Sprawled Out: The Search for Community in the American Suburb: "If this isn't good enough for you, tell us how you'd do it better. You'd probably criticize Shangri-La."

Above: Middleton Hills, WI

Whitney Gould of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel has a ready answer for people with, apparently, the time on their hands to actually call her and leave a phone message professing their ignorance on the topic of community planning.

Alas, we can hardly blame people for not knowing how communities used to be built; the sprawling, vehicle-dependent, developer-enriching, disconnected-enclave system of "planning" that we now experience has its origins just after WWII. There aren't many people left alive to remember the way things used to be.

Dream subdivisions already are a reality

Posted: Oct. 21, 2007

Spaces

Whitney Gould
E-MAIL

I received a lot of e-mail on last week's lament about Pabst Farms, that 1,500-acre residential and commercial development in Waukesha County. Most readers agreed with my observations about the project's generally uninspired design and planning; a few, including residents of Pabst Farms, defended the subdivision and told me to mind my own business.

The most provocative response was a phone message from an unidentified reader in Oconomowoc who challenged me to suggest an alternative. "If this isn't good enough for you, tell us how you'd do it better," he said. "You'd probably criticize Shangri-La."

OK, here goes.

Assuming that Pabst Farms ought to have been developed at all, the best outcome would have been a subdivision showcasing cutting-edge, eco-friendly design and planning - the kind of community that could sustain itself as gas prices climb, water gets more scarce and concern grows about the climate-altering gases produced by fossil fuels.

Instead of row after row of look-alike shops with slapped-on gables, you'd have distinctive, well-scaled buildings with sod roofs that could absorb storm water and provide insulation; maybe some solar panels. All the parking lots and driveways would be paved with porous material to minimize runoff. Businesses would be nearby, not across the interstate. Transit links would be extensive.

The housing would be a compact mix of well-scaled, energy-efficient, architect-designed homes, condos and apartments in a wide range of prices and in styles from traditional to contemporary. Minimal grass, to reduce water and fertilizer use. Rather, big swaths of trail-laced landscape abloom with drought-adapted native plants; and, in a gesture to Pabst Farms' origins, community gardens.

Does this sound like a fantasy? Guess again. Variations on my dream subdivision already have taken root. A few examples:

Prairie Crossing, in Grayslake, Ill. I first visited this lovely community north of Chicago in its infancy 10 years ago. Today it's a model of environmentally savvy development with a rich sense of place. The 359 single-family homes are traditional in style but varied in color, and they're full of energy-conserving features and bedecked with porches; more recently, 36 condos were added. Metra commuter lines are nearby.

The beautiful public spaces, including a village green, a skating rink and a lake, are easily reached on foot, as are shops and restaurants. More than 60% of the 677-acre development is open space, including restored prairies and wetlands. An organic farm within the subdivision supplies vegetables, fruits and fresh flowers to residents.

Middleton Hills, Middleton. The late developer Marshall Erdman, a devotee of Frank Lloyd Wright, started this 150-acre subdivision west of Madison in the mid-1990s with a master plan by the New Urbanist gurus Andres Duany and Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk. The Prairie, Bungalow and Arts and Crafts architecture can be a bit stifling, but the architect-designed homes, duplexes, condos and stores are street-friendly and well-detailed.

The subdivision also is unusually accommodating to pedestrians: The streets are skinny, to slow traffic, with alleys to conceal garages and trash containers; shops and services are a few minutes away; and trails snake through a lush network of wetlands and open spaces.

Grandview Commons, Madison. Developed by Veridian Homes, this 235-acre subdivision east of I-90, off Cottage Grove Road, has been a bestseller. And no wonder. Its curb appeal derives from well-proportioned, colorful houses sited close to the street in a variety of styles and prices, from starter homes and apartments to condos, retirement units and single-family dwellings; flowering boulevards; handsome public spaces; and great views of the state Capitol. Offices and a retail center are easily reached on foot.

Nearly 1,000 such dense, diverse New Urbanist neighborhoods have sprung up around the country, according to Payton Chung, research coordinator for the Congress for the New Urbanism in Chicago. There are hard-nosed financial reasons to build this way.

A study by a team from Rutgers University and the Brookings Institution found that if only 25% of scattered growth was shifted to more compact land-use patterns, American taxpayers over 25 years would save $2.6 billion in water and sewer costs; $110 billion in road construction; and $420 billion in development costs. Those numbers don't even count the $24 million a day that could be saved in gasoline and other costs associated with driving.

It might not be Shangri-La, but it beats the alternative: a smear of auto-dependent, cookie-cutter development from sea to shining sea.

E-mail to wgould@journalsentinel.com or call (414) 224-2358.

Comments

So we could have a "smaller" government if we were to build denser neighborhoods. So in fact it is those living in the suburbs that are driving (literally) the cost of government up.

Posted by: daver | October 22, 2007 at 12:32 PM