The Right Way to Develop

dope on the slope

A member of Park Slope Neighbors forwarded this to me earlier, I think it's a great example of how we could be approaching large scale development in the borough. Sure beats the fragmented, condescending process we have now.

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May I Build Something In Your Neighborhood

To most people's minds, real estate developers and neighborhood activists are the Mars and Venus of urban politics, meant never to talk civilly with one another, nevertheless get along. And no question, the history of building new things in old neighborhoods is filled with tales of broken promises, end-runs, threats and screaming matches. But some developers are reaching across that reservoir of mistrust these days. What they're finding is, if not open arms, at least a willingness to listen, talk and, in time, even work together.

The Wall Street Journal recently profiled such a developer, Rick Caruso of Los Angeles, who has learned to do what others couldn't, which is include neighborhood associations in designing his projects. Caruso is no bleeding heart; he's a bottom-line guy, and there's a limit to how much he far he can go with neighborhood demands. "The question," he told the Journal, "is how many (neighborhood) benefits a project can support before it no longer makes sense."

The interesting thing about Caruso's patient approach (he might spend years working with neighborhood groups to gain their support for a particularly tough project) is that the difficulty he faces can actually be an asset. That is, Caruso's company can sometimes buy the land at a bargain because other developers have tried and failed at build a shopping center or mixed-used development there, usually due to furious neighborhood opposition.
What kinds of things does Caruso offer to get the neighbors' blessing? In past projects, he has promised (and delivered) an upscale grocery store and an ice skating rink to win support. For one instance, the Journal said, he let residents pick out the trees he planted. In a project he's trying to get approved in Albany, Calif., a San Francisco suburb, he's promising a YMCA and a park.

Caruso's secret seems to be working with the neighbors in the early design stages and not walking through the door with renderings in hand. This approach works not only in California but in cities around the country. Recently, a developer wanted to build a 40-story downtown condo tower in St. Paul, Minn., where people are sensitive about high-rise buildings overwhelming the city. The company met with neighborhood groups more than a dozen times and ran through 24 different designs before coming up with one that satisfied the neighbors and make sense financially.

Result: The project sailed through the city approval system. Mayor Chris Coleman told the St. Paul Pioneer Press he was "floored" when a group of residents showed up at his office to express their support for the project and demand the government approve it. The condo development, he went on, "is the classic example of when the community is brought into the discussion from the beginning and feels that they are part of that, then great things can happen."

Footnote: Watch for more developers learning to talk with activists in years to come, as builders see that the way to make money is with infill housing, not developments on the edge of town. The potential rewards are huge — a University of California study recently identified 38,000 parcels of land in San Diego County alone that could used for infill housing — but the politics are perilous. As a developer in Chicago told the Journal, "(Activists) understand they can stop projects. You either participate (with them) or you die on the vine."