The human-scale reawakening of America's urban parks

ST. LOUIS — City sponsors were so nervous about the unveiling of their new downtown park this summer that they arranged for an ice-cream truck to park at the site on opening day, just to attract passers-by.

They needn't have bothered. Citygarden, just west of the famed Gateway Arch on the Mississippi River, has drawn crowds — a cross-section of the city and region's population — from its opening hour onward.

The attractions include a cornucopia of trees, contemporary sculpture, a 180-foot rectangular basin with a six-foot waterfall, a state-of-the-art "spray plaza," a state-of-the-art LED video wall displaying art and movies, plus a high-quality cafe overlooking the combined attractions.

What this new park doesn't have are any formal entrances or barriers to separate its manicured paths and quiet spaces from the surrounding city streets. Richard Fleming, president of the St. Louis Regional Chamber and Growth Association, suggests it's an "intimate version of Millennium Park," the Chicago lakeside extravaganza opened in 2004.

For St. Louis, for years so forsaken its downtown had the feel of a big and mostly empty living room, the public's warm embrace of Citygarden caps a remarkable comeback decade that has seen the center city draw 5,000 residents and more than $4 billion in new investment.

But there's no single formula for new parks. Just climb up a short flight of stairs to the newly opened "High Line" park on Manhattan's West Side. You'll find clusters of families and couples strolling, chatting, sipping lemonade and nibbling on waffles or sandwiches along what for years constituted a desolate and weed-choked stretch of abandoned elevated freight-railroad track.

Now, from the meandering concrete walkways of this sliver of protected park space in the sky, the visitor catches stunning views of the Hudson, the Statue of Liberty, Midtown and Wall Street skyscrapers, plus amazingly intimate glimpses into the forbidden interiors of nearby apartments, stately town houses, and offices.

Or check auto-happy, sprawling Houston. Two-term Mayor Bill White has made parks a top priority. Lead example: Discovery Green, 12 once-industrial acres on the east side of downtown. Among its features: a shaded walkway featuring 100-year-old oak trees, thematic gardens with native Texas plants, birds and butterflies, fountains and spacious green lawns, a model boat basin, a children's stage, Wi-Fi everywhere, and two restaurants. Plus lots of people-watching.

Indeed, if there were ever a bonanza decade for America's parks, this is surely it. Add stunning new parks in Boston, Atlanta, Cincinnati, Denver and Santa Fe, plus the success of conservancies in revamping great old parks in such cities as Pittsburgh, Brooklyn and San Francisco.

And by good fortune, there's a skilled chronicler tracking and analyzing the wave — Peter Harnik, parks expert for the Trust for Public Land and author of a soon-to-be-published Island Press book.

For almost a half century, Harnik notes, the reigning American park model was Disneyland — "corporate, programmed, extravagant, rural, flawless and electrifying." City parks "began grinding down relentlessly everywhere" as people realized "the park experience could be sanitized, social classes could be segregated."

So why the big turnaround now? Partly it's the "wow" in the new city parks — fascinating gardens, theaters, concerts, fountains, ice skating. That's why, says Harnik, the 2004 opening of the Millennium Park in Chicago had the biggest impact on the American parkland scene since New York's great Central Park opened in 1873.

But Harnik insists there's more to the revival — that we're seeing a revival of factors "ignored in the din of massive suburbanization and sprawl — human scale, walkability, efficiency, and respect for ecological principles and democratic ideals." Or put another way, we're reawakening to parks' ultimate value: "an interplay — a conversation — between people and nature."

And as if that's not enough, new and revived parks bring huge associated benefits. The parks embellish cities' reputations and become "must see" destinations for tourists. And they turn into meeting places not just for city residents, but magnets for visitors from across their metro areas.

It's true, new parks can be tremendously expensive. Millennium Park's price tag — borne jointly by the city of Chicago and private donors — was close to a half-billion dollars.

But, insists Harnik, parks make huge financial sense. Property values close to new park locations rise vigorously — a development recognized soon after Central Park's opening in the 19th century and now an established factor of urban economics.

But there's more. Citizens get free recreation and services. Tourism booms. And government gains from parks through stormwater management, air-pollution control, cooling of the urban "heat-island" effect, and contributions by volunteers.

Harnik added all those up for Philadelphia's park system, ranging from the city's massive Fairmount Park and Independence National Historical Park to neighborhood gardens. The total, he calculated: $1.9 billion a year. Mayor Michael Nutter concurred: "A well-run, properly funded and focused park system is priceless."

Neal Peirce's column appears regularly on editorial pages of The Times. His e-mail address is nrp@citistates.com