4 minute read
Urbanism
URBANISM: LESSONS FROM THE PAST
BY KWENDECHE
Growing up in Little Rock, especially during my early teen years, I was quite conscious of the overall makeup of our close-knit neighborhood. It encompassed approximately six city blocks centered around Stephens Elementary School, what we called the “West End.”
I knew most of my neighbors — their full names, where they worked, their daily routines. I knew the best sources for inspiration, encouragement and sugary treats. Mrs. Collier had the largest bowl of candy imaginable, always available when she was on her front porch but only if we greeted her in a proper manner.
We all knew the “vegetable man” who marketed fresh vegetables from the back of his pickup truck. Mr. and Mrs. Pitts across from my house never patronized him as they had their own world-class organic vegetable garden in their spacious backyard. From his porch, Mr. Pitts regaled us with endless stories about his time working on the railroad. Even more enthralling were the Calderlike sculptures he sometimes created using kitchen forks stuck onto a wooden branch.
There was also the rag man selling and buying used cloth for household use. He came around on a weekly basis, slowly circling the neighborhood in a stretched sedan, his heavy raspy voice calling out “rags ... rags.” We rarely witnessed much drama: no major fires, no gunfire (not even on New Year’s Eve), nor any significant disruptions of our almost daily explorations throughout the hilly surroundings. The tragic disintegration of an Air Force jet passing over our neighborhood in 1960 was the biggest, most-talked-about event for many months. Less dramatic but equally significant was the day we got polio vaccines (soaked onto a sugar cube) at Stephens Elementary School one Sunday afternoon.
I recall as well the one and only snowball fight with our white neighbors on the south side of 20th Street (now Charles Bussey Ave.), a spontaneous, joyful reaction to one of the heaviest snowfalls in Little Rock history. No one won the fight. Someone did, however, call the police, perhaps because it was too unusual or unacceptable for black and white kids to have such fun chucking hardened snowballs across the well-established boundary between our segregated neighborhoods.
I have good memories of my childhood, including the news channel helicopter crash, the war games in the alley using wooden chair legs as machine guns, our sandlot football games, the Halloween pranks, riding our new bicycles on a snowy Christmas day, Saturday morning trips to See’s Variety Store on 13th Street, dodgeball, Momma’s tuna fish sandwiches with Guy’s Potato Chips, two-for-a-penny ginger cookies from Mr. Heard’s Grocery Store washed down with red Kool-Aid or Barq’s Root Beer and the successful completion of my first design/build project — a tree house in our backyard, a comforting, concealed retreat to contemplate my next adventure.
As I look back and reflect on that neighborhood as it stands today, I’m saddened by how it has changed. Vacant lots and boarded-up houses line the once vibrant streets. Today, the nearest food market to my old neighborhood is in Hillcrest. See’s Variety Store is a vacant lot. Aday’s Drug Store is a police station parking lot. What happened?
It appears to me that America retreated after the civil rights movement. The opposition to change brought about a new multilaned highway (I-630, the Wilbur D. Mills Expressway) that created a significant barrier. Its route conveniently bypassed McArthur Park but completely devastated the West Ninth Street Black business district.
Today’s I-630 continues to be a barrier for change, given its expansion and those dreadful looking highway noise barriers. To an out-of-town visitor traveling by car south on Mississippi Street, the massive backside of the barrier is uninviting and totally out of scale with the neighborhood the barriers are purported to help. And the graffiti artists have already shared their creations on them. Such a waste of public funds for a wall that might only slightly decrease the decibel levels for residents closest to it versus contributing to a future revitalization project in a much-needed neighborhood to the south.
Speaking of funding, the other highway expansion project on the east side is under construction after much debate. It will more than likely result in a concrete pad like the one in Katy, Texas, and will suck up funding that should have been redirected for revitalization efforts throughout the city.
Gentrification in Brooklyn, New York, or Oakland, California, versus Little Rock looks dramatically different. We don’t have the population density, mass transit systems and distinct cultures/ ethnicities that likely fuel segregation and animosity among people who are in closer physical proximity. New residents migrating to more established areas need to accept and respect the long-held values maintained by the overall neighborhood. Yes, change is welcome, but it must be mutual and encompass all who might be impacted.
An effective and rewarding revitalization of this entire city must involve a complete makeover of our neighborhoods, including new and restored housing units; bike-friendly/walkable and ADAaccessible modes of pedestrian circulation; a de-emphasis on carbon-heavy modes of transportation; enhanced public safety, including police who live in our communities; and the elimination of food deserts, including the introduction of a structured agrarian society where our fresh fruits and vegetables are produced on our land rather than shipped in from California, Texas, Florida and Mexico (except for the avocados).
Kwendeche is an architect and artist in Little Rock.
