SIDEWALKS ARE THE REAL URBAN PLAYGROUNDS
I wanted to pass along an insight I’ve gleamed from a gem of a book called “The Death and Life of Great American Cities.” The classic, written by Jane Jacobs in 1961, still resonates with truth and immediacy today, and has aptly captured my “hard to put into words” love for large cities.
Jacobs’ book has very little data in it, on demographics or urban planning or architecture or housing. Rather, it is a running narrative of her keen observation of what makes cities work, from the level of the resident and passerby. It consistently debunks the erroneous assumptions of an entire generation of city planners – sixty years later, these errors are still being committed.
Take our disdain for sidewalks, for example. Under attack from both sides – by planners who want more space for driving, and by homeowners who want more space for living – the city sidewalk is further vilified when it is being used as a play area for children. Grimy kids chasing each other around on grimy streets is how negative things can happen, is the thought; and if only we could build more parks and playgrounds, or fix up the ones we have, kids would have the kind of play space they need – clean, safe, and accessible.
Wrong, wrong, and wrong, according to Jacobs. For one, sidewalks – at least good city sidewalks – are heavily trafficked by adult passersby and constantly observed by adult residents. The combination of eyes and feet make such places more safe, not less, for kids. Contrast this to playgrounds and parks, where the adult-to-child ratio is reversed. It is no wonder that “street” gangs do their worst business not on streets, but in playgrounds and parks.
And yet parks and playgrounds are a city planner’s favorite ace in the pocket. People and cities crave more parks, yes? If we want to encourage healthy interactions and a feeling of community, we ought to have more parks and playgrounds, goes the assumption. And I don’t totally disagree, for such places – if well-designed and well-kept – can and do become places to congregate and to pass through. And when people congregate and pass through, formal and informal interactions occur, people bond with friends and strangers, and children are safe to play.
But isn’t that what sidewalks do, too? Good sidewalks, which are well-trafficked and have the kinds of stores where people stop and meet, also promote gathering and passing through. Furthermore, in contrast to most parks and playgrounds, city sidewalks are surrounded by residences. Residences means more eyes on. More eyes, more traffic, more gathering – more safety, more social connection, more community.
Many people will argue that city folks are private people, who don’t want to get involved in other peoples’ business. And to some extent, this is true; city living affords a level of privacy that you can’t find in small towns, where everyone knows everyone and one’s private business is rarely that.
And yet Jacobs believes – and I would agree – that city folks, like all folks, welcome some level of public contact. We live for the interactions with our produce guy and his other customers, with our barber and her other patrons, with the guys on the corner selling newspapers and their colleagues. We don’t care to share our personal business, or even our names. But we feel more human for having dozens of interactions – moments – with people over the course of living, working, shopping, and worshipping in the city. And the sidewalk, far from being a cesspool of iniquity to be avoided, is the thoroughfare and gathering point for such interactions.
So let the kids play on the sidewalks. They are safer there, because of the adult legs that pass by and the adult eyes that keep watch. And they will grow up and become themselves adults, enjoying social contact with other adults at a level that allows them public interaction without sacrificing private boundaries.
I wanted to pass along an insight I’ve gleamed from a gem of a book called “The Death and Life of Great American Cities.” The classic, written by Jane Jacobs in 1961, still resonates with truth and immediacy today, and has aptly captured my “hard to put into words” love for large cities.
Jacobs’ book has very little data in it, on demographics or urban planning or architecture or housing. Rather, it is a running narrative of her keen observation of what makes cities work, from the level of the resident and passerby. It consistently debunks the erroneous assumptions of an entire generation of city planners – sixty years later, these errors are still being committed.
Take our disdain for sidewalks, for example. Under attack from both sides – by planners who want more space for driving, and by homeowners who want more space for living – the city sidewalk is further vilified when it is being used as a play area for children. Grimy kids chasing each other around on grimy streets is how negative things can happen, is the thought; and if only we could build more parks and playgrounds, or fix up the ones we have, kids would have the kind of play space they need – clean, safe, and accessible.
Wrong, wrong, and wrong, according to Jacobs. For one, sidewalks – at least good city sidewalks – are heavily trafficked by adult passersby and constantly observed by adult residents. The combination of eyes and feet make such places more safe, not less, for kids. Contrast this to playgrounds and parks, where the adult-to-child ratio is reversed. It is no wonder that “street” gangs do their worst business not on streets, but in playgrounds and parks.
And yet parks and playgrounds are a city planner’s favorite ace in the pocket. People and cities crave more parks, yes? If we want to encourage healthy interactions and a feeling of community, we ought to have more parks and playgrounds, goes the assumption. And I don’t totally disagree, for such places – if well-designed and well-kept – can and do become places to congregate and to pass through. And when people congregate and pass through, formal and informal interactions occur, people bond with friends and strangers, and children are safe to play.
But isn’t that what sidewalks do, too? Good sidewalks, which are well-trafficked and have the kinds of stores where people stop and meet, also promote gathering and passing through. Furthermore, in contrast to most parks and playgrounds, city sidewalks are surrounded by residences. Residences means more eyes on. More eyes, more traffic, more gathering – more safety, more social connection, more community.
Many people will argue that city folks are private people, who don’t want to get involved in other peoples’ business. And to some extent, this is true; city living affords a level of privacy that you can’t find in small towns, where everyone knows everyone and one’s private business is rarely that.
And yet Jacobs believes – and I would agree – that city folks, like all folks, welcome some level of public contact. We live for the interactions with our produce guy and his other customers, with our barber and her other patrons, with the guys on the corner selling newspapers and their colleagues. We don’t care to share our personal business, or even our names. But we feel more human for having dozens of interactions – moments – with people over the course of living, working, shopping, and worshipping in the city. And the sidewalk, far from being a cesspool of iniquity to be avoided, is the thoroughfare and gathering point for such interactions.
So let the kids play on the sidewalks. They are safer there, because of the adult legs that pass by and the adult eyes that keep watch. And they will grow up and become themselves adults, enjoying social contact with other adults at a level that allows them public interaction without sacrificing private boundaries.
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