Councilmanic

Bloomington’s population was 69,291 as of the 2000 census. The 2010 census figures came out in February, and Bloomington is now officially 80,405, an increase of 16 percent.

The news was quite a surprise. The Census Bureau was expecting us to shrink for the first few years of the last decade. As recently as mid-2009, Bloomington’s estimated population was only 71,939 — an increase of less than 4 percent.

So to see that Bloomington is officially the state’s sixth largest city, leaping ahead of Gary (which posted a stunning 22 percent decline to 80,294), it makes me wonder, what was the Census Bureau smoking when they compiled their intra-census estimates?

More importantly, what kind of crack is the Indiana Business Research Center on? The IBRC apparently expects both Bloomington and Monroe County to suddenly start shrinking. Note the 2015 “projection” for Monroe County, even as they expect the state to grow at the same time by another 1-2%.

IU enrollment has increased with every decennial census. (I’ll cite those stats soon.) IU will increase by a couple of thousand students alone in that time…how on God’s green earth do they expect the population of the county to decrease by 10,000 people? Nothing short of a catastrophe would have to occur…and even then, the IBRC number is ridiculous.

A week ago, Saturday, August 13, was as quiet as it gets in Bloomington without it being a holiday. IU classes wouldn’t begin for two more weeks. By Monday the 29th, the full impact of 42,000 students on this city of 80,000 would be evident to all.

Which is why Saturday, August 13 was worth contemplating.

All the bars were active on Walnut Street downtown. They just weren’t swamped with noisy interlopers. Everyone at them, no matter what state they used to be from, were Bloomingtonians, enjoying August’s unseasonably seasonable temperatures in the low 80s.

For students who live here even one summer, Bloomington becomes a much more real place — a place where people live. Students discover that there’s more to do in town than they thought, that they have lives, that they’re living them here, in this place which is supposed to be temporary, a hotel, a waiting room, Not the Real World.

In June, any student that had illusions about Bloomington not being like the real world lost them when the Lauren Spierer story broke. We still don’t know yet what happened to her. As long as her parents are in town looking for her

In today’s New York Times, Rebirth of a City talks about how the city of Syracuse, NY is rehabbing itself across the board. Of particular interest is this paragraph (emphases mine):

Syracuse has been particularly attractive to people like Mr. Destito thanks to a forward-thinking coalition that includes Mayor Stephanie Miner; Nancy Cantor, the chancellor and president of Syracuse University; Joanie Mahoney, the executive of Onondaga County; and a mix of neighborhood groups and business associations. The university has bought empty industrial buildings and renovated them, using some of the space for programs and renting out the rest. The city has created neighborhood improvement projects, while the county has chipped in money to reinvest in downtown.

Note that the university is described here as a full partner in the fate of the municipality, not a bystander watching from a distance. To remain competitive, Syracuse U. apparently thinks it’s important to address the whole of its environment, not just what’s on campus property. If the city of Syracuse is down in the mouth, maybe it’s affecting recruitment, of both students and faculty.

Because students and faculty don’t just go to class and go home…and campuses are usually lousy at making Third Places. People who use campuses (a) mostly don’t live there, and (b) have lives. No campus is an island, entire of itself. Many colleges, however, have yet to fill in the figurative moats they dug trying to isolate themselves physically from the world.

Residential four-year college campuses are inherently municipal places. They’re dysfunctional, starter cities for freshmen, run by politburos, but municipal nevertheless. They isolate themselves, Vatican-like, within their host municipalities (the ones accountable to electorates), when they should be thinking about their hosts as logical extensions of their missions, which theoretically includes educating the whole person. SU is one school waking up to the idea that maybe there doesn’t have to be such a bright line between town and gown.

In other words: Your campus is a city. And the whole city is your campus.

What does that adjective mean, anyway…”alternative”? Because when I think about it, I just find it insulting.

Bloomington created an Alternative Transportation & Greenways System Plan (the ATGSP, a mouthful of an acronym) a few years ago. It troubles itself only with bicycling routes and pedestrian paths like trails. That word “Alternative,” though, assumes that the automobile is the “standard” mode of transportation,  if not the “preferred” one, for everyone, all the time. 

Let’s see: children under 16…the elderly…people with certain disabilities that prevent them from driving…people who can’t afford a car…who am I missing here? These people do not necessarily have direct access to the would-be standard choice of transport. For them, in short, the car is not “standard.” How about people who live close enough to their needs that they get along fine without a car…people whose bicycles or feet are already their “standard” mode of transportation by choice? The “Alternative” title of such a policy document permanently undercuts their choice.

Residents of District 6, the downtown-most district of Bloomington, are the most likely to not consider the car “standard” transportation. That’s a key reason why I moved, successfully, to rename the ATGSP as an amendment to Resolution 08-02, in January of this year.

The ATGSP was concerned only with bicycle and pedestrian paths and routes. Public transit, for example, or mopeds and scooters, viable “alternatives” in today’s Bloomington, are contemplated in other policy documents. The euphemism “alternative transportation” was coined back when no one took seriously the rights of bicyclists and pedestrians to be on the street co-equally with cars. You could also tell that the phrase was coined under the assumption that cars are the “standard” mode of transportation across the U.S., even though this plan was just for this one city.

So I had the despicable word “Alternative” changed to the phrase “Bicycle & Pedestrian” (the BPTGSP, even less pronounceable, I admit). I said, call this policy document what it is.

Comes now word that Monroe County is getting more serious about funding their ATGSP. Good news there, friends. Both city and county need to more aggressively pursue the equalization of modes of traffic on all roads in the county save highways. Even on highways, that can be done.

But County officials, remember that as long as you ghettoize non-car modes under the debilitating moniker “alternative transportation,” you’re not really making transportation safer and more effective. Consider replacing “alternative” with “bicycle and pedestrian” like the city did.

Last year, Garden Hill’s neighborhood association was born again.

I watched it happen. Garden Hill is the neighborhood south of the Stadium and north of the tracks. At least, it used to be a “neighborhood”; for decades, it has been overrun by student rentals, perhaps 95% or more, due to its proximity to IU. The trend finally reversed itself in 2004, when Smallwood Tower Bloc Plaza opened. Students, many of whom are from faraway, well-to-do suburbs, are generally looking for New. Smallwood and its ilk were New. Housing stock in Garden HIll is definitely not New any more, so students began moving away and some of that housing has become owner-occupied.

Anyway, the GHNA was reborn in a dispute between GH residents and the Friedman family, owners of Omega Properties, who were proposing a mixed-use building on the northeast corner of 16th and Walnut. The neighborhood united in its opposition to the project, and, after many months and multiple meetings of the Board of Zoning Appeals, prevailed. Although they were not of one mind as to the reasons, their most significant objections were the number of variances requested (at least 7), the density of tenants, and parking (both too much and not enough…a thorny issue to be untangled in some other post).

I’m glad Garden Hill has an active association again. A neighborhood needs to speak up for itself, otherwise it’ll continue to be the victim of egregious problems like Red Lot tailgating.

The defeat of the project was too bad, though. If more new apartment buildings are going to be targeted to students, Omega’s proposal was the way they should be built: multi-story, on a commercial street with little setback, mixed-use (first-floor retail), and so on. Omega builds very good urbanist projects, and buildings like this help take the tremendous pressure of IU student demand off of nearby single-family housing stock.

But the most interesting thing that came out of the 16th and Walnut debate was a revelation to me: it’s not density that generates noise in a student housing district…it’s the density of the units within that housing.

Jenny Southern, a member of the BZA, said in one of the hearings that in her experience as president of the Elm Heights NA, another neighborhood adjacent to IU, 5BR units were the worst offenders when it came to noise and partying, 4BRs almost as bad. 3BRs you didn’t hear from so much, and by the time you got to 2BRs and below, you didn’t hear a peep out of them.

But our zoning code encourages 5BR units — the ones that generate the most complaints about noise.

Say you have a proposal on land that allows 3.5 units per acre, a typical figure in the central part of Bloomington. Our code says that for development purposes:

• a 5BR, 4BR or 3BR counts as 1 development unit (D.U.)
• a 2BR of < 950 SF counts as 2/3 D.U.
• a 1BR of < 700 SF counts as 1/2 D.U.

Developers naturally calculate the maximum allowable occupancy on their properties. Some then claim that they could build X bedrooms, so they should be given a variance — sometimes to build whatever else they want — or else they’ll just build “by-right.”

In the case of this project, zoned at 3.5 units, the developer could have built 16 bedrooms: three 5BR units and one 1BR. They asked for 14 bedrooms — two 4BR and two 3BR units — and sought a variance for an extra one-half D.U. The neighborhood, finding the project too dense in general, objected to the variance, some saying they wanted at most 12 bedrooms. But four 3BR units would have required the same variance, and three 4BR units would be more likely to cause a noise problem.

Let’s say the developer wanted to build seven 2BR units. No parties to worry about there…but that would require 4 2/3 D.U.! A greater apparent variance than 14 bedrooms in four units as originally proposed.

This is the measure that must change. Developers tell me that 5BRs and the like are the most in-demand unit size among students. It can’t be because they save money on rent. Prices in Smallwood are no lower per person in 4BR units than in 2BRs.

No, long-time residents of Bloomington are more than happy to have students in town. But we don’t have to encourage housing types that encourage them to disturb the peace. Most students like peace and quiet, too.

Up for First Reading tomorrow: IU wants the city to vacate a block of Walnut Grove. (Remember, First Reading is a formality; the Council actually begins discussing this issue Dec. 10 at Committee of the Whole.)

But I can tell you right now, despite my unreasonably high hopes for IU’s potential as an urban place, I have very low expectations for such proposals. When do we stop enabling the University to sprawl ever outwards? When will IU live within its geographic means?

This issue will test the notion of “the campus vs. the urban.” More comments when I’ve studied this proposal.

Tonight I saw the new movie “Changeling,” starring Angelina Jolie and directed by Clint Eastwood. The movie is set in Los Angeles in the late Twenties and early Thirties. One of the most remarkable features of the movie for me was the predominance of streetcars, particularly how unremarkably they occupy the landscape.

The vision of streetcars and Model Ts gliding slowly through the town is an arresting one. For one thing, it’s Jolie’s character’s sole form of transport to her job as a supervisor of telephone operators. (She patrols the swtchboards on roller skates — another interesting form of transport.)

For another thing, everyone moved slowly. Pedestrians jaywalked across streets — leisurely. The closing credits turn up as Jolie walks across a street and off into the city in a crane shot that lasts several minutes, the average speed for all vehciles appeared to be 20 miles an hour. Eastwood’s vision of retro L.A. is a stately one, almost refined.

Streetcars, in other words, were once perfectly normal. Which begs the question: why don’t we put these things back in again?

Another item I noticed while chillaxing this holiday weekend was one of the items in the Times’ 100 best-books list of the year 2008 is Traffic: Why We Drive the Way We Do (And What It Says About Us) by Tom Vanderbilt. I can’t wait to get my hands on this. It serves up ammunition for everything I’ve been saying about cars and roads in Bloomington. I’m looking forward to reading more about traffic in ancient Rome, about how accidents occur more often in “safe” circumstances than “unsafe” ones, and, of course, parking. (Any author that can string words together into the phrase “parking foreplay” has my unstinting attention.)

Tom Vanderbilt’s blog, meanwhile, has become my new must-read site. More to come here from it, I’m sure.