Named by Newsweek magazine to its list of "Fifty Books for Our Time."
For sixteen years William Whyte walked the streets of New York and other major cities. With a group of young observers, camera and notebook in hand, he conducted pioneering studies of street life, pedestrian behavior, and city dynamics. City: Rediscovering the Center is the result of that research, a humane, often amusing view of what is staggeringly obvious about the urban environment but seemingly invisible to those responsible for planning it.
Whyte uses time-lapse photography to chart the anatomy of metropolitan congestion. Why is traffic so badly distributed on city streets? Why do New Yorkers walk so fast—and jaywalk so incorrigibly? Why aren't there more collisions on the busiest walkways? Why do people who stop to talk gravitate to the center of the pedestrian traffic stream? Why do places designed primarily for security actually worsen it? Why are public restrooms disappearing? "The city is full of vexations," Whyte avers: "Steps too steep; doors too tough to open; ledges you cannot sit on. . . . It is difficult to design an urban space so maladroitly that people will not use it, but there are many such spaces." Yet Whyte finds encouragement in the widespread rediscovery of the city center. The future is not in the suburbs, he believes, but in that center. Like a Greek agora, the city must reassert its most ancient function as a place where people come together face-to-face.
|Publisher:||University of Pennsylvania Press, Inc.|
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About the Author
Read an Excerpt
William Hollingsworth ("Holly") Whyte died in 1999. His life was celebrated by a generation of urban planners, architects, and advocates. He wrote three major works: The Organization Man, first published in 1956, deconstructed corporate tribal values and offers timeless insight into the postwar psyche. It remains today a brilliant portrait of American values of the '50s. The Last Landscape, published in 1968, provided some of the foundation of the modern environmental movement. It talked about green before "green" meant green. In the volume you have in your hands, City: Rediscovering the Center, first published in 1988 and considered the author's magnum opus, he threads the knowledge of his earlier work into his treatise on the health and well being of the American city. No other book has been more central to the rebirth of the metropolis than this one. It summarizes the life's work of a remarkable American whose gift was the ability to observe and make sense out of what he saw.
Holly was utterly and completely comfortable with his White Anglo-Saxon Protestant roots. He grew up in the wealthy suburbs of Philadelphia. Fancy prep school, Princeton, the U.S. Marine Corps, Fortune magazine. By all rights he should have ended up back at Princeton as a distinguished professor of journalism or teaching business ethics at the Harvard Business School. Somewhere along the way something happened: Holly fell in love with the idea of the city and, especially, New York. His urbanism came with the janissary passion of the converted.
Is the love of cities peculiar? It's important to put Holly and his book into historical perspective. Through much of the 1950s and '60s middle-class Americans fled the urban core. They had good reason. Pollution, crime, miserable public education, crumbling public transportation, and endemic political corruption are some of the factors regularly cited for urban flight, to which Holly added vagrancies of an architectural and planning profession that had lost touch with the human scale.
There are more than a few of us to whom William H. Whyte had god-like status. He had a romantic vision of the ideal city, a fascination with rules and order—the daily dance of a crowded sidewalk on New York's Lexington Avenue delighted him. He cataloged the manners of the city and understood what density meant to people. He found street characters—like the charming Mr. Magoo, who directed traffic from the sidewalk around Macy's, wearing a bowler hat and carrying a slightly aged shopping bag; or Harry the Husbands Liberation Guy, with his hand-made signs and Fifth Avenue stomping grounds; or the East Side witch, with her clown lips and spitting cackles. The nonromantic or nontheatrical urban characters Holly called undesirables, and his thesis was, if you had the right people there the wrong people would stay away—an intellectual Yogi-ism. That said, what he talked about was logical and had a real street feel to it. As a young student, he inspired me. The first time I listened to him, I walked out of the lecture hall and had a vision of what I wanted to do with my life. We remember Holly for his pixie dust, but this volume reminds us that, at his core, Holly was an indefatigable researcher and highly motivated journalist.
The first two thirds of this book lead the reader through Holly's investigation of what makes a city work. While the examples Holly uses are dated, the information remains invaluable. Both in his writing as in the man, there is the Boy Scout from suburbia diligently and lovingly exploring a city with the same delight evident in Darwin's exploration of the Galapagos. Holly's mantra was that the love of cities starts at the street level—while skylines impressed him, pavement and patches of grass were the abiding building blocks of urban life. This book is filled with telling details, from an exhaustive treatment of the design of stairs to a short history of zoning regulations that governed for decades the design of towers and plazas of the American city. There is primitive power in the tools Holly used to craft his thesis: simple observation, time-lapse Super 8 movie cameras, hand-drawn maps and charts made with press type. He draws material from his work with the Street Life Project and Project for Public Spaces—neither organization having a history of being flush with cash—but like good Marines, Holly and his troops got the most out what they had.
The last third of the book looks at what happened to the industries that left center-city locations and relocated to suburban and exurban campuses. Quite correctly Holly makes the correlation between density and economic health. I know, for example, that my office at the corner of 20th Street and Broadway is one of the easiest places on earth to visit. Yes, someone can call or email, but the power of face to face should not be underestimated. I cannot make the seventeen-minute walk between my downtown home and my office without crossing paths with someone I know. In a city we mix; on suburban campuses we are surrounded and isolated. Holly sneered at the captains of industry who moved their headquarters to be within ten miles of their suburban homes. When this book was first published, many of those companies were troubled. Today some no longer exist.
From the vantage point of a twenty-first century urbanist, there are things this book does not address. There is little about public transportation or the issues of ethnicity and diversity. We know that the American city, for all the improvements in the past twenty years, still faces major challenges in the areas of public education, health care, and affordable housing. Nonetheless, the subtitle of the book is Rediscovering the Center, without which nothing else follows.
All across New York City we have seen the transformation of small urban spaces into clean, beautiful, and well-used small parks. From Tribeca, to the West Village, from Union Square to the Upper East Side, few other major cities in the world can rival New York City's center. The principles outlined by Holly in his deconstruction of Paley and Greenacre Parks have been applied over and over. Perhaps the best dipstick to the health of New York City is the renewed presence of families willing to live and raise their children in THE CITY.
Holly's legacy may be found not just in physical places but in the way urbanism is applied. More than a few of us scattered across New York City and the larger urban planning community were touched personally by our contact with Holly. For all the impact he had through his speeches and seminars and through books like this one, it is his acolytes that continue to cast his strongest shadow.
And what does an urbanist look like? Other professions have their uniforms: banker gray, lawyer stripes, fashionista black. Holly never looked like what he was, which is partly why in person and in print he was so effective. He did wear pin stripes and liked stingy-brim fedoras. He wrote The Organization Man, but he also looked the part. No vampy loafers, for someone who walked the streets, no sneakers, no business-casual Polo shirts. I must have seen him at least once without a tie, but I can't remember when.
I've had three heroes in my life: Jimi Hendrix, the video artist Nam June Paik, and Holly. In my last conversation with him, a year before his death, he talked about the book he was writing, exposing the underbellies of how hospitals worked or, more accurately, didn't. The man had religion and an agenda even at the end. Thanks for reading.
Table of Contents
Foreword, by Paco Underhill
2. The Social Life of the Street
3. Street People
4. The Skilled Pedestrian
5. The Physical Street
6. The Sensory Street
7. The Design of Spaces
8. Water, Wind, Trees, and Light
9. The Management of Spaces
10. The Undesirables
11. Carrying Capacity
12. Steps and Entrances
13. Concourses and Skyways
15. Blank Walls
16. The Rise and Fall of Incentive Zoning
17. Sun and Shadow
18. Bounce Light
19. Sun Easements
20. The Corporate Exodus
21. The Semi-Cities
22. How to Dullify Downtown
23. Tightening Up
24. The Case for Gentrification
25. Return to the Agora
A. Digest of Open-Space Zoning Provisions in New York City
B. Mandating of Retailing at Street Level
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Apparently, it had never occurred to city planners or developers to study how well urban space designs worked until someone wondered why some were more frequently used than others. Whyte begins by observing and documenting behaviors of people in the street, from bag ladies and street performers to the crowding of people in the middle of the busiest part of the sidewalk, and how people use plazas and parks or why they don't. Incentive zoning was used in cities like New York to give bonuses, like granting extra stories to a building, to developers for including desirable street level traits, such retail spaces with glass fronts on street level in the city center. While it's led to some good design, the bonuses have led to abuse, outright refusal by developers to comply with the original agreement, and over-development. The tendencies of developers to build mega-structures (malls, skyways, hi-rise buildings) meant for vehicular traffic and making each structure it's own center should disconcert city planners because they are intended to remove pedestrians (the life of the city) from the streets, and also because these structures create blank, ugly spaces, both of which "dullify" downtown.In the frenzy of over-development and money-making, no one took into consideration the effects that tall buildings would have on their surroundings. The developer's mantra on building shadows is that it always fell onto another building or street. City respites can become places of constant shadow and become undesirable to everyone but the undesirables. Designing buildings to prevent is key to good planning and it's even possible to take advantage of a reflective surface, making the city a little brighter in just the right places.
Every once in a while, we need to step back from newly released books and return to those which have been around for a decade or two--if not much longer. If we¿re interested in themes such as collaboration and community, we find works including Jane Jacob's "The Death and Life of Great American Cities" (1961) and Christopher Alexander¿s "A Pattern Language: Towns ¿ Buildings ¿ Construction" (1977), "The Timeless Way of Building" (1979), and just about everything he has written since then to be essential reminders that certain ideas remain consistent and worthy of our attention. William Whyte's "City: Rediscovering the Center" (1988) is another of those gems, and not just for students and lovers of architecture and city streets--and the way we use them. Whyte's dynamic work, drawn from 16 years of filming life on the streets of New York, is, ostensibly, a study of what makes cities work; it actually is far more than that. In exploring simple themes including how pedestrians in crowded urban spaces manage to navigate sidewalks and streets without continually bumping into each other, he highlights the larger, more intriguing issue of how we learn to collaborate almost wordlessly and effortlessly with one another. When he explores the importance of well maintained trash receptacles (pp. 90-92) and well placed drinking fountains (p. 87) in making communities attractive to residents and visitors, he reminds all of us to not overlook the elements that make our homes, communities, workplaces, and social gathering sites compellingly attractive. When he suggests that stakeholders in business districts might benefit from actively seeking new proprietors to provide what is currently missing from those centers (p. 323), he is also subliminally reminding us to actively seek to fill the gaps in what each of us does and provides in our own personal, social, and professional lives. "It is the asking of [questions] that is the critical step." he suggests at one point (p. 270), and it is with that simple yet profound reminder that Whyte makes us not only look at the communities we inhabit, but makes us want to question why they are the way they are--and what we can do to make them even better, regardless of whether they are physical or virtual.