Monday, July 2, 2007

Developers await verdict on planned residential units

Key zoning report will outline impact on city’s eastern areas

Robert Selna, Chronicle Staff Writer; Monday, July 2, 2007

Scores of developers with residential projects pending on San Francisco’s east side will learn more this week about whether they will someday be allowed to build thousands of new apartments and condominiums.

 

More than a year after the Board of Supervisors and planning officials put an abrupt halt to the development plans, the city cleared for release on Saturday a draft report examining how zoning changes across 2,200 acres in four South of Market neighborhoods could affect the traffic, noise, pollution, jobs and housing supply in the area.

Together, the neighborhoods — the Mission, Showplace Square/Potrero Hill, East SoMa and Central Waterfront — represent much of the heart of San Francisco’s industrial past but also opportunities for new construction of market-rate and affordably priced condominiums and apartments.

And the 600-page draft Eastern Neighborhoods Environmental Impact Report — which developers, activists and politicians will start thumbing through this week — is expected to greatly influence the debate about how much land should be preserved for light industry and how much should be opened up for new housing development.

“Older cities like San Francisco have to decide how they will transform themselves, and this is a prime example of that,” said Supervisor Jake McGoldrick, a member of the board’s Land Use Committee. “There’s not much opportunity to build on the west side of town, and things have been changing on the east side for some time … but we have not had any comprehensive planning there.”

Neighborhood advocates, who blanched when live-work lofts replaced industrial land in the late 1990s, want zoning changes that will protect blue-collar jobs and increase the supply of affordable housing for working-class San Franciscans.

They want land dedicated exclusively for what the San Francisco Planning Department calls production, distribution and repair uses, and they argue that developers should pay more than the standard city fees for affordable housing, parks, libraries, transportation and other city services.

Developers see the neighborhoods’ potential for profitable residential construction that helps alleviate the city’s overall housing shortage. They are frustrated because they have paid taxes, mortgages and insurance on land with an uncertain economic future while waiting for proposed zoning changes from the city.

The builders expect that the draft report will tell them how the city believes their property should be zoned — whether it can be used to construct housing, or whether it must be preserved for industrial space, or a little of both.

In April 2006, when a Mission District condo development came before the board, the supervisors made a ruling that not only brought that particular project at 2660 Harrison St. to a standstill, but also put numerous other projects into bureaucratic limbo.

The supervisors called for an extensive evaluation of not only the project’s impact on traffic and the immediate physical environment, but also on blue-collar employment and affordable housing in the greater area.

City planners interpreted the order to apply to any development proposal for land in the eastern neighborhoods that might displace an existing or potential industrial use — there were about 53 projects in the pipeline at the time. Planners decided to initiate the broad environmental impact report introduced in draft form this weekend.

Builders say mounting costs associated with the delay, including the climbing price of materials and labor, mean that buyers and renters of the new housing will pay more, if the projects are ever built. Some developers said they decided to abandon projects because they became financially infeasible over time.

“All of us are dying to see this planning process complete — it’s an embarrassment and an outrage that it’s taken this long,” said Michael Yarne, development director at Martin Building Co. in San Francisco, which has seen two projects stalled by the city.

The city’s environmental report analyzes three zoning options, which vary by the amount of industrial-zoned land that could be converted for housing and mixed commercial uses.

In each option, the amount of land dedicated to light industry is expected to decrease. The middle of the three choices would see an increase of 7,385 residences and a decline of more than 2 million square feet zoned for production, distribution and repair.

However, unlike current rules, in which housing and commercial developers can obtain special permission to build on industrial land, the zoning would create areas where production, distribution and repair property would be protected and housing would be banned.

In addition to griping about the slow planning process, developers complain about additional fees that might be charged to pay for transportation, parks and other infrastructure needed to support the new development.

The Planning Department has proposed that developers pay $13 for each square foot of new residential development and $4 for each square foot of new commercial development or a conversion from industrial to commercial space. A separate departmental study, due out later this summer, will provide more detail about the fees.

In 2005, the Board of Supervisors imposed a $25 per-square-foot fee on developers of 2,200 new market-rate condominiums on Rincon Hill.

“All developers want is some certainty,” said Brett Gladstone, a lawyer who represents a developer with two projects pending in the eastern neighborhoods. “When the game changes midstream, they can lose their shirt.”

Neighborhood advocates who want to protect the land for blue-collar jobs — in industries such as auto and furniture repair, printing, storage, warehousing and shipping — say the city needs to proceed cautiously to avoid a mass socioeconomic shift in the area and maintain an important segment of the city’s economy.

They point to Planning Department estimates that 53,000 people work in production, distribution and repair facilities in San Francisco and that 70 percent of those workers live in the city.

The dot-com boom cost the neighborhoods a big chunk of industrial space, they note, with digital firms converting warehouses into office buildings and nearly 2000 live-work lofts taking over former industrial sites. Loft developers also escaped paying fees typically applied to new residential construction, because the city did not define the lofts as residential.

“We want to retain the character of those neighborhoods as mixed-use with a variety of work and activities and affordable housing for working-class people,” said community activist Calvin Welch. “When you talk about restricting production and distribution sites and expanding high-density condominiums, you’re talking about replacing one population with another.”

Welch said developers should expect to pay added fees because the cumulative impact of all the new housing will place a strain on infrastructure and police, fire and other city services.

City planners started paying attention to the eastern neighborhoods back in 2002, when it became clear that developers were gravitating to the area.

But it wasn’t until housing advocates challenged a Planning Commission decision on the 2660 Harrison St. project that the comprehensive zoning study got under way in earnest.

The supervisors voted 8-2 to require more study, and days later, the Planning Department announced the decision would be applied to all “similarly situated projects.”

Although completion of the draft report — officially released Saturday — has been much anticipated, a final draft will require public hearings and approval by both the Planning Commission and the Board of Supervisors.

City Planning Director Dean Macris said he hopes the report will be presented to the board by January, but others — developers in particular — believe it will take much longer.

E-mail Robert Selna at rselna@sfchronicle.com.

Posted by M at 22:25:47 | Permalink | No Comments »

Ambiance Of Metro Might Take Sharp Turn

By Lena H. Sun; Washington Post Staff Writer; Monday, July 2, 2007; A01

Metro’s new general manager wants to get rid of the carpet in trains, brighten the lighting in stations and increase advertising in stations, trains and buses.

In many places, such mundane changes would be met with a shrug.

But this is the Washington area Metro, which has long prided itself on a dignified ambiance that is supposed to make it better than the average commuter system.

The changes are intended to help make the nation’s second-busiest subway more modern and functional. As the system struggles to keep pace with growing demand, Metro’s new top executive, John B. Catoe Jr., wants to focus the agency’s limited resources toward moving people to and from work and away from some costly features that gave the subway a distinctive, first-class feel when it opened 31 years ago.

With ridership continuing to swell, the debate over those trade-offs is sharpening.

“We need to be open to change and willing to do some things differently while at the same time being mindful of the coherence that results from the original concept,” said Chris Zimmerman, a Metro vice chairman who has served on the board for nine years.

“When the system opened, the idea was, ‘How do we get people in suits and ties to get out of their nice cars and get on a train?’ ” he said. “Now we have 800,000 passengers showing up on a weekday.”

Record numbers are taking the train. Four of Metro’s all-time top 10 ridership days took place in June. On June 22, the night of a Washington Nationals baseball game, evening ridership between 7 p.m. and 3 a.m. was the largest in agency history.

Change, Catoe says, is inevitable, and he describes these as cosmetic. Dim stations need brighter, energy-efficient lighting. More advertising could generate much-needed revenue. Eliminating carpet would save money and allow mechanics to fix train wheels and brakes. High-quality art at station entrances and on walls would give passengers an experience beyond the ride itself. Dan Tangherlini, formerly Metro’s interim general manager, started the push for brighter lights and no carpet last year.

No one is planning to alter the most distinctive feature of the system: the vaulted arches in the underground stations.

“We won’t take away any of the majesty,” Catoe said in an interview, calling the design of the stations “timeless and brilliant.”

Still, change comes slowly to Metro, which several years ago hired a consultant and debated at length before deciding to alter the color scheme inside the rail cars.

“I’ll probably run into trouble with the ’stewards of the system,’ ” Catoe noted.

Such stewards worry that adjustments, however minor, have the potential to alter Metro’s identity. Unlike commercial transit systems that cashed in on every square foot of rentable space, or utilitarian ones that gave “passing notice to amenities,” the Washington Metro was built as something different, wrote Metro architect Harry Weese.

As part of that approach, “a certain dignity and even elegance is sought after” to raise the image of mass transit, he noted. “In Washington, since this is the system owned by all the people of the United States, it is particularly important that no stigma of cheapness or of the bargain basement be attached to it. With this in mind, the designers of the system are working to capitalize on the best practice and produce something that is the highest state of the art.”

Zachary M. Schrag, who wrote “The Great Society Subway: A History of the Washington Metro,” said those at Metro haven’t always been aware of its architectural significance. “It’s one of the three great works of public architecture in Washington since World War II,” he said, along with the National Gallery’s East Wing and Dulles International Airport.

Even changing the color of the blinking platform edge lights at Metro Center from white to red was a “massive departure from the landmark architectural design,” Schrag said. Metro is testing different-colored light-emitting diode bulbs that are more energy-efficient. Red means stop, and Metro wants to see whether that will keep riders from getting too close to the platform edge.

A few riders have noticed the change. “The red ones are ugly,” said Mary Burke, who rides the Green and Red lines. “They look like the gates of Hell.”

Many riders, while appreciative of Metro’s unique architecture, say their priority is reliability. “It’s a Cadillac system, and that’s part of the problem,” said Fred Marinucci, a Red Line commuter for 20 years. “It’s hard to maintain a Cadillac system.”

Still, the more time riders have spent on the New York subway, the more they appreciate everything that makes the Washington Metro different.

In New York, “it’s not a question of red lights or white lights at the platform,” Schrag said. “It’s a question of how much gum you’re standing in.”

In Washington, carpet was a luxurious touch designed to lure suburbanites out of their cars. Carpet was supposed to signal to people that better behavior was expected, that “this is a nice train and don’t mess it up,” Schrag said.

But over time, the carpet itself has gotten messed up. In the winter, people track in salt and mud; in the summer, the humidity breeds mold “and little things grow in there, and it doesn’t smell so good,” Catoe said.

Metro will be testing different kinds of nonskid flooring this summer. Switching from carpet saves money because vinyl, for example, is easier to clean and doesn’t need to be replaced as often. Carpet, on the other hand, is vacuumed once a week, shampooed every two months and replaced every five years; it costs Metro $5,200 to replace carpet in one car, officials have said. Two weeks ago, Catoe requested that carpet no longer be installed in older rail cars that are being overhauled. Riders will start seeing the transition in the fall, he said.

Down the road, Metro might switch from solid-colored train seats to a single multi-colored design to save money. Dave Kubicek, the new chief mechanical officer in charge of rail car engineering, design and maintenance, said it doesn’t make sense for Metro to stock more than 90 seat configurations in different colors. Newer cars have cushions in burgundy, blue and sand; the older cars have orange and brown.

Catoe’s effort to expand advertising, which the board approved Thursday, is even more controversial. He wants to see banners inside stations, graphics on the floors, and ads on blank platform pylons, rail car ceilings and Metro’s Web site.

How much advertising to allow has so divided the Riders’ Advisory Council that the group hasn’t been able to agree on a position, said Chairman Michael Snyder. “A lot of people think Metro is a shrine or monument that shouldn’t be plastered with advertisements,” he said. Others think that as long as advertising is controlled, they would rather see more advertising than higher fares.

The Metro board, said member Peter Benjamin, want to minimize intrusion into a system “of beautiful lines and beautiful style.” He was assured by Catoe at Thursday’s meeting that the advertising could be changed if board members did not like it.

Former Metro board member Cleatus Barnett, 81, who served for 32 years, fought hard to preserve Metro’s aesthetics. He was so loyal to the original color scheme of the rail cars — orange, gold and brown — that when Metro bought new cars with an updated interior of red, white and blue, one seat in the rear of each new car was upholstered in yellow in deference to Barnett.

In an interview from Pensacola, Fla, where he retired to several years ago, Barnett warned against too much advertising. Metro shouldn’t “look so gaudy you want to turn your head away,” he said.

In the past, Metro has found compromises that took note of design. During the late 1990s, the board, after a long debate, chose more expensive textured brick-red ceramic tile instead of yellow plastic bumpy strips to give warning underfoot to blind riders that they were near platform edges. The strips were rejected in part because some board members thought they would spoil the design. They would have been placed over Metro’s signature granite edge.

“I don’t think Metro should be frozen in time,” Schrag said. “I just think that in making these decisions, respect for the original design should be one of the factors.”

Posted by M at 19:44:11 | Permalink | No Comments »

Largely Alone, Pioneers Reclaim New Orleans

Michael Nagle for The New York Times

Lloyd Gonzalez stands in the front yard of the house he rebuilt at 4419 Annette Street in the Gentilly neighborhood. He still has a FEMA trailer in his yard.

By ADAM NOSSITER Published: July 2, 2007

NEW ORLEANS, July 1 — The sound of hammers and saws. New green grass. A few freshly painted facades. Birdsong piping from a young tree.

A Block Is Home to Only a Few The 1800 block of Brutus Street, in the Gentilly section of New Orleans, is, like many blocks, a microcosm of the fragmentary efforts to repopulate the city’s working-class neighborhoods. 4740 Annette Street, at the corner of Brutus Street. Before Hurricane Katrina the home was occupied by an elderly brother and sister; the brother has died, the sister left and sold the house. The new owner put on a roof and gutted the interior, and is thought to be waiting for federal money. The house is empty.

Fred R. Conrad/The New York Times
1928 Brutus Street The owner, Loma-Linda Boutney, a retired school teacher, is standing outside the FEMA trailer she occupies. She has gutted her house and recently received her grant from the Road Home program to begin reconstruction work in July.
Fred R. Conrad/The New York Times
1920 Brutus Street Evelyn Davis, the elderly former occupant, moved in with her daughter in Kenner, La., after Hurricane Katrina and does not plan to return. Her grandson has gutted the house and plans to move in after he gets a Road Home grant. The house is empty.
Fred R. Conrad/The New York Times
1916 Brutus Street The owner, Barbara Adams, a retired schoolteacher shown picking up her mail, moved back last August, the first on the block to return after Hurricane Katrina. She used insurance proceeds and her retirement fund to rebuild, and now lives in the house with her 92-year-old mother.

Fred R. Conrad/The New York Times
1908 Brutus Street The owner, Stacy Bastian, a health professional who sells surgical supplies, returned to her house in May. She is waiting for FEMA to pick up the trailer in front of her home.

Fred R. Conrad/The New York Times
1904 Brutus Street The owners, Kelan Barton, a pharmacist, and his wife, Dr. Lasandra Barton, moved to Slidell, La., after Hurricane Katrina. They have gutted the house and are trying to reconstruct it with the hope of renting it out or selling, but have encountered problems with contractors and receiving their government grants.

This is the Gentilly neighborhood today, once a backbone of New Orleans and all but given up for dead less than a year ago after flooding from Hurricane Katrina turned it brown and gray and silent in 2005.

Gentilly, home to about 47,000 people before the storm and a thin fraction of that now, is not dead. Haltingly, in disconnected pockets, this eight-square-mile quadrant north of the historic districts that line the Mississippi River is limping back to life, thanks to the struggles of its most determined former residents.

But they have had to do so largely on their own, because help from government at any level has been minimal, in their accounts. In recent weeks, some residents have reported getting checks from the state’s Road Home rebuilding program, but four-fifths of applicants have not.

Each block still contains only a handful of occupied houses. But a beachhead has been established here, a residential area critical to this city’s survival and one that before the storm was dominated by black homeowners, professionals and multigenerational citizens of New Orleans.

A similar story is unfolding in two other once-flooded family-centered neighborhoods, neither of them flashy but both equally important to this city’s future: Broadmoor, in central New Orleans, and Lakeview, in the northwestern corner, show signs of life here and there along the wounded streets. Neighbors, encouraged by the earliest post-Katrina pioneers, are moving back in.

All over the city, a giant slow-motion reconstruction project is taking place. It is unplanned, fragmentary and for the isolated individuals carrying it out, often overwhelming. Those with the fortitude to persevere — and only the hardiest even try — must battle the hopelessness brought on by a continuing sense of abandonment.

The selection process has been Darwinian, with a combination of drive, tenacity, luck and savings seeing the neo-colonizers through. New Sheetrock glimpsed through a window, often as not, was bought with scraped-together savings.

“I’m just keeping my head down,” said Albert Felton, 76, a retired mechanic who has exhausted his resources on his frame house on Brutus Street in Gentilly, near one of the levee breaks. He has done most of the Sheetrocking, painting and sanding alone, and the task remains unfinished. “You don’t see contractors out here,” Mr. Felton said. “We can’t afford them.”

Reluctantly, he admitted that discouragement sometimes got the better of him: “Some mornings, I just sit on the steps for two hours, and I go right back to Baton Rouge.” He is living in that city with his ailing wife and commuting over an hour each way to do the work on his house in Gentilly.

Essential residential New Orleans neighborhoods like Gentilly and Broadmoor, with their bungalows, Arts-and-Crafts and ranch-style houses, grew with the city over the course of the 20th century; their loss seemed to presage an abrupt reversion to the narrow port town along the river of the 1800s. Now, taken together, the rebuilding activity in the once-flooded neighborhoods points to a more hopeful future than might have been thought possible a year ago.

Statistics — fragmentary and loosely bandied about by civic boosters here — nonetheless support the idea of tentative rebirth. In Gentilly, a door-to-door survey by a Dartmouth College professor this spring found 31 percent of homes either renovated or occupied, and an additional 57 percent gutted or under construction. That meant that only 12 percent of the houses in the neighborhood had been abandoned; a year ago, block after block appeared forsaken and silent.

A few thousand hammers and nails, of course, go only so far in a city that remains stricken nearly two years after the Katrina floodwaters. With so many houses still empty, the effect of the rebuilding effort in much of New Orleans resembles a giant piece of Swiss cheese, with big gaps in settlement connected by thin strands of inhabitants. Though neighborhoods are shells of what they were, they have not disappeared.

At the same time, whole blocks in the Central Business District remain lifeless. The poorest districts, with tens of thousands of their inhabitants still stuck outside New Orleans, seem abandoned. The downtown complex of hospitals is moribund, as officials squabble over how to bring it back and as upstate legislators have plotted its relocation to another city.

The city’s port, the historic mainstay of the New Orleans economy, is years behind those in neighboring states in improvements, and shippers are complaining. The murder rate, the nation’s highest, is set to outpace last year’s, and the school system has barely begun to recover. Nearly a third of residents polled in a University of New Orleans survey released last month said it was very or somewhat likely they would leave the city in the next two years; the figure has dropped only slightly since last fall.

Still, the citizen-driven rebound from conditions a year ago is palpable. The old neighborhoods that stayed dry along the river, including the French Quarter, are lively. Restaurants are reopening, music spills from bars and coffeehouses, and tourists are returning in large numbers.

A Tentative Rebirth

The geographic boundaries of New Orleans have not shrunk. Residents have returned to virtually every part of the city in significant numbers, with the exception of the northern part of the Lower Ninth Ward.

Maps of mail deliveries, prepared by the Greater New Orleans Community Data Center, a local nonprofit group, show the strength of the revival. Last August, for instance, an insignificant number of households in the flooded areas were receiving mail. A map compiled this spring showed that postal customers per square mile in those neighborhoods had multiplied into the low thousands. If the overall population has also increased to about 62 percent of the pre-Katrina count — from 49.5 percent last July, as postal deliveries have — that means the city’s current population may be up to 250,000 to 260,000.

It is a long way from the prestorm population of 450,000, but the effect of the new residents is clear in block after block.

“All it would take would be a handful of people to maintain the neighborhood,” said Richard Campanella, an urban geographer at Tulane University — and this is what is happening.

Today, even on streets devoid of residents, most houses appear gutted, their sodden Sheetrock and floors ripped out in anticipation of renovation, and many are being worked on. Trailers jut from driveways. In Broadmoor, homes are literally up in the air — raised on concrete pilings to comply with federal flood insurance regulations — and there is new landscaping everywhere.

In Gentilly, neighbors can occasionally be seen greeting one another across the nearly treeless streets where the magnolias were felled by Hurricane Katrina. These residents are visibly proud to have made a comeback.

The homeowners themselves — those who have laboriously reclaimed their lives in Gentilly and elsewhere around the city — have no doubt that their neighborhoods are alive. “It’s going to come back, going to come back spotty,” said Robert Morrison, a 34-year-old film industry worker in the energetic final stages of fixing up his trim two-story cottage on Western Street. “A spot here, and a spot there,” Mr. Morrison said.

Mr. Felton said the change was recent. “You couldn’t see nobody, a year ago,” he said. “A year ago, you couldn’t find people.”

The optimism on the ground is measured, however, and for good reason. It is unclear how many people are actually living in Gentilly: a renovated home does not mean an inhabited one, and one possible conclusion from the Dartmouth survey, by Professor Quintus R. Jett, is that the area contains less than a third of its former inhabitants.

Gregory C. Rigamer, a local consultant who specializes in demographic estimates for government clients, puts the population in the Gentilly ZIP code at 37 percent of its prestorm total, with similar figures for Broadmoor and Lakeview. In the devastated ZIP codes of New Orleans East, Mr. Rigamer estimates the current population at just under one-third its level before Katrina.

At nights and on weekends, even blocks clearly on the rebound are silent, which suggests many of the rebuilt houses remain unoccupied. Crime, surprisingly, has stayed largely in the poor neighborhoods that did not flood as badly.

“It’s still really quiet,” said Sherry Snyder, a nurse who has rebuilt her house in Broadmoor. “It’s really kind of strange.”

Government’s Erratic Course

The debate about whether New Orleans should consciously try to reduce its boundaries, however, seems to be over. When Mayor C. Ray Nagin repeated his resistance to shrinking the city’s footprint in his annual State of the City speech in May, he drew approving roars and applause.

“Don’t talk to me about, ‘We need to be smaller,’ ” the mayor said. “That’s like somebody breaking into your house, and they mess up your whole house, and then you get a judgment that says, all we’re going to do is fix up the living room and the bathroom because that’s all you need. We want the whole city fixed.”

But the course the mayor has set has been erratic, with a belated $1.1 billion rebuilding plan still unfinanced nearly three months after it was unveiled. Its author, Edward J. Blakely, a specialist brought in by Mayor Nagin to great fanfare late last year, has been bickering with a city agency over who is to oversee the plan’s enactment — assuming money is eventually found for it.

Meanwhile, the state has discovered it will not have enough money for its federally financed $7.5 billion homeowners’ aid program, Road Home, despite earlier assurances that it would, and even though only about one in five applicants — most of them entitled to it — have actually received money.

Mr. Felton, the retired mechanic, smiled slowly and bent his index figure and thumb into a zero when asked how much he had received. The story was similar up and down Gentilly and in Broadmoor, though checks have begun to trickle in over the last few weeks.

When government has not been an obstacle to the rebuilders, it has rarely been a help.

FEMA didn’t help me,” said Oscar Lewis, a 79-year-old retired merchant seaman who ran out of money trying to rebuild his brick two-story house in Gentilly. He waited month after month for a Road Home check. “I had to work and scrape on my own,” Mr. Lewis said. Finally, a few weeks ago, after months of work, he received a $76,000 check.

On Their Own

Harry Russell’s freshly painted white-columned home on Marigny Street is a shiny beacon of normalcy. Mr. Russell, who came back before his neighbors, emphasized that he knew his way around government, having worked at City Hall as director of the mayor’s office of health policy.

“For me, part of my sanity is my background,” he said.

Now a professor of social work at Southern University of New Orleans, Mr. Russell used a combination of savings, insurance money and a Small Business Administration loan to restore his house. When almost all the work was done, he received about $80,000 from Road Home a week ago. “That kind of picks us up and puts us back where we were,” he said.

Closer to the spot where the levee breached, on a street still dotted with empty houses, Oliver Delacroix, 86 and sturdy, emphasized two pieces of good fortune: his eight children, who helped him bring his trim little cottage back to life, and his background as a bricklayer and mason, which allowed him to picture the reconstructed house, even when it was in ruins.

“Oh, I knew it could be done,” he said. “I knew very well.”

Posted by M at 18:37:17 | Permalink | No Comments »