A couple weeks ago, I wrote about some possible prescriptions to ease the ailments of Pine Avenue, emphasizing the need to learn from the successes of shopping centers. A healthy discussion emerged in the wake of this article, as readers responded to my hypothesis and offered alternative solutions. A theme that emerged from this discussion was the need to improve conditions in Downtown Long Beach while not squandering those things that make the area special, those things that distinguish downtown Long Beach from the formulaic shopping centers and repackaged Main Streets across the nation.
The features that make a city unique often lie in the unnamed places between the great urban plazas and grand civic institutions. These interstitial elements forge the vibrancy of everyday city life; they are typically messy in that they often lack the formalities of ownership and management. Such improvised urban interventions defy zoning standards and rarely fit the vision of a formal strategic plan. They emerge from the juxtaposition of necessity and opportunity; they are typically difficult to manufacture. These interventions are the elements missing in even the most successful planned shopping centers associated with developers like Rick Caruso.
One easily recognizable form of “urban intervention” is outdoor dining, examples of which can be found on the sidewalks of Pine Avenue downtown, Second Street in Belmont Shore, and Atlantic Avenue in Bixby Knolls. In milder climates like those of Southern California, outdoor dining typically arises in an organic fashion. Over time, seating for patrons spills out of restaurants into the shared public realm, taking advantage of the pleasant weather while expanding dining accommodations. Unfortunately, due to concerns regarding liability, zoning codes, and laws governing the sale and consumption of alcohol, these outdoor dining areas often end up reflecting the restaurant more than the sidewalk. They usually become enclosed by fences defining where alcohol can and cannot be consumed, and covered by awnings to provide shelter from the elements. Even in this watered-down form, however, these outdoor patios provide diners and pedestrians heightened possibilities for interaction.
One Saturday afternoon, I was strolling along Second Street in Belmont Shore when I witnessed two interesting examples of these urban interventions. Lunchgoers at George’s Greek Deli and Taco Beach were enjoying their food outside as they were entertained by a three-member band who had struck upon a brilliant way to perform. The outdoor dining patios of George’s Greek Deli and Taco Beach limited the area available for a sidewalk performance, so the band took advantage of the next available space. The three-man (and one dog) band had parked a flat-bed truck in a parking stall in front of the two restaurants, and used the truck as their stage. The contents of their tip jar covered the expense of the parking meter, with much to spare. After the two hours on the parking meter expired, the band simply moved their stage for a late afternoon performance to a convenient parking space in front of La Creperie and Bono’s, two nearby restaurants that also feature outdoor dining.
Another example of an “urban intervention” in Belmont Shore involves a recent addition to the two-story commercial building on Second Street at Glendora Avenue, an addition brining new life to what had been a relatively unexciting corner. There had been set of stairs at this corner, leading from the sidewalk up to a second-story courtyard surrounded by commercial space. The original design was likely envisioned to be a grand staircase that broadened from less than ten feet in width at its top, to over thirty feet in width at the street level, where foot traffic might ideally match that of old European cities. Unfortunately, such pedestrian activity never materialized, and the corner was typically quite empty.
The recent addition to this building has involved narrowing the stairs to a minimum needed for proper pedestrian circulation, with the remaining space used for a newspaper stand and flower shop. This new occupant inhabits not an enclosed structure, but a kiosk with all products on display. Static terracotta steps have thus been replaced with the vibrancy of people browsing through magazines and brightly colored flowers. Due to the open kiosk design, it is productively unclear where this new business begins and ends, a fact that enhances a sense of vitality on this corner.
For a third example of an “urban intervention,” some readers may recall that a little while ago I wrote about how Renaissance Hotel in Downtown Long Beach is working to revamp how it engages with the public streets that surround it on all four sides. In particular, the northern side of the building will soon be transformed into one of the city’s latest interventions, as a new transit center and information hub is under construction on a narrow slice of land at the corner of Pine Avenue and the First Street Transit Mall. What is presently the depressingly blank wall of a six-story parking structure (on one of the most important corners downtown, no less) will be covered by a series of whimsically cloud-like forms constituting the transit center’s new roof.
Because interventions like these usually develop organically, through various combinations of necessity and opportunity, there is no single formula for discovering them, and their successes are often difficult to reproduce. When visiting and reading about other cities, I find there are numerous interesting concepts that would be fascinating to replicate in Long Beach, keeping in mind that they would need to be modified to fit our unique challenges and strengths. From bookseller kiosks along the banks of the Seine River in Paris, to the Seattle Underground historic area, these interventions might be difficult to transport to Long Beach, but their spirit can inspire other solutions that fit our city’s distinctive context.
