Jay Walljasper on great neighbourhoods
by Kathy Sinclair
What turns a row of houses and apartments into a living, thriving community? We asked Jay Walljasper, author of The Great Neighbourhood Book: A Do-It-Yourself Guide to Placemaking (New Society). Jay is a senior fellow of Project for Public Spaces (pps.org), executive editor of Ode (odemagazine.com), and former editor of the Utne Reader; he lives in Minneapolis.
Your new book is full of stories of how people all over the world did small things to make their neighbourhoods friendlier, more liveable places. What’s your favourite?
I think the truly hopeful message here is there are a million ideas that can make a difference in our neighbourhoods. The best ones rise out of a person or small group of people who are the experts on that place and follow their instincts about how to make it better. One of the most inspiring examples was that of Dave Marcucci in Mississauga, Ontario. He simply tore down the fence in his front yard and put [in] a bench. So instead of telling people to keep out, he welcomed them to sit down. This small act helped transform his block. Soon people were hanging out there, and it became a neighbourhood gathering spot. A number of his neighbours added benches too, and now this corner of town has a vibrant personality.
You mention a public art project in which a woman said hello to everyone she passed on the street. Most people in this experiment responded with icy stares, and some with outright hostility. How do we start a culture of friendliness in neighbourhoods like this one?
This calls for a small portion of bravery. People in some places have become so withdrawn from one another that they suspect anyone who looks friendly is trying to sell them something or proselytize for a religion. But smiles can be contagious. You smile at me and I smile at someone else farther down the sidewalk, and they do the same and before long everyone is smiling. It really is an easy example of how one person can make a difference.
You also talk about how involved neighbours used to be in one another’s lives—bringing casseroles by when babies were born, baking pies for each other attimes of trouble, raising one another’s kids. How did we lose that sense of “neighbourliness?”
I think the instincts are still there. People want to be able to offer that kind of help. But in a lot of neighbourhoods people are so busy that they have never found the time to really get to know the folks who live around them. In my own case, getting involved with neighbourhood issues was the way to break the ice. My wife and I got to know a lot of people by helping to stop a street widening in our neighbourhood. Then, when my father suddenly died and my mother had a stroke, we were flooded with casseroles—or hot dishes as we call them in Minnesota. I don’t think we cooked for three weeks. That wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t connected with people through neighbourhood work.
Are some cities more friendly than others?
Certainly. But a lot of it is cultural. I spend a lot of time in New York City, where Project for Public Spaces is located, and underneath a thin veneer of gruffness, I have always found people to be very enthusiastic to help you and find out what you are doing. On the other hand, I lived in Chicago a few years and found people to be less friendly outwardly than New Yorkers. I am not sure why, especially since I grew up quite near Chicago. I spent a marvellous week in Vancouver two years ago. It was during the Stanley Cup, and complete strangers would come up an talk to you about hockey. But the friendliest place I have ever been was Austin, Texas.
You advise people to “Start with petunias.” This is a great example of how little things can make a huge difference. For any of this to happen, we need to slow down, don’t we—to be really present, to observe what’s around us. In an age of multitasking, how can we do this?
There is a clear pay-off in taking the time to truly enjoy life. That’s why we love vacations and romantic nights out—because at those times we slow down to the natural speed of life. But it’s sad to think we compartmentalize the joy of life into Saturday nights and summer holidays. We need to honour our lives by making the time to simply enjoy what we encounter everyday. Stop and buy lemonade from the kids selling it on the sidewalk and ask them questions about their business. Chat with the neighbour over the back fence, even when you feel an urgnecy to go inside and check your email. Instead of taking our time, these kind of connections actually give us energy. Be more open and aware about all the little pleasures available to you all around.
There’s a Dar Williams song that goes, “But way back where I come from, we never mean to bother / We don’t like to make our passions other people’s concern / And we walk in theworld of safe people / And at night we walk into our houses and burn.” What are we so afraid of?
It’s a lot of things. Our reflex to reach out seems to have grown stiff from disuse. The time crunch everyone feels is part of the problem, and the fear mongering that has become central to so much of the media gives everyone second thoughts on connecting with others. A lot of fears get stirred in us when we think about getting closer to the people we live among. That’s why we try to emphasize what fun it is to get together with your neighbours and interact with people in your neighbourhood. Fun and joy are the great antidotes to fear.
How does caring for our own neighbourhoods connect with the larger world issues we’re facing, likethe climate crisis?
I have noticed through the years that the people I meet who concerned about what happens in their community are the same ones who are involved in thinking about what happens in the world. It’s not like you must choose between helping Darfur and helping the neighbourhood crime prevention committee. They both arise from the same impulse. As human beings, I think we all have an instinct to look out into the wider world but also to pay attention to our own village. The solution to huge problems like global climate disruption and poverty must be carried out on the local level. Oftentimes, aid groups and governments don’t know how to accomplish this. They can only think of doing things on the big scale. It’s my hope that the emergence of a neighbourhood power movement in North America could wind up being useful in finding the best ways to make sure that important global initiatives take root on the neighbourhood level everywhere. Another important point is that for people to stay involved in a issue over the long run, they need to see some benefits. If the solution to global climate problems actually brings some improvments to their own neighbourhood (less traffic, more greenery, a greater sense of mutual cooperation), they are more like to stay engaged in that activism.
Who are your placemaking heroes?
First and foremost, it’s the extraordinary ordinary citizens who roll up their sleeves and make a difference in their communities. It is to them the book is dedicated, and they are the people Project for Public Spaces has worked with for more than 30 years.
But there are many figures who inspire these people. Jane Jacobs, who stood up to the planners in New York City and later Toronto who wanted to decimate neighbourhoods in the name of progress. Her book The Fall of Rise of Great American Cities is still as relevant as when she wrote it 40 years ago. William H.Whyte, who made a science out of studying how people actually use public spaces, and taught us many things the experts never realized. Enrique Penalosa, a former mayor of Bogota, Colombia, who transformed that city from a place for cars to a place for people. He now travels the world spreading the message of how to create great cities. We in the northern hemisphere have a lot to learn from people like him.
You call those who work to improve their neighbourhoods “zealous nuts.” Do you include yourself in that group?
Yes, at PPS we mean that as words of affection. Like a lot of people, at one time I never gave neighbourhoods much thought. I was a journalist lucky enough to travel around the world for stories. I wanted to know what was happening in Prague, not my own backyard. But then here in Minneapolis, the city decided to widen a street just one block from my house. It would have been an utter disaster, creating a more dangerous, uglier speedway that cut off neighbourhoods from each other. So a group of us organized opposition to the plan. I am sure the traffic engineers and politicians saw us as nuts. But we presented our case at a public meeting, and the audience of 400 citizens agreed with us overwhelmingly. The street was not widened, and indeed next summer a new plan to narrow it is beginning construction. Sometimes you have to be willing to look nutty, in order stop the insanity.
Best neighbourhood: Mr. Rogers’, Friends, or Golden Girls?
Ah, very good question. The truth is that these neighbourhoods all function well for the different groups involved. Neighbourhoods should reflect the spirit and desires of the community living there. The older I grow, the more virtues I see in being a kid. Neighbourhoods that meets kids’ needs are good for everyone else, too. They are, as the biologists say, an indicator species for communties. So I would say Mr. Rogers’.
SharedVISION editor Kathy Sinclair intends to spend this summer drinking more road-stand lemonade. For more on The Great Neighborhood Book, visit newsociety.com.
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