Savannah versus Charleston: Reaching a Conclusion

Over the past few months, I’ve offered comparative assessments of Savannah and Charleston, both of which my wife and I visited late last summer.  As I noted when I began the series, the Low Country locals regularly compare the two cities, so why shouldn’t visitors do the same?

I’ve compared streets (advantage Savannah), parks (advantage Savannah), tourism (a tie), downtown shopping districts (advantage Charleston), and restaurants (no opinion because I’m unqualified to judge). 

And now it’s time to reach a conclusion.  Often during my career, when advising clients, I’d ask myself what advice I’d want if I were the client.  The question served as a reminder of the difference between what would be good for the client and what would be good for my firm.  A similar test works here.  If I had to pick one city in which to live, which would it be?

Based on the comparative results above, perhaps you’d expect an edge to Savannah.  In fact, for three reasons that weren’t even obvious to me until I posed the question, it’s Savannah by a large margin.  I’ll summarize the three key decision points:

Race relations: On my first full day in Savannah, I had lunch with a friend who is a professor at a local state college.  Savannah has two state colleges, which seemed unusual for a city of Savannah’s size.  So I asked my friend about the history.

He offered a simple answer, “Because you’re now in the South.”  I assumed he was referring to parochial politics, so I nodded my understanding.  But my nod may have been hesitant because the west coast can also be subject to less-than-enlightened politics.

My friend presumably noticed my lack of conviction, because he quickly dropped the other shoe.  “One was originally a black college and the other one white.”  Ahhh, he was right.  I hadn’t yet grasped what it meant to be in the South.

Within my lifetime, laudable progress has been made on race relations, although much still remains to be completed.  And that’s particularly true in the South.  But between Savannah and Charleston, I felt more comfortable than Savannah would make the needed progress.

I chatted with several African-Americans during my days in Savannah.  My sense was they were on the track to equality.  There was still much to be done and many ways in which the process could and should be accelerated, but at least their feet were on the right path.

Charleston didn’t give me the same feeling.  For one, many Charleston residents describe the local African-Americans as Gullahs, which represents a particular path from Africa to the Low Country via the Caribbean.  They further note that the ancestors of the Charleston Gullahs arrived in the 1870s, thereby removing the possibility that “their” Gullahs had any heritage in American slavery.  It’s a history that seemed both dubious and self-serving.

Furthermore, the attitude toward African-Americans seemed gratingly paternal.  One Charlestonian noted that many Gullahs had been encouraged to move from servants’ quarters in Charleston mansions into public housing.  He suggested that the African-Americans may have been better off when they had white property owners to look out for their best interests.

And I found it offensive that African-American women weave baskets at the entry to Charleston’s City Market, on the front steps of the Daughters of the Confederacy Museum.

There is racial progress to be made in both cities, but Savannah seems more likely to make the needed in an expedient and efficient manner.

Literature: Savannah strongly identifies with the book “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil”.  The volume is generally known around town simply as “the book”.  I’m sure few Savannah residents live lives comparable to those described in the book.  But the book depicts some of the duality of living in a town in which the past remains hovering in the next room.  It paints a picture of Savannah in which many can find elements of truth.

A friend suggested that “South of Broad” by Pat Conroy might be the equivalent book for Charleston.   Not even close.  “South of Broad” is an over-wrought, soap opera of a book.  I may have devoured it in a few days, but that’s more of a character flaw than a recommendation of literary merit.

Savannah has the better book, by far.

Circle of Life: I don’t consider downtown cemeteries to be essential components of urban life.  Indeed, they probably inhibit urban walkability and vitality.  (No bad joke intended.)

But the nearby presence of cemeteries gives a sense of the circle of life and offers a reminder that we’re only passing through.  They remind us that we remain connected to our past.  Savannah includes Colonial Cemetery on the edge of downtown and Bonaventure Cemetery, which is a short drive away but is often present in the Savannah consciousness due to “the book”.

And Savannah residents have a connection to their cemeteries, whether it’s the maudlin statue of Gracie, an innkeepers’ daughter who died at a young age, or prolific songwriter Johnny Mercer, who was born in Savannah, retained lifelong ties to the community, and was buried in Bonaventure Cemetery next to a bench listing his most successful songs.

The closest equivalent in Charleston is a story about how the Confederacy exhumed and relocated the remains of John C. Calhoun during the Civil War to prevent the Union Army from desecrating the body.  (The remains were returned to Charleston after the war.)  It was an interesting story, but lacked the daily presence of the Savannah cemeteries.

Ultimately, it feels like Savannah is living a continuation of its past, with both the highlights and the warts.  Meanwhile, Charleston has put its past under glass, but only after some creative editing.

And so, if I had to pick one city in which to live, it’d be Savannah.  There is still much to recommend Charleston.  If I was a Savannah resident, I’d look for opportunities to spend weekends in Charleston.  But I would expect daily life in Savannah to feel like a real life, not a bit of make-believe.

Meanwhile, I still prefer living in the North Bay to either.  But there are lessons from the Low Country that can be applied to any city, including those in the North Bay.

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

Savannah versus Charleston: Restaurants

It’s coming up on six months since my wife and I travelled to Savannah and Charleston.  The memories remain strong, but it’s time to wrap up my comparative comments on the two cities.

One can hardly write about Savannah versus Charleston without writing about the local food.  The Low Country cuisine has a special place in the American culinary experience.  Having enjoyed a few Low Country meals on our trip and having acquired the appropriate cookbook, my wife and I continue to make Low Country dishes at home, including much of our Christmas dinner.

Although one can find good Low Country meals in any of the smaller towns in the coastal areas, it’s in the cities of Savannah and Charleston where the cuisine intersects with the larger world and becomes an urban cuisine.

However, for at least two reasons, I’m a poor judge of good dining.  For one, my tastes can be low-brow.  If I must ever choose a final meal, it’d probably be corndogs.  Although I’d ask for Grey Poupon as a condiment.

(Lest you think that this blog is written with a corndog next to my keyboard, I can assure you otherwise.  I may love them, but I know to leave them alone.  I think the last time I ate a corndog intentionally was at a poker game in 1997.  I use the caveat “intentionally” because I mistakenly had a corndog at a Memphis ballpark in 2011.  I ordered a “Delta Dog” thinking that it would be southern version of a hot dog.  I was surprised when the concessionaire gave me a giant corndog, but didn’t complain.)

The other reason that I’m an imperfect judge of fine Low Country dining is that my wife and I missed some of the obligatory stops on the Low Country dining tour.  In particular, anyone who hopes to offer a credible opinion on Savannah cuisine must eat at, and be able to compare, Paula Deen’s The Lady and Sons and Mrs. Wilkes Dining Room.  My wife and I ate at neither.  It was just the way our days worked out.

Nonetheless, I’ll offer my thoughts on urban eating in Savannah and Charleston.  I won’t try to judge best.  I’ll just write about what tickled my palate and my sense of urbanism.  And what didn’t.

Our favorite urban eating experience in Savannah was a diner in the area of the public squares, away from the tourist hubbub.   J. Christopher’s was located in what appeared to be former car repair shop.  The service was attentive and the food was solid.  For a reason I can no longer recall, I had a chorizo scramble.  Despite inexplicably abandoning the Low Country in favor of the Southwest, I was rewarded with a dish had a great balance of flavors that played off the spiciness of the chorizo.

J. Christopher’s seems to have found a place in the heart of the locals.  On a subsequent morning when I attempted to return, I was dissuaded by the long wait.

To my chagrin, I later found that J. Christopher’s is a regional chain, with about fifteen restaurants in the Southeast, mostly Georgia.  But if all of them integrate into neighborhoods and provide good food as well as the one in Savannah, I’d be willing to make an exception to my feelings on chains.

We did a better job of sampling the wealth of opportunities in Charleston.  Our big night out was at Hank’s, near City Market.  The food was good Low Country fare, fresh local seafood prepared with local produce.  But the large dining room and the white-uniformed waitstaff gave the impression of a dinner house that could have been anywhere in the U.S. and just happened to be in Charleston.  There was no sense of localness to the experience.

Somewhat more satisfying was Husk, located in a former home on a side street near the core of the commercial district.  Following the lead of a baseball/food/fiction blogger whose work I enjoy, we made a reservation at Husk long before we arrived in Charleston.  Husk, which received an award as the best new restaurant in the U.S. for 2011, almost lived up to my expectations.

I had the pulled pork sandwich.  The meat was delectable, the flavors were well balanced, and the roll stood up well to the sauce.  My wife went lighter, trying the succotash, and was reminded how well butter can play off of good fresh vegetables.  We also split a skillet of bacon cornbread.

Had the cornbread lived up to our expectations, the meal would have been excellent.  And the cornbread might have met that standard.  Two minutes before it was removed from the heat.  But instead it was a dry and unsatisfying end to an otherwise enjoyable meal.

However, the best was yet to come.  Our final night in Charleston was my favorite dining experience.  Jestine was a long-time cook for a local family who loved her Low Country recipes.  Despite many imprecations, she was never willing to open a restaurant.  But after her passing, her relatives and friends took the leap.  And I’m pleased that they did.  Jestine’s was a great experience.

I tried for the full Low Country experience, with fried chicken, collard greens, fried okra, and a piece of Coca-Cola cake for dessert.  Except for the cake, was moist and delectable, the food was good, but not exquisite.  The chicken was a little dry, collard greens are an acquired taste which I haven’t yet acquired, and okra was interesting, but unexciting.

However, where Jestine’s worked superbly was a neighborhood meeting place.  As the few tourists such as my wife and I watched on, the waitstaff greeting long-time diners with enthusiasm, parents arrived with students from the nearby College of Charleston for a family meal, and the place sang with a harmony of shared memories and good times.

Jestine’s is what every good neighborhood needs in order to become a great neighborhood.  I could go back there again and again.

I’ll have one more post on Savannah versus Charleston, in which I’ll muse about where I’d rather live.  Then I’ll put the Low Country behind me in time to begin planning for urban travels in the coming summer.  Current plans include San Diego, Salt Lake City, Spokane, Seattle, Portland, Omaha, and Des Moines.  It’ll be a varied and interesting summer.

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

Use It or Lose it

Over the past two weeks, I’ve tried to empty my file of thoughts and links about past posts.  Today is the end of the road.  Any notes that aren’t used today will be tossed.

However, these are fun posts to write.  I’ll probably begin a new list of follow-up ideas tomorrow.  Look for a regular return of this type of post.

Also, if your lunch hour only allows enough time for you to click on one link, save it for the last one.  It’s the best read of the bunch.

Charleston Commercial District: I recently wrote that Charleston’s downtown commercial district is a more enjoyable place to walk than Savannah’s downtown.  A loyal reader from the Low Country agreed with me and added another point to the argument.  Downtown Charleston has played a greater role in U.S. history

In particular, he reminded me that the 1860 Democratic National Convention was held in a hall on Charleston’s Meeting Street.  When the delegates reached an irreconcilable divide over the question of slavery, the convention fell apart.  The two factions eventually nominated rival candidates.  The schism opened the door for the election of Abraham Lincoln and the war was on.  Indeed, some argue that the true start of the Civil War was not at Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor, but at the convention hall on Meeting Street.

I was pleased with the history lesson.  I remember seeing the hall on Meeting Street, now known as Hibernian Hall, and not being particularly impressed.  Although I did find the historically significant buildings at the corner of King and Broad to be architecturally appealing.

In general however, I’m not convinced that history adds greatly to a downtown experience.  For a subset of the public, in which I’m included, history is a nice bit of additional flavor.  But a well-configured downtown doesn’t need history to be successful.  History is like the cherry on top of a sundae.  It’s a nice final addition, but if the sundae is well-made, it truly isn’t necessary.

Savannah Commercial District: Perhaps Charleston has the more enjoyably walkable setting, but Savannah isn’t doing badly.  The Atlanta Journal-Commerce writes of the economic strength of downtown Savannah.  The article specifically notes the role of bicycles lanes and Richard Florida’s “creative class” in building vitality.

Florida is an urban theorist from Toronto who believes that the people who are engaged in creative endeavors have an outsized role in urban success.  His name has arisen before in this blog and will continue to return often, including a short distance below.

Squares of Savannah:  In December, I wrote of my deep affection for the public squares of Savannah.  The Project for Public Places agrees with enthusiasm.  I particularly enjoy James Howard Kunstler’s comment about Savannah and its squares, "It's an incredibly beautiful place.  Savannah is like being on another planet that vaguely has U.S. characteristics, but you're not on the same earth.  It's freaky."

Toronto Mayor: After writing about a bicycle lane controversy in Toronto, I noted that the car-friendly mayor had been removed from office because he failed to properly respond to a conflict of interest.  I wrote too soon.  An appellate court reversed the decision on a narrow technicality, so Mayor Ford continues in office.

But Richard Florida continues to believe that Ford is the wrong person to lead Toronto.  In The Globe and Mail, Florida argues that, for many countries, big city mayors are the most important political leaders and that what cities need are strong, charismatic leaders with creative agendas, not mean-spirited, small-thinking products of a deeply partisan electorate.  It’s hard to argue with Florida.  It’s also hard to visualize how we get from where we are today to where Florida argues we should be.

It’s a Wonderful Life: On Christmas Eve, I suggested that the community spirit shown toward George Bailey at the conclusion of “It’s a Wonderful Life” was the result of the walkable urban character of Bedford Falls.

But even as I wrote those words, I was also aware of the other side.  That for much of his life Bailey had been eager to leave Bedford Falls behind and to build non-walkable cities elsewhere.  And that even when he was forced to remain in Bedford Falls, his biggest achievement had been Bailey Park, a drivable suburban development that rejected much of what made Bedford Falls special.  It was as if the shadow of what StrongTowns calls the “Suburban Experiment” was hovering over the movie.

Patrick Deneen in What I Saw in America agrees and points out the full extent to which drivable suburbia was hiding just off stage.  If you know the movie, this is the link that I absolutely recommend you read and ponder.

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

Savannah versus Charleston: Downtown Shopping Districts

In an earlier post about Savannah and Charleston, I wrote about shops that cater primarily to tourists, the places where you might buy a t-shirt, a cutting board with an image of a historic home, a souvenir shot glass, or a clay tablet of the South Carolina flag, except with a shrimp replacing the new moon.  (Guess which two of those my wife and I brought home.)

But there is another kind of downtown shopping that matters to tourists.  And also to the locals.  The old downtown shopping district.  What remains from the days when the department stores, hardware stores, and butchers were still downtown.

Perhaps downtown shopping districts isn’t as important to cities today as they were seventy years ago.  But they can still act as the heart of a community.  They offer a place to hold civic parades.  And they can provide tourists a sense that they’re visiting a real place, not a quirky version of Disneyland.

Both Savannah and Charleston have downtown shopping districts, although the two have different feels.

I love the public squares of Savannah.  Truly love them.  But they have a downside.  Because they require multiple stops and turns for cars to pass around them, traffic is effectively shifted to the streets that don’t touch around the squares. 

In cities across the country, as the number of cars increased and traffic began to get congested, as it inevitably did, someone in City Hall or in the local business association always argued that the city needed to help traffic move faster to help the economy.  And the streets were accordingly modified to give priority to cars.  (We actually know better these days, that a little congestion correlates well to economic vitality.  But the observers of a half-century ago didn’t have those studies from which to learn.)

And so traffic improvements apparently happened in Savannah.  The streets that don’t touch the squares are configured for fast automotive travel, not for genteel walking.  The street for which this struck me more obviously was Broughton Street, which is also the heart of the downtown shopping district.

It’s not a bad street.  There are some interesting stores along Broughton.  And it feels like the setting for a movies placed in the 1950s.  But it’s not a comfortable street for pedestrians.  The cars seem to have too much priority for walkers to feel completely comfortable.

With its more haphazard street grid origins, the downtown Charleston shopping district evolved slightly differently.  The parallel streets of King and Meeting comprise the district.  And in what may be the key factor, both have slight bends near the middle of the shopping district.

King and Meeting are both one-way, which is often considered a detriment by current thinking, but the reduced width may work for these streets.  The  sense on the street is different.  Pedestrians seem to have more impact on the street life.  The closed vistas caused by the bends seem to take away the hurry of motorists to head for the horizon.  And the slower speeds result in a better balance between vehicles and pedestrians.

Also, King and Meeting are more central to the locations where tourists are likely to lodge, increasing the foot traffic and shifting the balance  of power a little further from the automobiles.  One is more likely to encounter a queue of people awaiting a restaurant table on King Street in Charleston than on Broughton Street in Savannah.

Both shopping districts are good additions to their communities.  But Charleston gets the nod for the little differences that worked out well.  It’s not like a planner intended for Meeting and King Streets to have their small kinks, but sometimes serendipity can be the most effective planner.

By the way, none of this is meant to imply that neither Savannah nor Charleston have Targets or Walmarts.  I don’t know if either city has those big boxes.  I didn’t go looking for them, didn’t happen to spot them, and am unwilling to check online to see if they exist.  I’m content to keep my memories of those two cities unsullied by thoughts of acres of parking surrounding soulless mass merchandising.

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

Savannah versus Charleston: Tourism

I have a good friend in Savannah.  Until September, we’d never met face-to-face, but we’d chatted via email on a nearly weekly basis for years.  Mostly about baseball, but also a bit about life and politics.

During my recent visit to Savannah, I met my friend for lunch.  After reviewing the current baseball rumors, I asked him about the can’t-miss tourist destinations in Savannah.    I figured he was my best possible resource.

And I was right.  He pointed me in a number of good directions, more than I could have possibly followed in my few days in Savannah.  As an afterthought, he then concluded with “There’s also River Street.”  In those few words, he established why he and I had connected so well on email.

River Street is to Savannah what Pier 39 is to San Francisco.  Not the worst place to visit, but fundamentally apart from the essence of the city.  It’s what the city boosters think is what required to attract and to entertain tourists.  And unfortunately, they’re closer to the truth than I’d wish.

The waterfront area of Savannah has a long and interesting history, from the initial founding of the city to the long years of cotton shipment.  Many of the historical buildings remain.  As one approaches the waterfront, the sense of history is palpable.  But the city made the decision to build a standard issue park on the land nearest to the Savannah River and to encourage t-shirts shops and boisterous taverns to occupy the buildings on the other side of River Street.

As much I dislike the design direction, it’s been successful.  River Street is often thronged with tourists doing tourist drinking and buying tourist geegaws.   I’d much prefer that tourists wander away from the river to sit in the public squares of Savannah.  But at the same time, I recognize that, if they did, the t-shirt shops would follow.  And I truly don’t want that.

A few blocks from River Street is another destination also intended for tourists, but with a somewhat higher aim.  City Market is a block of older buildings which has been converted to a pedestrian mall and is now largely occupied by casual restaurants and art galleries.  City Market doesn’t have gaucherie of River Street, but neither does it have the stately grace that marks the true Savannah places.

Oddly, the Charleston equivalent to Savannah’s City Market is also called City Market.  But it’s a more attractive destination.  It’s a quarter-mile long shed filled with local artisans.  Much of the merchandise is targeted toward tourists, but the configuration and semi-open-air structure provides an atmosphere that feels more comfortable than anything in Savannah.

I’d be tempted to compare Charleston’s City Market to either the Ferry Building in San Francisco or Pike Place Market in Seattle.  But in latter two, locals often do their daily shopping.  City Market is truly targeted for visitors.  And that’s a key difference.  I like Charleston’s City Market more than the two tourist destinations in Savannah, but it remains a place apart from the city itself.

What are the lessons for the North Bay?  At least to me, they’re discouraging.  When I travel, I like to wander in actual neighborhoods, trying to understand how life works in that particular town.  But the hordes on River Street show that I’m not normal.  It seems that many travelers prefer a little bit of Las Vegas.

The North Bay has several attractive tourist niches.  Wineries, eco-tourism, and antique shopping come to mind.  But if a broader tourism marketing strategy involves something like River Street in Savannah, I’d pass.  Perhaps I could tolerate something like Charleston’s City Market, but if a North Bay city tries to build a River Street, I’d be deeply disappointed.

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

Savannah versus Charleston: Parks

I recently wrote of my intention to look to the cities of Savannah and Charleston for insights that can be applied to North Bay urbanism.  I traveled to both cities in the waning days of summer.  My first observations were about the street grids of the two cities.  Today, I’ll look at parks.

In a week divided between the two cities, it was impossible to achieve a comprehensive perspective of the city park systems.  But I can speak to the parks which tourists, such as my wife and I, are likely to encounter.

Indeed, in Savannah we could have hardly missed Forsyth Park.  We choose a hotel directly across the street from the 30-acre park.  And we took several walks in the park, even eating one meal there.

The park has two distinct functions, with passive enjoyments in the north end and active participation in the south.  The north is anchored by a large fountain from which paths radiate in six directions, offering a wide choice of oak-shaded and Spanish moss-draped allees.

The walking paths offer numerous benches for quiet observation or casual conservation.  One evening, we listened to a young man play the didgeridoo, although not particularly well.  On another, we chatted with a homeless person, Sammy Davis Tucker, Jr., who was happy to take our picture and to offer his tourism thoughts on Savannah, all the while staying just on the safe side of the city panhandling law.  We rewarded him for his advice and even followed some of it.

The south is more open and largely configured as sport fields, which are well-used.

The park is surrounded by the features of urban life.  On the east is the hotel in which we were staying.  To the north is the original home of a local state college.  To the south is a small collection of counter-culture stores where I met a friend for lunch one day.  And every side was the graceful residences of the old-line urban South, some now serving as bed-and-breakfasts or other businesses.

Forsyth Park was reportedly conceived by James Oglethorpe as the termination of his land plan for Savannah.  And the fountain in the north end of the park is in alignment with Bull Street, perhaps the best example of Oglethorpe’s plan for neighborhoods and public squares.  However, as if often the case with urban planning, Savannah didn’t stop when it reached Forsyth Park.  Instead, it continued marching south, enfolding the park into the urban fabric.

And that’s the strength of Forsyth Park.  It’s engrained into its neighborhood and gaining strength from the embrace.  During our stay, we saw exercise classes, a wedding photo session, and youth soccer.  And there was a continual stream of people walking or jogging about the park.  Forsyth Park is an essential part of Savannah, without which the city would be less.

Which takes us to Charleston.  I visited two parks during our time in that city, Marion Square near the heart of downtown and Waterfront Park along the Cooper River estuary.

In its location anchored in the urban grid, Marion Square is similar to Forsyth Park.  But its history and ownership yielded a very different result.  It originally served as the parade ground for the Charleston Arsenal and then filled the same role when The Citadel occupied the arsenal building.  To this day, it remains the property of the Washington Light Infantry and the Sumter Guard.  Although it is leased to the City of Charleston to serve as a public park, much of the site retains the appearance of a parade ground, a broad and empty expanse of green lawn.

I understand that there are community events, such as farmers markets, that use the space well.  But between those events, Marion Square seems to sit largely fallow.

During my mid-morning visit, the park was virtually unused.  There was a knot of youths hanging out in one corner, a couple of older men lounging, and a young woman on the diagonal walk, perhaps heading to classes at the nearby College of Charleston.  Whereas Forsyth Park appeared to be loved, Marion Square was the recipient of only mild disinterested affection.

Waterfront Park has a similar shortfall, although for apparently different reasons.  The park is marvelously designed and constructed.  A long pier extends through the coastal grasses and into the estuary, giving my wife and me our closest looks at Fort Sumter.  Along the pier are well-conceived swings, in which couples can idly sway back and forth while enjoying the cooling breezes.

Along the length of shoreline, there are well-constructed walking trails, delightful fountains, and benches positioned to take advantage of both sun and shade.

To my happy surprise, the park backed directly up to condominiums, framing the park with a better backdrop than a busy street and giving the residents an attractive, if public, backyard.

But despite all everything that was done well at Waterfront Park, it is largely unloved.  When my wife and I visited in the midday, the swings and pier were in nearly full use, but the remainder of the park was mostly empty.  When I revisited in the early morning hours, it was even quieter.  Perhaps the only other people there were a pair of homeless who were awakening from their slumbers on the benches.

When I look for a reason as to why Waterfront Park fails to attract more use, I can only point to its location at the edge of a city, rather than surrounded by a city.

Thinking back to all three parks, Forsyth, Marion, and Waterfront, only Forsyth is seems full actualized, the result of a location in the heart of a city and of the many years during which the city learned how to make good use of it.

To bring these lessons back to the North Bay is disappointing, at least in the short-term.  I have a friend who often asks about building a North Bay equivalent of New York City’s Central Park.  After observing Savannah and Charleston, the answer is obvious, but unhelpful.  One would need to go back a hundred years and set aside a half-dozen or more city blocks before the city flowed around and embraced the site.

Absent a time machine, that isn’t useful information.  But even if we set ourselves to the more possible task of building strong urban parks for the 22nd century, we are almost equally stymied.  What makes Forsyth Park work is the way it was embraced over time by the continuation of a land-use grid.  But we don’t build our towns in grids anymore.  With the land development rules, we effectively require developers to construct stand-alone, barely connected neighborhoods, not a land-use pattern that would ever embrace an existing park.

So if your goal is to build a Central Park in a North Bay city, you must do three things.  Change the development pattern so we return to the logical grids of the 19th century, set aside several blocks to serve as the park, and pull up a chair to wait for a century.  Good luck.

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

Savannah versus Charleston: Streets

To me, a prime benefit of travel is gaining a better understanding of one’s own home.   Therefore, I was pleased to travel with my wife to Savannah and Charleston in the waning days of this past summer.  Both offer urbanist lessons that can be applied to the North Bay.

During our wanderings in Savannah and Charleston, we were frequently asked about our itinerary.  When we reported that we were spending time in both cities, the questioner would express approval with the plan, acknowledging that both were fine destinations.  He or she would then lean in and whisper conspiratorially, “But our city is better.”

With the implied competition so often restated, it seems logical to organize my observations as comparative reports, evaluating the streets, parks, etc. of both cities.  Today will be streets.  I’ll write perhaps one Savannah versus Charleston comparison a week, which should take me into the New Year.

So, about the streets in Savannah and Charleston.  Denizens of both cities describe their places as “master planned cities”.   In Charleston, they mean that someone had made a sketch before the road grading started, which is an admittedly good idea.  But in Savannah, they mean something more.

In Savannah, they mean that city founder James Oglethorpe had a philosophical basis for his street grid and applied it rigorously.  His intention was to create “townships” within the city.  All of his neighborhoods were to be two long blocks wide in the east-west direction and six short blocks wide in the north-south direction.  And each township would be anchored by a public square in its center.

The layout was so well adapted to 18th century Savannah that the city continued to use the pattern even after the death of Oglethorpe.  It was the early 19th century before the township pattern was abandoned.  At the time, over thirty squares existed.  Twenty-two remain today.  And they create a marvelous pedestrian environment.

With the way the squares are located in the townships, they block two streets, the central north-south and east-west streets.   Motorists on those streets must detour around the outside of the squares.  But the sidewalks for the interrupted streets continue straight through the squares, providing a rare example where pedestrians have a more direct route than cars.

Even better, the walking paths in most squares are paved in brick and are overhung with Spanish moss drooping from mature oak trees.  Furthermore, most squares have public monuments in their center.  Some even have graves.  Casimir Pulaski, the Polish general who fought and died in the Revolutionary War is buried in one.  Tomo Chi-Chi, the Indian chief who welcomed Oglethorpe ashore in 1732 and helped him establish Savannah, is interred in another.

Walking down a street that passes through a series of squares is one of the best urban pedestrian experiences to be found in the U.S.  Bull Street was my favorite.   I found three opportunities to make the mile walk along Bull Street between Forsyth Park and the waterfront and found it glorious every time.

(As a sidenote, I used Google Maps to check the length of the walk.  Google Maps suggests that pedestrians move over to a street that doesn’t pass through the squares.  Google Maps has no soul.)

One morning, I was on an early morning walk along Abercorn Street, another street that passes through a series of squares, when a fire alarm was sounded.  I sat on a bench in the square, along with a couple of men who seemed to have spend the night in the square, and watched as each fire truck made  a series of turns to pass around the square.  No offense to the Savannah Fire Department, but it was remarkable to see emergency vehicles defer to an 18th street grid.

I later learned that the fire alarm was from the hotel where my wife and I were staying.  While I was sitting in the square reveling in the route of the fire trucks, she was standing in a parking lot in her robe.  Oops.  Luckily, it was a false alarm.

Despite my deep affection for the squares, there are three concerns I’ll note about the street grid.  First, with the squares giving preference to pedestrians over cars, the car-centric development of the 20th century was concentrated on the other streets, making them markedly less friendly.

Second, relatively few tourists wander up to the squares.  Most seem to prefer the tourist orientation along the riverfront.  I worry for urbanism when lovely urban elements like the squares of Savannah are overlooked by tourists.

Third, the one square that tourists might visit, Ellis Square next to City Market, has been redeveloped into a contemporary square that one could find in almost every U.S. city.  Grass and a fountain in which kids can play.  No mature oaks.  No monuments.  No Spanish moss.  And not much brick.  It was a fine opportunity to show tourists what makes Savannah special and it was missed.

 Those quibbles notwithstanding, the squares of Savannah are a marvelous resource which I recommend highly.

The Charleston downtown grid works on a different basis, but also has its charms.  It’s a more haphazard layout, but randomness can be a good thing in a street grid.

Zoning codes in many cities have begun incorporating the concept of “vista points”.  The idea is that the end of a street, or even a bend, will provide a vista point that blocks a view that would otherwise extend to the horizon.  Hopefully, the view is of something attractive, such as a park or a noteworthy building.  But the key is the sense of closing the vista and providing a sense of enclosure.

We’re genetically wired to feel vague discomfort in vast expanses.  A destination that we can see, even if it’s not our final destination, gives our trips a focus and draws us onward.  We like the sense of our trips being “enclosed”.  The word “paradise” is derived from the Persian word “pairi-daeza” which means enclosure.  Vista points provide that enclosure.

To my eye, the Sonoma City Hall is the best vista point in the North Bay.  But the McNear Building in Petaluma is in the running.

A street grid that developed by happenstance can provide even better vista points than zoning codes.  And happenstance describes the way that Charleston evolved.  Incremental filling of Charleston Harbor and several street grids that were begun independently and now meet in odd angles creates many potential vista points.

The primary north-south streets through much of the town are King and Meeting Streets.  Both bend in the heart of downtown, closing the vistas nicely.  But my favorite vista point occurred on Church Street, a small street in the tony residential area at the tip of the peninsula, south of Broad Street.  At one time, Church Street was the edge of the peninsula, so it still reflects the angles of the old shoreline.

I visited Church Street while on a guided walking tour.  The tour guide described the days when Church Street was still a part of the harbor and specifically pointed out a house that had been owned by a tanner who received deliveries by sea.  She noted the mooring rings that still remain in front of the house.

But as she was talking, I was stopped by the vista point created by a bend in the street a short distance further south.  The closing of the vista by the bend made the street as comfortable as I could imagine.  It created a street view that I would love to come home every evening.  Would that modern-day planners and builders could regularly create anything half as striking.

So, between Savannah and Charleston, we have two different approaches to street grids and two different results.  But both with some stunningly good results.

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