I read a great book for a class at UCLA extension. Here’s a few thoughts on it:
In The Reluctant Metropolis: The Politics of Urban Growth in Los Angeles, William Fulton describes the growth of Los Angeles as a kind of run-away train being engineered by a diverse cadre of politicians, real-estate developers, property owners, citizens, and activists. To Fulton, this “growth machine” seems to take on a life of it’s own, which ultimately drives the people who inhabit the region to escape from the reality of the megalopolis to splintered suburban neighborhoods. Fulton advocates, admirably, poetically and convincingly, for a new transformation of an age-old sentiment: community.
Through a journalistic lens and a strong command of language, Fulton paints a vivid picture of the process — a strange and inefficient one to an outsider — that surrounds regional planning and development in Los Angeles. It is a system of opposing sides. Still, whether he fully believes in it or not, Fullton also shows what is so essentially important about negotiating deals for the benefit of social and developmental progress, even if attempts at compromise leave some unhappy.
Nowhere is this clearer than at Jordan and Ahmanson Ranch, Fulton describes the tension between the tract home environmentalists, a young and motivated politician Maria VaderKolk, and equally motivated developers engaged in an ongoing battle to purchase a large plot of land from Bob Hope.
Elected into office by a slim margin of votes and strong backing from the local environmentalists, Maria VanderKolk, then 28 years old, hopped onto amoving train, with the support and votes of the environmentalists, already headed toward deciding the fate of Jordan Ranch. Her job was to save it. And she did. By proposing the developers move their project to a different site, VanderKolk managed to directly influence the successful sale of Jordan Ranch by Bob Hope to the Park Service.
Unfortunately, for the tract home environmentalists, VanderKolk had apparently missed the point. Fulton writes:
“There was no question that Mary Weisbrock and her fellow eco-activists wanted Jordan Ranch saved. But giving the eco-activists what they said they wanted wasn’t enough. That was what Maria VanderKolk didn’t understand, having grown up in Colorado instead of Calabasas. Saving Jordan wasn’t a goal; it was a symbol, a metaphor for keeping the growth machine out.”
I was not raised in Calabasas either. But, having seen even just the edge of Ahmanson Ranch, with its nearly 3,000 acres of oak savanna accessible to the public, I would argue that it’s a hugely impressive symbol of cooperation (willing or not) for the entire Los Angeles region. And, though I certainly sympathize with the environmentalists, who’s vision was not realized in the manner they might have hoped, “dealing” with the developers is what ultimately saved the open space.
Additionally, with more expansion of the area’s transit to trails services, every Angeleno will have can have an opportunity to look into a vast and open expanse of California territory and imagine space enough for their own visions or hopes and dreams. That’s a pretty good deal. (I’m going out there in a couple weeks and hope to witness the hillsides ablaze with blooming wildflowers)
It is hard to imagine what, beyond thousands of acres of beautiful wilderness to enjoy and share with pride, might encourage the people of Calabasas to reexamine their idea of citizenship and community with those who participated in engineering that reality.
Neither Fulton nor myself have immediate suggestions for remedying that dynamic.
However, it is no secret where his admiration lies, particularly looking at his recounting and analysis of the Renters’ Rights group’s success in Santa Monica. There. much like Maria VanderKolk’s entrance into local politics, organized last minute by a specific block of voters, the Santa Monica example seems uniquely ‘LA.’
Fulton portrays the results of the Santa Monica City Council election in 1981, saying, “Renters’ Rights forces swept to power with a solid victory for their entire slate…” Vehemently opposed to the construction of a new office building by Welton Becket, the Renters’ Rights group had serious sway over the Santa Monica City Council, but the city had come to a standstill, wanting to remain aligned with their constituents but not wanting to lose the potential revenue.
Enter the deal-maker, this time Dennis Zane. Zane went to the table with N. David O’Malley, president of Welton Becket, and managed to reach a compromise that ensured access to more affordable housing, though not without his fair share of dissatisfaction.
“Hard-line rent control organizers were dismayed at Zane’s conciliatory attitude toward Becket. The taskforce members felt sold down the river, and Golday refused to vote in favor of the deal. But,…despite Goldway’s resistance, it was a remarkable achievement. The Renters’ Rights group had stared down the growth machine and gotten what it wanted.”
The momentum stirred in Santa Monica had a widespread affect on the surrounding parts of the region, leading to some widely adopted political strategies and other victories. However, opposing the growth machine has not always taken the same form, or always been successful.
In the wake of the 1992 South Central riots, the national media made the “Re-growth machine” an attractive project for politicians and developers alike.
The Interstate Bank tower on Vermont and 81st Street was borne from a public contest to design a 130-unit structure in the heart of South Central (aka: the Projects). The proposed construction was hotly contested by fellow council members; Mark Ridley-Thomas supported the project while Maxine Waters opposed it. Ultimately, Ridley-Thomas won out and the city approved the construction. That is, until Richard Riordan, then mayor, decided to get involved. Fulton writes:
“Dramatically, Riordan invited reporters to sit in on the forty-five-minute meeting while he listened to homeowners’ complaints. Asked by one of the reporters what he was going to do, he answered “I’m going to make up my mind in the next ten seconds.” Then he pulled out a veto letter and signed it, while the homeowners applauded.”
This pseudo deal breaking did not last long before Riordan caved under pressure organized by Ridley-Thomas. The project ultimately went forward.
This is not to say, however, that South Central did not benefit in real ways from other, more appropriately guided efforts to rebuild the community. There were consistent and ongoing successes brought about both with and without city support. Fulton says:
“In the end, South Central can’t be brought back until everyone lays some kind of claim to it–not to further their own political ends, but because they see the fate of these neighborhoods as inextricably tied to the fate of their own neighborhoods.”
This is the re-indoctrination, or re-absorption, of the sentiment of community that Fulton concludes as necessary to Los Angeles’ future. Fulton’s advocacy for an emotional and symbolic kind of widespread investment in South Central is echoed throughout the book and explicitly as he closes the book by saying, “Privacy, self-reliance, choice-all these can and must remain core American values. Yet, so too must we remember that other core American value, the value of community.” It is important to note here, to use the parlance of our times, that a successful community is one that can sustain itself and the health, safety and well being of all of its members.
Taking Fulton’s urgent advocacy to heart, Reluctant Metropolis will serve as an important reference for me personally. The kinds of creative partnerships Fulton describes as successes are the practice examples we should seek to expand and build from.