And Yet

On new Year's Eve I had occasion to go over to Louisville in the late afternoon. I exited I-64 at the Ninth Street Exit. A general pre-revelry torpor was in place. The one-way street, Market headed east, was fairly deserted. I thought about the on-going discussion of converting one-way streets to two-way here in new Albany.

In relative terms, Louisville  places higher on the happ'nin scale than does New Albany. They have an orchestra,  theaters, a minor league ball park, a major league bat museum. They have a Nineteenth Century steamboat named after the city. They have lots more people than we do. They are the Possibility City. And yet, sitting in my car, at a red light, on New Year's Eve 2013, the sinew of the city seemed to show through more than usual, and it didn't present a particularly attractive picture of the city. That Ninth Street exit from the interstate highway is a MAJOR entrance into the city. That is the location of what was once seen as an innovative catalyst for downtown revitalization in Louisville, the Glassworks. And yet, aside from the seasonal, temporal, ghost town vibe at that exit, I glimpsed, however fleetingly, the poor choices the city planners had made in Louisville when they threw  the city's prospects overboard to accommodate the automobile.

Ninth  Street/Roy Wilkins Boulevard and the intersection with Market Street is little more than pipes to get people off the expressway or onto the expressway. It is the transportational equivalent of plumbing. Quick, where's most of your plumbing? It's in the basement, or behind the walls. It's out of sight. That's because it's ugly. It's functional, and necessary, but it's ugly. House builders could have chosen, when plumbing replaced outhouses, to simply put bath tubs and toilets in the living or dining rooms, since that provides the most convenient access to those necessary utilities. But the builders knew that if they forced residents of the houses they built to share those rooms with the hygienic functions, of bathing, and so forth, the rooms would soon be seen as unattractive, and would, therefore, fall into disuse, thus devaluing the houses they had built.

Downtown Louisville is so completely given over to the one-way street pattern that it seems nearly beyond rescue from the ill-effects of that traffic mindset. And yet, one hopeful enclave, the eastern section of Market Street, (the name of which I recoil from using, because it grates on my brain, like fingernails on a blackboard-Nulu) shows strong signs of vitality. Is it coincidental that this section of Market Street is also the section of the street with two way traffic? Is it coincidental that pedestrians make that part of downtown attractive to entrepreneurs and independent businesses?

I drive in, and through Louisville a lot, nearly every day. I can't begin to name all of the streets that are limited to one-way traffic. It seems to be a virus that sprang up in that city long ago, and one which was deemed incurable. Because the one-way virus is so widespread, I can sympathize with Louisville's transportation people to some extent. And yet, so much of the city's real estate is held back by the dominance of the car that, surely people can see it. They must see that while block after block of the downtown has been razed to provide resting space for cars, the yawning gaps kill the desire to walk around the town. They also must see that the one way pattern of arterial streets makes it difficult and unpleasant to walk around the inner city. Is it any wonder that the city has such a hard time recapturing its vitality, which is so closely tied to accommodating pedestrians?

Were Louisville to try to unwind the knot in which one way streets has tied up the downtown, it would face a  daunting task because of the sheer size of the city.  And yet, across the river from this example of a large city held back by poor transportation planning, sits a small town also held back by some of the same decisions.

New Albany made, arguably, a rational decision to shift its streets to one way traffic back in the days before the interstate highway was built. Some may have seen that it was necessary to funnel traffic more efficiently onto the new highway on the Sherman Minton Bridge. New Albany's task of untying the knot of one-way traffic is so much easier than the task facing Louisville. And yet, we appear content to hold onto the traffic patterns of the past, long after the dubious need for one way streets receded.

New Albany's downtown, back then, was holding its own, it didn't face competition from the sprawl malls. It offered a variety of goods and services, so much so that planners may have felt the commercial strength of the downtown would remain unchallenged and that people would continue to go there because it was really the only game in town.

Now, that's no longer the case. The downtown has staged an impressive revival. And yet, it  still needs all the help we can give it. It is still the heart of the city. Because of the newer bypassing opportunities of the interstate, the downtown no longer needs to be buzzed through to maintain traffic efficiency. We now need to put the plumbing back in the basement, and let the downtown recapture its place as a pedestrian oriented center. We need to return the city's streets to two way traffic. We need to encourage walkable commerce. And, we need to provide an environment that invites further, broader, entrepreneurial development of the downtown in order to keep the city in its current upswing.

We need to recognize, facilitate, and capitalize, on the strong, and sensible trend to buy locally, as people see how such local commerce builds a sustainable, place-specific, prosperity for small towns. This trend is salvation. And to the extent that our street patterns, the leeway we cede to automobile convenience, undermine that trend, they must change, or we might miss the opportunity before us. Who can say when another trend will come our way?    

New Albany, as those of us with long histories here know, is slow to change or even recognize the need for change. And yet, Thursday, January 16, a nationally known proponent of reasserting the primacy of pedestrian-centered cities, Jeff Speck, will speak in town to preach his gospel. We should listen.

Throw the Bums Out

                                                    Agent 86 and The Chief  under
                                                              The Cone of Silence



Tomorrow night, Monday January 6, the City Council will attempt, in our own way, to do what Maxwell Smart had so much trouble doing. We will vote to pass into law a zone of protection, shielding upright citizens from those brazen enough, down and out enough, boozed out enough, or just plain at the end of their ropes enough, to beg for money. Within this mandated space the citizens of New Albany won't hear the too-loud calls from the detritus of society for a buck, so they can buy a bottle of wine or rotgut booze. Who knows, in sub-zero weather they may even squander their handful of change on some cheap gloves. The attempt is being made with the best of intentions we are told, and I have no reason to believe otherwise. But the fact remains that we will be safely ensconced within a room heated to about 75 degrees, as we debate the ordinance which will limit the ability of panhandlers to intrude upon our  view of the world as we know it. Meanwhile, the panhandlers will make do with whatever accommodations they can muster to fight off deadly cold temperatures somewhat below zero.

Mind you, the panhandlers are only being limited against the aggressive form of panhandling. They are still welcome to pursue their chosen profession of panhandling in a non-aggressive manner. (Would that be passive-aggressive panhandling?) To stay on the right side of the law, the non-aggressive panhandler must stay outside the zone of protection we decree, or 20 feet away from a list of protected areas, including, money machines, bus stops, outdoor dining areas, public restrooms, or entertainment venues, and other public buildings.

At the Council meeting for the initial readings of the bill, a New Albany policeman allowed as how the state laws on trespass cover much of the same behavior this ordinance targets. One of the definitions of aggressive panhandling refers to "asking again of a person who has refused to donate". What does that do to the selective hearing employed  when one attempts to ignore the panhandler's first attempt? Is that entrapment?

What if a panhandler only appears to be within 20 feet of the forbidden areas? Should we paint yellow lines around these spaces to better define the limits of the law? What if those safe zones fill with people too afraid to leave the relative safety there, and refuse to venture into "open-begging" territory?

On the one hand, it's fine if we pass this ordinance. We are more or less on notice that it will not be enforced. But is passage of such a long-shot ordinance a useful effort for the Council? Is it really just feel-safe symbolism? Perhaps, but in this case we are singling out the unfortunate, weak, marginal members of our society and saying that they are less than we. Again, that may not be the intent of the ordinance, but it is the effect.

If, by some strange circumstance, the law were ever to be enforced, and a panhandler were found guilty of improper panhandling, what is the penalty? First offense is a $25 fine, the second offense is a $25 fine and the third offense in twelve months is a $250 fine. Does this sound in any way odd? Does it suggest an image of bloody turnips?

At the first reading of the bill, I asked if we are to treat as aggressive panhandlers those well-dressed attendees of our Council meetings who are there to beg for handouts in the form of tax abatements, or enrichments through real estate maneuvers. It was seen by some as a joke of sorts, yet at least one of these beggars has threatened legal action if his clients were not granted what was sought. The $25 fine would probably not serve as an effective deterrent in that instance.   

One of the truly distasteful aspects of this ordinance, even though it will be ignored, ineffectual, and silly, is that, unlike the comic Cone of Silence, we are bending to the societal urge for something more like a Cone of Blindness, in which we are able to avert our eyes from the dark side of the World's Greatest Example of Capitalism. We are not forced to see the losers. Within the Cone of Blindness we need not see the people, human beings, people who, if the cards were dealt differently, could be us, or our brothers,  our sisters,  our parents. Pope Francis, noting the skewed priorities of our modern economic system, said, "If Banks fail it is a tragedy. If people die of hunger it's nothing."

The bums, the drunks, the losers, the panhandlers, are not examples of what we want for ourselves or our loved ones. They are, rather a reflection of what goes wrong in a society too penurious to properly fund mental health. We don't want to pay for services that will help alleviate the suffering of these people. We won't extend unemployment benefits. We rely on private angels to provide relief from homelessness. We don't want to face the governmental obligation of making society work for the least among us, and since the 1980s we haven't had to; in fact, we've been told "government's not the solution, government's the problem."

With the greatest season of charity and gift-giving still plain in our rear-view mirror, the Council will Monday night put in place a Cone of Silence, or a Cone of Blindness, so that we can keep our distance from those who make life in the bazaar uncomfortable for the ones who have much, but don't wish to see, or hear, those who don't. Again, Pope Francis said it quite well, "True charity requires courage: let us overcome the fear of getting our hands dirty so as to help those in need."