three post-industrial cities – 1/pittsburgh

(This is the first part of three successive entries about Pittsburgh, Cleveland, and Detroit – the first three cities I’ve visited on this trip. All three faced similar problems with post-industrial decay, and all three have responded differently and achieved different results.)

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Despite knowing that Pittsburgh is an Appalachian city, it never occurred to me that it was a city of hills. Or more accurately, it’s a city of hills and rivers and bridges. Approaching from the southeast along the Monongahela River, the city revealed itself dramatically; the approaching driver (myself ) crosses a series of tunnels bored through the Pennsylvania mountains. The tunnels give way to steel bridges and suddenly Pittsburgh appears from behind a hill and you see the skyline, but also the confluence of three rivers that give Pittsburgh its unique geographical qualities. Here, the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers converge and become the Ohio River, which later merges with the Mississippi, many, many miles downstream. The convergence is geographically critical to Pittsburgh’s history and identity, first as an ideal place for an industrial city to grow, and later as a focal point for the city’s post-industrial transformation.

Despite being ignorant of Pittsburgh’s topography, I had known about Pittsburgh’s recent awakening from post-industrial slumber. I knew that Pittsburgh successfully pulled itself away from its decaying industrial past and shifted its economy toward tourism and technology, while also dedicating itself to improving the infrastructure of its waterfront. I knew that during the recent recession, Pittsburgh was one of the only cities to have its economy grow. And after visiting it, I think I better understand why Pittsburgh’s renaissance has been so successful where other post-industrial cities are still floundering. There were essentially three moves or qualities that I felt contributed to this.

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First, Pittsburgh wisely chose to focus on its waterfront as a physical manifestation of rebirth. New stadiums were built on the North Shore, taking advantage of striking views. My very first activity in the city was to watch a baseball game at PNC Park, which uses the downtown skyline as an outfield backdrop to great effect. The ballpark itself is similar to other new ballparks built in the Camden Yards era, with open concourses, intimate views, and richly textured details. The key to PNC Park is its location, both with respect to views from the seats themselves as well as its proximity to the downtown district and the new riverfront walkway. It was exciting to see that, after the Sunday afternoon game, many fans spilled out of the stadium and onto the walkway, strolling up and down like tourists. The walkway itself is extensive, open, and has active uses attached to it. Play fountains, boat hookups, food festivals – I saw all of these and more when I walked up and down the walkway. It’s a vibrant space, and has great connections to both sides of the river, its buildings, and its cultural institutions (museums, sports venues, entertainment, etc.)

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On the promontory known locally as “The Point,” a new park has been designed, with a massive water fountain marking the triangle where the two rivers converge and become the Ohio. The fact that this important geographic area and valuable real estate was set aside not for corporate use but for public space is great, even though I’m not a huge fan of using traditional fountains as markers for public gathering. In this case, however, it works. People sit all around it, and it’s visible from the entire waterfront.

The main downtown waterfront isn’t the only one that’s received redevelopment attention. The South Side Flats district, despite becoming somewhat gentrified, is also an area of cultural significance. Not quite as touristy as the downtown riverfront, the South Side is a nice active area of restaurants, bars, and new housing that has attracted many of the younger people who’ve chosen to move to Pittsburgh.

The second quality that Pittsburgh has chosen to exploit is its educational resources. I stayed in the university district, and it was clear that it is a thriving and active neighborhood. Pittsburgh has smartly made sure that its universities are encouraged to grow, attracting professional and academic development and research when other post-industrial cities have suffered a brain drain in recent decades.

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The third observed quality is Pittsburgh’s manageable size. It takes no more than 20 minutes to drive from one end of the city to the other. Its major districts are well connected despite being separated by three rivers. The city has over 400 bridges, none of which charge any sort of toll or fee, so there’s no obstacle to move quickly and easily between neighborhoods by car.  And all the diverse and varied neighborhoods of Pittsburgh are not too spread out or very large. Presumably this is aided by the city’s topography… there is literally no means to achieve horizontal sprawl with so many hills.

 Speaking of Pittsburgh’s neighborhoods, I found a similarity here to Baltimore, where I lived for five years in the early 1990s. Like Baltimore, Pittsburgh has a wealth of small, diverse neighborhoods that are close together and have fuzzy borders. It was often hard to tell which neighborhood I was in at the time, or where the borders between districts actually began or ended. Sometimes, I’d be driving through a visibly sketchy neighborhood only to find myself out of it in a manner of minutes. So, if there are areas that are less gentrified, less developed, and more poorly maintained, these areas are small. It’s reasonable to assume that their close proximity to other thriving neighborhoods will have a contagious effect inevitably. I could be wrong.

 I think these three factors have contributed strongly towards Pittsburgh’s unusual success. Capitalizing on the city’s geographical aesthetics, its educational and social resources, and its finely grained neighborhood-level diversity and compactness have made it a city well worth learning from, and it’s no wonder that Pittsburgh has become the poster child for post-industrial urban recovery and renewal.

day01: mile zero

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Aug 31 2013

The photo above is the view from Mile Zero. Sitting in the car, fingers tapping the steering wheel, partly in excitement, partly in trepidation. Everything is packed, whatever could be arranged is arranged, and now there are no more reasons to not lift the foot off the brake and put it gently on the accelerator and move away from the familiar into the non-quite-as familiar. So I go. It’s 10am on Saturday, and when I pull away from my parents’ suburban house on their suburban street, I turn on the radio and Car Talk is on. Tom and Ray Magliozzi’s Boston-accented automotive advice takes over my attention and now there’s no trepidation, only chuckling. At both their wacky car humor and the serendipity that has my road trip begin with broadcast automotive exuberance.

My first stop is Wayne, New Jersey, to pick up a box of audiobook CD’s that my friend Mike graciously dug out from his attic, a last-minute brainstorm that ensured that the long bleak miles on the road would not go by in boredom.

Carton full of audiobooks in hand, my next stop is a suburb of Allentown, PA where my high school friend Elysse lives. I stop to have lunch and we catch up on 25 years of jobs, marriages, kids, homes, and how much we’ve both changed since we were teenagers. Elysse’s story, inasmuch as it relates to geography, is interesting to me, particularly on this trip, because of the changing relationship between home and work. She’s lived and worked in urban areas, and also lived and worked in suburban areas, and now works from home. She relates a common American story: at first working and living in the city, then moving to the suburbs. As Vishaan Chakrabarti points out in his recent book, A Country of Cities, 68% of Americans now live in the suburbs, and more than 90% live in areas where residential density is less than 20 units per acre, below the threshold of being serviceable by mass transit. In addition, 46% of Americans now commute from suburb-to-suburb so that the arteries that once took suburban dwellers from their homes to the mall, or the doctor’s office – occasional trips, for the most part – are now clogged with rush-hour traffic not unlike that found in urban centers.

Elysse has started working from home, so that’s been a saving grace. She gets to spend more time with her family and less time on the road. With the massive increase in digital connectivity, working from home is being seen as the “savior of sustainability”. I think people assume that eventually, we will all be working from home and our roads will once again be clear and free of commuting traffic. It would be interesting to see how much of this turns out to be true. When I get a better idea of the statistical trends, I’ll discuss this more, but anecdotal experience certainly helps to put a face on what is otherwise numbers to me.

I didn’t think I’d start thinking about commuting and suburbs by lunchtime of the first day, but there it is… This where the trip is going to be of value. Combining the experiences of meeting friends old and new, learning about their lives, and somehow weaving their stories into the greater theme of urban design and planning.

I left Elysse around 2:30pm and drove about 4 hours toward Fallingwater, the home designed by Frank Lloyd Wright in Mill Run, PA. I had a 10am tour the next day, so the main order of business was to find a place to sleep. I purposely didn’t plan this out because I wanted to find a campsite or cheap motel close to Fallingwater. As I took the exit off of the Pennsylvania Turnpike, I stopped at a Dairy Queen for a Blizzard and asked the girl at the counter if there were any campgrounds nearby. She mentioned two, and I called them up, asking for rates. They both had sites available, at about $24-27 for the night. Not bad, I thought, but let me see if I can find anything closer. Fallingwater itself was still about 20 miles away.

I drove through rural roads, with strange mix of traditionalism and commercialism on the roadside. This area, the Laurel Highlands, are popular for tourists in the summer – camping, rafting, hiking, etc. There were dozens of places that offered some form of entertainment or another, interspersed with open farmland and fields. I pulled into one campground and immediately regretted it. It looked like a carnival was going on. There no sites available anyway, so I moved on. I almost passed by a sign – “Hideway Campground” and immediately liked the sound of it. Pulling in, it was easy to see that this was everything the other place wasn’t – quiet, wooded, small. There were available sites and they only cost $16. A great bargain, and fantastic value. So, the first night of my road trip would be spent under the stars.

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To round out the evening with more happiness and good cheer, I made acquaintances with the family camping next door – A.W. and Karen from Pittsburgh, with their 11 year old daughter. I asked for A.W.’s help to lend me a light to start a fire, and after a while, we got it going. They offered me all kinds of snacks and beverages, and told me about themselves; how they were from Louisiana originally and had been living in Pittsburgh for 13 years. They had 6 other grown children, all over the country. They were Mormons, so they when they heard about my road trip (and planned stop in Salt Lake City), they told me to check out the Temple and Tabernacle there. Since I had nothing to share with them, I drew a little sketch of them at their campsite, which they appreciated immensely. It was good to share their kindness and goodwill, and it made for a great first day.

Connecting us to old friends or new, experiences easy and difficult, the road we think is so familiar, always yields up surprises.