Evan Goldin: Building a waterfront for people, not cars

It started with the gentle stroke of a pen, almost exactly 50 years ago. Across the country in the 1950s, highways were being pounded through cities, regardless of what stood in their way.

In Philadelphia the 1950s highway explosion is evidenced by the Schuylkill Expressway, which marked "a huge planning and urban design mistake," said Dennis Pieprz, the president of Sasaki Associates, the firm designing Penn's eastward expansion.

These "highwaymen" must have been blinded by the sheer audacity of their vision -- a ring of highways circling Center City (Just imagine South Street as an expressway). Unfortunately, it wasn't until long after the construction of the Expressway that planners came to realize just how bad a decision they had made.

"In 2006, if you had that piece of ground, no one would propose to build a highway there," said Paul Levy, Center City District President and leader of a team of Penn Design students who explored ways to redevelop the Schuylkill.

But that fact matters little now; the Expressway is there, a 100-foot-wide cement slab -- finished in 1959 thanks to the Interstate Highway Act -- ungracefully slicing apart parkland and snaking its way between University City and any possible waterfront on the Schuylkill's west bank.

And now, it's Penn's problem.

With the acquisition of the postal lands in about nine months, the University will inherit an awkward piece of land cut into parcels by a river, multiple railroad tracks and the Schuylkill Expressway.

The eastward expansion will mark the biggest building boom in decades, and Penn officials continually stress that the development will push West Philadelphia and Center City together into a single, flowing urban unit. But how can that happen with an expressway serving as the great dividing line?

For ideas, just look to 2,500 miles to the west. San Francisco, Calif., near my hometown, is becoming a model of how cities are redesigning themselves to best suit people and not automobiles.

Long ago, urban planners there envisioned 12 highways ringing and running through the city, but only three were built before resistance became too great. One of those highways, Interstate 480, was a nightmare. Similar to the Schuylkill, the 52-foot-wide monstrosity ran along the bay, putting a 70-foot-high wall in front of once-pristine waterfront views.

The freeway stopped waterfront development and maintained a sense of dreariness that permeated nearby neighborhoods -- and it took a jolt (literally) to make planners see the light. Damage caused by the 1989 earthquake forced the city to decide to repair or dismantle the freeway. They chose the latter, and the city, especially the waterfront, hasn't been the same since.

Historic streetcars now glide down a dedicated right-of-way in the center of the street, hundreds of residents and tourists walk the new promenade and the once-decrepit, historic Ferry Building, restored to its original glory, now houses a popular farmer's market, where my sister worked on weekends.

Sasaki Associates' recently unveiled postal lands master plan presents a vision nearly as grand as San Francisco's: The plan suggests a large deck that stops at the Expressway, covering it in only two small places with green space. However, if Penn really wants to unite West Philadelphia and Center City, it can't stop there.

It may be a pipe dream, but the Expressway could be converted from a highway into a river boulevard between Vine and South Streets. Sidewalks, benches, bike lanes and trees could line the river at grade level, instead of cars rushing by, as they currently do, like rats scurrying through subterranean tunnels.

But would it be worth the onslaught of protest from commuters?

Penn's agenda and "the need to provide facilities to its own students and need to improve its urban design relationship with Center City and the city in general ... far outweighed taking on traffic in the Philadelphia region," Pieprz said.

So, maybe not -- not yet, at least.

If Penn isn't ready to take on car-loving suburbanites, the University should consider the proposal drawn up by Paul Levy's design class. They suggest a compromise: Building a deck over the Expressway from South to Vine, allowing both commuters and local residents to come away as winners. Their plan calls for a small, pedestrian-friendly boulevard on the upper deck, but the deck could just as easily become green space or a waterfront promenade or more Penn buildings.

It may not be economically feasible now, but "as land becomes more and more scarce, and the need for density in Center City increases, the economics become more reasonable," Pieprz said.

A "Keystone Opportunity Zone" designation would certainly help the economics become more viable, and I'm sure Gov. Rendell would be happy to help out. And burying highways isn't a new concept; it's been done in Boston, in Toronto and in Chicago.

But while most planners are looking at ways to hide or minimize the effect of the highway, few are looking at the rail lines that run through the postal lands in the same light.

Why?

Well, as Pieprz describes, "It's kind of interesting to see a freight train moving through the edge of the University at 50 feet in the air," referring to "high line" than runs north-south.

"I see the Schuylkill as much more of a barrier," Pieprz said.

So while planners should be embracing the trains, burying the Expressway would serve to invigorate a burgeoning sense of urban design in Philadelphia, an approach that puts a priority not on moving a person through a city, but on making the city experience as enjoyable as possible.

Now that's an audacious vision.

Guest columnist Evan Goldin is a College senior from Palo Alto, Calif., and is editorial page editor of The Daily Pennsylvanian. His e-mail address is goldin@dailypennsylvanian.com.

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