In May, I was back in the city of my birth, Chicago. With a metro area population of 9.5 million people, the third biggest in the USA, Chicago is a real city. It has a large and dense urban core, filled with businesses, residential areas, and all the wonderful things associated with a great city. It's the only other place in the United States, in my opinion, to have a similar big-city feeling as New York City. It's a city that's easy to walk around in, and in the center at least, public transport is quite convenient.  

I hadn't spent any significant amount of time in Chicago since the late 1980s. It was a nostalgic experience to revisit old haunts (my childhood neighborhood is virtually unchanged) and a surprise to see how many areas of the city have positively evolved over the nearly 30 years since I left it.  I found it exhilarating, often beautiful, lively, and on the whole a place in which I imagine it would be interesting to live.
 
With Chicago, I took my usual approach of getting off the beaten path. To me, understanding a city does not come from visiting its museums or famous tourist sites. Instead it's essential to visit a range of neighborhoods, across ethnic and socioeconomic lines. My wanderings revealed a city more complex than the image a casual tourist might bring home.

While in the Chicago area, I was lucky enough to stay with my very kind sister and her husband, who live in the western suburb of Elmhurst. I always rely on public transport, bicycle or walking to get around a city, and from my suburban base, I stuck to my normal procedure. Every day I took a suburban bus to the beginning of Chicago's elevated metro system. Although there are commuter trains from Elmhurst that go to the city center, I took the bus, as that stopped conveniently in front of my sister's house and took me not to the business center, but instead to the edge of the city. This was a perfect starting point for seeing the many faces of Chicago.

Each of my multiple trips into the city focused on in-depth walks through particular neighborhoods. Over two weeks I visited Hyde Park, Washington Park, and Chinatown in the south, Garfield Park, Humboldt Park, Wicker Park and the Near West Side in the west, Norwood Park, North Park, Andersonville and Lincoln Park in the north, and the Near North Side and Loop in the center. These neighborhoods differed greatly from one another structurally, architecturally, ethnically and socioeconomically. I believe they give a representative view of life in the city, skewed somewhat to higher socioeconomic groups. 

A particularly striking thing about my journey into the city every day from Elmhurst, an upper-middle-class older suburb, were the quick transitions I experienced from an almost idealized American suburban scene to poorer suburbs and then the very poor west side of the city of Chicago itself. To get to the beginning of Chicago's metro train system, I took the suburban PACE bus, which passed my sister's home every hour or so, for the nearly 30 minute ride to Oak Park, the last suburb before the city of Chicago begins. My first ride on the bus was an educational experience.  Although my sister's town has an African American population of under one percent, the demographics of Pace bus riders was the complete opposite. I was normally the only person of European descent on the bus, and almost all the other passengers were black Americans. It was an unreal experience to be riding through wealthy, white suburbs and see only black Americans at each bus stop. This reminds me of the buses going through wealthy suburbs of Johannesburg. 

Although the Chicago area appears to have a comprehensive public transport system, in comparison with other wealthy metro areas I've lived in or visited, Chicago's system is a disappointment.  When I investigated the time it takes to get from Elmhurst to parts of Chicago other than the very downtown core, I was astounded. To get from my sister's house in Elmhurst, an inner suburb west of the city, to the neighborhood of North Park, on the north side of Chicago, it takes about 45 minutes by car. To go by bicycle takes about 2 hours. With public transit, if you make the right connections, it would also take two hours. This for a distance that, as the crow flies, can't be much more than 10 miles.  I've never seen anything like it in any major city in the developed world (outside of the United States, that is). I calculated trips of a similar distance in Tokyo and Berlin (from a suburban town on a main train line into the center and then to another neighborhood in the city) and here's what I found: in Tokyo a similar trip would take 40 minutes by car and 38 minutes by public transport.  In Berlin, it would be 34 minutes by car and 42 minutes by public transport. With an inadequate system like this, only the poorest, those without cars, would ever choose to use public transport to go anywhere other than the downtown core in Chicago. With freeways and free or highly subsidized parking in many parts of the city, driving is a no brainer in Chicago. Highways in Tokyo have tolls and in both Berlin and Tokyo, parking can get expensive quickly, so you really have a disincentive to drive and save little or no time by doing it.

Below are some views of the rather antiquated metro system.  

Every day, as I entered Chicago on the elevated train system from Oak Park, I felt immersed in forlorn scenes of urban decay. The far west side of Chicago is bleak. 

This is a very poor area with, I believe, a predominantly black and Hispanic population. Infrastructure has obviously been neglected for years (decades) and housing generally appears often on the point of collapse. I have not found corresponding areas of blight, such as you see in an American city like Chicago, in any other wealthy country.

I imagine that this area was once, maybe over 60 years ago, a working-class neighborhood of European immigrants, Today the once dense and probably lively neighborhoods seem depopulated and abandoned. I tried to imagine what these streets might have been like in their heyday. I wondered what could have gone so wrong to produce a fantastic crash in neighborhood vitality and health. White flight is one part of the explanation, but it's hard to avoid wondering how city government could have let things fall to such a state of degeneration. Did they have no resources?

A key characteristic of these desolate neighborhoods is the huge number of vacant lots where apartment buildings and houses once stood. It puzzled me to think about the incredible waste of what should be valuable land. The areas I visited on the West Side are less than 30 minutes from downtown Chicago by public transport, yet they are really a virtual wasteland. 

The layout of the streets, however, and even the style of the remaining buildings is often very pleasant. The streets are generally tree lined and the old brick buildings could be attractive, even elegant, if rehabilitated. But the empty lots, boarded up windows and shamefully run-down infrastructure - in conjunction with what are almost certainly pretty horrific social circumstances - make for an insurmountable barrier to revitalization. This area will probably remain a kind of no-man's land for decades to come. I should mention that these neighborhoods are generally well served by large parks which, sadly, are also derelict. 

Here are some more street views from the west side of the city. 

Evidence of neglected city infrastructure surrounds you in the poorer neighborhoods of Chicago. This is a common feature, of course, of large areas of many American cities. Sidewalks are cracked and uneven, streets are rough, and maintenance of public spaces, such as parks, is deplorable. It all adds up to a kind of depressing bleakness. I can't help but wonder what impact an urban environment like this has on the psychology, and aesthetic development, of children. There is so little beauty, so few examples of excellence that might raise aspirations. 

The most frustrating part of it, for me, is that the basic elements required for a beautiful city are here. It's not as if these neighborhoods are cursed structurally. There are green medians planted with trees, streets with ample space for bike lanes, expansive parks all around, and even reasonable public rail transport within walking distance. What's missing is security, decent maintenance and, most importantly, quality housing at the density required to bring the streets to life. Could the problem be that the city simply doesn't need more affordable housing and hence can ignore large swathes of its area? 

In many parts of the world, the physical endowments of these blighted neighborhoods would be envied. What wouldn't be envied is the catastrophic social disaster that seems to be taking place here. America's cities are a reflection of its society, and the reflection is a pretty awful one.   

Scenes of decay, below.

I started this posting with what struck me most forcefully upon my return to Chicago: the glaring urban maladies the city faces in many areas. But there is another side of Chicago, one that gradually emerges out of the vast areas of unsightliness, that is vibrant, beautiful and, improving markedly. 

Chicago is a city known for, and blessed with, excellent architecture. Certain areas can have the elegant feeling of nice neighborhoods in European cities, with lovely brick buildings that seem to have been built with high-quality materials and care. I imagine that many of them were, in fact, built by European immigrants around a century ago and they continue to be the domain of the better off in the city, with a high proportion of white residents. It's been very encouraging to see the most beautiful of Chicago's neighborhoods undergoing a revitalization. Many young people are settling in the city and bringing vitality back to once great neighborhoods. 

A surprise to me was that new housing in Chicago is frequently built in the old, beautiful styles of the past (see the far right picture below). Neighborhoods are retaining their original character and because of the beauty and detail of the older style of buildings, the streets are regaining a density of attracive detail that draws in people who come to just to stroll and enjoy the ambience. The streetscapes are an attraction in themselves.

Below are a few shots of the beautiful buildings and streets in Chicago.

Along with the rejuvenation of great residential neighborhoods in Chicago comes a rebirth of commercial streets. 

Better neighborhoods in the city now are full of a wide range of restaurants, stores, and other businesses that put them on par, in terms of commercial life, with streets in a city like Amsterdam. 

Where the streets don't match up to what's on offer in a great city like Amsterdam is in their dispoportionate allocation of space to auto traffic and parking for cars. The streetscapes of Chicago are dominated by cars. There are few dedicated bicycle lanes (I saw almost none), and sidewalks are narrower than they should be. In fact, sidewalks here are unattractively made of poured concrete and offer almost no interesting details to draw pedestrians in. They create few meeting spaces for people (there are few benches and quiet nooks), and they provide very limited space for restaurants and cafes to use for outdoor seating. This makes the streets of the nicer neighborhoods of Chicago, in general, much less lively and attractive than those of Amsterdam and other great cities of Europe. Chicago needs to put pedestrians first to get its streets right. 

In my opinion, a lower density of detail is what often sets American cities apart. It's a function, to a great degree, of the auto dominated landscape. If you're passing through quickly in your car, the small details don't matter. If you're walking, however, the details make all the difference in a street experience. Because of America's car-centric culture, sidewalks and other pedestrian areas have gotten short shrift. We don't invest in them because we don't walk. It seems the emphasis is on quick, cheap, easy-to-maintain pedestrian areas that are devoid of artistry and charm.

Below are a couple of fairly pleasing street scenes in Chicago.

In the richest suburbs and wealthier part of American cities, street design can sometimes rise to a high level. The picture to the left is from the business district of Oak Park, an old suburb directly abutting Chicago's West Side. 

The examples of beautiful streetscapes are, however, the exception. What would be the average standard in cities in most of the rest of the rich world are in America the domain of the wealthy. 

Extraordinaly high income and wealth inequality in America, in conjunction with an auto-dominated transport mentality, leads to cities that are largely unattractive and often jarringly ugly. 

I'm thrilled that many areas of Chicago are moving in the direction of complex, detail-rich, pedestrian-oriented streets. But I'm afraid that the beautiful streetscapes I've seen here are going to remain the realm of the the privileged. 

Taking in the view on the balcony of my friends' home in the Castro district of San Francisco (picture, left), it's hard to imagine a better city to be in the world. There are the hills, the fresh air, and the lovingly maintained gardens in the back of most of the neighboring buildings. It's simply beautiful.  

There are few cities where I feel as good and at home as San Francisco.  The city justifiably has important symbolic value throughout the world as a bastion of individual freedom and human dignity, and this is undeniably a desirable feature of life in this area.  The Bay Area, San Francisco's region, is my favorite part of the United States.  I lived in the East Bay (Berkeley) over 10 years ago while in grad school, and I never forgot the unique feel to this area.  The climate is mild, the vegetation is Mediterranean, the people are generally tolerant and open-minded, and there's simply a spontaneity and sense of possibility in the air here. Most residents wouldn't think of living anywhere else. 

From another height, looking out over the city from one of its rocky hilltops, it would be easy to idealize this city and imagine it as one of the most sophisticated and livable in the world. San Francisco, however, is usually experienced at ground level, and the experience here strays from any idealization of that sort. 

This city is no earthly paradise, although it has an incredible charm and many attractive attributes.  But its global reputation and image are bound to disappoint on closer examination, as many foreign visitors have told me.  This extremely expensive city has seriously rough edges that drag down its quality of life in multiple ways. Despite being virtually the wealthiest large city in the United States, it often has a ramshackle, dirty and run-down look to it.  This shabby appearance comes as a surprise to many visitors from abroad who expect more from this legendary city.  In fact, in the face of incredible natural advantages, a highly educated population and wealth, it settles for a second-rate quality of life for the bulk of its inhabitants.  Yes, I did say San Francisco has a second-rate quality of urban life.  In this blog posting I will explain my view.  Brace yourself as I dig further into the pathologies of American cities. 

But first a little glimpse of beauty from this city (it is rich in beauty like this), to highlight the shame of allowing so much of it to be so mediocre.

There are four outstanding things I will focus on, common to American cities, that stand in the way of San Francisco reaching its very high potential. They are poor infrastructure, lack of human scale, autocentric design, and immense social problems.  

The American Society of Civil Engineers, in their 2013 Report Card for America's Infrastructure, gave the United States an overall grade of D+ for its crumbling infrastructure.  This is close to a total failure.    
I am rather astounded at the general public's apathy in the face of our country’s shamefully ill-maintained infrastructure.  I'd expect outrage, really. Perhaps Americans have gotten used to this state of affairs, and don't know what quality public infrastructure looks like in other wealthy countries around the world.

This rough infrastructure is, in fact, one of the things most characteristic of American cities.  San Francisco is no exception, and a walk around this city can be a big surprise to visitors from northern Europe, Japan or Australia. Things are simply not well maintained, or maintained in a manner fitting a poor, developing world city, not one of the wealthiest and potentially most beautiful cities in the world.  Sidewalks and streets are haphazardly patched, public transport is rough, and city parks are often in poor condition.  

The poor infrastructure of this city is highlighted by the liberal use of cement, frosting all surfaces often without leaving any space for trees and vegetation or other features.  Although San Francisco is politically 'green', the city itself is in desperate need of more trees.  SF ranks 17th of the 20 largest cities in the US in terms of its urban forest and in terms of street trees, I'm sure it must be at the absolute bottom.  Many, if not most, streets of San Francisco are uninviting urban deserts, despite enjoying an exceptionally good climate.  Below are a sampling of San Francisco's cement-covered and lifeless streets.  

Streets in San Francisco, like those in most other American cities, are often exceptionally wide.  Their breadth is totally out of proportion to the height of the buildings that run along them, making for unattractive and often very uninviting streetscapes. Streets seem to be simply thought of as corridors for mobility. Other functions of streets, as public space, for example, are just an afterthought.  

For most of the world's urban history, cities and streets were built on a human scale.  Streets in older cities around the world tend to be relatively narrow, and these streets seem in scale with the buildings that line them.  Americans seem to have forgotten what makes for exciting, engaging and beautiful streets.  The key is a profound sense of humanity in design. This is quickly recognizable.  Streets and public spaces designed with humanity attract people, not just passers-through, but people who stay for extended periods of time.

Exacerbating the scale issue in San Francisco is what I call a low density of detail in many areas, making streetscapes unappealing and unengaging. Great streets have many details, complex details, providing many reasons to stop and do something, if it only be to sit on a comfortable bench and admire the fine paving stones and beautiful landscaping.  This density of features can be called 'friction'.  Streets with friction are destinations in and of themselves, places you go to do many things at once (without having to get in your car and go elsewhere) and places that bring people together.  San Francisco has many streets like this (for example, Dolores and Mission Streets), of course, but far too many of its streets are rather lifeless.   This is a shame, as open spaces in cities are opportunities for the common good and streets are generally the most common open spaces citizens have to enjoy.  Streets should be the most important public spaces in a city.

Its easy to see when a street has become a successful public place because it will attract people.  Streets that are unsuccessful have few people and are lifeless.  Naturally, cities need a full range of street types (including quiet residential streets), but San Francisco has vast wasted street spaces that could instead be alive with street life and business opportunities.  

Market Street is emblematic of what's wrong with many of San Francisco's streets.  It is a low density, extremely wide expanse of cement and asphalt, with generally very low friction (except in the heart of downtown and near Castro Street).  I would never want to spend time on most of it.  It is ugly, a haven for San Francisco's homeless and really a showcase of the city's social problems.   

Maybe I should applaud SF for not hiding America's reality of haves and have nots, but still, Market Street is generally not a pleasant place to be, despite its key location running from downtown to the Castro.  It should be San Francisco's most vibrant and attractive street, without excuses.  

A main driver of the scale problem in San Francisco is the autocentric design of its streetscapes.  

In American cities, people on opposite sides of a street are usually separated by wide swathes of fast-moving traffic.  Cars, and space dedicated to cars, eat up the bulk of the open space streets provide, Streets are not primarily thought of as places for people to gather and do things, but instead as spaces to facilitate the rapid movement of automobile traffic.   

In San Francisco, the car-dominated street design spreads over into the design of sidewalks and buildings to an extent that I have not seen in any other densely populated American city.  Despite having decent public transportation within the city (decent, not great), a high proportion of residents of San Francisco have cars and use them to commute, particularly if they work outside of the city.  Regional public transit in the Bay Area is inconvenient and expensive.        

This reliance on auto transport created a problem:  where to park all the cars in this densely packed city. The solution was to build housing with garages on the first floor, in addition to allocating much street space for car parking.  A distinctive feature of San Francisco, therefore, is the garage doors facing the streets throughout much of the city, as you can see in the picture above.  This proliferation of garages along the city's streets drastically distorts the function of the city's streets by creating dead zones along sidewalks.  There is no space for shops or cafes,  The streets are bare of trees and vegetation because cars cannot leave garages if trees are planted along the street.  The result is an abundance of lifeless and treeless streets that are wholly unattractive and serve no social function.        

Allowing car owners to dominate so much of a city's open space is not only detrimental to urban livability, the use of this space by cars costs a city money.  A study from Connecticut shows how much allocating and subsidizing parking spots actually costs a city (in the case of Hartford, it comes to about $1,200/year per parking place).  In San Francisco's case, as sidewalk and street space in front of the endless garages cannot be utilized for anything else, there is a huge hidden subsidy that must be considered beyond the subsidized street parking the city provides.  

Finally, San Francisco shares the American problem of vast, inadequately addressed social problems.  Visitors to San Francisco will quickly note the huge numbers of homeless people on the city's streets.  

Riding public transport is another way to come into contact with large numbers of people with serious problems.  You simply don't see this kind of thing, on this scale, in other wealthy countries. Crime is also higher than it is in most of Europe, Canada, Australia or Japan. 

San Francisco has, it must be said, a very racially and economically diverse population.  The varied groups have different needs and interests, and the national and local governments have not been very skillful at managing the situation, resulting in severe problems such as homelessness.   

What I write about San Francisco may seem harsh and clearly, to some extent, stems from my frustration with the same sorts of problems I see in every American city I visit. The solutions seem so obvious to an outsider, but they are never simple.  San Francisco, in particular, pains me because the city so obviously has many of the ingredients required to make it one of the great cities of the world.  It is surrounded by natural beauty, is a welcoming and accepting place, has a very vibrant city culture by any measure, including a remarkable food scene.

Some tweaks to the system are underway that will make San Francisco a better city. 

For example, an organization called 'Friends of the Urban Forest' (FOF) is helping city residents convert some of that great expanse of concrete in front of their homes into gardens and tree planting spaces. (See picture to right) My friends Buddy and Orie (whose veranda is featured in the first photo of this blog posting) have just participated in a project in their neighborhood with FOF.  The results are wonderful. However, like much of the urban improvements going on in San Francisco, projects like this tend to be driven by the educated and wealthy, and are not benefiting all areas equally.  I rarely saw urban greening projects in the poorer parts of town.  

Another encouraging sign is that the generally rather dreadful Market Street, which I write about above, is undergoing massive development now that will no doubt clean it up and restore some of its traditional role as one of the great streets of San Francisco. New high rises are popping up along several areas of the street, and new shopping and commercial development will follow to bring life back to this area.  

Finally, I've just read that a law involved with major urban planning projects is changing in California to be less car friendly.  This will allow for public transit projects to get approval more easily and speed up developments such as San Francisco's new bus rapid transit line.    

When I look at my pictures from San Francisco, I really miss this city and my good friends there.  I'm hopeful that San Francisco will tackle its quality of life issues and move towards a respectable position in the group of the world's most livable cities.   It has a long way to go.