city building code.  They are not required to be of the same scale as adjacent houses, to be of the same design as adjacent houses, or to be compatible in any way with the neighborhood.  All they have to do is meet the current building code.

This is an issue in many parts of the city as well as in Decatur.  There's currently an effort in Virginia Highland to explore Historic District Overlay Zoning for two subdivisions in the neighborhood.  This has already generated vigorous discussion on the neighborhood email list, with an active opposition group formed that opposes the designation.  Decatur's City Commission recently considered a moratorium on demolitions of single family homes.  They ended up voting against it.  In the Oakhurst neighborhood, the demographics of the neighborhood are changing rapidly.  Commissioner Kecia Cunningham told the Atlanta Journal Constitution, “For me, it’s not about ‘McMansions,’ it’s the loss of racial and economic diversity, the loss of affordable housing."

On our street, the apartments at the corner of Wessyngton and North Highland are being vacated and will be demolished soon.  I don't know what will be built there, other than that I am certain it will be three large expensive homes.  Lynsley found designs on line that a local architecture firm has proposed for the street (see this link and this one).  The two houses are contemporary, "fusing modern luxury with holistic sustainable design."  The architects note that the proposed location for these houses is "one block from some of Atlanta's best shops and restaurants."  What it doesn't say is that Wessyngton Road is still mostly made up of small ranch-style homes built during the 1950s and that these new houses that are proposed don't look anything like most of the houses on the street.  

But not all the houses on our street were built in the 1950s.  There are newer houses, some dating from a few decades ago; one of them has a quite contemporary design and is for sale now.  There also has been demolition of older homes and new construction on the street in the last few years.  Some older homes including ours have been renovated and second floors added.  It's not that small 1950s ranch-style homes are architecturally important and should be preserved; it's that demand for lots for new construction threatens existing neighborhoods by forcing out longtime residents when property values become too high.

And it's not just that.  A neighborhood is a complex adaptive system, and changing one thing can result in major and unanticipated changes in other areas.  Part of what makes Atlanta's intown neighborhoods interesting is that different kinds of people live in them, that everyone is not just alike.  Interesting neighborhoods require housing to be available across the income spectrum.  Already Morningside is not nearly as interesting as Virginia Highland, which is not nearly as interesting as Poncey-Highland, and that is why.  

I love Atlanta's intown neighborhoods, and I'm glad other people do too, but at the moment it feels to me that we are at risk of loving them to death.  The city doesn't require a Social Capital Impact Statement for new development; all there is is the permitting process.  But building codes and even Historic District Overlay Zoning are pretty blunt instruments.  We need additional and sharper instruments if we are going to shape the direction that our neighborhoods take.  Incentives and disincentives are preferable to regulations, if they'll do the job, and if there are things that the market will do without incentives, even better.  (My impression is that many of the new large intown mixed use developments do include a range of housing types; whether that's due to requirements or incentives, I don't know, but I am pretty sure it's not market forces.  Market forces are leading to an increased focus on walkability in commercial areas, according to a recent study, but not to what the authors called "social equity," which included affordable housing and accessibility.)  My guess is that new houses that look like they belong in the neighborhood probably sell for more than houses that don't, and not all the new construction is dreadful.  But the city and county need to use tax policy to help people on fixed incomes be able to stay in their homes when property values are rising.

This is my new favorite house in the neighborhood.  It was on the market in 2011, after its owner moved into assisted living.  A couple bought it, and after that work started out the site.  I assumed it was going to be demolished and replaced with a much larger, new home.  One day after that I saw them standing in the yard, and I asked.  They seemed surprised at the question.  No, they said, they they planned to renovate it.  The work is ongoing, but one of the things they've done already is enlarged the front porch.

I wish our neighbors in Virginia Highland well, as they continue the discussion about the Historic Overlay District Zoning.  But unless everyone in the two subdivisions wants it -- and that seems pretty unlikely -- it will be a tough sell.  So the discussion continues about the kind of neighborhoods we want, and what -- if anything -- we are willing to do to maintain them or improve them.

Losing Control at Cheshire Bridge & Piedmont

Over the years, we have enjoyed watching the ongoing transformation of the building at the intersection of Monroe, Piedmont, and Cheshire Bridge from branch bank to real estate office to tattoo studio to now a tattoo studio and the Anchor Bar.  I've never been there, but according to their Facebook page, yesterday (presumably in honor of breast cancer awareness month) you could get a pink ribbon tattoo for $50.

In yesterday morning's AJC there was an amazing story that pretty much speaks for itself.  Here's an excerpt:

According to an Atlanta police incident report, Rashad Williams, 38, of Lithonia, told arresting officers that he was driving down Cheshire Bridge Road just before 3:30 a.m., attempting to make a left turn, when he lost control of his car.

The 2012 Chrysler 200 careened across a parking lot, jumped a curb and crashed through the glass front of the Walgreens Community Pharmacy near the intersection of Piedmont Avenue and Cheshire Bridge, barely missing a DUI school adjacent to the pharmacy.

   Responding officers found no one inside the Chrysler, which was still sticking out of the building. But the witness who called 911 told police that the driver had walked next door to the Anchor Bar.

   When officers went to the bar, “the driver was sitting at the bar drinking a beer,” according to the incident report. “We then escorted the driver outside after he paid for his tab.”

Fox 5 has photos and video on their website.  When I drove by yesterday the broken window had been replaced with plywood.

I'm glad that he paid his tab before he's arrested.  I don't know if the DUI school will give him a break on tuition or not.

Opening the Streets

Last Sunday was the third Atlanta Street Alive event of this year, on a loop from Highland to Boulevard to Monroe to Virginia Avenue back to North Highland.  The route went from Virginia Higland through Poncey-Highland into Inman Park and the Old Fourth Ward and then back into Virginia Highland.  The Atlanta Bicycle Coalition, sponsor of the event, estimates that 82,300 people took part this time.  I volunteered for the set up shift and was not able to do the entire loop this time, but did walk most of the route either as part of the set up crew or later with Iain.  What was different and wonderful this time was inclusion of a stretch of Boulevard with older apartments that are mostly Section 8 housing.  That's where I was assigned to work, and I got there late because I mis-read the instructions.  (When you are on foot and go to the wrong place, it takes a long time to correct the error.)  But I did finally get to my assigned location at Morgan and Boulevard, and got assigned with another volunteer to check barricades and signage headed north on Boulevard.

We didn't do much -- the police were handling the street closures, which was good because they knew how to do it and we didn't, and would be better at dealing with irate drivers than we would -- but we talked to some residents and moved a few signs.  A man sitting on his porch asked us what was going on, and we told him that the street was being closed to cars and soon would be full of bicycles and pedestrians.  Could he show his artwork in his front yard and sell it, he asked?  Absolutely, we told him, that would be fabulous.  He absolutely should put his work out for display because there would be lots of people coming by.  Unfortunately I didn't make it back to see his work; when Iain arrived, we headed south, and we didn't make it all the way around.  But I hope he was able to sell some work.

We were walking south on Boulevard when the bicycle parade started, heading north past us.  Residents were out on their balconies and porches.  

This family was watching from their second floor balcony.

This is my favorite photo from the day!

Atlanta Medical Center should have been out with blood pressure screenings or something, but they were completely missing.  Around the corner onto Highland (with the experience of many previous Streets Alive events) there was lots of activity, with music, neighbors, and food trucks.

Moving north on Highland through Inman Park and then into Poncey-Highland and Virginia Highland, lots of folks out for the afternoon with their dog or their kids, just enjoying the sights, and more music and corn hole and more places to eat and drink and dance.

We headed toward Monroe on Virginia Avenue, but stopped when we got to the Free Poems on Demand table.  

We had missed getting a free poem at the Streets Alive event in September; we didn't make a full circuit of Woodruff Park and we just didn't find them, so we were especially glad to find them this time.  Iain asked for a poem about the government shutdown, and poet Zac Denton obliged.  

From there we headed home.  On the way back, two young women sitting on the curb drinking beer said "no" when I asked if I could take their picture -- the only people all afternoon who had declined.  But this couple said yes.

Bikes at Virginia and Highland.

The police officer at the north street closure on North Highland, across from Highland Hardware, tossed a football with a child.

Writing this now I am struck by the phrase "closing the street."  The street was only closed from the perspective of drivers.  We were opening the street for people, for pedestrians and bicycles, not closing it.  Walking around the city, seeing the 82,298 other people, getting a bite to eat, and getting a free poem is a fine way to spend a Sunday afternoon.  Ten thousand people showed up September for the lantern parade; now more than 80,000 people show up for an event that's not about music or art, although there was some of both, but is about seeing the city as a pedestrian or a bicyclist, and that is a different way of seeing.  It's a way of seeing where I can ask a young mother on Boulevard if I can take a picture of her baby, and she beams and says yes.  

It is so much better than being in a car.

At the Summerhill Fall Fest

Last Saturday morning I spent a couple of hours working at the Living Walls table at the 2nd Annual Summerhill Fall Fest in the Summerhill neighborhood.  Summerhill is a neighborhood adjacent to Turner Field, south of downtown.  Early settlers in the area were freed slaves and Jewish immigrants.  Leo Frank, convicted of the murder of Mary Phagan in 1913 and lynched in 1915, had spent time in Summerhill.  The opening and closing ceremonies of the 1996 Olympics were there, in the stadium that later was converted to Turner Field.

There's a small commercial area on Georgia Avenue near Turner Field.  Most of the buildings seem to not have been occupied for a long time, although there are seems to be lots of relatively new housing nearby.  It's the sort of area that should have a neighborhood bar and a pizza place and a convenience store that neighborhood kids can walk to.  This is the area where Living Walls worked last summer, putting 10 murals up in August.  They are amazing.

(Better photos than mine are on line, especially for Nanook's mural that I cut off most of the portrait on the left inadvertently - check out posts like this one or the Living Walls website.)

I was there, with several Living Walls staff members, for the first shift, including the beginning of the festival.  It was a slow start, with more festival volunteers on the street than festival attendees.  Jasmine, who handles media for Living Walls, reviewed with us the mission of Living Walls -- Living Walls seeks to activate and engage communities through street art.  That sounds right to me.  And I don't know if the incredible work that Living Walls artists, volunteers, and staff did on Georgia Avenue last summer will help activate the street or not, but we heard that one of the vacant store fronts would re-open soon as a convenience store.  It was clear that developers and homeowners have invested in the neighborhood, and there was a neighborhood group that was organized enough to present the 2nd Annual Summerhill Fall Fest.  So it seems to me it is just a matter of time until something happens on Georgia Avenue.

Jasmine told us about a conversation she had had with someone who ended up donating to Living Walls.  He asked her about overhead costs of the organization.  None, she told him.  He was incredulous and asked her how much Living Walls paid her.  Nothing, she said.  No one gets paid.  They have no office space.  I told her that this response didn't surprise me at all, that from the outside it is hard to believe that all this happens with no deep pockets behind it, no paid staff, just passionate people who really believe in what they do who leverage a small budget into an amazing event.  Living Walls does get really valuable support -- mostly in-kind, as I understand it -- from a number of sponsors, but it's a huge commitment from a small group of unpaid staff that make all this work. 

And as long as we are on the subject of Living Walls' sponsors, I always assumed that Delta Airlines was a sponsor, since every year Living Walls brings international artists to Atlanta for the event, but note their absence from the list of sponsors.  This is their home town, and they should be supporting it.  I think I'll send them a note and tell them that.