This Sunday, the Pioneer Press
published a 1A front-page story
about Rice Street and the North End, my old neighborhood. The piece described a
changing of the guard in the local community group, the District 6 Council,
which recently held an election where a new wave of board members ran for
office and won, angering an old guard. The neighborhood schism hinges around a changing
philosophy about streets and public space, particularly a proposed redesign of
Rice Street, the main commercial drag,
soon slated for reconstruction.
The reporter, Fred Melo, is one of the best journalists at
the Pioneer Press and (
mostly) does good work in trying circumstances. (For
some context, consider how the newspaper’s hedge fund owners have admitted
to “harvesting”the newsroom.)
But, as I pointed out on Twitter, he missed the key point
here:
In short, Melo was right to cover the story, and has some
good journalistic instincts on display. But by framing the piece around bike lanes, he and his editors needlessly turned an important story into
another piece of bait for trolls.
An example of how the article’s framing quickly adopts bike lanes as its central focus:
Holst, a Marion Street resident and proponent of bicycle lanes and
pedestrian-friendly infrastructure, was appointed chair by the board
members, and his friends and personal contacts took over the other
leadership posts.
“A lot of people have served tirelessly for
District 6 for a very long time,” said Holst, a rental property owner,
on Thursday. “My focus is going to be on making the North End the best
neighborhood it can be.”
The sudden turnover in leadership
within the North End’s neighborhood planning council may underscore the
extent to which bike lanes have become a contentious topic in St. Paul’s
business districts. The districts have long struggled with how to
balance the needs of drivers, pedestrians, business owners and nearby
residents.
Scoffing at the prospect of adding bike lanes to a
busy county thoroughfare, some business owners see cyclists as
newcomers and outsiders inserting themselves into the discussion.
Cyclists
and advocates of “new urbanism” say they’re a growing part of the
city’s population, and too long overlooked. And they say the
infrastructure they’re advocating for could help calm traffic, improve
public safety and boost business sales by increasing general access.
They believe it could save lives.
The article
continues with some quotes from disgruntled neighborhood group members, a cursory
mention of on-street parking, and that’s about it.
And that’s the problem, because the issue here isn't bike lanes, it's a street re-design around pedestrian safety. The difference in focus is significant because street design is central to solving Saint Paul's safety problem, which has 140+ pedestrian crashes annually and 5 deaths in 15 months. Economically struggling Rice Street, more than
anywhere else in the city, needs this kind of urban design change if it’s going
to survive.
Here are three key pieces of context that the column left
out:
 |
| [A "road diet", aka a safer street design.] |
1. Road diets are a revolutionary safety improvement
 |
| [Seattle data.] |
At first glance, the term “road diet” seems like flip
jargon. Like “traffic calming” or (please God no) “woonerf”, it seems like cutesy
self-help, something for the bougie “new urbanist” crowd (as Melo put it) to slap
on convention brochures.
But it’s not. A 4-3 road diet is a very serious concept at
the core of the contemporary shift in urban design thinking. They represent a
huge change in civil engineering practice, a rethinking of the relationship
between speed, congestion, safety, and walkability.
A quick definition: A road diet is when you take a
four-lane undivided street (i.e. no turn lane) and replace the middle two lanes
with a center turn lane. It creates a “three lane” footprint where cars can no
longer swerve back and forth between gaps in traffic like they’re racing at
Daytona. (Local examples include Marshall, Fairview, Lexington, West 7th,
Riverside, and Franklin.)
#1) 3-lane roads are much safer for car drivers.
According
to a
Federal
Highway Administration study, changing a 4-lane Death Road™ into
a three-lane road reduces automobile traffic accidents from 20% to 50%
depending on the context. (Note: this makes intuitive sense if you’ve ever
driven on a street like this.) There are
dozens of
similar studies out
there.
#2)
3-lane roads have marginal impact on traffic
flow. I’m not going to suggest that a 4-to-3 conversion of a
Death Road™ has no impact on traffic flow (though
sometimes that turns out to be the case). Rather, fixing a Death
Road™ usually sees a reduction in car throughput in the 5% to 10% range.
As
another
Federal Highway Administration report puts it, “under most average
daily traffic (ADT) conditions tested, road diets have minimal effects on
vehicle capacity.”
#3) 3-lane roads slow speeds.
The main
difference between a 4-lane Death Road™ and a 3-lane safe street is that
traffic speeds go down and become far more uniform. It’s
a
proven fact that reducing speeds even a little bit, i.e. from 40 to 30
miles per hour, can make a huge difference on accident severity for
pedestrians and bicyclists.
#4) 3-lane roads increase biking and walking.
After
a 4-lane Death Road™ was
fixed
in San Francisco, “bicycle usage increased 37% during the PM peak
hour,
the number of pedestrians increased 49% during the PM peak hour, [and]
public response has been overwhelmingly positive about this project.”
That’s just one example; also, it’s common sense.
#5) Fixing a Death Road™ is really cheap.
Unlike
expensive street reconstructions or concrete bumpouts, cities and counties can
quickly, easily, and cheaply fix these Death Roads™.
Here’s
a
quote from a city engineer in Portland, Oregon:
Graff said the price of all five road diets considered in
the city’s analysis was “in the $100,000 range,” or up to $120,000 or so for
projects that added new median islands or other improvements. “The cost/benefit is really high,” he said. “For the cost
of one improved crossing — a median improvement or rapid-flashing beacon that
provides a point improvement, you can reduce crashes across 10, 20 blocks.”
 |
| [A forthcoming example from Hennpein County.] |
If anything, the case for 3-lane designs has only gotten
stronger in the last seven years.
The only thing I’d change:
#6 Road diets solve the fatal crosswalk problem
 |
| [Four people recently killed on Saint Paul streets.] |
I would also add that the 4-3 conversion solves
the deadly“whip around” problem that Saint Paul has been wrestling with for years
now. In response to a rash of crashes where drivers killed five people in just
over a year, the Police Department has led “crosswalk stings” at dangerous points
around the city.
But the truth is that Saint Paul Police can continue doing
“Stop For Me” events until Sergeant Ellison is blue in the face, and it
will make only marginal differences. Enforcement is facing huge challenges
because of escalating distraction culture.
Two-hour police stings make for nice headlines, but when you
install a 4-3 road diet, you can build 24-hour medians at key intersections.
These designs
will literally save lives on a street like Rice, and it’s not
hyperbole or speculation to say so. They are the only thing that will make Rice
Street (
and others like it) safe for the thousands of people who live and
work along it every day.
 |
| [A sign I once spotted on Rice Street.] |
2. Social ties in the North End are very frayed
 |
| [Via MN Compass: North End is getting poorer, more diverse.] |
The second big piece of the puzzle is that the North End is
struggling and I’m very worried about its future. Think about this: I lived In
the North End for seven years and barely met any of my neighbors. Keep in mind
that I’m an outgoing, friendly guy, but after spending seven years living on
Western Avenue, when I moved away, the only people I knew by name were the
butcher down the street (
since burned down), the bartender at my local
dive bar (
since burned down) and the owner of the pizza place (not burned
down!).
There are a lot of demographic and
social reasons for the weak social ties. The North End has always been a working-class
place. A local bar (Tin Cups, featured in the story) sells a shirt that says
“It’s a Rice Street thing, you wouldn’t understand,” and there’s a legacy of
community there from past generations.
 |
| [Asked an old-timer the age of Born's Bar: "I came here in my mothers' womb," he said.] |
But over the last few decades, the area has quickly changed
and the institutions have not kept up. Looking at Rice Street offers a good
example. Super old-school
Tschida Bakery closed a few years ago, a building burned down next to
Mama’s Pizza, bars that closed included
Diva’s Overtime Lounge, Easy Street West, and the bar on Front Avenue (I forgot
the name). Many in the neighborhood saw this as addition by subtraction, but I see these closures a
as a bad sign.
(Or see also
Melo' excellent story on the struggles of a Maryland Avenue beauty salon from 2016. It is very hard to start a business in this neighborhood.)
The result is that the old North End institutions have disappeared through death,
entropy, changing tastes, and demographic changes that have seen a
transformation of the neighborhood away from older white residents toward
younger people of color.
The growing diversity is a good thing for Rice Street, which boasts businesses like
Bangkok Thai Deli or
Kathy's Live Bait, with more and younger people speaking
languages other than English. But in an area that struggles with
crime and gang violence, it’s a challenge, especially for the old-timers.
Another story: I felt really weird when I marched in the
Rice Street Parade back in 2006, because the parade offered a long string of floats
full of white people heading down a street lined with people of color. The parade dynamics really bugged me, especially when I saw the guy running for City Council on a
“tough on crime” platform hoisting police logos against a segregated racial
background. It was one the things that pissed me off enough to get involved in
local politics in the first place.
(I door knocked for his opponent, who won a close election. Then,
four years later, I door knocked for his opponent,
Amy Brendmoen, who has shown
a great ability to have tough conversations across some of the stark
neighborhood lines.)
 |
| [The view from Tin Cups.] |
One more story about Rice Street inequality: When I attended
the North End/Como Ward DFL convention back in 2007, where the City Council nomination
was being determined, there was a huge disparity between the different ward
neighborhoods. My Rice Street precinct had three delegates in the room, while many
of the other Rice Street precincts had none at all. (!) Meanwhile, every Como
Park precinct was jam packed with dozens of supporters of different candidates.
This to say that political engagement in the neighborhood is
hugely imbalanced. For years, it’s felt like almost nobody advocates for Rice
Street, except in a reactionary way. Few people vote, politicians generally
ignore the area, and the street has been stuck in a downward cycle of
disinvestment and apathy.
It’s in the midst of this vacuum of social capital that Rich
Holst, the new chair of District 6 (featured prominently in the story) has been
doing some amazing work. Here are three quick examples that I've personally witnessed:
Second, last year
Holst successfully applied for a city grant to install new, branded bike racks on Rice Street. He pulled together a design
for for the racks: a “North End” logo featuring a compass rose. They’re kind of
like the ones in Highland, only it’s much easier to lock a bike to them. Then,
by himself, Holst went up and down the street talking to business owners trying
to convince them to agree to have the racks installed.
Finally, he and his neighbor, (newly elected Soil and Water
Commissioner)
Lena Buggs, have been hosting
weekly (!) “pink flamingo” parties
in his neighborhood for over a year. Every week, all summer, for over a year…
People gathering on each others lawn to
talk about the weather and how to improve the neighborhood.
This kind of work is hugely difficult in a neighborhood like
the North End, where poverty, crime, and demographics tend to
keep people turtled up in silos.
 |
| [One of the "flamingo friday" parties in the North End.] |
3. Neighborhood politics is always about getting
friends to show up
 |
| [Meeting in Minneapolis' Central neighborhood.] |
Maybe it was the petty quotes from the outgoing District Council
members, but Melo’s article seemed awfully naïve about how neighborhood group
politics work.
For one thing, there’s a huge range of difference in quality
between the different neighborhood groups in Minneapolis and Saint Paul. Some neighborhood groups reach out to city leaders and the community all the time;
others seem like they don’t exist. (At the Saint Paul Planning Commission, the
inequality is very apparent. Union Park, Mac-Grove, Fort Road, Highland, and
Highwood, for example, have very active Councils. I have never heard anything
from District 6, other than a complaint about a used car dealership.)
Secondly, some neighborhood groups take pains to try and
reflect the demographics of their neighborhood. Others explicitly
disenfranchise marginalized groups, like students, renters, or people who don’t
speak English. A lot depends on where you live, each neighborhood’s unique
history, and who steps up to get involved.
 |
| [Meeting in Minneapolis' Standish-Ericcson neighborhood.] |
In each case, the power dynamics are pretty simple. District
Councils hold an annual election, and you try to get as many friends,
neighbors, or others who live in the neighborhood to attend the three-hour
meeting. After some period of mingling, they vote and elect the board. It’s straightforward, though group dynamics can quickly become petty
in wrong circumstances.
The point is that talking to friends and neighbors about the
neighborhood is precisely the point of a community group. The idea that people
who voted and ran for the board of a neighborhood group would know each other is
a feature, not a bug.
The Takeaway: Bike Lanes Have Little To Do with It
 |
| [Drive down Rice, chances are good you'll see a crash.] |
This kind of context is difficult to explain, and there’s no
way that a newspaper story could fit it in. But my big critique of Melo’s
story is that it focused on bike lanes instead of Saint Paul’s huge street
safety problem.
(PROTIP: "new urbanism" is a term most commonly linked to
developments like Seaside, Florida.)
It’s worth pointing out, as Osten does in the article, that
bike lanes are
just one of the options for the forthcoming street re-design.
Compared to the safety improvements, they’re not anyone’s top priority.
 |
| [A deadly intersection on Maryland Avenue.] |
And it’s a political issue, because changing these streets
isn’t a given, by any means. Almost all of Saint Paul’s deadly arterial roads
are Ramsey County jurisdiction, so having a friendly Council Member does very
little to advance the conversation with County-wide constituents, old-school
County engineers, and little-known County Commissioners. These are the people shaping street designs on Rice,
Dale, Maryland, and White Bear, and they’re only beginning to change the way
that they make decisions.
As Bob Collins predicts, it’s not a given that any of
these streets will become safer in the next ten or twenty years.
The work of people like Holst, Buggs, and Osten, and many others
in these vulnerable neighborhoods, to build community and get involved, show up to
meetings and stay positive, is one of the best things to happen on Rice Street
in many years. In other words, this is exactly the kind of community work we
need if we’re going to finally build safe streets in all parts of Saint Paul.
It won’t be sufficient, but it’s a great first step. To me, it feels like
blowing the dust off of the King of Rohan.
This
isn’t the first time that media chosen a misleading slant for a street-related story. Bike lanes make both a convenient scapegoat, and an easy
shorthand for more complex issues. But focusing on bikes does a disservice to the stakes and concerns of the people involved. It’s not about bikes, it’s
about safety, and it’s about time. I wish the article could have figured that
out.
 |
| [The corner of Rice and Hoyt, where Bickram Phuyel was put in a coma.] |
