09/12/2016
It looked like every seat was full in the chapel at the Carter Center on March 16, 2016 as Ryan Gravel, the original mind behind the Beltline, took the stage for a conversation on his new book “Where We Want to Live.” Atlanta’s crown prince of urban infrastructure seemed at ease as the conversation with WABE’s Valerie Jackson weaved through a narrative of Gravel’s reflections and instructions on how to best navigate the major social shifts affecting the formula for a thriving 21st century city.
Although Jackson made a few polite suggestions of causes for concern vis-a-vis the current style of development occurring along the Beltline, the general feel was celebratory and congratulatory. After the talk ended, a long line formed to get books signed, and the murmurs from the predominately middle-aged, European-American crowd fell along the lines of “great speech,” and “really great speech.” The choir was well satisfied.
In the nearly hour-long discussion filled with platitudes about controlling sprawl, creating walkable spaces, and the value of public transit, perhaps the most telling moment was an anecdote Gravel related about a favorite photo he took encapsulating his idea of the Beltline ethos. Out for a weekend bike ride on the Eastside trail with his children, Gravel paused to capture them enjoying the fruits of his labor. It was only later, Gravel related, while scrolling back through his photos that he noticed something in the background of the image that solidified the value of the project: “a red-haired woman, pushing a load of groceries back home.”
If the moment was loaded with poignancy, it was amplified in my mind by the steadily growing evidence that the read-haired woman is by far the exception, and not the rule. As a daily commuter on the Eastside trail since its earliest days, the most shocking observation has not been its self-evident success, but its low-key lack of fulfillment of so many of its most idealistic promises. In essence, it often seems less a link between diverse communities, less an encourager of bike or walk commuting, less a useful benefit to pre-existing residents, and more a glorified dog park, more an open air gym for recently-arrived residents, more a place to see and be seen. Particularly as the days warm out of winter, the throngs of ear-budded joggers, casual after-work chatters, and dog walkers circulate in stark contrast to the relative emptiness just weeks before, when a much smaller subset of committed exercisers dotted the path on chillier afternoons.
So far, the Beltline’s Eastside trail can easily be seen as serving much the same role as the acclaimed Highline in New York City, a project to which it is often compared (and which ironically graces the cover of Gravel’s book.) They both serve as a brilliant repurposing of unused infrastructure, a great place for a relaxing stroll, a compelling draw for tourists, but of no outstanding utility to the original community.
In no way should this be construed as an attack on Gravel’s vision or efforts to see them through. By all accounts he has been nothing less than a tireless advocate for the bold and innovative project, a project’s that greatest benefit, if early impacts are any indication, might ultimately be the addition of much needed new park space. As a consistent user of the Eastside trail, any critique comes foremost from a place of gratitude, for the opportunity to enjoy 2.25 miles of car-free travel. But it also comes with the understanding that for all the lofty sense of achievement, a fair dose of cynicism is appropriate. It is only in our best interest to constantly and closely scrutinize the true impact of a project with as much potential as this one.
Which is why, for such a crucial moment, the feel of the interview seemed somewhat complacent. At this point, who’s to say the whole Beltline won’t follow the pattern of the Eastside trail? That it won’t all become a corridor of luxury, high-end apartments and up-scale retail? Gravel has made repeated suggestions in the last few years that the Beltline cannot be considered a success until transit becomes a part of it. But in light of the 2016 General Assembly’s last minute rush to save any effort for MARTA expansion legislation, the “shift” that Gravel mentioned so often throughout the night has taken on arguably a different meaning in Atlanta.
In a city that under eight years of Reed administration has been very business-friendly, you don’t have to look hard to see how the Beltline is being co-opted by everyone from big developers to medium-sized house-flippers to a full array of real estate speculators and landlords. Listings, ads and banners that wrap the fences of new developments promise the “Beltline lifestyle,” currently little more than marketing jargon in long-underserved areas of southeast, southwest and northwest Atlanta. In neighborhoods that realtors, businesses, even grocery stores, wanted little or nothing to do with for decades (often the result of long-standing, racist policies) they’re now flocking to to buy out remaining, cash-strapped tenants.
After making the rounds though a crowd of familiar faces following the speech, well known community activist Angel Poventud admitted a sense of anxiety about the rising home prices in his neighborhood of Adair Park, which recently saw its first sale over $200k. Just 5 years ago, Poventud bought a dilapidated Craftsman for $15,000. Now similar houses are asking four and five times that.
Of course, all this Belline-spurred development wouldn’t be such a problem if it weren’t for its impact on the existing communities. Study after study has revealed a decline in Atlanta’s once renowned affordable housing and reports of displaced residents are mounting. As slow as the Beltline’s progress has seemed to many, it has still managed to outpace the city’s ability to restructure zoning laws or put any substantive affordable housing protections in place.
So what is “the Beltline lifestyle?” For now, for many, it means access to a very wide, very smooth sidewalk. And it’s that admission that brought about the only flash of irony that punctuated the evening. The final question of a short Q&A came from a bubbly GA Tech student, who pointed out that the Beltline’s value is at least in part offset by the decrepit conditions of so many of the sidewalks that feed into it. Gravel chuckled, “Atlanta does have a special problem with sidewalks.”
The View From A Hundred Hills 