A couple of days ago the New York Times published an article ripe with urban hope and lore, America's relearning of streetcar lovin'. Citing examples of urban population growth and renewal Haya el Nasser paints a vivid portrait of streetcars battling the automotive enemy and becoming the hope and liberator of the people.I, for one, am to agree.
I am deeply smitten by my train ride to and fro the office each day, sitting in relative comfort, able to read some no doubt self inflating diatribe about what cities and art should be whilst my only concern is not to miss my place of disembarkment. Back and forth all for the low low price of half of what parking for the day would be had I employed my aluminum coffin.
How else could I witness the city explode from behind the hills, towering over the mighty Cuyahoga as it winds its way south under bridges, around factories and vacant lots, glorious in their destitution? I would never have seen the sun come out from behind the clouds, or the rather interesting and beautiful graffiti had I driven, my eyes only focused on the bumper of the person in front of me, breaking occasionally to make certain no one was barrelling down upon me. I highly doubt I would be able to witness a home get boarded up, look suddenly tired and sad and then watch as someone resides and repairs it for a new family. All this would be lost if I didn't take the train.
I wonder then what life would have been like had I moved to Portland, Oregon like my heart and begged of me all those years ago, back before I fell in love with the cruel potential of this city, back before I had envisioned myself wanting to take any effort to do good.
Portland is a wonderful city. Friendly people, varied beers, ocean, mountains, trees, an endless cascade of wonder to explore surrounded by only more wonder and cut through, running predictably like a soft beating heart is the light rail, a street car (free within the city) that quickly and cleanly whisks you from one side of town to another, across the mighty Willamette River that cleaves the city in twain.
Sort of how Cleveland is.
And that is when it hits me. Cleveland is a city divided. Neighborhoods on both sides are accessible but not with the ease of other major cities that have exploited the liability in a wondrous way. Imagine having not only a lakefront but two riverfronts! Multiple occurrences of shore-line life, man's endless connection to the water, our myriad fascination with the rhythm of the waves, sharing a strip of blue, both sides served by quick, clean and free (or at least cheap) people moving. How amazing would life be for us then?
I bring this up because the clock is ticking and ticking loudly. Possibly the largest urban renewal plan for Cleveland is in the works and everyone is paying attention and so far, I don't think many are impressed. We bit off a great deal when the Euclid Corridor Project began implementation and now all we can do is wait for another year and change.
And then what?
We will have a connection from Public Square to University Circle creating convenient access from downtown to the cultural center of the city. A street car of sorts (low slung buses count in my book even if they lack the romantic allure) will whisk people through what could become one of the most intensely sought after commercial routes in the city.
Fine. Great. I look forward to it, I really do.
But what about the rest of us?
The RTA Waterfront line serves the East Bank of the Flats, but what gets us to Tremont? To Ohio City, to the West Bank, to Cleveland Heights? What connects us all without the relentless transit changes, and the ugly rush hour traffic? What ties us all together?
One can only hope that the Silver Line will be a great success and will serve as a springboard for more intensive and far reaching transportation systems, knitting this large (at least in terms of area) city together into a more cohesive regional power.
I hope to be here for that day.
more fun links:
Euclid Corridor Project Website
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