The discussion about
the power struggle over public space makes me think of my hometown, Yellow
Springs, Ohio. An extremely progressive town in the heart of a generally
conservative farming region, Yellow Springs is chock full of opinionated people
looking to voice their concerns. Originally envisioned as a commune and later
providing a haven for Quakers, the town has always relied heavily on consensus
for decision making. In the 1960’s, Antioch College became known for its
radical activism on the civil rights and anti-war front.
Village council
meetings, downtown bulletin boards, and especially the Yellow Springs News have been forums for expression as long as I
can remember. In a big city such as Berkeley, the opinions of the down-and-out
can be easily overlooked, but in a village of 3500 people, a pointed letter to
the editor can become the talk of the town for a week or more.
Public space is one
of the cornerstones of Yellow Springs: Every Saturday since 2001, the busiest
intersection downtown transforms into the so-called ‘peace corner,’ occupied by
anti-war protestors. An outcry was raised over an ordinance allowing police to
patrol Glen Helen (an expansive nature preserve owned by Antioch), and another
prohibiting people from being on the grounds of Mills Lawn (the local
elementary school) after dark.
Although very
politically and socially progressive, Yellow Springers often take a much more
conservative stance when it comes to changes within the fabric of the town
itself. Very little has changed since the heyday of Antioch: businesses have
changed hands, people have come and gone, but the population and its mindset
have remained the same.
The town has a
certain respect for tradition (although that tradition includes questioning
authority), meaning every possible change, however miniscule, is subject to the
scrutiny of the entire town. While I was in high school, two students who proposed
the allocation of some public space for a dog park for their senior project
were lambasted in the News, forcing
them to go through a myriad of re-designs and re-locations before ultimately
abandoning the project due to backlash. To this day, any mention of ‘the dog
park’ is bound to stir up a conversation.
Over this past summer,
the new village manager's proposed downtown streetscape redesign became a huge
point of contention. People argued that she couldn’t possibly understand what it
meant to be a Yellow Springer and that her changes would undermine the Yellow Springs
way of life. What started as a plan to replace the downtown’s oft-repaired
sidewalks grew to include the removal of the old Bradford Pear trees – whose
roots were expanding and causing much of
the damage to the sidewalks – in favor of new, more manageable and
street-friendly species; the replacement of street light posts and burial of
overhead electrical/telephone wires; smaller parking spots and increased
bicycle parking; and perhaps the most controversial portion, a proposed sidewalk
‘bump out’ in front of a local coffee shop, in order to enable the ‘townies’
who routinely occupy a table at this location – often blocking off the entire
sidewalk – to loiter without inhibiting pedestrian traffic.
Proponents argued for
the functional and aesthetic advantages provided by these upgrades, while
opponents claimed this was merely more touristification of a town that is
already very tourist-oriented. Tree huggers claimed it was unnecessary for the trees
to be cut down, yet the historic Yellow Springs Tree Committee assured citizens
that the invasive species should be replaced with a more eco-friendly native
species. Ironically, the same loiterers who would be benefitted by the increased
space provided by the sidewalk bump out seemed to be the opposed to the idea.
I often happen to
find myself a part of this group of ‘townies’ when I spend time in Yellow
Springs, so I am not generally critical of them – I am aware of the (not
necessarily undue) harassment they receive from the village police and tourists
– yet I feel they can be hypocritical. Though, there is a table set out on this
sidewalk by the coffee shop in front of it, the sidewalk was put there first
and foremost for walking. If the sidewalk were to be bumped out, this would
provide the townies with their own space, and reduce the number of
transgressions with the police and tourists, which would theoretically be in
the best interests of table sitters.My theory is that
these folks felt that their congregational table – their representational space
– would cease to exist and thus become a mere representation of the space it once
was, were it to be recognized and ‘touristified’ by the town. However, I feel
that the effect would be quite
the opposite. The sidewalk bump out would act as a sort of unofficial delegation
of a space for the use of the townies, and the rest of the sidewalk, designated
for pedestrians, may be used as it was intended.
Due to public opinion, the village manager eventually compromised with a plan that dropped the controversial bump out from the design and implemented the rest of the changes in stages. Whatever the outcome, it is good to know that in my town, contrary to the situation in Berkeley and many other cities in the U.S., public space is dictated by the public.
