Fighting the obesity epidemic within project planning

These days, "Active Living" through urban design is one of the big rages in planning and public health. That people living in walkable places who walk (or ride bikes) exercise naturally without having to be so conscious about it. (Although this week, the Examiner has a story about Results Gym at 16th and U Streets NW starting to be open 24 hours, and there have been many stories on research linking an increase in gasoline use over the past 20+ years to increasing waistlines, see "Americans' obesity adds to gasoline consumption, study says," from USA Today.)

However, this particular thread in public health and urban planning doesn't interest me all that much. Maybe there's no hope anyway.
A view of a new fast food making its debut at U.S. fairs this fall. Ping-pong-sized balls of batter made with Coca-Cola syrup are deep-fried, then served in a cup, topped with more Coca-Cola syrup, whipped cream, cinnamon sugar and a cherry on the top. (State Fair of Texas/Handout/Reuters). From "Because we don't already have enough fried foods..."

A different kind of obesity is the scale of development, land assemblage, etc. It results in places that are big, beyond the scale of people, and focused more on cars among other things.

I was poking through some of the links in the right sidebar of exemplary urban design and affairs journalists and there is a lot of great writing out there. This column from the Charlotte Observer by Mary Newson, "If you plan too hard, you lose authenticity," makes a point that has been made by many, starting with Jane Jacobs, that when you build large projects (focus on assembling land) for the most part, the "produce" that results isn't very interesting. She writes:

...I started to worry when I saw the consultants' slides of fancy new "developments" in other places jammed with people and eyecatchingly designed, color-coordinated banners and signage. Not signs. Signage.

What makes a place memorable for more than two or three years is not color-themed signage. It's authenticity. An authentic place is one that has grown, on its own, into what it is, not one built all at one time and "programmed" by designers and developers. Shopping malls are like that. North Davidson Street at 36th is authentic.

That's where the bake sale lesson might come in. I know developers prefer to think in terms of large projects on large assemblages of land. Wouldn't it be great if someone -- the city? some property owners? -- decided that instead of doing one big programmed project, they would divide some of those big chunks of property into small slices, and sell them separately?

Shrink the development pattern

A smaller-scale development pattern would bring in a wider variety of businesses and help start a more authentic feel -- after all, historic downtowns all over America have small parcels and narrow lots.

And if they want memorable, why not take one of those small parcels and offer it as a home for the beloved Coffee Cup, the Clarkson Street soul food restaurant about to be torn down? Move it to Brevard Street.

Ditto the all-night Athens Restaurant -- another Charlotte icon, beloved by generations who sobered up there in the wee hours after parties, proms and late dates. It, too, is being torn down. Its owner, Central Piedmont Community College, needs a parking lot. (Ever wondered if Charlotte has a soul? Get real.)

Index Keywords: urban-design-placemaking