Month: October 2018

Portland, Oregon A.D. 1999

Jason Kingcity, climate, cultural, history, language, literature, places, portlandLeave a Comment on Portland, Oregon A.D. 1999

A search of the history of Portland will inevitably unearth a reference to a strange collection “Portland Oregon A.D. 1999 and Other Sketches” by Jeff W. Hayes.  Published in 1913, this long story, often referenced in the realm of science fiction or futurism, envisions a Portland as remembered by the protagonist, an elderly woman recounting her visions of the future. As other utopian visions, it is both a product of its time and has an air of moralism, but if you read it as I did for some prescient thoughts on a future as envisioned over a century ago, it’s somewhat intriguing at time.  A short bio of Hayes here from the UW Center for the Study of the Pacific Northwest gives a bit more context: “He framed this tale so that it resembled Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backward (1888).  The main character is an elderly woman who has seen Portland in the year 1999 and returns to the city around 1911 to offer “prophecies” of how life would change.  Her predictions emphasize how technological change and social reform produced a sort of Christian socialism that would make Portland a nearly perfect city.  Note how people of color are described at the end of the included text.  In a chapter not included here, Hayes’s prophet envisioned a truly utopian transformation—doctors, lawyers, and ministers who work not for themselves but for the public good as defined by city commissioners.”

 

The reference to Bellamy’s work “Looking Backwards: 2000-1887” (which I have yet to read) is interesting as I recall that this was also a formative text for Ebenezer Howard, who wrote his 1898 “To-Morrow: A Peaceful Path to Real Reform” which was an early version of what was reprinted in 1902 as the more commonly known as “Garden Cities of To-Morrow” and the blueprint for Garden City Movement. I’m sure some further digging into Hayes would reveal some agenda for his writing Portland A.D 1999, but it seems like the use of common vehicle at the time to tell a good story, versus a manifesto in this case.  While it is at certain times a bit boring, it does have some ideas worth noting excerpted here, but seriously you can read the whole thing in about 15 minutes (and for free, here).

I was struck off the bat with some of the statements, after setting up the scene, it’s mostly recounting scenes of different facets of life.  Early on she visions things that were close to mark in terms of reality: “I could see people flying through the air in vehicles shaped like birds from the Atlantic to the Pacific and that the almost impenetrable forests of Oregon would one day be entirely laid low by the woodman’s axe.” (3)  and while we’ve not achieved the sense of car-free city as outlined below, the idea of compactness and green-ness (perhaps with a bit more diversity than blue grass and roses) does hint at the city, and perhaps some things we could be focusing on more today:

“The city is compact and the business houses are lofty and well constructed, safety to occupants being the chief Care. “Owing to the fact that there are few, if any, automobiles or other rapid methods of travel to take up the streets of our city, there was an order issued by the City Commissioners removing the hard surface pavements and authorizing the Commissioner of Public Service to sow the streets in rye grass and Kentucky blue grass, so that the city of Portland is one perpetual system of parks, where the youngster may play to his heart’s content. Just imagine what a beautiful city we have and how our past day metropolis would pale into insignificance beside the picture I have drawn. Roses are planted in the streets and we are really and truly the ‘Rose City’.” (6)

Transportation does take a good portion of attention (including a strange balloon system for world travel – page 19). Presaging Elon Musk as well as many urban interventions for highway tunnels: “There are no more bridges across the Willamette river, tubes 75 feet wide at every other street taking the place of the bridges. These tubes are about a mile in length and start from Broadway on the West side and extend to Grand avenue on the East. Public docks extend from St. Johns to Milwaukie and cover both sides of the river, which is dredged the entire length of the dockage. “   With a nod to some of the land shaping that was more prevalent in Seattle, some of these interventions were a bit more ecologically destructive, such as hillside removal to create flat land for economic development,  “Many of the hills back of the city, including Portland Heights, Kings Heights and Willamette Heights are leveled, only Council Crest with its historic traditions being allowed to remain. This gives a vast area to West Portland which is really vital to its business supremacy.” (7)

There are allusions to grand designs (reminiscent of City Beautiful), where ““The city, county and state buildings embrace five continuous blocks beginning at Jefferson Street running north, taking in Madison, Main, Salmon, Taylor and Yamhill Streets, each building being ten stories high and connected at each third story with its companion on the opposite side of the street for a distance of five blocks, making it practically one solid building five blocks long and each building ten stories high.”  (8) With a utopian nod, Hayes does envision that police, and half of the judges were women, mentioning pioneering Portland suffragette Abigail Scott Duniway as an inspiration.  The moralism extends to some inherent racism, in particular around token remnants of Native Americans and Asian immigrants in the city, with oddities like “The Chinamen, more particularly have fallen into the customs of the white neighbors and a much better feeling is manifest on both sides, which knocks the dreaded bugaboo about the yellow peril.” (14)  Perhaps in that whiteness of spirit, it is mentioned things like lack of crime and the absence of jails, and in general “…less roystering, riotousness and lawlessness than existed earlier in the century.” (9) But is odd when directed towards schools with “…little need for an elaborate education, children are not compelled to go higher than the sixth grade, the rest of their education being made up by practical experience later in life.” (10)

The funniest moral statement, especially in the context of how many breweries, wine bars, and distilleries exist in Portland today, is around alcohol, as ““It was in the year 1950 that it became quite observable that corn, wheat, rye and other cereals entering into the production of alcohol had lost the power to ferment and to be converted into beer, wine and whiskey. This was a startling announcement to the old topers but it was nevertheless a fact and the science of making alcohol has become a lost art.”  Weinhards and other brewers instead, thrive by’ “manufacturing a beverage which exhilarates but does not inebriate.” (16)  I’m guessing this is the precursor for Kombucha, right?

A few interesting items that were interesting in terms of communication, include such things like video phones, computers (or the improvement of typewriters), and wireless, at least in some incarnation.  For instance, futuristic Facetime “not only talk to a person over a wire, but you can actually see them, life size and just as they are, exactly as if you were talking to them face to face.”, wifi and the prevalence of cell phones ““Much telephoning is now being done by wireless and that branch of the service has developed greatly and is used to communicate with aerial vehicles.”, and perhaps scanning coupled with AI such as Alexa:“Take for instance, an item cut from a daily paper and paste it on the cylinder, or disc, and without further preparation, a voice will read off the item to you in a plain, clear tone.” (36-37)

On a larger scale, hints echoing the amazing reputation for sustainability was interesting, with lots of forward-thinking technologies mentioned, like “The lighting of the city is done by one immense electric light suspended in the air at a height of several thousand feet which illumines the city as bright as the brightest day.” and perhaps an early Eco-District idea, with  “Heat is furnished by the city through a thorough pipe system and it is compulsory on all citizens to patronize the city’s heat.”  Also mentioned is sustainable agriculture, with horticultural practices, “as a result many new fruits and vegetables have been put on the market, their flavor and excellence outstripping anything known in the early twentieth century.” (17)  Further, open spaces are a big deal as they are today, even going so far as to replace previous taken lands.  “Cemeteries have been turned into play grounds, tomb stones removed and no vestige of the former gruesome abode of the dead is visible.” (31)

And the biggest miss was the opposite of climate change,  Instead of our rapidly melting poles, in this future  “Ice was forming at the South Pole, each year encroaching more and more towards the north and some alleged scientific men predicted that the time would surely come when the ice deposit at the South Pole would be come so great and the weight so heavy, that it would result in throwing the earth off its present axis, probably tipping up old Mother Earth and reversing the positions of the Equator and the Poles.” (38).  Crisis was averted due to volcanic eruptions melting this ice-cap, so we were not thrown off axis, but no hints were given as to what future catastrophe that held… perhaps something for the future.

From a specific focus on a water perspective, this was the age of progress and modernization, it is mentioned the massive yield increases which hint similarly to the Green Revolution aiding in huge production of wheat in Eastern Oregon, shipped through Portland through all parts of the world.  Closer to Portland, the use of waterways is more traditional, mentioning that “Columbia Slough was reclaimed and most of the manufacturing industries are carried on at that point.” (7) assumes a slightly different take on ‘reclamation’.  The more grandiose “movement on foot away back in 1905 to harness the ocean’s waves, but it was determined to be unfeasible. Later on, it was demonstrated that the project was a simple one and now the highway to the ocean is lined with poles carrying power developed by the ocean waves which gives an endless and inexhaustible supply and which is cheap and always reliable. This means of securing power is utilized the entire length of the Pacific Ocean, Atlantic Ocean and on all the Great Lakes, Chicago being the first city to try the experiment from the waters of Lake Michigan. “This discovery has had the good effect of making it possible to properly conserve the nations water supply and has created a new industry. Irrigation by means of huge air tanks filled with water and allowed to rain upon parched spots is the present method of irrigating and it works wondrously well.”  (29)

Water supply was also mentioned, in the grand tradition of big infrastructure. While the Bull Run was logical, stretching a bit further north seemed excessive.  As mentioned, “It was deemed necessary, about the year 1951 to in crease the water supply for the City of Portland and it was ascertained that the conditions at Mount Hood for bade looking to that place for a greater supply and it was decided to utilize the, as yet, great and untouched abundance of water offered by Mount St. Helens, and three years later the pipe line was completed, and water from beautiful St. Helens was turned into the new and immense reservoirs constructed for the ever-increasing population.”  And in an interesting switch, the idea of eruption had some truth but was focused a bit on the wrong mountain, as Hayes’ protagonist states:   “It was fortunate for the city that this new supply was projected and consummated just at this time for it was but a year later that Mt. Hood, which had been groan ing for some time began to belch forth from its intes tines a mass of smoke and lava which bared the moun tain of snow and caused much consternation among our people. The volcano continued active for several weeks, at intervals, finally entirely subsiding and it has been on its good behavior now for 25 years. Repairs were made to the pipe line and Portland, today, is getting a portion of its water supply from Mt. Hood as of yore.”  (35)

Also, on topic of irrigation and water supply, the technologies for irrigation seem wildly odd, as outlined on page 11, in which is discussed:

“What might appear to the people of 1913 as very extraordinary, is the manner in which the streets of the city are sprinkled. A huge air bag with a rubber hose attachment is allowed to rise to a height of about 1,000 feet and water from the Willamette river is pumped up into it by the good old fire boat … “Attached to the air bag is a regular sprinkling machine… it is allowed to fall on the city, the air bag, of course, frequently shifting its position to give all parts of the city an equal show for a rain storm. This process is used whenever there is a drought in Multnomah county which, thank the Lord, is a seldom occurrence.”

The people of 2018 would think that is extraordinary as well.   Read it, it’s fun.

HEADER: Unrelated, but I figured representative image of a Future City – Tullio Crali’s ‘Architecture’ – 1939, via Reddit

Bring me the Head of Navigation

Jason Kingcity, creeks, history, maps, oregon, places, portland, rivers, streamsLeave a Comment on Bring me the Head of Navigation

A fascinating part of the history of Portland is focused around the river, and the shifting dominance of early Willamette River settlements as the center.  While the dominance of Portland as the major urban center of the metropolitan region is now long-since galvanized, there was an interesting span of time where the battles between competing towns over which one was going to become the .  This saga is hinted at in other books, but is the focus on Eugene E. Snyder’s ‘Early Portland: Stump-Town Triumphant, 1831-1854‘ published originally in 1970 with a 1984 reprint as seen to the right.  The tagline of “Rival Townsites On the Willamette” gives a hint to the particular saga, and Synder shows how the power struggle evolved in the early days of the region, mostly hanging in the balance by the specific determination:

Which of these towns was the Head of Navigation for the Willamette River?

For a bit of reference, it’s important to understand what the head of navigation is, and why this is important to the story of the evolution of Portland.  By definition, the:

“Head of navigation is the farthest point above the mouth of a river that can be navigated by ships. Determining the head of navigation can be subjective on many streams, as this point may vary greatly with the size of the ship being contemplated for navigation and the seasonal water level. On others, it is quite objective, being caused by a waterfall or a dam without navigation locks. Several rivers in a region may have their heads of navigation along a line called the Fall line.”

Synder outlines many of these potential towns vying for becoming the major urban center, as seen on the map below.  This includes communities up and down the span of the Willamette from St. Helens to the north down to Oregon City to the South. Between 1831, when a settlement was envisioned by in a pamphlet by Hall J. Kelley through 1847 when James Johns established St. Jonhs (now part of modern Portland), a total of eleven townsites were considered to be potentially the regional center, fed by overland migration to Oregon Country where hundreds of new settlers came from the east.

Map of Early Townsites – from Synder (p. iv)

As Snyder mentions, in the context of Manifest Destiny and the settlement of the west, it was “…the logic of geography that a great port would grow up near the confluence of the Willamette and Columbia rivers.  These rivers were deep enough for sea-going vessels to come a hundred miles inland, to take on board the produce of the fertile Willamette and Tualatin valleys, whose increasing population would also provide the necessary market for inbound cargoes of merchandise.” (3)  The evolution from Lewis and Clark’s quick stop at the confluence, and the early settlement of the area by Hudson’s Bay Company in a spot that eventually became Fort Vancouver, and the eventual agreement between the British and Americans on territory meant that there was ambiguity about the future, and many tried to establish settlements into the 1830s.

While the book focuses on much of the story, I want to focus on the water history of this facet of Portland history.  Sauvie Island (originally called Wappatoo Island) was one of those early settlement areas due to it’s location and the confluence of the two rivers, evidenced by its importance to local native people as well.  Fort William was an early established trading post in 1834, which connected to the Willamette as well as areas over into the Tualatin Valley to the west.  It floundered due to the tight grip the Hudson’s Bay Company had on trade, who took over the island in 1836 for cattle, and it was taken care of by  French Canadian Laurent Sauvé (thus it’s currently name).  But was the start of the importance of this location for commerce.

Fort Vancouver (along the north bank of the Columbia River) was never considered as a potential key city because, even with good port facilities, it lacked access to much of the agricultural bounty of Oregon, so a site along the Willamette because key. When the British lost control of the area and left, Oregon City emerged as the front runner to be taking advantage of both water and access to the agricultural bounty as seen in their seal from the 1840s.  Many of the settlers arrived and started in Oregon City, through the 1840s, and the town grew with building of things like sawmills and stores.  While there was water access, there was significant issues with upstream navigation at this point due to The Falls, which provided a barrier to boats heading further up the Willamette River.

via – Willamette Falls Heritage | www.wfheritage.org/

 

Another big barrier that made it less likely, was again, the product of that key term, barriers to becoming the head of naviation.  While upstream movement was impossible, access to Oregon City from downstream was a challenge, as Snyder mentions, it “…faced an insurmountable obstacle in the contest to become the Oregon metropolis. It was practically inaccessible to ocean-going vessels. The major barrier was the “Clackamas Rapids,” a gravel bar and shoals about two miles downstream from Oregon City, created by the Clackamas River as it enters the Willamette.”  (26)

A few other towns emerged on the other side of the banks, but never really prospered.  The only other major player upstream to emerge was Milwaukie, which were positioned downstream of the Clackamas Rapids and thus avoided the larger issues with Oregon City.  A man named Lot Whitcomb was the major booster for Milwaukie, and he was instrumental in building the town up to a major player, and built sawmills, founded the first newspaper, and established ferry services, built wharves and shipyards, making it the largest and fastest growing town in the region. The competition continued, with water at the center, specifically who would attract shipping from areas like China and San Francisco, so Whitcomb looked at technologies like steam for sawmills, but most importantly, for ships, with steam powered vessels being more powerful and maneuverable.  While both Portland and Milwaukie developed steam ships, The Lot Whitcomb, seen in this image from Vintage Portland was perhaps the most glorious for a time, using as a “model for his steamboat… the design of ‘the first-class fast North Rive boats’ on New York’s Hudson River.” (98)  The ship also used coal instead of wood, and for a time tipped the scales back to Milwaukie.  In the long run, the ship ended up being too expensive to operate, and amongst other factors, was eventually sold.

The debate again, hinged on the access to Milwaukie, and whether it could support passage of larger, ocean going ships – to become the head of navigation.  Lots of debate there, and there were other issues to bear like lack of access to Tualatin Valley farmers and the steep terrain in Milwaukie along the shoreline, but in the end a key barrier emerged, exacerbated by seasonal water level fluctuations in the Willamette River, causing places to be too shallow for many vessels.  The biggest sticking point here was a wide spot and central barrier known as Ross Island.  Downstream, a clearing was also being developed that would become Portland, which avoided having to navigated further up the river, would win the battle for who was the head of navigation.

One side tidbit was learning why so many things are named ‘Linn’ in and around Portland and Oregon.  Turns out it was a Senator from Missouri named Lewis F. Linn who pushed for a bill to allow for settlers to get 640 acres of free land when Oregon became part of the United States.  Grateful settlers kept naming things after Linn, including Linn City (which lives on as West Linn), Linnton, and Linn County.  The passage of this bill, along with Oregon Territory becoming part of the United States, created the framework for many of the land claims that shaped Portland.  Many of these names of Couch, Pettygrove, Lovejoy, Stephens, Caruthers and Terwilliger remain in places, streets, parks, and institutions around Portland today.

Being considered the head of navigation and having access to shipping was a big factor in success, this was also coupled with a number of factors that influence success, such as access to the hinterlands (in this case the agricultural bounty of the Willamette Valley), appropriate amounts of developable lands (specifically flat areas adjacent to rivers versus steep slopes), and various other.  Beyond just being an exercise in the best characteristics, there was circumstances such as the California Gold Rush, personalities, the human components that tend not towards the most rational acts, also in a similar vein a LOT of politics involved in this.  The constant one-upsmanship and propaganda between towns in terms of flexing their importance such as having a newspaper, building factories and warehouses, and building and operating ferries and ships for transport of goods and people.

Thus the clearing along the west bank of the Willamette became the center of the growing area of the Portland townsite, which, aided by issues with Ross Island and Clackamas Rapids upstream, meant it had a great position to become that elusive and important head of navigation.  Portland itself was growing, and while it still had stumps (painted white for visibility) poking out all over downtown, it was establishing itself as the metropolitan center.  Names like Stark, Lownsdale, Chapman, Coffin, and Pettygrove all invested time and money in growing the city, with a focus on making it the key destination for settlement and water-based commerce.

More in depth on Portland at a later date, but Synder’s book does a good job of tying the specific development and boosterism that focused on establishing Portland as a center for river trade, including building docks, and warehouses, attracting settlement and business, including the Tannery, established by one of those founders, Daniel Lownsdale, which gave Tanner Creek its name, and Captain Couch, who as a sailor of good reputation aided much in creating a convincing argument for Portland as the head of navigation by discussing the perils of Ross Island.  While Portland may have been ridiculed at times for its stumps in the streets, it was growing and became the city of many of these boosters dreams: “Looking at the Portland of 1880, with its population of nearly 20,000, compared with the few hundred in 1848 when he sold out, Pettygrove said, “It fills my heart with joy to see the great city where I once saw dense woods.” (46)

There were some other challenges, in particular those touting better access to the hinterlands, across the Tualatin Mountains, including Linnton, Milton, and St. Johns closer towards the mouth of the Columbia.  The biggest threat was from St. Helens, which had good water access and good access to the Tualatin farmers.  And while Portland also had access to both there was some question about a potential issue of a bar downstream near Swan Island that could impede water traffic, and the roads to Portland from the west were terrible, a muddy, steep slog for farmers to get there.  So the solution was to build the Great Plank Road, which followed close to the route of Tanner Creek. From the Oregon Encyclopedia, it was “Constructed in 1856, connected productive agricultural communities in the Tualatin Valley to Portland. Paved with sixteen-foot, three-inch-thick wooden planks, the road offered an improved route from agricultural communities to Portland and its large market. Before the road’s construction, Tualatin farmers used Canyon Road, surfaced with rock and dirt and often nearly impassable in adverse weather conditions. Perhaps more important, planked roads allowed farmers to haul larger loads and at greater speed.”  Again, a story of inventiveness and boosterism pushing solutions to overcome perceived competition.  But, like many other solutions, it worked.

Canyon Road – before the plank road was installed – via PBOT | https://www.portlandoregon.gov/transportation/article/65584
Historical Marker located in Downtown Portland – www.waymarking.com

Lots more in the book so I’d recommend reading for more. The fact that ‘Stump-town’ prevailed had to do with a number of factors, but in the end it was probably the difficulties with navigability up river that solidified Portland as the head of navigation that sealed the deal, and the competitors either disappeared or shrunk as important but secondary cities within the region.  It’s a pretty fascinating read, and illuminates a part of the origin story not often covered in depth with other histories. It also adds a dimension (literally and figuratively) to the Willamette River and how it’s role in the development and continual prosperity of Portland included understanding not just a linear path in proximity to other resources, but how the configuration, depth, channelization, and profile, and how this creates barriers (as well as needs for modification including manipulation of shorelines and dredging) is an integral part of the story.  And, while veering at times towards the minutiae that bogs down many historical writings, Synder manages to stay on task and keep focus to the main story, the differentiation of these towns and the machinations that led to the current scenario. For anyone wanting a fuller understanding of the connections of cities and rivers, it’s a good case study.

HEADER:  Image comparing 1858 Portland to 1983 Portland – from Synder (inner leaf)

Seattle: Green Lake

Jason Kingcity, creeks, history, infrastructure, lakes, landscape, maps, parks, places, seattle, streams, washington2 Comments on Seattle: Green Lake

GREEN LAKE

I’ve been wanting to write about Seattle’s Green Lake, which is an addition to round out the post these small Seattle lake stories, and supplement the coverage of the larger lakes Union and Washington.  Green Lake has a special place for me, having lived close to it our entire time in Seattle, it’s been a place for fun, recreation, and even protest.  This really cool cross-time image from Then & Again shows the juxtaposition of the current with the old, and Green Lake spanning this , here with “…the majestic USS Macon gliding above Seattle’s Green Lake on August 22, 1934. The airship was traveling to its new station near San Francisco but took a leisurely route with time for a number of photo ops along the way.”

The history of the lake goes back to similar era to the smaller Bitter and Haller Lakes and the larger Lake Union and Washington, as mentioned on the Seattle Parks website: “Geologists say the Vashon Glacial Ice Sheet, which also formed Puget Sound and other area lakes, formed Green Lake 50,000 years ago. Dredgings of Green Lake have produced volcanic ash from an eruption of Glacier Peak that occurred about 6,700 years ago.”  The original lake was lowered 7-8 feet as park of early 20th Century Park improvements, and this 2014 article from Seattle Greenlaker  ‘Olmsted and the Origin of Green Lake Park‘ offers a good introduction to the modern incarnation of the park and this process. In that post, it links to this great map from 1907 from the National Association of Olmsted Parks, which shows the development of Green Lake Boulevard and the areas near the lake as part of this process, and the first evolution of Green Lake as part of the overall Park System.

Via Seattle Greenlaker – Caption: Courtesy Frederick Law Olmsted National Historic Site, National Park Service, 02714-21. Used with permission.

If you were, like me, temporarily disoriented for a bit, it helps to rotate this drawing so north is up, and the more familiar shapes and lobes of the lake become clearer. I’ve also highlighted the old shoreline (dashed line) and the new shoreline (solid line w/ blue fill), so it’s clearer where the drawdown left space for the trails and more usable open spaces, with amenities like Boat Houses and beaches.  The map also has information on the inlets and outlets, which I’ve highlighted below in a bit more detail for reference.

If you remember back a bit to my post of the exploration of Licton Springs, the sketch above is instructive, as this inlet #1 shows an inlet with a specific reference: the “Brook inlet box culvert 2’x6′ from Licton Min. Sprg.”, showing the subsurface connection to the spring that had been filled in previously but was still flowing from the north.  A Bathhouse is shown, which does not currently exist, but there is a swimming beach access which is still in place today, along with the splash play and some open spaces.

There is another pair of inlets #2 a bit further west, near Corliss Avenue, with a label “Inlet box 1 1/2′ x 2′” and near there is one with a note “Old Inlet 18″x18” wood box” which has a note “very little flow now – some sewerage seems to enter it now.”

The final inlet #3, is to the west, showing a connection to an “Inlet-brook, 6′ wide, 3″ deep” that comes from the northwest, running under the streetcar track in a culvert before coming into the lake.

On the opposite side of the Lake, heading southeast, there is the Outlet, which is marked #4, near 4th Avenue (a few blocks from the proposed boulevard which would become current day Ravenna Boulevard), which was the natural drainage of Green Lake into Ravenna Creek.  The reconfiguration of this zone and the shift of the shoreline created a larger area that now has sports fields, as well as a boat house and what is a popular beach access spot today.  This is also adjacent to the larger commercial zone which is the hub of activity adjacent to the lake.

 

These flows in and out correlates somewhat with the 1850s maps, but does closely align with the the USGS Topo Map from 1894 (see below) of Green Lake that identify three inlets from the north and the Ravenna outlet heading southeast – which does line up with the hydrology shown on these 1907 drawings.

Historical Topographic Map Collection

The formal plan as presented to the Seattle Parks Commission in 1910 mirrors much of the modern day condition, with the lowered water levels providing for perimeter trails, new plantings, a new island, some amenities such as beaches and boathouses, and the boulevard that rings the park (the western half of which was transformed with the routing of Aurora Boulevard (Highway 99).

 

And another version, this one from 1925 showing a more colorful version of this, “Proposed Plan for the Development of Green Lake” via the Seattle Municipal Archives Digital Collections.  This map dashes in the existing and proposed shorelines

I posted previously about the fun bathymetry maps, which included Green Lake. Another map I like is this one ‘Showing Depth Contours of Green Lake’ via the Seattle Municipal Archives Flickr page, which was done in 1938 as part of the Sanitary Survey by the WPA and featured in the “Report on Green Lake Algae Control”, which highlights perennial water quality issue . It reinforced that the lake is relatively shallow, with maximum depths no greater than 25′ feet on the western edge.  It also identifies some of the hydrology, including overflows, intake from the City resevoir, and to the west, a “permanent inlet from deep springs” which is a fascinating addition both due to it’s mystery and also it’s location, which is not shown on later maps but does appear in the 1950s map.

The history of the lake beyond that Olmsted plan has many facets and this Chronology is helpful to see the evolution.  There many tales (and History Link is a great resource here) that connect with Seattle history, such as in 1869, when David Denny “…kills what is likely the last elk in Seattle, near Green Lake. The elk weighs 630 pounds.”, or 1893 when a cold spell froze the lake completely over. including  of Hydroplane boat races in the 1930s, as well as a cleanup and redesign in 1936.  Lots of history and evolution I won’t get into here, as it’d take days, but my favorite lost part of the Green Lake history, which I only discovered by accident after visiting the park many times, is the Aqua Theater, built in 1950 on the south edge of the lake as a 5,500 seat performance venue, built in a little more than two months coinciding with the first of what is now an annual Sea Fair.

The venue hosted a range of events included the annual Aqua Follies, which included ” Water ballets, diving exhibitions and clown acts took place in the pool and on the stage behind. Many of the Aqua Follies mermaids were recruited in Minneapolis before June 1, and began practicing before Seattle area college students finished their school term.”  There were some notable music shows including 1969, which featured Led Zepplin and The Grateful Dead, which was one of the final shows at the venue before it was shut down.

The lake as a locus for recreation has stayed consistent over the years, with lots of walkers and joggers circling the 3 mile loop, along with water access via boat rentals, rowing, and use of adjacent open spaces sports fields, and even a Par 3 golf course.  Water quality issues are a perpeutual issue, but it doesn’t stop it from being the busiest park in the state of Washington, with over a million visitors a year.

Postcard circa 1950s – via Seattle Greenlaker – https://www.seattlegreenlaker.com/2017/06/green-lake-seattle/

HEADER: 1987 Aerial view of Green Lake – via Seattle Public Archives

Los Angeles River in Places Journal

Jason Kingcity, cultural, history, infrastructure, los angeles, maps, places, rivers, streams1 Comment on Los Angeles River in Places Journal

There is no shortage of articles written on the Los Angeles River, and I’ve covered some of the broader hidden hydrology work being done there in a previous post here, Beyond the LA River. I do however have a special affinity for the quality of scholarship on Places Journal, and an essay from May 2018, Willful Waters by USC’s Vittoria Di Palma and Alexander Robinson doesn’t disappoint.  This longform essay provides a great background and historical framework for anyone wanting to understand the river and it’s long and contentious history, as well as recent efforts of revitalization and reconnection.   It also comes with a great collection of historical imagery, which elevates our thinking out the past, present, and future river beyond the concrete ditch we tend to associate with the Los Angeles River.

I’d recommend the essay in its entirety, so I’ll just include a few snippets and comments I thought were compelling.  At first I was a bit confused about their allusion to the Thomas Cole series The Course of Empire in this context, but after some explanation, it’s an interesting framework in which to think about hidden hydrology, in terms of binaries such as life/death or sin/redemption, and as a “cyclical” journey from wildness through some sort of apex and back through destruction and desolation.  That narrative begins another cycle of  “revitalization” and “restoration”.  As the authors mention: ” If not for the galvanizing effect of a set of historical ideas — the belief that a site, destroyed and degraded by human industry, could be transformed into something evocative of its original condition through the power of “nature” guided by enlightened design — Los Angeles might have continued to forget that it ever was a river city.”

Los Angeles River in the early 20th century. [Security Pacific National Bank Collection, Los Angeles Public Library] – via Places
From a historical viewpoint, the idea of a soft, meandering river is hard to comprehend, but also is the origin of the city itself, supporting described as “…a stream trickling through a wide sandy bed.”  with “The river basin was overspread with springs, marshes, and shallow ponds (the very name of La Cienega Boulevard recalls the landscape’s original swampy character), and the debris from the mountains, deposited over centuries, created a layer of alluvial silt that in some areas lies 20,000 feet thick.”  This lack of structure meant lots of variability, which created unpredictable volatility during storms and “rain events” in which “…waters would rush down from the mountains, carrying gravel, silt, boulders, and trees.”  This factor would ultimately lead to the demise of the river itself.

Edward O.C. Ord and William Rich Hutton, Plan de la Ciudad de Los Angeles, 1849. [Los Angeles Public Library] – via Places
The other interesting idea was the concept of zanjas (irrigation ditches), in which there were miles built as shown in the above map:  Quoting John Shertzer Hitell, “The “zanjas, or irrigating ditches, run through the town in every direction.” They “vary in size, but most of them have a body of water three feet wide, and a foot deep, running at a speed of five miles an hour. They carry the water from the river to the gardens, and are absolutely necessary to secure the growth of the fences, vines, and many of the fruit trees.”   The image below showing how these canals were parts of the fabric of the city, enclosed but still open and visible, and enlivened the place, as mentioned in a reference to visitor Emma Adams, who commented on “…the soft murmuring of water as it glides through the zangas [sic] in some of the beautiful suburbs of the city is sweet music to the ear, a happy voice sending out joy and gladness. Wherever it is heard are sure to be seen verdure, flowers, and fruit.” In this way, the wild and unpredictable Los Angeles River was remade into a tractable urban water source.”

A canal, or zanja, on Figueroa Street, Los Angeles, ca. 1892. [Security Pacific National Bank, Los Angeles Public Library] – via Places
The manipulation of the river for utilitarian purposes followed many others before it, but foreshadowed larger interventions of control.  As the authors point out, “Los Angeles was shaped by a dual need to be at a safe distance from its unpredictable, flood-prone river, and in close contact with the river’s highly controlled, artificial reincarnation: the zanja madre and its network of ditches. This relationship between city, river, and ditch is illustrated by the map drawn up by Ord and the surveyor William Rich Hutton in 1849.  Agricultural lands occupy the area between the river and the city up on the Elysian Hills, with the southerly extension of both fields and city closely conforming to the route of the zanja madre. At the same time, the problematic nature of the flood-prone river is indicated by this inscription: “sand over which the River spreads its waters which are wasted.”  They go on to conclude that,“The zanja madre was, in other words, the Los Angeles River tamed and perfected by the improving force of human culture.”

Los Angeles River and the Fourth Street Bridge, 1931. [Herald-Examiner Collection, Los Angeles Public Library] – via Places
The river at the time was still natural in most places, but the canals soon depleted water levels, and created a trickle, which was the impetus for Mulhollad’s hyperbolic yet apt “Titanic Project to Give [the] City a River”.  After this change to more consistent supply, which included piped water from the Owens Valley some 233 miles away via aqueduct, the Los Angeles River only emerged during rain events, those “… “intermittent moments when it flowed with a violence that only intensified as galloping urbanization further hardened the city’s watershed. No longer valued as a natural resource, the ever-wilder river was now feared as a “predator,” able to roam and strike wherever it wished.”  This unpredictability and ensuing series of floods changed how people thought, thinking of the river as a “menace” and thus “perceptions of the river were changed irrevocably.”

Los Angeles River at Griffith Park, ca. 1898–1910. [California Historical Society Collection, USC] – via Places
The flooding was the final impetus to use new technology to “train” the “unruly dog” of a river, which seemed to be the particular bailiwick of the Army Corps of Engineers, and creating what amounted to a “water freeway” that we know today. In a few short years, the Corps“ …systematically transformed the Los Angeles River from an intermittent, meandering stream bordered by willows and cottonwoods into the concrete storm drain we see today.”  The authors point of the lesson of this today.

“In a textbook example of the triumph of reason and human agency over willful nature, the Corps created the ultimate Los Angeles fantasy of a river: a “water freeway.” That a drought-prone region would celebrate the speed at which water could be drained off to the ocean was an irony not then appreciated by either the military engineers or the public.”

Los Angeles River, San Fernando Valley, 1949. [Valley Times Collection, Los Angeles Public Library] – via Places
Perceptions changed in the 1970s, and the media, politicians, artists, and environmentalists rediscovered the river in a variety of ways.  A series of articles in the Los Angelse Times by Dick Roraback in 1985 entitled , ” “Up a Lazy River, Seeking the Source: Your Explorer Follows in the Footsteps of Gaspar de Portola.” provided a poignant story about the forgotten waterway, where “… the  author narrated his expedition from the river’s mouth to its putative source, chronicling the riparian habitats of its flora and fauna. Roraback’s picaresque tale turned the Los Angeles River into an incongruous backdrop for a cast of quirky urban characters (the blonde waitress, the salty sea dog, the mussel gatherer, the dog-walking divorcée) engaged in various activities, both licit and illicit, in the river and along its banks. By presenting the river as a neglected urban feature, the series brought its paradoxical charms to the attention of a large new audience, and, crucially, positioned the river as a postindustrial terra incognita — an attractive, slightly dangerous, and alluring urban landscape.”  

Further work by artists and others who started exploring the waterway, and ultimately went on to found the Friends of the Los Angeles River, started to think about the area in different ways, and through exploration,  began as a “…characterization of the river as a paradise lost, a place of discarded things and marginalized people, served to ignite a potent landscape imaginary. It also introduced the idea of the river as a space for environmental action. ”  This was aided by the Donald C. Tillman Water Reclamation Plant which added 20 million gallons of water per day, which had an effect of revitalizing the ecology of the river.  “This infusion of wastewater generated a verdant riverscape, which in turn, and somewhat improbably, inspired comparisons with the earlier paradise described by Father Crespí and sparked talk of a riparian rebirth. As the changing river increasingly evoked that lost, idealized waterway (particularly in the unpaved eleven-mile stretch known as the Glendale Narrows), it also inspired residents to take up walking, bike riding, bird watching, horseback riding, and even kayaking and canoeing…”

Los Angeles River, Glendale, with a bicycle path along the banks. [Creative Commons] – via Places
The kayaking wasn’t always for pleasure, as it was interesting to learn that a waterway has to be navigable to be eligible for the Clean Water Act, so a group of people in 2008 kayaked the length of the river to provide its navigability.  This meant that maybe “The fantasy of transforming the flood control channel into an arcadian waterway began to seem real. Kayaking has also become a powerful means of introducing visiting dignitaries to a vision of a newly green and civic river.”  The final part focuses on the long and winding road of Revitalization, including master plans in through the 1990s and more recently efforts by interdisciplinary design teams, government agencies, and non-profits.  These focused on ecology, hydrology, and recreation, amongst other factors, either as technical studies but more often than not art intervetions or designs.  One such example is the Piggyback Yard Feasibility Study (image below), done by Mia Lehrer + Associates, which “…integrates economic and hydraulic modeling with community design considerations, but such efforts such are still few in number and small in scale.”

Piggyback Yard Feasibility Study, Mia Lehrer + Associates. [Mia Lehrer + Associates] – via Places
The mix of design, art, tours, and other creative methods of interpretation, often using minimal intervention, hint at “…the remarkable activity generated by the Los Angeles River — which as yet remains largely a concrete channel bisected by a thin course of water — testifies to the profound power of the city’s desire for ecological redemption and urban rebirth, and to ways in which civic or even poetic acts have found purchase within a byzantine network of managerial interests.”

Endnote:

The post in Places referenced above is an excerpt from what sounds like a great book, River Cities, City Rivers published by Harvard University Press and edited by Thaisa Way.  Will track down and report on at some point on this book, but here’s a summary from the site:  “Cities have been built alongside rivers throughout history. These rivers can shape a city’s success or cause its destruction. At the same time, city-building reshapes rivers and their landscapes. Cities have harnessed, modified, and engineered rivers, altering ecologies and creating new landscapes in the process of urbanization. Rivers are also shaped by the development of cities as urban landscapes, just as the cities are shaped by their relationship to the river.  ¶  In the river city, the city river is a dynamic contributor to the urban landscape with its flow of urban economies, geographies, and cultures. Yet we have rarely given these urban landscapes their due. Building on emerging interest in the resilience of cities, this book and the original symposium consider river cities and city rivers to explore how histories have shaped the present and how they might inform our visions of the future.”

 

HEADER:  Los Angeles River, view from 6th Street Bridge, 2010. [Ian Rutherford] –  image via Places

 

 

 

 

Anne Whiston Spirn’s Legacy in Philadelphia

Jason Kingcase study, city, climate, creeks, cultural, design, ecology, history, infrastructure, landscape, maps, philadelphia, places, precedents, streams, watershedsLeave a Comment on Anne Whiston Spirn’s Legacy in Philadelphia

The most recent October issue of Landscape Architecture Magazine (LAM) has a great story on hidden hydrology inspiration Anne Whiston Spirn, FASLA, titled Where the Water Was, which highlights the “long arc” her work in West Philadelphia, namely the “water that flows beneath it.”

The aha moment is recounted in the article, the inspiration for the poem linked above “The Yellowwood and the Forgotten Creek“, as recounted in the article, she “was on her way to the supermarket, when she was stopped at a gaping hole where the street had caved in over the Mill Creek sewer.  “I looked down and saw this big, brown rushing river, and all this masonry that had fallen in. I thought, ‘My God, there are rivers underground. We’re walking on a river.'” (122)  Sprin’s work spans decades since that story in 1971, predominately around Mill Creek which was “buried in the brick sewer pipe in the 1880s”, morphing into the West Philadelphia Landscape Project (WPLP) [covered in brief on our post on Philadelphia here].  While I was inspired as a student and professional by her work on books like The Landscape of Landscape and The Granite Garden, her work on hidden streams was perhaps the most powerful for me, both as an object of study but more broadly to leverage this research into a vehicle for positive change.  As mentioned, the WPLP website “contains maps, historical documents, reports and studies.” including an updated interactive timeline, and some newer updated interactive mapping which is good to see, as much of the interface until late was a bit dated.

A long way from the preliminary maps in CAD as part of the early mapping in the late 1980s and early 1990s.  The sophistication and breadth of this work at the time is telling thought, and I remember seeing these for the first time in college and being amazed.  The article shows what many of us know, which is how much of what we take for granted in technology of mapping that’s available to us today, and how hard it was, physically and sometimes politically to get good information.  As Spirn mentions “You had to literally go out and field check.” (134)

The takeaways of this early work was to both connect the above ground with what was underground, both historically in predevelopment hydrology but also with sewer routing and burial of waterways.  As mentioned, the idea that is a constant with Spirn of “reading the landscape” was instilled as a way to understand the full picture of a site or district.  The connection of the physical features with the social is also evident as Spirn is quoted: “It’s a pattern of eastern old cities and across the U.S., where lower-income folks are living in the bottomlands… Many are literally called the Black Bottom.” (126)  From this analysis, the idea of mapping and using vacant lands was a way to solve the hydrological problems of flooding or sinkholes, but also to revitalize communities.

The Buried River from Anne Whiston Spirn on Vimeo.

How to do it was an issue, as recounted in the article, ideas where one thing, but changing minds into action was another.  McHarg’s Design With Nature inspired her writing The Granite Garden, not as an academic treatise, but rather “…to fill a void.  Scientific journals, historical documents, topographic maps, all sorts of materials contained a wealth of information for ecological designers, but no one had pulled it together in a comprehensive, understandable book that could guide designers as well as the public.”   (127)  This book influences generations of landscape architects in many ways beyond merely historical ecology, but in how we think and communicate.  For the project itself, Adam Levine (who is the mind behind the PhillyH20 project which i documented previously) found the 19th Century maps “that showed Mill Creek and its tributaries before the land was developed. Spirn’s students digitized those surveys and overlaid them on the city’s topographic maps, finally getting an accurate depth of fill along the floodplain. “We found it’s buried up to 40 feet in some areas…”” (134)

The actions were part of this research as well, and many interesting strategies came from the Vacant Lands report (see here), as well as a number of other projects, many of which took a long time to become reality, or came with ups and downs of poor implementation or.  The successes came, owing to the persistence of Spirn and her local compatriots in West Philadelphia, summed up in the article simply:

“Change is a bit like a buried creek. It’s hard to remember its origins. Its many branchings are invisible.” (137)

The legacy locally is a series of activists still working on landscape and community building.  Beyond that, there’s an army of landscape architects inspired by this project and her writings, and her life-long spirit of advocacy.  A great homage to a wonderful teacher and landscape hero.  Lots of great info in the article – which unfortunately isn’t available digitally at this time.

HEADER:  Snapshot of Interactive Map of Mill Creek – via