Responding to Parklet Questions

I recently wrote about the possibility of a parklet at Ray’s Delicatessen and Tavern, a neighborhood gathering place a short distance from my home.  My comments were intended to note the potential of the idea and to encourage Ray’s to continue with their study of the concept, including the development of a site plan and other data the City of Petaluma would need before making an approval decision.  I specifically withheld my own approval until those latter steps were complete.

In the way of too many land use discussions, some readers didn’t grasp the nature of the land-use process, including the balancing of pros and cons yet to come, overlooked the statement of my withheld judgment, and assumed that I’d was advocating for a fully fleshed out idea.  The resulting comments and emails took a variety of tones.  Earlier today, I finished the last of my responses.

Although many of the respondents misunderstood the status of the parklet idea, many of the comments touched on valid points that were worthy of sharing.  Below, I’ve tried to capture the sense of the questions posed and my resulting responses, starting with the more general questions and proceeding into those more specific to Ray’s.  However, I’ll reiterate that I’m writing for myself, not for Ray’s or for any other parklet applicant.

Who would pay for a parklet?: Elsewhere, parklets have always been applied for and installed by the nearby businesses, sometimes with support from citizens or non-profits with an interest in the changes that would be brought by parklets.  I wouldn’t expect Petaluma to be any different.

Wouldn’t a business propose a parklet only so they can make more money?: We live in a market economy.  No reasonable business owner would propose a parklet unless he expected the additional business created by the parklet to justify the expense.  But it’s also true that most parklets are proposed by local businesses that also value their community and are eager to give something back.  You don’t see many parklets at Starbucks.

How can we justify frills like parklets when our roadways are falling apart?: It’s true that infrastructure maintenance is badly in arrears in Petaluma.  The same is true of most U.S. communities.  The bill is coming due on the drivable suburban experiment and the public is unwilling to pay the tab.  It’s a problem that will require a multi-faceted solution.  Providing more places that people can reach without getting into their cars, such as parklets at neighborhood gathering places, can play a small role in that solution.  So parklets would be part of the solution, not the problem.

Wouldn’t a parklet use up scarce parking?: If a parklet includes bike parking, the parking demand created by the gathering place might decrease.  People are willing to walk and to bike when those modes are made as convenient as driving.

How would deliveries be accomplished if a parklet occupies the curbside space in front of the business?: That’s a site-specific question that any applicant would need to answer.

If Petaluma suddenly had a multiplicity of parklets, wouldn’t traffic congestion clog the community?: If parklets popped up all over town (an unlikely event, but a theoretical possibility), the likely effects would be a small reduction in traffic, a noticeable increase in pedestrian and bike traffic, and an incentive for other building owners to change to uses that would serve the increased foot and pedal traffic, which would have a multiplicative effect on reducing traffic.  Even in the best case, the effect on traffic would be minor, but a step in the right direction.

If you think it’s such a great idea in San Francisco and Portland perhaps you should move there: Petaluma has a mixed reputation in planning circles.  On one hand, it was the city that pioneered urban growth boundaries and that was the earliest adopter of form-based coding, both of which have become key elements in modern city planning.  On the other hand, as those of us who live here know, Petaluma has often backslid between those giant steps forward.

On the whole, Petaluma is perceived as a place not content to stay with the status quo.  I like living in a small city that is among the most likely to adopt urban strategies such as parklets.  As much as I enjoy San Francisco and Portland, I’ll be staying in Petaluma.

Why even consider a parklet in a residential neighborhood like that around Ray’s?: In its early history, the neighborhood around Ray’s was a place where residents walked to do daily errands.  Ray’s is a remnant of that early history, as are several other businesses such as the Fairwest Market.  It was only later generations that decided that transportation should focus solely on the automobile.  A parklet at Ray’s wouldn’t be breaking new ground; it would be returning the neighborhood more to as it was in the 1920s.  And there is significant evidence that the land-use pattern of the 1920s was more sustainable, both environmentally and financially, than the current drivable suburban model.

There are traffic problems near Ray’s.  Doesn’t that make it a bad place for a parklet?: It’s true that the intersection of Western and Webster is awkwardly configured.  I traverse it many times each week and am always alert to traffic misbehavior.  However, I think the problem is primarily due to the unfortunate geometry.  Given the likely location of the parklet, I don’t see how it could worsen the situation. Instead, it's well established that the appearance of constricted lanes slows traffic, so it’s possible that a parklet would decrease the frequency and severity of collisions.

Ray’s is near three schools with the resulting twice daily congestion.  Does that make a parklet a bad idea?:  Unless the parklet creates increased traffic, I don’t see a conflict.  Also, the peak school traffic at is at 8am and 3pm which aren’t the peak business hours at Ray’s.

What would happen to the bike lane in front of Ray’s?: Parklets are generally proposed for parking spaces only.  I would expect the bike lane to remain on its current alignment.

If you have further comments to offer, please offer them here.  However, remember that I’m not Ray’s, I’m not working for Ray’s, nor am I suggesting that a Ray’s parklet is fully designed and ready for installation.  But if you have questions that you’d like Ray’s, or any other parklet applicant, to answer before getting approval, feel free to share.

In my next post, I’ll build on another topic from my earlier parklet post.  I’ll announce tentative plans for a group that would work toward a draft parklet policy for consideration by the City of Petaluma.  If the topic interests you, even if you’re not yet sure about the worth of the concept, please read the post and consider participating in the group.

As always, your questions or comments will be appreciated.  Please comment below or email me.  And thanks for reading. - Dave Alden (davealden53@comcast.net)

A North Bay Parklet?

Parklets, the appropriation of curbside space otherwise intended for cars by amenities such as bike racks, benches, tables, etc., is one of the most recent additions to urbanism’s toolkit.  Kaid Benfield of the Natural Resources Defense Fund offers photos of the range of activities that can be accommodated in a parklet, with amenities as varied as temporary sod, a bike repair station, and even a flower garden, although I’ll admit that the kayak seems a stretch.

Parklets were invented in San Francisco in 2005.  In only ten years, they’ve spread across the country.  They haven’t yet made many inroads into the North Bay, although that could soon change if a few folks in Petaluma get their wish.

I’ve previously written about Ray’s Delicatessen and Tavern, a defining element of my neighborhood.  In the past few years, Ray’s has become a favored gathering place for its tasty sandwiches, its community tables, its regional selection of beers in a pine-paneled tavern, and its events such as Thursday evening musical jamming.  And now the owners are putting out feelers about a parklet.

I learned about the parklet concept through the communication mode that characterizes effective neighborhoods, a sidewalk chat.  I had made lunch plans to meet a friend to talk about urbanist issues over Ray’s sandwiches.  As I walked the block and a half, I was waylaid by a neighbor eager to inform me Ray’s evil intention to build a parklet that would be a traffic hazard and a neighborhood nuisance, a parklet that would allow Ray’s to remain open later, interfering with the sleep of the nearby good citizens.

(Years earlier, the same neighbor tried to enlist my support in opposing a Little League complex in our neighborhood, a proposal that I ended up enthusiastically endorsing.  She seems slow to understand my land-use leanings.)

Intrigued by the concept of a Ray’s parklet, I parried her arguments as well as I could, extricated myself from the conversation, and continued onward to Ray’s where I hoped to gather a more objective explanation of the intentions.

My friend and I soon attracted the eye of the owner, who confirmed that she and her partner were doing a preliminary investigation of a parklet, including coordination with Petaluma about what the standards might be.  She also advised us that she expected the parklet to calm traffic, reducing the traffic risks at the awkwardly configured intersection, that she had no intention of remaining open any later than her current closing time, and that the current plan for the parklet included bicycle parking with the goal of reducing car trips.

The owner reinforced what I already knew, that she loves the neighborhood and is continually looking for ways to make it better.  To her, the parklet would be a way of doing that.

She concluded with an offer to arrange a meeting with the architect who was preparing preliminary sketches for the parklet.  Unfortunately, I had to decline that offer.  As a member of several City committees that might conceivably be asked to review the parklet plan that she would bring forth, I’m comfortable with espousing the concept of parklets in Petaluma and even with embracing Ray’s as a possible parklet location, but felt that, to retain design objectivity, I needed to avoid prejudging the actual parklet plan.

So, I can’t share the details of what Ray’s may propose, but I can draw a picture of what parklets can do for a city.  John King, the architectural critic for the San Francisco Chronicle summarized the history and potential for parklets.  In King’s words, “The best parklets combine design ambition with a genuine desire to engage passersby.”

King also quotes Robin Abad Ocubillo, the parklet coordinator for the San Francisco Planning Department, ““They can provide focal points where neighborhoods come together, adding open space to neighborhoods where there’s really not great open space.”

King concludes with his list of the top five parklets in San Francisco.  But for those for whom five isn’t enough, Curbed San Francisco provides a map of all 43 San Francisco parklets as of early 2014.  (Someday soon, I’ll make a day trip into San Francisco to sample some parklets, hopefully by public transit and foot.  If anyone wishes to join me, let me know.)

The Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, with its focus on public health, weighs in to suggest that parklets can support healthy communities.

To push the envelope even further, Azzurra Cox of City Lab writes about a “park in a cart” constructed by a theatre group to bring youth play activities to different neighborhoods in the highest altitude city in the world.

But proving that parklets, for all their benefits, can still make for troublesome public policy, Nosh documents the birthing pains of a parklet policy in Berkeley.

Coincidentally, parklets arose again during an even more recent visit to Ray’s.  A young planner, who spent his youth in Petaluma and has now returned to assist aging parents while getting his career underway in San Francisco, had asked to chat about urbanism in Petaluma.  We spent an enjoyable hour in the tavern talking about the opportunities and constraints in our shared community.

But the conversation really took flight when he spoke of the give-back that he had planned for the town of his youth.  Having spent the final years of his college career in Oregon, he was enthralled by parklets and had a cellphone filled with photos of parklets in East Portland.  He now intended to help Petaluma develop its first parklet policy and had already begun meeting with local community groups to gather support.

We quickly lassoed the Ray’s owner, made mutual introductions, shared parklet stories, and agreed that among us were the key members of a team that would bring a parklet plan to Petaluma.

As a result, one of my tasks for the near-term future is helping to identify the best route to that plan.  If anyone wishes to assist, let me know.

This is an effort I’m making because I’m convinced, unlike at least one curmudgeonly citizen, that parklets, whether at Ray’s or elsewhere in Petaluma, would be great community additions.

Next time, I’ll offer another argument for the Twenty is Plenty movement and traffic calming.

As always, your questions or comments will be appreciated.  Please comment below or email me.  And thanks for reading. - Dave Alden (davealden53@comcast.net)

Community Tables

A few years ago, I had a free afternoon in Boston.  I took the subway to Cambridge to wander the Harvard campus.  Hungry from my walk, I found a burger place across Massachusetts Avenue from the campus.  Although I didn’t recognize the name at the time, I’ve since learned that Mr. Bartley’s has been an institution to generations of Harvard students.  (For the fellow graduates of my alma mater, Mr. Bartley’s is to Harvard what Top Dog is to Cal.)

I ordered one of their signature burgers and looked for a place to sit.  The smaller tables were all occupied.  There were open chairs at the central community table, but I wasn’t sure that I would be comfortable at a community table that was half-filled with Harvard students.  My concern wasn’t about the relative standing of Harvard and Cal, the two schools compare well, but more about being a fifty-something tourist sharing a space with a group of twenty-something college students.  So I found a place at a counter and ate my burger in solitude,

Over my life, I’ve made a lot of decisions, some of which didn’t turn out as well as I had hoped and some of which I truly regret.  But few seem as completely clueless as passing on the chance to sit at a community table across the street from the Harvard campus.

There was a chance that I might have found common ground with someone at the community table.  Admittedly, it’s more likely that I would have eaten my lunch in silence, but by choosing a spot at a counter, I assured a silent lunch.  I traded a small chance of a memorable lunch for zero chance.  And that was a remarkably dumb decision.  Community tables offer a chance of serendipitous connections and should be embraced.

 I don’t recall community tables in the restaurants of my youth.  They seem to be a recent re-entry into the restaurant scene.  But they’re a welcome addition.  From an urbanist perspective, they’re a fine addition to city life.  By allowing more flexibility in the accommodation of different sized dining groups, they allow space to be used more efficiently, always a key element of an urban setting.  Also, they open the door to possible fortuitous meetings among people who otherwise wouldn’t have met, the possibility that I mistakenly eschewed.

I’m beginning to see enough community tables in the North Bay that I won’t attempt to list all of them here.  I’d be slighting a restaurant that I should be praising.  But I’ll offer a few examples.

Ray’s, about which I wrote in my last post, has a couple of elegant natural wood slab community tables (pictured above).

The La Dolce Vita wine bar in Petaluma’s Theatre Square has a community table that I’ve occasionally shared with others.

The Aqus Café in Petaluma, where Urban Chat meets, doesn’t have a specific community table, but have a multitude of small, easily movable tables that are often configured into a community table.

When you find yourself in a restaurant with a community table, recognize that you’re dining at a place with an urbanist flavor.  And if circumstances permit, don’t be afraid to sit at the community table and to say hello to a stranger.

For those who may be wondering, the burger at Mr. Bartley’s was fine.  I hope to return someday.  And to sit at the community table.

In my next post, I’ll offer another quarterly summary of urban oddities and quirks.  I try to write on this topic at the three-month anniversaries of April Fool’s Day, but I’m about two weeks late this quarter.  I became so wrapped up in block parties that time slipped away.

As always, your questions or comments will be appreciated.  Please comment below or email me.  And thanks for reading. - Dave Alden (davealden53@comcast.net)

Fitting a Meeting Place into a Neighborhood

Many years ago, my wife and I took an anniversary trip to London.  Planning for a stay of nearly two weeks and unwilling to pay hotel prices for that many nights, I looked for a flat to rent.  I found one a few blocks south of St. James Park.  It was a fine location from which to explore London with the St. James Tube station only a block away.

Between the flat and the Tube station was a small pub.  Most of the week, it was a sleepy place.  As I recall, my wife and I ate pub fare there one evening and I might have tipped a pint there on another occasion.  The place was usually more than half empty.

But on Friday evenings, it boomed.  All the nearby office workers stopped in for a pint or two before jumping onto the Tube to begin their weekends.  There were more patrons than the establishment could contain, so they spilled onto the sidewalk.  And when the sidewalk was full, they moved into the street, still holding their beer mugs.  (Alcohol control is different in England than in California.)

Eventually, the pub patrons filled enough of the street that the two-way traffic had to take alternating turns using the only lane that remained open and pedestrians had to work their way around the edge of the crowd.  But no horns were honked and no one complained.  Everyone seemed to give a free pass to good-natured Friday evening drinking.

Although I had no interest in braving the Friday evening mob for a pint of my own, I enjoyed the scene, all the while doubting that I would see the equivalent in California.

Adjusting for the fact that California Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control would never allow drinkers to congregate off the sidewalk blocking a traffic lane, I wrong.  Within the posts and chains that limit the area of alcohol consumption, Ray’s Delicatessen and Tavern on the west side of Petaluma is much like that London pub.

And even outside of the posts and chains, Ray’s non-drinking customers tend to congregate on the sidewalks and in the first few feet of the crosswalks, occasionally causing traffic to slow.  Only a few drivers show annoyance.

It’s a friendly, comfortable, non-pretentious place that seems to expand and contract to conform to the number of patrons.

In fact, one can argue that Ray’s beats the London pub on a couple of points.  In place of English pub fare, Ray’s deli serves sandwiches and salads that beat pub fare any day.

And more importantly to urbanism, Ray’s is tucked within a residential neighborhood.  Having a friendly, comfortable place for good food and beverage somewhere in town is a good thing.  Having it a walkable distance from home is even better.  (I live a long block from Ray’s.)

Ray’s and its small group of westside brethren, a picturing framing shop next door, a convenience market, barbershop, and lighting shop a short distance down Western Avenue, and the DeSchmire restaurant on Bodega Avenue, have the distinction of being the most isolated businesses in Petaluma, furthest from any other commercial  establishment.  (If I’ve missed other candidates, let me know.)

And those westside stores are fine additions to the community.  Every bit of business that can be conducted on foot is one less car on the road.

One of the founding fathers of urbanism, Andres Duany, regularly makes a point about Charleston, South Carolina.  He loves the city and uses it to judge zoning codes.  In his phrase, “If you can’t build Charleston under a proposed zoning code, then the zoning code is no good.”

I’d make the same argument about Ray’s.  If your zoning code wouldn’t allow you to build another Ray’s anywhere in the community, then your zoning code isn’t good enough.  And very few zoning codes meet that test.

Drop by Ray’s one day for lunch and ask yourself if you’d want a Ray’s within a walkable distance of your home.  If so, congratulations, you’re an urbanist.  And I know a London pub you’d really enjoy.

In my next post, I’ll build on a theme related to Ray’s, community tables.

As always, your questions or comments will be appreciated.  Please comment below or email me.  And thanks for reading. - Dave Alden (davealden53@comcast.net)