Category: Urbanity

I think about city design frequently when I’m out running. A while ago I wrote some thoughts on the benefits of longer blocks, or the potential of stringing multiple blocks together to reduce the amount of automobile intersections that pedestrians (and runners) have to deal with.

Sometimes I’ll stretch this out further, and think of cities that are just designed with this as a starting point. Transit lines are an obvious reason for following a more linear development pattern — rail of course works well in a line. In my mind, I like to pair this with green/wild space, perhaps where anything three or four blocks away from the transit line is designated wild space, allowing for wildlife corridors, recreation space, and just place for city inhabitants to peer into. But within those few blocks adjacent to the transit line (and of course the necessary streets that accompany them) is high density housing and commercial space. And perhaps wherever there is a transit stop the city buldges out a bit more to fully utilize adjacency to a transit stop since it’s easy to walk a half mile or so to get there.

But imagine a city built in this way — the citizens always having quick access to nature, or all of the amenities of a city. And it would be extremely connected, since everything would lie along the same transit line. It would of course take amounts of forethought, along with the desire to protect large swaths of valuable real estate for nature and greenspace. Forethought that we don’t seem to have as a society, but a fun thought nonetheless.

Cars parked along streets are so ubiquitous, that we don’t even question it. But oftentimes when out running, I sometimes imagine what things would look like if they weren’t there. Perhaps that space gets devoted to small parks, running paths, or patio spaces for businesses. Perhaps we just have smaller streets, which would allow for more density. Of course there are economic reasons and practicality issues with this little thought experiment, but what an incredible cityscape we could have if we could figure that one out (publicly funded parking garages).

I think a lot of urbanites probably assume that more density is usually better, but I have a feeling that there is an optimal amount density. That optimal density level would balance walkability, housing prices, environmental benefits, and similar factors, but balances with the negative affects of density, like the feelings of crowdedness and noise, access to nature, views, and access to sunlight. Of course, this ignores styles of density, where perhaps you can skew the results one way or another depending on the style of development — you may be able to have more nature sprinkled throughout a “towers in the park” style of development, but that may affect access to sunlight and obstruct views, so perhaps an optimal density would still apply.

As I was running through downtown San Diego yesterday, I found that I was very appreciative of the minor streets that allowed me to keep running and not require me to stop and wait for a light to change. I could have longer sections of running, which helps me get in a better workout, and is just more enjoyable. For both cyclists and every-day pedestrians, those nice long stretches without having to wait for a traffic light are just as beneficial.

This idea could be taken further. In a city-from-scratch scenario, it could be a great arrangement for creating a more walkable, transit-oriented city. We could have longer, more arterial streets running in one direction, with streets on the perpendicular axis treated in a lighter fashion. They could be smaller and spread further apart, perhaps even having significant distances between actual streets on the minor axis. Pedestrian-only walkways could be provided along that minor axis to maintain accessibility throughout the neighborhood.

In existing cities, some streets could be narrowed to single lanes or when population density could support it, converted to pedestrian-only plazas. Updating several streets in succession could create long stretches of great, pedestrian strolling zones, along with benefits to cyclists and runners.

Many low-traffic neighborhood streets are remarkably wide—far wider than necessary given their usage. On the scale of a single street, it already feels like a misallocation of space. Multiplied across an entire city, the inefficiency becomes striking.

These broad expanses of asphalt are often encountered on a run, where every step pounds against the hard concrete. Dirt paths surrounded by trees and plants offer a much more welcoming and joint-friendly alternative. And it’s easy to imagine a better use for all that space. With modest changes, wide streets could be narrowed, and the reclaimed land transformed into linear parks—spaces for picnics, benches for rest, and soft, shaded trails for walking or running. Community gardens could dot the landscape, and the new green corridors could serve as natural gathering spaces for neighbors.

Beyond recreation and aesthetics, there are environmental and infrastructural benefits to this kind of reimagining. Parks and greenspaces can aid in flood control during heavy rains, help sequester carbon, and provide some mitigation of the urban heat island effect—small but meaningful improvements in a warming world.

There is no single blueprint for redesigning streets, but several options stand out. In many cases, converting the center portion of the street into parkland would be ideal. This approach avoids conflicts with driveways and provides a continuous, uninterrupted greenspace. On longer blocks, a consistent paving pattern at intersections could visually reinforce the idea of one extended park, rather than a series of disconnected segments.

Some neighborhoods already feature medians running down the center of the street. These are often underutilized, little more than strips of grass or concrete. These spaces present a perfect opportunity to pilot new designs—enhancing what already exists, rather than starting from scratch.

Rethinking the purpose and layout of wide streets offers cities a chance to reclaim valuable land for public use. By weaving greenspace into the fabric of residential neighborhoods, communities become more livable, more beautiful, and more resilient. What once was wasted pavement could become the connective tissue of a greener, healthier city.

When a new apartment building went up in the neighborhood, it didn’t take long for the complaints to start. At the center of the backlash: the building was approved with no parking included.

There are plenty of good reasons to remove parking requirements — especially in a city like San Diego, where housing costs have skyrocketed since the pandemic. Making it easier for developers to build new housing should be a priority. By eliminating parking requirements, developers can maximize the use of limited space, lower construction costs, and ultimately create more affordable housing units. This flexibility allows for faster development and a better allocation of resources, helping to address the city’s housing shortage more effectively.

But at the same time, the concerns are understandable.

People have cars. And while we should be working to reduce car dependency and increasing housing supply, the reality is that people do, and will continue to, own personal vehicles for the foreseeable future.

Publicly funding parking garages could offer a practical solution. There are several reasons to consider this approach:

• Bridge the Gap Between Urbanists and Residents.
  Removing the requirement for parking in new buildings deepens the divide between
  neighborhood citizens and those advocating for denser, more walkable cities. In many cases, it seems to be creating more people opposed to responsible city development—people who might otherwise support new housing.
• Reclaim Street Space for Better Uses
  We could reallocate space that’s currently used for parking. Instead of strips of parking along the sides of streets, we could have small parks, walking paths, and restaurant patios. All of this becomes more possible with more parking garages.
• Treat Parking as (Responsible) Infrastructure
  We have always invested in city utilities that make if possible to provide housing to citizens. Funding parking garages just does it more responsibly. Instead of using tax-payer money to build more freeways, roads, and streets, which just makes for more sprawl, let’s instead invest that money in garages, where the result would be higher density and walkable neighborhoods.
• Incentivize Better Land Use in Suburban Areas
  In lower-density neighborhoods and commercial zones, public garages could be a tool to encourage the conversion of surface parking lots—like those around big-box stores—into housing, green space, or other community assets.

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The chorus of urbanists is likely to argue that parking garages are unattractive. While that may be true in some cases, they don’t have to be. With thoughtful design, parking garages can seamlessly blend into the urban landscape, incorporate ground-floor retail, or even be hidden behind other uses, such as housing or office spaces.

If we want to build more housing, reduce sprawl, and create cities that work for everyone, we need to meet people where they are. Publicly funding parking garages might not be the perfect solution, but it could be a practical one. Especially if it helps make housing more abundant, our neighborhoods more livable, and our streets more human-centered.

In the far northwest corner of Portland lies one of the largest urban parks in the United States—Forest Park. Years ago, I was fortunate enough to live right on the edge of this tree-covered paradise. Out the back door of our apartment, a trail led straight into the park, where countless other trails branched and twisted through the forest. Out the front door, city streets bustled with shops and trendy restaurants.

While I was fortunate to live in that perfectly placed apartment with access to urbanity and the wild, Forest Park is accessible to several neighborhoods of urban character. It’s even accessible from downtown Portland, but it takes a little more effort, requiring you to thread your way through concrete and traffic for a mile or so.

From downtown, it becomes apparent how stark the contrast is between the city’s concrete landscape and the forested sanctuary on its edge. One can easily imagine the soft dirt trails of the park extending into downtown—offering not only a more forgiving surface for runners and walkers, but small oases in contrast to the hard-surfaced urbanity. Those paths could meander and wind, weaving back and forth through whatever space we could make available for them. Ferns, trees, and other native plants could buffer the trails from concrete, and further pull the wilds into the city core.

My mind naturally wants to push the idea further, to create larger intrusions of nature into the city. And those may or may not be feasible, but certainly, and especially for a city like Portland, the vision of trails and nature growing into the city seems tantalizingly possible.

A new homeless shelter is in the planning stages here in San Diego, and as expected, the opposition has come out in force with their lawn signs.

The new shelter will be constructed at Kettner and Vine. Initially I had assumed this was somewhere in Mission Hills, since that’s where I have seen the signs, but it’s actually down the hill near the airport. And while I have the typical reaction to nimbyism as most urbanists do, I generally also have some sympathy, since there are times where their concerns are justifiable. In many cases I completely understand why someone would be against a new building that would directly impact them and their home.

The disapproval for this project however, especially in the areas where I’ve seen the opposition signs, seem to be misplaced.

The Kettner and Vine location is actually a great location for a facility like this. It would located in an area that is industrial in nature, which, if we’re looking to minimize the negative effects on neighborhoods, is exactly where you should site a large homeless shelter. The site does sit on the edge of the industrial area, but it is pretty strongly separated from the adjacent neighborhood by a wall of cars nine lanes wide (Interstate 5). A more perfect location would probably be deeper inside the industrial area, but since we unfortunately have to work with reality, this location is really as good as they come.

There are certainly a few homes that may be impacted with more homeless wandering around, and for them, I’ll give a free pass for going nuts on lawn signs. For most of the homes that I’ve come across voicing their outrage in the form of lawn signage — they’re really too far away, where any negative impacts are likely balanced out by the much larger, positive impacts.

Their opposition website notes a few items:

Too Close to Schools

The opposition website states that their are “over 10 pre-schools, elementary schools” close to this location. They don’t offer a definition for “close” of course. To most reasonable people looking at a map, there are two private schools that are pretty close; Holding Hands Preschool (0.6 miles away) and Montessori school of San Diego (0.3 miles away). As for the other eight, the distances are too far to be of concern. The next closest is over a mile-and- a-half away.

Tourism Concerns

Another main point highlighted on the opposition website, is that this proposal would “negatively impact tourism”. This one is just odd. A homeless shelter, far removed from tourist areas like this one is, won’t negatively impact tourism. A homeless guy urinating into an ornamental bush in Little Italy negatively impacts tourism. A woman sleeping on a cardboard box in the Gaslamp negatively impacts tourism. More shelters, like this one, and resources to address the homeless issue is exactly what is needed to improve the tourism experience. The notion that this shelter would negatively impact tourism is just a poor argument.

Other General Questionable Arguments

There may be good arguments against this proposal , but opposition groups seem to often dilute their arguments with highly suspect statements, like the ones noted above, or using statements like “situated along a bustling thoroughfare” (who cares?), or “project rushed/no transparency” (is there an actual timeline and a number of public planning sessions that the local nimby population would find acceptable? probably not). There may be perfectly sound arguments around budgets, or the diversion of funds from other strategies to address homelessness, and perhaps the planned size really is too large. But once an opposition group starts throwing out whatever points they think may stick, nothing much else they say has much credibility, at least with me.

Is a homeless shelter at Kettner and Vine a good idea? It probably is. The location seems to minimize the effects on the community as a whole (a solution that doesn’t negatively impact anyone is probably an impossible feat), and there is definitely a substantial need for more shelters. Should it be as large as proposed? I’m not sure. Perhaps it would be more effective as a smaller shelter, but I completely understand the efficiencies that can be gained with larger shelters, and honestly a larger shelter like this one would have a much lighter impact on citizens than numerous, smaller ones spread around in various neighborhoods across the city.

In the end, while no solution will ever be perfect or completely without impact, the proposed shelter at Kettner and Vine strikes a reasonable balance between meeting a pressing social need and minimizing disruption to the broader community. Opposition is expected and, in some cases, understandable — but much of what’s being raised against this project appears exaggerated or misplaced. If San Diego is serious about addressing homelessness in a meaningful and humane way, projects like this one need to be part of the equation. Thoughtful planning and community input should always play a role, but we can’t let fear or misinformation prevent us from making progress where it’s most needed.