Why we jaywalk

Charlie Dennison, another smart guy, on why we jaywalk. It's a good primer on thinking about why no one follows the rules....

Smart thinking on building downtown

Paul McMorrow, who writes for the Globe and CommonWealth Magazine, is a very smart guy. He sees what Boston needs to do to truly embrace an innovative urban culture, rather than just paying lip service to it. And that's what he does in today's Globe, discussing the importance of residential development downtown (specifically the new 600-foot Millenium tower), which is kind of a no-brainer. But he also has a good point about the opportunity to build really big down there, for one reason: no residents means no old cranks to complain about shadows. Let's take the chance to get as much approved as we can down there, before there are people living in these tall buildings, who decide to complain about the addition of other tall buildings (a la Harbor Towers residents deciding their 400 foot towers are just great, but any other new towers would be terrible).

He is right about this, but he should be careful about being so sure it will work. I remember going to a public meeting about a tower at the Government Center garage, which is in a total no-man's land, and it was filled with Beacon Hill and North End residents who were acting as if a large building there would ruin their lives, even though they lived about a mile away.

Is this why we hate tall buildings?

This is Waterside Place, a building that's about to start construction on the Southie waterfront. It's 20 stories, which is pretty tall for Boston, and it's what's called a slab. That's really what architects call it, non-judgmentally. Boston has a fair number of slab buildings, including Church Park:

And Tremont-on-the-Common:

Boston also has a fear/hatred of buildings taller than four stories which, at times, borders on the insane. Coincidence? Probably not. Slabs create shadows, and block views, and make people uncomfortable. But they also have a lot going for them, especially the fact that they are an extremely efficient packaging of space.

But I think that more importantly for developers, they provide more floor area per foot of height in a city that cares more about height than aesthetics. In other words, people in Boston hear "20 stories" and react with only mild dread, even if it's a 20-story slab. But what if this developer wanted the same amount of space and achieved it by making a building half as wide (more of a point than a wall) and twice as high? If you ask me, that would be nicer, throw less of a shadow, become part of a nice view rather than a blocker of one, and maybe spruce up our skyline a little bit, too. But developers know, instinctively, that 40 stories is a no-go in most of Boston.

I say: let's put a finer point on what we don't like about big buildings, and demand better buildings, not shorter ones. Let's let height happen in well-designed buildings and prevent it from happening in slabs and stumpy boxes.

Et tu, Cambridge?

We're used to it in Boston: people losing their minds over shadows, claiming that tall buildings will ruin everyone's lives because they may throw a few shadows. And we've pretty much come to accept that exorbitant housing prices will remain a fact of life around here, because when faced with the choice of increasing housing supply or avoiding a few shadows, we as a city have decided that we care more about the shadows. Sad, but true.

But can it be that the same is true over on "Boston's Left Bank," as an old Cambridge tourism campaign once called it? Yup. Central Square, the most urban-feeling part of that city, and I'd say, one of the most urban-feeling parts of the metro area, was faced with the horror of a 15-story residential building. That building would provide homes for 130 families. Since it's Cambridge, I bet 20% of those would be affordable housing.

But the shadows! The shadows! Those homes for human beings might mar the dull, lifeless University Park complex and the empty park that abuts it. So the City Council listened to the pleas of the neighbors and chose shadow-fighting over housing-crisis-fighting, just like their big brother across the river.

Next time you write a rent check, ask yourself this: is it worth it to pay so much to avoid a few shadows?

What are the chances?

Finally. The design is in, and The Hole could finally be filled. Real, urban scale. Solid design. A chance to inject a little vitality into a struggling downtown location.

But this is Boston. The land of NIMBYs and people who view density and height not as benefits that contribute to a vibrant city, but giveaways to evil developers. What are the chances that this building, of appropriate size and scale, gets built instead of getting chopped to the 400 feet of boxiness that we're used to downtown? If you look at the comments, not good.

Short and Boxy or Tall and Slender?

Paul McMorrow in today's Globe points out that eventually we will get a tower on the waterfront. It will be taller than the 200 feet that the city wants but shorter than the 600 feet that Don Chiofaro wants. Why? This is a prime site in the heart of the city, that desperately needs density to activate it. What are we so afraid of? Why do we embrace shortish, boxy buildings downtown, rather than accepting more height in exchange for more slender, attractive buildings?