November 29, 2007 Issue
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Classified Chestnut Hill Local Don't Miss an Issue, Tell us what you see or Winner of Two |
Opinion
Can traffic really be calmed? First there is the ongoing issue of traffic calming strategies currently being discussed by the residents of Norwood Avenue who contend that motorists are speeding down their street to avoid traffic at the intersection of Chestnut Hill and Germantown avenues. The problem came into sharp focus last year when Norwood resident, Dr. Jeffrey Weiss, was killed by a school bus in front of his house. Also, the Local has chronicled the work of several Winston Road residents, led by Jen Follo, who successfully lobbied the city to erect several roadside signs warning drivers to be aware of children and to drive 25 miles per hour. Last week, we ran the first-person account of Erin Horvat, who watched as a motorist nearly struck her seven-year-old daughter, Margaret, as she crossed Mermaid Lane at Winston Road, in the crosswalk. Although the problems of traffic and the challenges of being a pedestrian in Chestnut Hill are not new, it seems the problems have grown in severity to the point at which they have dominated the local discussion. The presence of traffic issues in the current debate even prompted the reinvigoration of the Chestnut Hill Community Association’s Traffic, Transportation and Parking committee, a committee that had been dormant for years because of lack of interest. To what does all the concern add up? What can Chestnut Hill residents do to improve the position of pedestrians in the community? Signs? Speed bumps? More traffic lights? It’s hard to believe any of these things will help curb the driving culture in our area, which is, compared to other places I’ve lived and traveled, pretty aggressive. Last year, our intern Devon Grieb did a first-person study of the effectiveness of the yellow crosswalk signs on Germantown Avenue intersections that have no traffic lights to regulate drivers. What he found was that virtually no drivers slowed down when he entered the crosswalk. It was as if both the marked crosswalks and the signs were invisible to drivers on the Avenue. What is needed is some form of enforcement to train people to slowdown for pedestrians and take the crosswalks seriously. Several university towns seem to have successfully trained their drivers Princeton comes to mind; an even better crosswalk culture is Northampton, Mass. In these places, speeding past pedestrians is the exception rather than the rule. While the traffic calming measures being discussed will likely help alleviate the Hill’s traffic problem a little, and are certainly a worthy topic of debate, it’s hard to imagine any real change in driver behavior without a long period of strict enforcement by Philadelphia police. Several months of pulling cars over that blow by crosswalks and ticketing the drivers would be a good start. Anything less will likely have little effect. In the fourth regular meeting of the Zoning Code Commission (ZCC) on Nov. 14, Commission Chairperson Janice Woodcock, the city’s planning director, opened the session with a progress review of the diagnostic phase of the commission’s work. She outlined five tasks on the committee’s agenda and gave a brief progress report. The first of these tasks, an analysis of the City Charter, is now complete. Readers can visit the ZCC’s Web site (www.zoningmatters.org) to see a report of that work. The most surprising finding is that, although the City Charter requires that the city have a comprehensive plan, the city does not currently have one. The last comprehensive plan was completed years ago under the direction of former planning director Edmund Bacon. The other four diagnostic tasks include: (1) an overview of modern codes, (2) an examination of the Department of Licenses and Inspection current caseload, (3) receiving of input from neighbors, and (4) understanding how the code affects growth. After this initial report, Woodcock introduced featured speaker Patrick Ford, executive director of the Pittsburgh Redevelopment Authority. He spoke about Pittsburgh’s recent experience doing precisely what Philadelphia is attempting to do under the mandate of the referendum approved last May by almost 80 percent of the voters. Pittsburgh’s Experience Anyone who has applied for a permit recently in Philadelphia (as I have) knows what a mysterious, tedious, costly and frustrating experience it is. If you apply for a permit to add a garage to your home in Chestnut Hill, as I did last winter, you should be prepared to expect the following: What used to take four week now takes 11 weeks; what used to cost a few hundred dollars now costs several thousand dollars, and what used to be done by a single agency now requires the approval of three agencies. Having gone through this painful process (and still steaming about it), I was intrigued by the title of the speaker’s presentation: “Streamlining the Building Plan Approval and Permit Issuance.” Ford, an architect by training, was brought to Pittsburgh to head the city-planning department several years ago by the former mayor, the late Bob O’Connell. He now serves the recently elected Mayor Luke Ravenstahl (O’Connell’s successor) in his current position. His assignment was to reform the existing zoning and building permit process. Janice Woodcock invited him to share his experiences, having done in Pittsburgh what the ZCC is hoping to accomplish in Philadelphia. In the following paragraphs I will summarize his presentation. The process in Pittsburgh began with the Mayor and Council wanting to “change the rules.” Ford led a two-year effort to analyze existing rules and procedures. What they found he summarized in the following three points: • Accountability did not exist • Customer service was poor to non-existent • Transparency was absent. No one knew how decisions were being made. Does that sound familiar? He concluded that the reforms must include all of the above and invented the acronym “ACT” to represent the goals: accountability, customer service and transparency. “You can’t change the rules until you change the process, he said.” He then listed various new procedural initiatives adopted by Mayor Ravenstahl, of which most have already been implemented: 1. Residential same-day permit review and issuance for minor additions such as decks, patios, fences and small additions. Done 2. Minor changes to commercial properties plans review and permit issuance in one hour. (building plans must be 15 pages or less) Done 3. Employ third-party plan review if staff is not available. Done 4. For large projects use the International Code Council, which will review plans in 30 days. Done 5. Because 75 percent of permits do not require plans, implement a Web-based permit process. (A Web consultant has been hired to install a Web-based system for an estimated cost of $1.5 million) 6. Make permit ombudsman services available. Done 7. Install a GPS system to monitor the efficiency of inspectors. Done 8. Designate one person (Ford) to be accountable for all permits, all agencies, and all authorities. Done 9. Move all permitting activities into a single building. Not done yet He then went on to describe a new rule that the Ravenstahl administration is implementing: Give administrative authority to a Zoning Administrator to grant variances for small property owners instead of requiring a hearing before the Zoning Board of Adjustment (ZBA). That brought a quick response from the current Chair of the Zoning Board, David Auspitz, who explained to Ford, “With the Zoning Administrator you have cut out the public and the developer. In Philadelphia the Zoning Board of Adjustment is doing what your Zoning Administrator is doing.” Another commission member followed up with this question, “How do you make permit reviews and permit issuance ‘transparent’ to the public?” Ford answered, “What we do is post all permit applications and permit decisions and send letters to abutting property owners. Aggrieved neighbors who disagree with the Zoning Administrator’s decision can — and do — appeal decisions.” He also advised those present that reform is more likely to succeed if it has the support of a newly elected mayor, as it did in Pittsburgh. Analysis and Commentary Because the election of Michael Nutter happens to coincide with the passage of the referendum last May and the subsequent creation of the Zoning Code Commission, Philadelphia now has a rare opportunity to achieve significant reform and to lay the foundation for creating a new comprehensive plan. Some commission member comments indicated strong support for these goals. Commissioner John Westrum of Westrum Development said, “We need a vision — a comprehensive plan. Let’s set the vision for the next 40 years. Reduce appeals to the Zoning Board to only those that have hardship issues.” Commissioner Peter Kelsen of Blank Rome, LLP said, “We have been putting band-aids on the zoning code for 45 years. Our mission statement is spelled out in the referendum.” The Pittsburgh story was a tantalizing example of what can be done with the support of the voters, mayor, council, and with effective technical leadership from that city’s planning staff. Let us hope that something similar will emerge in Philadelphia. Long-time residents of Philadelphia, however, have learned to keep their expectations low for reform of any kind from city government when incumbents are determined to preserve the status quo. As a practical matter, Council and the new mayor will determine the outcome. How much “reform” it contains will depend in large measure on the willingness of voters to keep their elected officials and the Zoning Code Commission focused on their mission. Readers who are inclined to make their feelings known can do so in many ways. Most effective are letters and e-mails to Mayor-elect Michael Nutter and to Council representatives. You can also attend commission meetings and informational sessions, which are open to the public. Their scheduled meetings and sessions are posted on their Web site at www.zoningmatters.com. Finally you can get on the commission’s mailing list by sending an e-mail request to Karen Chin at Karen.chin@phila.gov. Mark Ueland is a Chesnut Hill resident and a co-founder of UJMN Architects and Designers. This is the second of an ongoing series Ueland will write about Philadelphia’s zoning reform efforts. The first of this series appeared in the Oct. 25 issue. When the New Jersey Devils’ Scott Stevens, himself a newly-inducted Hall of Famer, knocked Lindros out on a clean hit at the blue line during game seven of the Eastern Conference finals, it was yet another major concussion Lindros suffered in his seven years in the NHL. There were many people who felt then that the London, Ontario phenom should hang it up. Clearly he was prone to head injuries, a fragility that had ended his brother Brett’s career after only two NHL seasons. But Lindros, encouraged by his controlling parents and reluctant to give up the game he loved, continued to play, creating on- and off-ice controversy as he went. Let’s go back to the beginning. From his time in junior hockey in Canada Lindros was a dominant force. He was a power forward at a time when that term was relatively unknown. He had so much potential he could pretty much write his own ticket to the NHL. When the Quebec Nordiques drafted him in 1992, he refused to sign with them. Instead, after protracted negotiations, he ended up with the Flyers. Everyone in hockey believed at the time that the young stud would lead the Flyers to their third (and possibly fourth, fifth, sixth, who knows how many?) Stanley Cup. It never happened. While he dominated on the ice, he was also controversial off the ice. He was a big kid who let his parents control his relationship with the team. That not only detracted from how he was viewed by his teammates and fans, it also caused irreparable harm to his career. When Bonnie and Carl Lindros complained that their son was not getting appropriate medical attention after one of his many injuries (including a punctured lung that almost killed him) it became clear that Lindros’ career as a Flyer would end without his bringing his troops to the promised land. He demanded a trade, but only to Toronto. The Flyers said no, wanting to trade him where they would get the most in return. The result was that he sat for an entire season before going to the New York Rangers where he was, in the words of former teammate and now Comcast Sports Net commentator Chris Therien, “a shell of his former self.” He was, apparently, nowhere near the aggressor he was when he came into the league. Whether he was being cautious or had lost his edge is unclear. Whatever, his last several seasons (in New York, Toronto and Dallas) were riddled with injuries and mediocre numbers. So what about the Hall of Fame? My theory is that if he had quit after the Stevens hit in the Eastern Conference finals seven years ago he would have been a lock for induction. During his best years, he was an awesome presence. Nobody in the NHL was better. He made the Flyers a better team and dominated the league. In a clearly non-scientific poll I took in the press box at a Flyers game the other night, most of the people with whom I talked said he didn’t belong in the Hall. Their reasoning was three-fold: he only lived up to his potential for a few short years; he never won a Stanley Cup; in his overall career he was a good player, not a great one. It was also interesting to hear what those who said he should be in the Hall gave as their reasoning: when he was at his best he dominated the league and was perhaps the premiere power forward in league history to that time; Cam Neely, a similar player for Vancouver and Boston who had career numbers much like Lindros’, is a Hall of Famer. Neely was the first. Lindros was next. This argument will continue, but to my eye entrants into the Hall of Fame should be obvious — players who clearly belong there. When Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken were inducted into baseball’s Hall of Fame, and when Ron Francis, Mark Messier, Al Macinnes and the Lindros-career-ending Stevens were honored in Toronto Nov. 12, the selections were obvious and uncontroversial. It’s sad that Lindros didn’t live up to his potential. It’s sad that he was so fragile. It’s sad that his parents caused so much trouble. But pity isn’t the reason to induct someone into a hall of fame, career performance is. While it’s a close call, I’d side with the reporters and players who admired Lindros’ skill and wished he’d had a longer productive career but who feel that he doesn’t quite have the props for membership on the list of NHL’s all-time greats.
A former child seen from Google’s satellite map Back then, that block of Pennway dead-ended at a dirt bluff I could not see over. Scrambling up it for the first time, I saw what I still call “the brown straw fields.” I wandered in those fields nearly every day when we lived there. And I both found and lost a vital part of myself when we moved away. Before I found those fields, I was indistinguishable from the other children I roamed with at all times. Whatever we did, we did as a herd. We inherited our street games from older children — tag, “Red Rover,” “Buck-Buck” and so on. We played fantasy games scripted for our imagination by movies or comic strips or radio shows. For boys, playing war, or “army,” was very popular, with teams divided up into Americans versus the Germans or Japanese. Now, however, in this new house on Pennway Street and in our new neighborhood, two new aspects of my personality emerged. First, I developed “interests.” Aside from an obsession with comic books at seven, I’d never had “interests” before. I’d never cared about any subject enough to want to learn more about it. Especially if it meant I had to peel away from the group to pursue it. My subject then: animals, animal life, animal lore, hunting, fishing, adventure, survival, derring-do. The stimulus came from my next door neighbor. We lived in the kind of rowhouses where two homes shared a common stairway. Our next door neighbors, Mr. And Mrs. Pinkerton, Bill and Mary, encouraged me to come over to their house, onto their enclosed porch, and freely borrow and read the dozens, maybe hundreds, of sporting magazines Bill subscribed to. Argosy, True Adventure, Sports Afield, titles like that. Bill was a Fairmount Park guard and an outdoorsman who hunted, fished and lived for adventure. He talked to me, encouraged me, taught me to dress deer, pluck birds, clean and scale fish, and gave me responsibilities and plenty of “attaboys” when I did well. The second aspect of my personality to emerge was my growing sense of solitariness. The appeal of these sporting books and magazines was so strong, I felt compelled to read them day and night. No other kid I knew shared my interest, obsession really, in this subject, so I pursued it alone. Reading these sporting adventure magazines, my mind would reel with images of ferocious, aggressive mountain lions, or grizzlies, or rattlesnakes. In those days — perhaps still — big game animals were never described as part of the ecology of the world around us. They were viewed as aberrations of nature, enemies of man, marauders who needed to be stopped. All this appealed deeply to my sense of adventure and to my developing religious and patriotic ideals. At the end of WWII nearly all American boys were taught that to be a man one must be committed to a mission in life. A higher calling would test one’s character and dedication and courage. A boy achieved manhood by dedicating himself to being a defender — of children, women, ideals, country and his fellow defenders. Something vulnerable and innocent is always under attack in this world and a boy should grow up to be a man who defends the weak against the predatory strong. Sounds heady, but none of those abstractions was in my conscious mind. I’d read one of those sporting magazines and be transported. One of the amazing things about children, boys especially, is that they have to act on new knowledge they acquire. In this regard, I was extremely lucky. After reading a story about the excitement of stalking concealed pheasants, for example, I could walk down Pennway Street and come to the dead-end bluff. It was steep enough to make a nine-year-old feel accomplished in climbing it. The reward: meadows that ran on forever — or at least as far as my eye could see, given that I was probably four feet tall. They seemed like great prairies where Indians and bison roamed. A place where adventure could happen. In the fields of tall wind-blown brown grass, clumps of bushes or copses of trees and brush stood. Any one of them might conceal some kind of lurking wild life. On my life’s first quest, without my brother or friends or a grownup, I’d crouch and start across the grasslands softly, Indian-style. I moved through the cool November air, feeling the breeze against my face like a curtain I was stepping through. I’d pause before a likely clump of bushes and hold, fixed in the landscape as though I’d joined a painting. I felt more excited and alert than I’d ever felt. And then, boom … a pair of pheasants would explode out of the bush, clucking and squawking in a great boom of noisy wing flaps and confusion. I’d stand awestruck, watching them fly off to another cluster of trees. Proof, for me, that the books and magazines I’d been reading were true. I’d read of pheasants flushing like that and now I’d seen them. Further proof: I’d notice a patch of turf seem to become animate and then hop away from me in the form of a rabbit. In the spring there were snakes to be found. And box tortoises. For each of these creatures there was a book with pictures and words. I’d run happily from one world to the other, from the field to the books, from the books to the field, to the adventure of seeing and the thrill of reading. Eventually, libraries came to seem like adventure palaces. I never knew what magical books I might find. And once I read about something, the urge to see it was irrestible. Or having seen something, I’d want to read about it. Lucky I discovered that. We lived on Pennway Street for only nine months and moved to Colwyn, right next to Darby, Pennsylvania. Like most children I had no access to my feelings, but I know now that I was bereft then. I missed Mister Pinkerton, who had guided me in my nature learning and acted as father-figure to me at a time when I needed an adult to guide and encourage me. In my new neighborhood I went to the library often after school. Always to the nature section, my heart now filled with a kind of aching need to search for something lost. I browsed and read every book about animals I could find. Eventually I went on to spend a significant part of my adult life studying animals — primates, especially monkeys and their vocal communications, in the West Indies and in Kenya. I guess that’s a happy ending, even though I don’t study animals for a living anymore. What I do still do: when I am driving, or riding a train, or bus, and I look out the window and see a wide open field of tall brown grass waving in the wind, I think “brown straw fields” and feel a strong urge to stop and walk into that field. Something essential to me lies in there, waiting for me to come in and flush it once again. I wrote this story to say that the combination of a caring adult and a good book can impress a child for life and that both, together, are vital to our children and our society.
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