By Charles Hathaway, Kate Hunt and Jean Hoppe
Things have changed. Fifteen years ago, when Ford Motor Company decided to abandon its assembly plant in Highland Park, people asked: What will happen next? Covering roughly the equivalent of 50 city blocks of prime real estate, situated on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River, convenient to both downtowns and the airport, and flanked by desirable neighborhoods, its fate was clearly consequential.
How the site would evolve was a matter of much discussion. Many ideas bubbled up: a park or natural area; a university, medical or corporate campus; a center for light or heavy industry. Saint Paul’s mayor opened discussions with Ford. The city’s planning department became involved and a community task force was formed to help guide the redevelopment. Neighbors expressed a preference for redevelopment that would complement and enhance the surrounding neighborhoods.
The city had its own ideas, however, and pushed them forward over neighborhood opposition. The city’s concept for the site was an ultra-dense collection of high-rise apartment buildings with space for retail stores and professional offices but with limited park space and without public facilities such as schools, recreation centers or libraries. Everything would be efficient. There would be apartments, not single-family homes, so that each person’s real estate footprint would be small. Heating, cooling and electricity use would be minimized. Tenants would mostly be without cars; they would rely on more efficient public transportation. Homeownership, a family-friendly setting and a thriving middle class were not part of the city’s vision.
Crowding people into constricted apartment buildings and elevators, into buses and light-rail cars, into brew pubs or small parks and walkways is increasingly understood to be unhealthy. People have developed a renewed appreciation for spending time outdoors, in open spaces, in nature and away from crowds. And with epidemiologists warning that COVID-19 could be followed by other epidemics yet unimagined, demand for ultra-dense housing may wane. So after having committed hundreds of millions of dollars of TIF financing to the high-density plan, it is looking more and more like the city has placed a bad bet.
That vision would work well for the construction industry, assuring that there would be construction jobs for many years to come. And the developers would profit by selling the buildings to wealthy out-of-state or foreign investors. Tenants’ rent checks—money that might otherwise be re-invested in the local community—would be cashed in Boston, New York or Beijing.
With the high density would come high property tax revenue. Or such was the hope. On top of the millions the city had spent on planning, the city was willing to pay out hundreds of millions in tax-increment financing (TIF) subsidies for the project, gambling that property values would keep going up. But things have changed. The pandemic and nationwide protests over societal systems have brought an awareness that business as usual is no longer acceptable.
Crowding people into constricted apartment buildings and elevators, into buses and light-rail cars, into brew pubs or small parks and walkways is increasingly understood to be unhealthy. People have developed a renewed appreciation for spending time outdoors, in open spaces, in nature and away from crowds. And with epidemiologists warning that COVID-19 could be followed by other epidemics yet unimagined, demand for ultra-dense housing may wane. So after having committed hundreds of millions of dollars of TIF financing to the high-density plan, it is looking more and more like the city has placed a bad bet.
Meanwhile, the civil unrest sparked by the death of George Floyd has gone well beyond demands for police reform. Cries are heard not just for criminal justice, but for social and economic justice. It is particularly jarring, therefore, that the plan for the Ford site should be predicated on the assumption of a dystopian future without a middle class. Within this vision, a large group of less affluent citizens will be squeezed into a constrained living situation with the profits and benefits flowing up and out. Absent is any provision for thriving families or a focus on the conditions that would promote a healthy and fulfilling existence.
However, things have changed. This is a moment for us to pause and reconsider our trajectory. Bulldozers are already rumbling at the Ford site, but so far little has actually been built. We should take the COVID crisis and the current civil unrest as an opportunity to step back and reimagine the future at the Ford site. For the Ford site, the primary design question should be, how do we create habitat for humans that is healthy, beautiful, generative and enriching?
Let us create a place where buildings are constructed at human scale, where there is plenty of opportunity to enjoy parks and open space and nature, where people can invest in their own home and their neighborhood, building a life for themselves and their families. Let us create a place of beauty, where a strong sense of community will prevail. Our city will be stronger and better for it. Long after we are departed, future generations will thank us.
The writers are all residents of Highland Park.
COMMENTS TERMS OF SERVICE
The Villager welcomes comments from readers. Please include your full name and the neighborhood in which you live. Be respectful of others and stay on topic. We reserve the right to remove any comment we deem to be profane, rude, insulting or hateful. Comments will be reviewed before being published.
