As a born Calgarian, I've spent more than a halfcentury witnessing the perpetual ballet of cranes and earthmovers and cement trucks that defines our peculiarly transformational existence. Nothing here ever gets "finished." Sometimes, I think that, as a city, we're like a caterpillar that is better at spinning cocoons than actually emerging from them as a beautiful butterfly. (Peace Bridge, I'm looking at you.)
And although I'm not a knee-jerk City Hall basher like so many others, disapproving of its bricks-andmortar decisions comes somewhat naturally to me. How could it not? I am of the generation that grew up watching every building that was old and cool get systematically torn down in the name of progress.
The blobs of concrete which replace them seldom inspire. Often, they merely baffle. Take, for example, the traffic calming measures so beloved by wealthy innercity enclaves. Around our house, we refer to these mislaid chunks of Lego as "traffic enraging measures."
Then, there are those mystifying installations that scream boondoggle, like Baker Park across the river from Bowness Park. First, they kicked out the only people other than dogwalkers who were using it: Frisbee golfers. Then, they splashed out a bunch of Chretien-era infrastructure money on bizarre colonnades and walkways which, apart from a few outdoor weddings per year, are rarely trodden.
My favourite jaw-dropper is the Shaw Millennium Skatepark. Don't get me wrong, it's super doubleplus awesome. But as someone who rode the first wave of private, for-profit skate parks back in the 1970s, and then watched them all die due to public liability issues, I will likely never comprehend how the normally timid City of Calgary came to allow this 24-houra-day, helmetless, unsupervised, concrete free-for-all to be built.
Recently, however, I've had cause to believe that things are changing for the better down at City Hall. The source for that optimism is the Riverwalk being slowly unveiled on the south bank of the Bow, east of Centre Street. We've strolled it numerous times lately, and it's growing on us, fast. Although it is - surprise - still unfinished, my partner gave it North American urbanism's highest compliment: "Hey, this place feels like Portland."
Indeed, the expanded downtown network of pathways is one of our finest civic achievements of the past decade. The crowds are all the testimony you need. As a culture, we may not have a tradition of evening promenades as they do in Italy, but in a growing area around Prince's Island, that's changing.
The next test will be what actually sprouts up inland, in the East Village. For us old-timers, who have seen a dozen-plus proposals come and go, it's not easy to stay abreast of the latest sketches. Nor can we forget that City Hall has a history, both architecturally and metaphorically, of turning its back on the East Village.
One thing I hope we see: pathway-level businesses for the enjoyment of the public. In the condos that have been built in the Eau Claire district, such amenities are conspicuously absent. But if a suitably welcoming public environment is enabled, there's no reason this neighbourhood can't become the urban oasis its proponents have long promised. That would be encouraging.
Meanwhile, I will be watching in the weeks ahead to gauge the public mood on the subject of the Bow River Flow, whose third annual edition goes Aug. 21. Although largely symbolic, I believe that the spirit of promenade which it celebrates can only generate public good, and I would hope the naysayers can look beyond political grievances to acknowledge that.
Last year, we had the privilege of attending New York City's equivalent event, the Summer Streets program. On three consecutive Saturdays, they shut down Park Avenue for 90 blocks from the Lower East Side to Central Park. Tens of thousands jammed the circuit on foot, bike and skateboard, and I didn't read one complaint in the paper.
New Yorkers get it. And so, increasingly, do Calgarians. Kevin Brooker is a Calgary freelance writer. His column runs every second Monday.