At long last, Monroe Park is getting some love. Through the fund-raising efforts of the Monroe Park Conservancy and a matching gift of the City of Richmond, construction has begun an overhaul of the moribund park. It is great to see a commitment from residents and the City to the revitalization of a historic part of the community. The Conservancy’s website (www.monroepark.com ) cites the growth of VCU as an “unprecedented opportunity for area stakeholders to transform the park into a vibrant, urban oasis.”
The Elusive Park
Monroe Park has remained in a virtually dormant state for decades. Most people see it only in passing from their cars, a green yet shabby oasis in the city, forgetting about it as soon as it is out of sight. It has been so unremarkable for so long, most Richmonders have come to take it for granted, watching it slowly decline but never letting themselves think about its inevitable demise.
It turns out that creating and maintaining a successful city park has been a notoriously elusive endeavor for most cities, and Monroe Park is a case study in many of the reasons why. Since its inception in 1851, a central theme of Richmond's first park, known then as Western Square, might be described as a struggle to belong. An outsider from the beginning, starting its public life as an undeveloped plot of land beyond the western borders of the city, it has played host to countless special events over the years, but as Richmond grew up to and around it, circumstances seem to have conspired against its being woven into the life of the city in a meaningful, long term way. So what can a renovation truly accomplish beyond a temporary boost in curious visitors? If the expectation is that the improvements will attract users and the park will become an important urban space enjoyed by the public at large, it is worth asking an important question:
Is this vision of Monroe Park as an active neighborhood park compatible with or even possible given the reality of its context: that is, virtually surrounded by VCU?
Some answers to this question may be found in one of the most influential and insightful treatises on urban design, “The Death and Life of Great American Cities", written by Jane Jacobs. Along with keen observations on the overall design of cities, Jacobs expounds on the characteristics of successful and unsuccessful park neighborhoods, focusing on the parks of Philadelphia, a virtual “controlled experiment” where good and bad parks with similar qualities existed within blocks of each other. Her most cited example of a successful park is Rittenhouse Square, and more than 60 years after her analysis, it continues to be a vibrant, successful park, validating her observations. Likewise, her observations of less successful parks, observations made as though she were looking specifically at Monroe Park’s context, have been similarly validated many times in the decades since “Cities” was published. Following we’ll take a look at Jacob’s main concepts, how they can help make sense of Monroe Park’s past, its present moribund state, and how they may illuminate a path to its future.
“Too much is expected of city parks. Far from…automatically uplifting their neighborhoods, neighborhood parks themselves are directly and drastically affected by the way the neighborhood acts upon them.” ~Jane Jacobs
“…renderings can put pictures of life into proposed neighborhood parks…but in real life only diverse surroundings have the practical power of inducing a natural, continuing flow of life and use.” ~Jane Jacobs
Diversity of Uses
Perhaps the most important observation Jacobs makes about parks is that parks don’t make the neighborhood, neighborhoods make the park. And the single most essential criteria the neighborhood must possess is a diversity of uses surrounding the park. What constitutes a diversity of uses? Monroe Park is surrounded by buildings with people in them, isn’t that diversity enough? Well, Jacobs would answer that with a resounding, “NO!” Diversity on the order that can support a general city park is not so simple. Ideally, there must be multifaceted uses in the blocks immediately surrounding and facing the park, but the diversity must also continue in the blocks on all the streets leading to the park. Cultural institutions, offices, retail shops, schools, residences, restaurants – as Jacobs says, “…as much as possible of everything different that cities have to offer”.
This concept is the main reason parks like Rittenhouse Square are so successful and others like Monroe Park are so forlorn. The intense diversity of uses in Rittenhouse’s neighborhood extends several blocks deep around its entire perimeter. Jacobs maintains there simply is no substitute for the existence of a vibrant, diverse, mixed use community surrounding a park. When a mix of users with varying pursuits enter and exit the park throughout a typical day and into the evening, activity in the park is continually renewed and interesting, creating ever new reasons to visit. In fact, Jacobs observed that great parks often give people more than one reason to visit on any given day. Park users may routinely walk their dog in the morning, read a book there in the afternoon, and meet friends there in the evening. Weekend users may be different than weekday users.
One might be tempted to think that VCU is an incredibly diverse institution and therefore a perfect neighbor! But, again, not according to Jacobs. Universities, it turns out, are considered to be what Jacobs calls a “Massive Single Use”, and as many college-towns understand, they can create urban challenges, particularly along their borders.
“Massive single uses… form borders, and borders in cities usually make destructive neighbors”. ~Jane Jacobs
Massive Single Uses
As streetcar suburbs began to flourish in the early twentieth century, many of the residents in the Monroe Park neighborhood that could move out of the city did, leaving a significant void that has slowly been filled by the growing university, perhaps a good thing for the city in many ways, but not so much in urban terms. Jacobs would suggest Monroe Park’s stagnation with a growing university in its neighborhood is not coincidental. A “Massive Single Use” is basically a large area with limited access or appeal to the general city population. Universities are considered massive single uses as they tend to take up large land areas which the general city population often views as a barrier, and are populated by transient, seasonal residents. As Jacobs and many others have observed, universities, despite their size, simply do not have the diversity of people, uses, and schedules that can replicate the intense mixed uses necessary to give life to a generalized neighborhood park. Further, by their very nature, they create urban “edge” conditions along their perimeter. The concept is simple: as you get further from the center of any district or activity, there are fewer and fewer reasons to go there, resulting in urban areas that become stagnant, or worse, blighted. Jacobs refers to those areas as "Border Vacuums".
“The root trouble with borders as city neighbors is that they are apt to form dead ends for most users of city streets. They represent, for most people, most of the time, barriers.” ~Jane Jacobs
Border Vacuums
Border Vacuums arise at urban “edge” conditions. These edges may by formed by any one of several elements: the edge of a district, or city, a major landscape element like a river or mountain range, man-made elements like a major highway, or “massive single uses” - like a university. Monroe Park, quite unfortunately, exists at the crux of not just one edge, but two: the massive single use that is VCU on one side, and the edge of the downtown business district on the other. In fact, the entire Monroe Ward district has itself languished for decades, also partly because of its being on the edge of the downtown business district. In the midst of such powerful edge conditions, it is not difficult to understand Monroe Park’s struggle to survive.
“In short, if a generalized city park cannot be supported by uses arising from natural, nearby intense diversity, it must convert from a generalized park to a specialized park”. ~Jane Jacobs
Types of Parks
(Photo: Rittenhouse Square, Philadelphia) Another of Jacobs’ observations was to differentiate between two main types of parks: “generalized” city parks and “specialized” city parks. Generalized parks are those that are supported from natural, nearby diverse uses while specialized parks are those that are primarily animated by specially organized events like music concerts or fairs. This distinction is particularly poignant given Monroe Park’s history of, in fact, beginning life as a “specialized” park, serving as the location for the State Fair in the 1850’s, and continuing that function with the many concerts and protest rallies it hosted in the 1960’s and 70’s. Its time as a true general neighborhood park was probably limited to the late 19th and early 20th centuries when more people had private homes up and down Franklin, Belvidere, and Main Streets. Even then, however, the park neighborhood was not flush with businesses, retail, and higher density housing, the kind of diversity Jacobs has observed is needed to support a vibrant park. As Monroe Park’s context changed, there was less and less support for the park function. Jacobs maintains that if a generalized park ceases to be supported by diverse uses immediately surrounding the park, a change in how it's used must be made if it is to remain a park at all. That, of course, requires programming and effort, something in short supply in many municipalities, especially in hard times. As Monroe Park has clearly not been supported as a generalized neighborhood park for decades and absent any focused effort to program special events for it, Jacobs’ observations would suggest the result of exactly what we see today – a languishing swath of open space in the city.
“...people do not use city open space just because it is there and because city planners or designers wish they would.” ~Jane Jacobs
Park Design
As we have seen, a park is more than grass, shade trees, and a water feature. As Jacobs observed, a park with just these elements (or less) on one side of a city may be wildly popular and beloved (like Rittenhouse Square), while a park with the same characteristics on the other side of town is actively avoided by passers-by and a blight on the city. Why is this so important? She is making it clear that “design”, i.e. special features, nice plantings, etc., cannot, by itself, lead to the success of a true neighborhood park. A park is not a “build it and they will come” proposition. Nice features in a park simply do not substitute for the intensely diverse neighborhood uses needed to sustain a park’s life, and Monroe Park has proved this time and again: it has had, for decades, many of the features Jacobs associates with well-designed parks: lovely trees, walking paths, a few historical monuments, and at the center of it, a tremendous cast iron fountain. On any given day, a person has access to sun, a grassy spot in which to lay out or throw a Frisbee, or a shady spot for reading a book. But despite its nice features, Jacobs would not be surprised in the least at the current moribund state of the park.
“…universities with drama departments (and so often with dead, problem parks in their vicinities) might try putting two and two together....” ~Jane Jacobs
Monroe Park – The Road Ahead
A lack of diverse uses in the surrounding neighborhood, a massive single use practically surrounding it, the edge of downtown creating another barrier to the east, not to mention the daunting six lanes of Belvidere : Jacobs might suggest just one of these urban challenges might be enough to hinder or prevent Monroe Park from ever being a great “generalized” neighborhood park. If a park is a “creature of its surroundings” as Jacobs says, is it time Richmonders come to grips with the idea that Monroe Park is now essentially a “creature” of VCU? Perhaps. Are Monroe Park’s days of being a vibrant, “generalized” neighborhood park gone? Alas, likely.
That doesn’t mean its days are over, of course, but the best chance for life in Monroe Park probably lies in taking concrete steps to arrange a reprise of its long ago role as a pleasant “specialized” event park. And while the City can share it, the reality is the University is probably in the best position to supply (and benefit from) efforts to activate the park. Jacobs’ sounded almost as if she had Monroe Park in mind when she suggested that “…universities with drama departments (and, so often, with dead, problem parks in their vicinities) might try putting two and two together…”. In other words, parks, in her view, could be opportunities for cities and universities to work together to animate otherwise derelict open space that can’t overcome the urban challenges of their locations at the junction of “town and gown”. As noted earlier, programming the life of a park is no easy task as it requires more organized effort and public or donated resources to pull off. Events would need to be coordinated with the City, the University, and other neighbors like Altria Theater, for instance, to coordinate security, limited parking resources, etc. A substantial commitment from one or more of the major stakeholders will be required.
Historic, But Vulnerable
Most agree Monroe Park is a historic resource for the city, and as such, many of the proposed investments in infrastructure and restoration are welcome. But given the urban reality of the Park, Jacobs’ analysis suggests that investment in infrastructure and amenities alone will do little to revive its prospects. The decades of disuse by the general public will likely not vanish just because it is a little brighter and cleaner looking. If you haven't found yourself walking past it up to now, you probably won't be going out of your way to enjoy it in the future. Think Canal Walk.
Some ideas for future investment:
• Picking up on it’s past as a Specialized Park, revive it’s life as an event oriented site. Investments in infrastructure should then be focused on features that facilitate events of all types: power and wi-fi that can be used for art shows, pop-up retail, or farmers markets, for instance.
• Development of a state-of-the-art band shell or amphitheater should be prioritized over water features or public living room activities – amenities that may be appreciated by a few VCU students, but are likely wasted efforts in the context of a specialized park.
• Give over a lane of Belvidere to after-hours or even permanent parking to create a much needed buffer from traffic and help complete the enclosure of the park (the park is large enough it could even handle losing the width of a parking lane plus a bike lane on the Belvidere side).
• Borrowing from Rittenhouse Square, installation of a more heavily landscaped perimeter (which it had historically), perhaps with decorative low walls or fencing, would add to creating a more comfortable sense of place.
• Convert Laurel Street to a stone paved pedestrian-oriented plaza, connecting the park with the Cathedral, the Episcopal Church, the Altria Theater, and VCU. This would effectively transform the area into one of the most urban public spaces in the region. Limited bus and shuttle traffic could be maintained while car traffic would be eliminated most days.
Time will tell if Ms. Jacob’s observations portend Monroe Park’s fate. Will the infrastructure investment lead to a vibrant city park, or will the powerful urban forces acting on it determine its fate? Either way, I think investing in the park is a good thing, but being clear on what the park can be – and what it can't be – could save money and effort in the future.
What do you think?