18 Feet of Entitlement
19 July 2011 | Share:
It is only 18 feet of worn macadam, filthy as any never-washed city street, just another miniature piece of hard packed clay on this burning earth, and yet it might as well be frontline in the class war that’s threatening the fiscal and economic stability of the globe.
It is 18 feet of symbol.
It is 18 feet of real, contested turf on my block in Philadelphia.
This is fitting, since I designed a history tour for the neighborhood that has as a central theme the competition among waves of immigrants for control of the turf. But this isn’t about group space and identity, ethnicity, religion, or race, it isn’t even about what some people think it’s about: parking.
The 18 feet, of course is a public parking space subject to the street parking regulations of the block: 2 hour parking, 8-6 except Sunday and Permit Parking 4 and 22.
That space, in front of 622 Bainbridge Street, was until a week ago, such a public space. Given our location near South Street and the presence of 8 retail businesses on the block, in addition to 10 recently built apartments, the preservation of public parking is a priority (say that ten times fast). Everyone knows I believe a city should be designed for people and not, as Louis Mumford feared was happening mid-20th century, “for cars,” but this contested 18 feet isn’t about cars versus pedestrians, or highways versus neighborhoods, but about access to a public good versus purely private gain. For a while, of course, Philadelphia acceded to the auto times and actually required new houses to have interior, off street parking. But by 2000 or so, it was understood that the curb cut required for the garage space meant at least one less on-street, public space. Furthermore, on principle, such a policy of encouraging garages was detrimental—deadly—to the life of the street. By 2005, the policy had just about reversed.
Our block is already a victim of the old way of thinking. Across from my house is about 75 feet of contiguous curb cut for private, off street parking. Two houses down, there are four more interior spaces, making much of the south side of the street essentially a dead zone. Too bad, because so much else—the relatively high density and the mixed uses—creates an otherwise optimally functioning city street.
And then there is the 18 feet of entitlement.
The four interior, private spaces are part of a contemporary house that fronts on the alley behind our block, Kenilworth Street. Its back, therefore, and the two long, often grafitti’d garage doors, face the main street. This back-facing plan is also a rejected mode of urban design. But no matter, the house is interesting, and when it was originally constructed it received a great deal of positive attention. Some years ago it was purchased by a well-heeled lawyer, interestingly active in public interest law, and his wife. They are empty-nesters who moved from Society Hill. In 2004, #622, the house immediately adjacent to their house, burned. They purchased it, tore down the remains, and eventually built an addition to their house, with guest accommodations and an interior swimming pool.
The construction process was prolonged and for the block, extremely painful. The foundation pit was left with a fence that enclosed the entire sidewalk and some of the street, eliminating access to both. Trash, which regularly accumulates inside the garage bays of the house, collected all around the fence. There were construction and code violations, and for about six months last year a construction crane sat without being moved or used in the public parking space in front.
The addition itself was a piece of contemporary architecture, a sober gray pastiche of cement board and metal. I liked it. But the addition was set back from Bainbridge Street, and I had a feeling why: the owners of the property, which already contained four interior, private parking spaces, would take one more, and eliminate this little piece of public good. Permeable pavers were laid in the set-back and a tree was planted. On the block, we made private wagers: was this a patio or a driveway?
When the ugly roll-down grate, which blocked much of the architecture at street level, was installed, we had our answer. The property owner, in a time of entitlement, felt entitled. He would take the curb cut because he could. And because no one, apparently, required a public hearing. As one neighbor put it, “don’t they think they’re being a little piggy?”
“The world burns and the rich just go on, oblivious,” said Peter Siskind, my friend, last night. Code violations, a blocked sidewalk, an interminable crane, a roll-down grate smack in the middle of our block’s shopping area, “we’re good neighbors, we don’t bother anyone,” they say.
But I don’t even wish to dislike them. They are probably entirely nice and reasonable people, and, as I told their son, we’d probably agree on most things most of the time.
And yet I don’t understand their carelessness and disregard for the neighborhood.
In September, 2009, after the roll-down grate was installed, a Philadelphia Parking Authority crew arrived. They moved the parking sign twenty feet up, eliminating the public space in front of 622. I happened to come outside as the drilling started, and suspecting the worst all along, felt like I was acting out a pre-packaged scene. And I used my lungs. The crew had no idea who authorized the move. “This can’t be a curb cut here, because the property owner already has 4 spaces,” I said and furthermore, there was no public discussion. No notice, no permit, just a clueless crew whose foreman found a nearby police officer. The sign was replaced to its original location, and just to be sure it would stay there, I collected petition signatures from just about every other member of the block. We presented those petitions to Councilman Frank DiCicco, whose staff informed me that for #622 to have permission for an interior parking space, a zoning change would be required.
Alas, you can’t just remove a public parking spot because you feel like it. The opposite now: interior garages are discouraged as a matter of policy.
Or can you—disregarding the well articulated desires of the street—if you feel just entitled enough? Was DiCicco’s staff wrong about the zoning issue, or is the sense of entitlement among the wealthy—the same pervasive nonsense that has let bankers off the hook the world over while the poor suffer cuts to education and social services—so great that it negates the need or requirement for principles of planning and community development? Is an exception always made for the rich?
We all wonder why the need for yet another private parking space? The semi-occasional visit of a son who lives far away. And also, “we’re going do some work on the house and I need a space for the carpenter to park.”
No, it can’t always be. No matter how much the property owner—my neighbor—wishes to have a guaranteed parking space for his son when he arrives for his occasional visit—and what father wouldn’t?—isn’t the question at hand about weighing the difference between private gain and public good? In this case, there is no question, the needs of many—whose property taxes have gone up yet again, I should add—overwhelm the “needs” of one.
It is 18 feet. Hard packed dirt, utilities, cobblestones, layers of petroleum lummed into blacktop. And now it is smoking. I am not, I can assure you after collecting another trove of petition signatures in an attempt to force what should have happened long ago, a zoning hearing, the only angry one. One is entitled to being oblivious, but not also insidious and greedy.