Sprawled Out: The Search for Community in the American Suburb: The center-less town center

The following is an opinion column written for a North Texas newspaper, but it contains important principles of community, connectivity and the creation of effective public space that are very relevant right here.

These principles are also routinely IGNORED here, specifically at the Fountains of Franklin Sendik's location and the underachieving Shoppes at Wyndham Village. We live in a collection of unconnected subdivisions (despite whimsically wishful proclamations to the contrary) where planning is determined by the whims of developers.

Do you doubt it? Ask anyone who routinely travels 51st street how the lack of a east-west, north-south grid - - due to developers building subdivisions without regard to proper traffic-relieving thru-ways - - has added an extra MILE or so to their commute.

Franklin's planning staff (aka "how can we grow in a smart and sustainable manner?") literally reports to the office of economic development (aka "how can we grow RIGHT NOW"), which is simply illogical - - but explains quite a lot of what we see happening around us.

I've added boldface below to the concepts that apply best locally, and followed the article with some expansion on the relevant items.

From the Dallas Morning News:

The center-less town center

By Russ Sikes

Urban centers are sprouting in North Texas suburbs that until now seemed centerless. Southlake Town Center, Legacy Town Center and Addison Circle are three fine examples to date, and more will surely follow as the nation's fourth-largest metro area matures.

The new design motif is to build large-scale mixed-use centers to urban form on a grid of walkable blocks. Hide the parking and add a park, place a fountain or gazebo in the center, recruit a large hotel, some upscale clothiers and dining, the obligatory Starbucks or three, and a new Towne Centre is born.

I laud this development and view these urban islands as a boon to those of us otherwise adrift in a homogenous suburban sea. But herein lies a critique. The "islands" metaphor is a bit too apt, for these urban oases are entirely isolated from surrounding suburban fabric.

Because these places are bounded by major highways and wide arterial roads, virtually everyone who doesn't live on-site arrives by car. Even where connected by transit (Addison Circle), non-vehicular links connecting these centers with their surrounding environs scarcely exist. That diminishes them, because the presence of civic buildings notwithstanding (Southlake, Frisco), "destination shopping" is not the substantive equal of a genuine town center. To live up to their names, and their vast potential, town centers must serve as actual centers of what they connect to, not what they distinguish themselves from.

The potential for a normal walk to form a rich experience is a great reward of city life. The variety that makes this possible is delivered by accessible transitions in the urban landscape; for example, an ability to walk within few minutes from a quiet residential setting through a mixed-use zone of increasing density into an urban core of great activity. And porous, connected urban fabric is a prerequisite.

As an extreme example, Andres Duany points out that what makes Central Park in New York so stunning is the adjacency of this seeming wilderness to the densest urban life. I would add that accessibility is equally crucial. It is because no physical barrier separates these disparate realms that one's walk through blocks of intensely urban form can mutate within 60 seconds into a hike through the woods. If we want authentic urban variety in our region, this is a lesson cities throughout this area would be well-advised to heed.

In the context of suburban North Texas, better connection can result from two key changes: taming the high-speed arterials that currently function as barriers, and increasing the number and variety of linkages with adjoining neighborhoods.

Traffic calming on arterials is a discipline in its own right, but great results are often achieved by removing or narrowing lanes, adding on-street parking, planting parkway and median trees, and applying textured pavements near pedestrian crossings.

Enhancing connections with adjoining neighborhoods requires a tailored approach, since each case is unique. Pending support from the city and the neighborhood involved, additional roads can be added by converting cul-de-sacs into through streets. Perhaps an alley or service entrance can be converted into a one-lane entryway.

A simpler measure is to cut a gap in the brick wall that separates most subdivisions from the arterial behind them. The resulting narrow passageway is a gift to bicyclists and pedestrians, to young and old alike; that rare haven where people can pass, but cars can't. Through attention to form as well as function, such pedestrian portals, enhanced alleyways and single-lane connectors can even be artistically adorned to add the kind of quirky variety that contributes to a unique sense of place.

At traditional commercial intersections, proper infill can take the form a street-like matrix that mediates the connection between residential neighborhoods on one side and an urban enclave on the other.

However it is achieved, the resulting connection grid integrates the island into its surrounding community, augmenting commercial splendor with real civic value.

This is of course all novel to us here, where our new centers are still under construction.How will we know when an urban island has evolved into a true town center? When a walk to it is as normal and pleasant as a walk in it.

Russ Sikes is a founding member of the North Texas chapter of the Congress for the New Urbanism, which advocates principles of good place-making as a key to improving our quality of life. His e-mail address is [email protected].

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"Because these places are bounded by major highways and wide arterial roads, virtually everyone who doesn't live on-site arrives by car."

Franklin relies to an alarming extent on a one mile-by-one mile grid of COLLECTOR ROADS (see illustration below) to connect the city in a way that is useful only to vehicles. (Even our local walk/bike path requires a parking lot as it is not connected to any useful destination!) Traffic on these roads simply gets denser and denser, faster and faster, with no relief from logical internal grid roads; developers have been allowed to build subdivisions with no Comprehensive Master Plan-mandated provisions for thru-streets. These busy collector roads are virtually impassible and uncrossable by pedestrians, and the "I can see it but can't get to it" phenomena is depressingly common here.

As luck would have it, Shoppes at Wyndham Village sits at the intersection of two busy (and soon to get much busier) collector roads that will be very, very daunting to anyone not encased in metal.

"To live up to their names, and their vast potential, town centers must serve as actual centers of what they connect to, not what they distinguish themselves from."

Both Fountains of Franklin and Shoppes at Wyndham Village suffer a lack of pedestrian connectivity; in fact, both developments feel the need to further obscure themselves from surrounding neighborhoods because of their poor initial site design (see below). They serve vehicles, pure and simple, and ignore their immediate surroundings.

Note also how Franklin's civic buildings - - library, post office, "Law Enforcement ~~Taj Majal~~ Center," city hall - - are sprawled out from one another to the extent that visiting any combination of them requires a separate drive-and-park for each (bringing to mind the absurd sight last Halloween when a change of venue for a Plan Commission meeting on Shoppes meant that everyone present had to relocate from the "Law Enforcement Center" to the library - - and everyone hopped in their cars and drove en masse from one place to the other). Each building and facility is an island unto itself.

"Better connection can result from two key changes: taming the high-speed arterials that currently function as barriers, and increasing the number and variety of linkages with adjoining neighborhoods."

Linking neighborhoods? Not in Franklin, home of the ubiquitous orange-striped "don't look over here" sign.

Do you know what that sign says? It says "we gave up and we gave in; live with it." And they are all over the place in Franklin, where developers are welcome to build a 300 yard road-to-nowhere, slam up some houses on either side of it, and flee the scene.

Do you think the developer of the road below often returns to point with pride at his/her handiwork - - the crooked and decrepit orange-stripe sign, non-landscaped street edge (virtually no planted trees), wide-open retention pond, constantly flipping houses, and complete lack of connection to a cul-de-sac mere yards away?

At one point during a Plan Commission meeting concerning Shoppes at Wyndham Village, developer Mark Carstensen expressed surprise and obvious annoyance when he was reminded that he would need to include space on the east side of the site plan for a future road. Connectivity is an alien concept to developers.

"Enhancing connections with adjoining neighborhoods requires a tailored approach, since each case is unique. Pending support from the city and the neighborhood involved, additional roads can be added by converting cul-de-sacs into through streets. Perhaps an alley or service entrance can be converted into a one-lane entryway."

The Fountains of Franklin Sendik's site plan failure has been discussed here before. Now that the building is nearly complete, the missed opportunity is all the more obvious. To Rawson and 51st, Sendik's presents a nice facade. To the nearby neighborhood, it bears its unadorned rear end and a busy loading dock (see depressing pictures below). The building was designed to exclusively serve vehicles, without regard to the HUMAN FACTOR - - i.e., the inhabitants of the nearby neighborhood.

What should have been a great neighborhood amenity is now effectively sealed off from a neighborhood that will nonetheless have to endure the extra noise and traffic without enjoying the benefits of a neighborhood grocer, cafe, and public space within easy walking and biking distance.

"A simpler measure is to cut a gap in the brick wall that separates most subdivisions from the arterial behind them. The resulting narrow passageway is a gift to bicyclists and pedestrians, to young and old alike; that rare haven where people can pass, but cars can't. Through attention to form as well as function, such pedestrian portals, enhanced alleyways and single-lane connectors can even be artistically adorned to add the kind of quirky variety that contributes to a unique sense of place."

In the Franklin tradition of "you can see it, but you can't walk to it," behold the Great Wall of Sendik's that stands between the store and its nearest human-scale neighbors. Want to get anywhere in Franklin? Better hop in the car.

Bottom line: It's not enough to have a nice Sendik's or "Shoppes" center simply appear in town. Great care has to be exercised in making sure that each new development, commercial or otherwise, integrates into and enhances its surroundings. Then Franklin can stop being a collection of disconnected islands -- and disconnected people! - - and become instead a vibrant community attractive to further highly desirable - and profitable - development.