Last week my charmed life took me to New York City, my hometown. I was there for only three nights and two and a half days, and though it was sunny, it was blustery and cold most of the time. But I just loved being there. There’s something about the ever-crowded streets, the mobs of pedestrians, the yellow “blood” of taxis running through the city’s veins, that gives me a boost of adrenaline, every time. By the afternoon of the second day I was back to my old habits of zooming headlong down the sidewalk, dodging everyone in my path, calculating trajectories and finding holes to slip through – all while taking in the variety of sights, sounds, and smells. For pedestrians, traffic lights in New York are mere suggestions: the M.O. at a red signal is to pause on the corner, check for oncoming traffic, and proceed if none is visible (or especially close). The shorter the pause, the better. The one-way streets are so narrow, it takes only a few seconds to stride across, even if that taxi is bearing down on you.
It’s not just that the street grid is dense or the city crowded: it’s that everything is so compact. In one short visit my traveling companion and I at least laid eyes on (or actually spent time in) the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Natural History Museum, Central Park, the main branch of the New York Public Library (the one with the lions), the Empire State Building, Grand Central Station, Pennsylvania Station, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Triboro Bridge, the Queensborough bridge, the Statue of Liberty, the arch at Washington Square, Columbus Circle, Times Square, Radio City Music Hall, Rockefeller Center (ice rink and all), and the World Trade Center site, not to mention that we visited three of the five boroughs and rode plenty of subway trains. As we walked through Greenwich Village around 9:30 on a Monday night – still threading our way through jam-packed cars and people – I remarked to my friends that while I know not every place in New York has that much life at that hour, I find it hard to think of places in Los Angeles that have that much life at any hour.
A new state law, Senate Bill 375, seems to have the goal to make California cities – ours included – much more densely developed in the interests of reducing greenhouse gas emissions (the ones that contribute to climate change) by ensuring that people drive less. The new law has caused quite a bit of concern since the Governor signed it last fall. Cities are wondering how they are supposed to develop, or indeed redevelop, at much greater density without a great deal more revenue, water, power, or transit service. Planners are wondering where we’ll get the money to create these ambitious plans to remake California’s urban landscape. Is it possible that in 20 or 30 years, Long Beach will start to look or feel like New York? And even if it’s possible, is it desirable?
In my work I’ve had the chance to follow the early stages of local and regional response to SB 375. While there may be more efficient ways for California to reduce its greenhouse gas emissions, I believe that the law has opened up a fascinating new dialogue. For at least two decades, we’ve understood that transportation planning is land use planning, and that environmental impact is integral with both – but we’ve lacked the tools and institutions to truly integrate them. Now we’re finally getting to work developing those tools and institutions.
As much as I enjoy the jolt of energy I get from New York, even better is the daily peace I feel here in our lovely city by the sea. Ocean Boulevard, with its graceful line of trees and architecture, is not Fifth Avenue, and even with all the redevelopment in the world, it probably won’t ever be. It still boosts my mood every day I walk along it. Urban planners often speak of “a sense of place,” which is something that grows from the city’s own history – it can’t be designed in. New York has its own sense of place, Long Beach quite another. Vive la difference!