Spotlight: Woodycrest Avenue Detached Victorians

I’ve spent some time looking over satellite images of the Bronx and Upper Manhattan, and here’s what I’ve found:

1. As mentioned earlier, there’s a row of five small detached Victorians on Terrace View Avenue in Marble Hill.

2. There is a good number of large, (possibly) Victorian-era detached houses on either side of University Avenue, just south of 183rd Street, near the old N.Y.U. campus.  Presumably, most of the houses here date from either the very-late-Victorian period or after 1900.  (Note that the architectural detailing is not very elaborate on most; and that N.Y.U. arrived in 1894.)

3. There are random extant detached Victorian houses throughout the Bronx and Marble Hill.  They are frequently sandwiched between more recent apartment buildings, and their original details have often been neglected or obscured by modern siding, roofing, pavement, or other modifications.

4. The houses on Woodycrest Avenue are unique.  They combine (1) large houses and lots, (2) green, spacious landscaping, (3) distinct architectural details, and (4) an uninterrupted series of original structures.  Together, these qualities preserve a small but remarkable slice of New York City’s suburban Victorian fabric.

5. This fabric deserves legal protection.  Here’s a spreadsheet that I put together.  It lists the land parcels that might comprise a small historic district.  It also provides a photo of each.  Not every one of these houses is individually noteworthy, but some are.  And those that are not are included because they remain part of the historical context, and play an interstitial role in the cohesion of this small but noteworthy district.

The Balance of Common Law Urbanism

One topic I’ve addressed here several times is the more participatory development process that shaped the urban fabric of the pre-Euclid era.  For lack of a better term, this process could be described as organic urbanism– but such a description would ignore the role of specific legal devices from the English tradition that helped to shape the process.  So common-law urbanism might be a more accurate term.  The point is two-fold: First, to describe a specific phenomenon– the slow and broad-based process by which towns and cities grew in the 19th and early 20th centuries.  And, second, to distinguish that phenomenon from the ultra-planned New Urbanism of today.  I venture to say that one of the essentials of common-law urbanism was the centrality of a simple paradox: regular, large-scale patterns, filled in by the very individualized use of parcels.  Here’s a graphic that illustrates:

Brooklyn Hts. Map: Google.

The setting is a few square blocks in Brooklyn Heights– as good an example as any of a well-loved city neighborhood.  Some of the blocks were laid out centuries ago, but most of the buildings date from the mid-19th century.  Note that the blocks, themselves (outlined in blue), are near perfect rectangles.  Yet the building footprints (outlined in violet) show countless variations.  Each structure has a different shape.  Setbacks are varied.  Depths are varied.  Heights, too.  The presence of bounding alleys and courtyards has clearly been decided on some kind of ad hoc basis.  Side-by-side lots are combined to accommodate larger buildings.  The larger pattern holds together neatly because it circumscribes the prerogatives of each of the subordinate individual participants.  At the same time, the individual contributions are as rich and varied as those who built them, giving the neighborhood a granular variety that tempers the severity of its overriding geometric order.

The common-law approach to urban land use did not arise in a vacuum: It reflected a larger legal approach that predominated in the common-law era of the English-speaking world: Individuals were given a good amount of latitude, up to a well-known threshold at which the law spoke with a certain clanging finality.  In a world with fewer people, fewer still autonomous people, and far fewer methods of omnipresent social control, this balance was probably a necessary element of legitimate rule-making.

The ‘Champs-Élysées of the Bronx’

A Deco doorway on the Concourse. Source: NYC Landmarks Comm.

Let’s hear it for the Grand Concourse, one of America’s greatest concentrations of Art Deco and Late Victorian apartment buildings.  Truly, some of New York City’s most amazing apartments are located there.  The Concourse, itself, also has the potential to become a great public space.  (At present, it has largely been paved over and is very underutilized.)  A large swath of the southern Concourse (between East 153rd and 167th Streets) has just been designated as a new historic district by the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission.

And, yes, it’s true: There’s been a lot of the Bronx on this page.

Spotlight: Little Falls and Canajoharie, New York

NY's Mohawk Valley. Source: Google.

More than a dozen small towns dot the countryside of New York’s Mohawk Valley between Albany and Utica.  In most, compact urban neighborhoods give way at their edges to farmland and forests:  That is to say, the towns of this region still furnish the contrast between efficient development and pastoral nature that was blurred by the sprawling postwar model.  Internally, a few are near perfect examples of artful, practical town plans.

I like the physical layouts of Little Falls and Canajoharie, in particular:  Both are river towns, built on steep banks, with winding streets worked into the rough topography of the land.  Both have very good surviving stocks of Victorian architecture–  including factories, simple houses, and showcases– arranged around the common spaces that traditionally organized settlements in the Northeast.  And both are, essentially, walkable time capsules.  On a recent drive home from from the Adirondacks, I took some photos of these towns.

A slide show, here:

The Mohawk Valley has been settled for as long as nearby parts of New England.  Visually, the region’s mountainous terrain casts a haunting daylight shade over certain twists in the river.  The valley is largely forgotten by its former industries, and remains mostly undiscovered by sprawl developers or New York City vacationers.  Notably, an Amtrak line that runs through the valley skips over the entire stretch between Amsterdam and Utica without a stop.

The development patterns of the smaller, most isolated Mohawk Valley towns reflect the old urban elements of the early-industrial, pre-automobile constellation.  In particular, the influence of traditions, building codes, physical restraints, and market forces can be observed through the architecture, street layouts, and walkable accommodations of both topography and transportation routes in both towns.  Historically, the the instrumentalities that linked these places with the wider world were the Mohawk River, Erie Canal, and N.Y. Central Railroad (in that order).  From the maps of Little Falls and Canajoharie, it is apparent that the nodes of development were sited in proximity to these routes, and to meet the challenges posed by the rough topography on either side of the river.  Similar evidence could still be found today in more developed regions, but the persistence of the Mohawk towns in the original matrix of a rural countryside allows much evidence of the early functionality of their patterns to be preserved.  (Note the similar street patterns of the river towns along the lower Hudson, here, as they existed in 1906.)

A Google satellite map of Little Falls is here:

And one of Canajoharie:

One tradition worth noting in both towns is the presence of an open public space near the town center.  In Little Falls, two separate greens characterize the upland neighborhood just north of the river, in the tradition of English town planning.  Interestingly, the geometric convergence of several streets around a wide swath of pavement in Canajoharie is (in its current form) more reminiscent of a Continental plaza.

US Urban Regions from Hammond’s 1910 Atlas

Hammond printed these three unique, regional maps of New York City, Boston, and Philadelphia in its 1910 New Reference Atlas of the World.  All three are copyrighted before 1910, so they might also have been published in earlier atlases.  Together, the maps offer a nice snapshot of development across three major Eastern regions at the end of the Victorian period, and just before cars really began to influence urban land use patterns.  (Note the railroads.) These are the only three maps from Hammond’s regional series that I’ve been able to find. Would be nice to see others if they’re out there. (Chicago? San Francisco?) Maps of American states and cities-proper, from the same atlas, can be found at the US Digital Map Library.

New York City.

Boston.

Philadelphia.

Old Urbanism: Distilling Elements

Oxford High Street, 1890s photochrome.

One of the most interesting land use riddles is the question of how traditional towns and cities so often achieved such good results in terms of their layouts, massing, and architecture, given the much smaller toolbox of legal devices that existed prior to the early 20th century.  Did people simply have better eyes in the past?  Were they more inclined to cooperate with their neighbors?  It’s hard to believe that human nature has really changed that much.

Here are some things I’ve been able to come up with.  I’m sure there are others:

(1) Tradition.  Some writers have suggested that the advent of more thorough land use laws actually tied the hands of builders who had once worked in their own rich tradition of aesthetic solutions.  As early as 1909, Sir Raymond Unwin observed that English building bye-laws were twisting the architecture of their communities in unintended ways.  Intuitively, this observation makes a good deal of sense, but it doesn’t answer the entire question.  That is to say, if we accept that certain aesthetic traditions of folk architecture suffered a fatal blow when they ran up against the advent of technical legal requirements, we still don’t know what motivated their evolution in the first place; or what has prevented them from adapting, over the subsequent decades, to the fairly standard legal and transportation paradigm shifts that are now nearly a century old.  In other words, we still have the basic question: why do people build so much crap these days?  This question may be begging another, more fundamental one about how much crap really was built in the past.  That is because low-quality buildings are more likely to have fallen apart or been torn down since they ceased to be new, making the new ones much easier to find.  And even at that, a trip through certain parts of Jersey City would dispel any romantic notions about US urbanism during the Victorian period.  Still, there is something uniquely awful about certain elements of the post-World War II American landscape.

A fire insurance map of Brooklyn from 1868 shows building footprints and owners' uses. Source: NYPL.

I think solving the riddle about what’s gone missing requires figuring out what fostered the greater communication between parcels in towns of the past.  This is a separate question from what caused the decline in quality of the architecture of individual structures, and it goes much more to the essence of what effective land-use planning ought to address.  That is, a dozen boxes could be arranged along a table in a logical way, or they could be scattered around haphazardly.  When assessing whether you have order or chaos, the colors and shapes of the individual boxes are less important than their qualities and placement with regard to each other.  And while there is a basic order to the technical arrangement of Euclidean suburbs, even a cursory comparison of a cascade of strip malls and a 19th century town center would reveal that Euclidean zoning doesn’t approach the intricacy and specialization that can be found in traditional towns and cities.  So, aside from tradition, what factors drove the organization of urbanism– when it worked– before land use laws?

Leicester Square, London. Preserved by Tulk v. Moxhay.

(2) Private law devices.  Between private parties covenants were available at common law.  Covenants could be useful for ensuring a certain consistency across  development after a parcel was subdivided, but they were somewhat limited in their permanent application because, in order for covenants to bind subsequent title holders, the law required something called horizontal privity between their original parties.  Essentially, this meant that the affected parcels had to have originated from a single property, or at least from owners who shared some legal interests when they made their agreement.  Because of this, neighboring owners couldn’t simply covenant to have their properties bound by a set of rules in perpetuity.  Eventually, more flexible equitable servitudes were recognized by chancery courts in America (early 19th century) and England (following the 1848 case of Tulk v. Moxhay), but I have no idea whether these played a significant role in town planning.

(3) Building codes, bye-laws, etc.  In Town Planning in Practice (1909), Unwin described the UK’s building bye-laws, which were forerunners to modern building codes and schedules of zoning regulations.  Their scope included a lot of what’s regulated today– but not uses:

Under the modern urban bye-laws adopted in most English towns the number of houses to the acre is … limited by the regulations which fix, first, the minimum width of streets; secondly, the minimum space allowed to be left at the back of buildings. [319]

And later:

Building regulations cover such a multitude of matters, and the combination of circumstances under which difficulties may arise are so numerous, that it is quite impossible to frame absolute regulations on all these points without a considerable amount of needless harassment and restriction of really good buildings. [388]

So, much of the regulation that now falls under the zoning umbrella was established well before the advent of land use zoning, in the forms of building codes, fire codes, and health and safety regulations.   The history of how these ordinances came about, and became increasingly elaborate, would likely shed more light on some of the dimension standards that guided the layout and massing form of traditional towns.

Transportation.

(4) Physical constraints.  Before the onset of industry, building materials and engineering capabilities simply did not permit the height or sprawl that are now possible.  Also, the distances between buildings and the canals, highways, and railroads had to be walkable, or at least sufficiently short to travel in reasonable times with the help of animals.

(5) The market.  The realities of physical constraints put a premium on maximizing land use efficiency on parcels close to transportation arteries; with the hard physical work of transportation as its alternative, crowding was better than distance.  The tension between the desire to maximize the use of space and the physical and economic constraints of pre-industrial building techniques presumably resulted in the relative consistency of the traditional urban scale.

From all of this, we can start to see the landscape that influenced traditional urban development in the common law world.  Before land use planning, a town developed in the matrix of a delicate balance of tradition, private covenants, ad hoc bye-laws, physical constraints, and market forces.  Presumably, community social pressures also played a role.  I suspect that this balance more accurately reflected the interests of communities and their individuals than what we have today, and that this balance is what began to fail when confronted in the mid-19th century by the super-capital of large industry.  In the wake of that moment, the traditional cultural-legal-market constellation was simply lost.

The story of what’s happened since that time is the familiar one.

Old Urbanism: Why Not Break Up New-Town Development?

Exhibit B: Artist’s rendering of the proposed Wesmont Station TOD, Wood-Ridge, N.J. Source: WSJ.com

The WSJ has the story of Wesmont Station, a new mixed-use, transit-oriented development in Wood-Ridge, New Jersey.  It looks nice, and I’m glad to see that it’s going ahead.

But, a rant: The more I watch, the more I see the ambition of projects on these kinds of tabula rasa sites as an indictment of the maddening American land use regime that governs neighborhoods.  Consider three alternatives: Exhibit A is the assortment of ideas and practices that have become calcified in the Byzantine processes of local government.  Some work, others don’t, but we go with them as a package because they look right on the official map.  Exhibit B is Wesmont Station, and similar developments: what’s possible when the standard sixteen layers of local-government approval can be reduced to the blessing of a single, politically-supported superblock.  The Wood-Ridge project is planned for the sprawling grounds of a former factory.  In Edgewater, NJ, a new city has appeared since the mid-1990s on a strip of disused industrial sites along the Hudson River.  A generation ago, Battery Park City rose a few miles south, where piers had once extended into the same waterway.  On a small scale, projects like these are America’s new towns.

The Exhibit B examples are well and good, but there’s also a potential Exhibit C: an artful zoning approach to building a new neighborhood that has a similarly planned and efficient layout, but which could at once be more individualized, and yield a higher quality product.  More individualized, because it would not require large developers to purchase multimillion-dollar sites, and to develop those all at once.  Instead, a third approach could establish the legal framework of an authentic neighborhood, and allow individuals and small businesses to incrementally fill in their respective pieces of a grand puzzle.  While controlling for nuisances and incompatibilities, it could provide those myriad participants enough flexibility to customize their land uses to their own individual needs.  Thus, the end result could attain a higher quality, and more value, because it would yield a physical town that was at once richer in variety and more reflective of its people than any large, one-shot deal.  In short, an artful zoning approach to new towns could re-create the actual process by which towns and cities were traditionally built, but with the protective elements conferred by the legal authority of comprehensive zoning.

For the time being, it’s good that AvalonBay and other developers are moving projects like Wesmont Station.  It’s progress.  It’s just that I’d also like to see the organic town-building process rediscovered.  It could yield much more than its inevitably boring imitations.  Right now, most local zoning laws could still be described as Exhibit A, while exceptions are made for Exhibit-B proposals when the right political muscle is exercised.  What we need, though, is for more communities to embrace a more visionary and democratic approach to town planning, and to move toward the artful zoning approach of Exhibit C.

Spotlight: Tralee, Ireland

This is another amazing town.  The curved facades, the streets that trace the contours of the land, the stone walls, the variety of paint colors: a lot of these design elements are similar to the ones in Ouro Preto; and both are also upland towns, rather than ports.  (Tralee does have a basin with access to the sea in its far southwest.)  One important difference: unlike Ouro, whose continental roots have its streets converging on a paved plaza, Tralee is laid out more in the English style (apologies to Uncle Don and other Irish patriots), with smaller green squares worked into its grid, and a large park set aside on its outskirts.

Most of the attached buildings in Tralee appear to be built on the standard 20′-25′ (7m) wide lots– the same as in New York City or anywhere else.  (On a random note, the forward-pitched roofs on these buildings, which seem so classically Irish, are also common on a certain period of the houses in Newark and Philadelphia.)  Meanwhile, the setbacks of the detached houses are modest, the gardens are often bounded by stone walls, and the lot coverages are substantial, all contributing to a sense of enclosure on the greener blocks leading away from the town center.

Photos remain the copyright of Google, and are used in accordance with the principles of Fair Use.  Explore the streets of Tralee, yourself, here.

The Mall.

Spa Road.

Russel and Rock Streets.

Rock Street.

Lower Castle Street.

Ivy Terrace, and the Kerry Co. Museum

Denny Street.

Ashe Street.