This is the plaza of the Seagram Building in New York, late morning.
For the timelapse camera, we were testing a hypothesis: the sun, we were pretty sure,
would be the chief factor in determining where people would sit or not sit.
Now, just after twelve, they begin to sit right where the sun is.
I was enormously pleased. What a perfectly splendid correlation!
It was quite misleading as we were to see later, but it was a very encouraging way to start.
We were studying the Seagram Plaza because it was one of the most popular.
Many people didn't think that it would be, but it was,
and we wanted to find out why.
Our research group, the Street Life Project, had been observing other kinds of city spaces.
One was a block off 101st St. in East Harlem.
We didn't know it at the time, but almost every factor that later we were to find
was important for a city space, we could have found out right here.
The clues were right under our noses.
We had studied play areas such as this adventure playground.
It was very good one, too. Wonderfully messy, lots of dirt and mud,
and the water that kids loved so much.
Sometimes it was crowded, and this was a problem that we were very interested in,
because we had started out with great concern over the problem of urban overcrowding.
But, the more we studied this play area and other play areas,
the more we began to realize that the great problem of these spaces
is not overuse, but under use.
Even this playground - a very good one - on a day like now,
which is a beautiful day in July, sometimes is almost completely empty
except for the play director.
When we looked at the center of the city, we found under use was even more apparent.
Most office building plazas were empty most of the time, even at lunch on a beautiful day.
Now, it wasn't meant to be that way.
The city had been giving bonuses - floor space bonuses - to builders for providing plazas.
If the builders did, they could add more floors to their building.
And, so they did.
They built the extra floors, and got all that extra money,
and in return, they gave these empty spaces.
In other cities, whether through the bonus provision or not,
builders seemed to come up with the same kind of dreary, empty spaces.
But, some plazas had lots of people, like the Seagram.
Suppose we could find out what it was that made the good ones work, and the others not.
We put the matter to the planning commission.
They said if we could nail down the answers - back them up with facts -
they would draw up a new zoning resolution for open spaces.
So, we went to work.
We set up cameras for time-lapse coverage of a cross-section of spaces -
about fourteen plazas and three small parks.
But, our main technique was simple, direct observation.
We made up maps for each of the spaces and then we would go around periodically,
and map where the people sat, what they were doing,
what the time of day was, the temperature, and so on.
And, it doesn't take much longer to do this than to make a simple headcount.
But, as you build up the record, a number of patterns begin to appear.
The first thing that strikes you is the extraordinary diversity of activity -
people reading, eating, talking, playing games.
The sociability is really rather important and we found that the proportion of
people in groups can tell you a number of things.
The most used plazas tend to have a higher proportion of people
in twos and threes than the less successful ones.
But, the most sociable plazas also have, in absolute numbers,
the greatest number of individuals.
A busy place, for some reason, seems to be the most congenial kind of place
if you wanna be alone, or talk, as this man is, to onseself.
The number one activity is people looking at other people.
But, it is a point that is overlooked in many, many designs.
Here are the girl watchers! Now, they are a bit disdainful.
Sort of looking down their nose as though the girls weren't quite worthy of their talents.
But it's all machismo. We have never, ever seen a girl watcher make a pass at a girl.
We've seen very few others do that for that matter.
For some reason, there isn't much mixing.
Those two blondes might as well be several miles away for all the ostensible
attention that's going to be paid to them.
Note the two men circling in the background.
This is a rather characteristic pattern; we call it the 'traveling conversation',
and you will see them move in sort of an orbit, ever circling right out in front of the plaza.
Lovers. If you want to see the lovers, people told us, look in the back.
We did. They weren't there. They're out front.
Most of the lovers that we spotted at Seagrams were usually to be found
in the middle of the pool ledge, one side or the other - the most conspicuous of spots.
This fellow's gonna look at his watch to see if he can spare a bit more time.
Another fine place is the corner.
There's usually an audience there and one gets the feeling that the actors
don't mind this in the slightest.
Let's look now at some of the physical features and how they affect use.
Notice the narrow strip between the pool and the ledge.
The architects purposely made it narrow.
They didn't want people to be tempted to use the ledge and perhaps fall off.
They didn't make it quite narrow enough; one can negotiate it.
A little bit of trouble for older people, which it tends to filter out.
But, the younger people find it a definite challenge.
The ledge has become one of the most popular of spots
and attracts a rather raffish element.
At peak times, the front ledge is the one most heavily used,
especially by younger people who tend to the front.
These elegantly simple steps are a very important feature.
They're low, and they're easy. They're easy to go up and down.
They're also easy to sit on, and the corner has a right angle that's fine for groups.
But, there's a problem.
The corners of the steps are precisely where the main flow
of people to and from the buildings can be found.
Yet, this is where people like to stand, and to sit, and to block the traffic.
There are usually a few feet here and there for passage.
Though, sometimes it does get a little difficult, you have to pick your way very carefully.
But, it's a friendly kind of congestion, and later things do clear up a bit.
Now, we come to another junction: the street corner.
It has a social life of its own and as we saw a little bit earlier
with those two orbiting executives, it connects with the life of the plaza.
The corner is a great place for impromptu conferences.
Especially so at around two o'clock when the lunch groups break up.
When people stop to talk, they don't move off to one side.
They move smack into the middle of the traffic stream.
This corner in front of the city court building has a very high frequency
of such meetings, and the number one spot for them is the geographic center.
Another favorite spot is the front of the steps leading to the subway,
and even at rush hour.
A third is at the corner, directly athwart the north-south pedestrian flow.
And, these heavy flows, of course, are a reason why chance encounters are
such a high probability here.
Why there are so many 'hellos' and 'goodbyes', and particularly protracted goodbyes.
There's another kind of activity we call 'people just standing there alone'.
Life swirls about and they let it all pass by.
They just stand there.
Back to Seagrams. When we plotted the off-peak use, we found that
over the long haul, this rear space is the most favored.
It's the best of both worlds: you can see the show up front,
you're not cut out from it at all, but under those trees you feel protected.
It's a little like being under the awning of a cafe.
As we move from the rear, we see another aspect of the place that's quite fascinating:
the movement of people across it.
Choreography is wonderful, and choreography really is the right word.
The way people move, circle, stop, speed up, colors they wear.
There's a beauty that they must often sense themselves.
You see none of this in architectural photographs - usually quite empty
of people - but visually, this movement is the ultimate test of a design.
And, there's a lot of skill here.
We've tracked people in scores of crossing patterns with a digital timer,
and never do they collide.
A tiny hand signal, a brief ritard, a tenth of a second.
Timing is absolutely superlative.
Think of the computers, the radar it would take to make their equivalent.
Now, what's not taking place?
People don't often stop to talk in the middle of a large space.
They like to find places: steps, edges, flag poles.
Here's a map of a week's activity.
The red squares are where people stop to talk: fifty-one instances in all.
Only a few were in the center.
We come to the question: why do some plazas work and others not?
We rank fifteen plazas by the average number of people sitting,
running somewhere around 170 down to about a handful - 20 or 30.
Now, most of these plazas are comparable in size.
Why then the difference?
Was it the amount of open space?
No, if anything there's a reverse correlation.
What about sittable space?
Here we get a bit closer, and had we ranked these in terms of quality of sitting,
we would have a much clearer relationship.
We checked many other things: elevation, male/female ratio, space, and so on.
Charts in stupefying succession.
But, as we put them all together, one major finding began to shine through.
And, I'll now share it with you.
This might not strike you as an intellectual bombshell,
but, this simple lesson is one that very few cities have ever heeded.
They're tough places to sit in.
And, what's most aggravating are the number of plazas that would be excellent
for sitting if only they weren't so hard.
Or wet.
Or had fussy little railings placed to get you right in the small of the back.
Here, another two inches and you'd be comfortable.
Shrubbery and candid ledges - very useful for keeping people off.
But, we found that people are very adaptable, press down on your heel and you can do it.
Sometimes, you gotta play rough.
But, as we found out, people are very adaptable.
Older people like to sit in the sun here, can't have that.
Management put in these stones, and now the older people don't sit here anymore.
This artifact is a designed object, the purpose of which is to punctuate architectural photographs.
It has some utility has a bench, but is usually placed in isolation.
The dimensions are exquisitely wrong, and not just for physical reasons,
important as they may be.
Small benches are socially awkward. If there's a crowd, people will sit.
But, they're not very relaxed about it.
So, to the first reccomendation: make the place sittable.
The minimum suggested requirement: one linear foot of sitting space
for every 30 square feet of open space.
It's easy to meet. They did it at Seagrams by leaving it sittable.
Inherently, most places are, or should be.
And, for a lesson in this, let's go to St. Mark's Square in Venice.
The chairs of the cafes are what you first notice.
But, look closer and you'll see that there is a great deal of sitting
space built into the plaza - ledges and steps - and not inadvertently either.
Those early urban designers were way ahead of us in providing the simple amenities.
Where the nobles once hatched their intrigue by the imbroglio, as they call it.
There are tourists, but the sitting patterns are much the same.
Make the most of ledges, especially the front row!
And make them, two back sides deep.
The point is not to double the number of sitters, but to give them more choice,
and this is very important for their perception of crowding or not crowding.
Here's an excellent example: note how each surface can do double duty.
Together they provide almost an infinity sitting combinations.
Step ledges are good and they offer lots of choice.
They go very well with grass. Grass that you can sit on.
Planters make good sitting if they're not too high, too many are.
They should be low and they should be hospitable.
Here's a ledge with swings and is equally popular front or back.
A sitting table which revolves.
The most prolifically sittable place is 77 Water St, sometimes known as Swinger's Plaza.
It has chairs, tables, benches, sitting sculpture -
but it's the maze of ledges that make this place work so very well.
And here are some of the swingers.
Question: how many people is too many?
The planning comission was concerned about this.
Plazas were made more inviting might not they attract so many people as to be found.
How can carrying capacity be determined?
To get at these questions we studied ten very intensively used places.
One of them, this ledge at Seagram.
First, we studied spacing. Here, a little before noon, is the beginning of a crowd.
The men, you'll note are sitting quite close together,
even though there's a lot of extra space.
As we saw earlier, the step corner is a very high-traffic area,
and here is where the build up will be concentrated.
As the place fills, the dense areas will get denser,
very much as they do at beaches.
We're going to see a timelapse record of lunchtime at the ledge
from noon until a little bit before two.
Notice the very heavy turnover, but notice also that a remarkable thing is taking place.
Despite the heavy turnover, the number of people is remaining quite constant.
Here's a chart on sort of a piano player roll of where and how long each person sat.
It starts at 9 AM with two people.
From 12 to 2, we get the heavy use.
Note that in the running total at the bottom, the number of people stays between 19 and 21.
Good spacing you might say!
No, that doesn't really explain it.
The spacing is erratic, and even at the peak moments,
there's plenty of room for extra people, even groups of people.
But they don't come.
I think that what we are seeing is the result of an instinctive feel that
people have for the number that's right for a place, the number that's right overall.
That is it's effective capacity.
To put it another way: capacity is self-leveling.
Many people will tell you that the two pleasantest, quietist,
least crowded places in New York are Paley Park and Greenacre Park.
They certainly are among the smallest.
Paley is 42 x 100 ft. Greenacre 65 x 100.
At peak times, the density of leading plazas runs up to
about 11 people per thousand square feet.
Paley and Greenacre go almost off the chart.
They are the most crowded by far, and often quite noisy.
In the mind's eye, they are not.
One's perception is of quiet, of peace, of choice.
One of the things that we did to try and find out how come this rather interesting
difference between perception and fact, was the daily build up of table use.
Here in this animated chart, you will see black dots are for men, the red for women.
Notice, by the way, the tendency of men to take the front row, and the women, the rear.
Now, as the day goes on, the patterns remain quite consistant.
And, so they do day after day.
But, this Olympian perspective, can be rather misleading.
What we see looking down, is regularity.
Now, this is the truth, but it's only a partial.
Get down to eye level, the way people see the place,
and you don't see regularity. Instead, sort of an amiable miscellany.
People are placed this way and that.
Some people are declarably alone.
Others grouped around tables.
Choices are always opening up.
Now, this is extremely high density right here.
People are very close to each other, and yet the social distances are quite confident.
In this particular case, the social distance might be a little too close.
We come to that wonderful invention: the movable chair.
It's one of the reasons you have such a feeling of choice in places like
Paley or Greenacre, you are doing the deciding.
It's very interesting to watch how people manipulate chairs.
Here you can sort of tell there's going to be a rather aggresive movement.
Now, whatever the purpose of all this rearranging, it does make for a rather pleasant social ritual,
and you will see many variants of this often quite plainly.
Even when there's no apparent functional reason of any kind, people move chairs.
Watch this girl.
Now, she's no more in the sun than she was before.
Watch this fellow.
Very unusual behavior.
This man is starting something. Soon we're gonna have a game of musical chairs.
Just why these men all started to move one can never know, but they did.
Interesting thing, though, is that about four minutes after the beginning of this,
all the chairs were back where they stated from.
Fixed, individual seats don't work very well.
For lovers, loveseats are alright. The distances are quite comfrotable.
But, not for most people.
Furthermore, chairs like this are telling you, "You sit here and you sit there."
The most important thing about a space is its relationship to the street.
Paley is a fine example.
People do speak of it as a refuge, as a place to escape from the city.
This is very wrong. Paley is an intensely urban place.
One of its great assets is the vigorous street life out in front of it and for that matter within it.
As many people will be entering and leaving and touring on the inside of Paley,
as you'll find on many busy sidewalks.
Passersby are important, too.
About half will turn in and look, and about a half of them will smile.
I haven't calculated the smile index, that would be much too solemn.
But, this visual enjoyment, this secondary use is every bit as important as the primary use.
Paley is a sight, a place to show people, to point to with pride, to discuss.
Children seem particularly entranced with Paley.
We've noticed quite intendency for them to run in and accelerate as they come to the steps.
Passersby will often do a double take, and then walk on in.
They are just a few easy steps, you don't have to make a decision.
You're almost drawn in.
And, here with older people you'll sometimes see, as with children,
a slight acceleration as they go up the steps.
The vestibule is a social place in its own right.
Now, those girl-watchers swelling here actually spoke to these girls.
You'll see mothers with their children.
People just standing there, waiting. It's a popular place to meet people.
You'll see people meeting for again one hundred percent conversation.
Here's an example of what we call 'reciprocal gestures'.
When two men are getting together in their conversation,
there seems to be a tendency for one person to make the move,
and then after, say six, seven, eight-second pause for the other to reciprocate.
Ah, he did it!
Itinerant musicians have a very keen sense of place.
Here this cello player is setting up at one of the best of them.
We've been looking at places that work with the street.
Now, let's look at a directly contrary approach: the self-contained megastructure.
These are a sort of urban fortress.
Their common denominator is that they take you away from the street.
Here, at Houston Center, you're going up, up, up.
Plazas and the terraces are two or three levels above the street.
From the street you are completely insulated.
You can drive from the suburbs in the morning into that garage there,
walk through the skyways to the office, and spend the whole day without
ever having to set foot in Houston at all.
This is it's streetscape; no stores, no windows.
Not many pedestrians either, for that matter.
Street level is for cars. The one activity is a bank window for people in cars.
Here's Renaissance Center in Detroit. Very striking, many attractions within.
But, what does it say at street level?
Look at that huge berm across its entry, all it's lacking is a portcullis.
Come in and be safe from Detroit, it says.
Downtown Los Angeles: Broadway Plaza. Successful in size.
A few blocks away, Atlantic Richfield plaza, very handsome.
But, what's happened to the street?
Where are the stores? Where are the windows?
Where are the people?
Going down to subterranean levels of shopping in balmy Los Angeles.
In the next block, the Hotel Bonaventure.
Dramatically scaled to the freeway, but not to the pedestrian.
Look at the wall that it turns to the city.
You ever seen a more brutal rejection of the street, or a more unnecessary one?
Ironically, twenty miles away at Disneyland, people pay good money
to enjoy a replica of a regular, old-fashioned street.
Shops and windows and doors at street level.
Lots to appoint about plazas.
Unless there is a compelling reason, don't sink them way down or put them way up.
They get lost, like this elevated plaza in Seattle.
Most sunken plazas are empty--near empty most of the time.
The action is up top on the street.
But, what about Rockefeller Plaza? It's sunken and it's very popular.
So it is, but look at carefully and you'll see that most of the people are up top.
Looking down, it's an amphitheatre and the people down below are the show.
Here's another exception that proves the rule:
This is the plaza of the First National Bank of Chicago.
Sunken, no mistake about that, but very popular.
On a nice day, you'll find well over a thousand people enjoying themselves here.
Well, it does all of the basics quite well.
Lots and lots of sitting space, and it too, functions as as an amphitheatre.
As the place fills up, the steps will become a mezzanine and it will be a show down below.
To understand, let's go back to the corner and follow the passersby.
As they come abreast, you'll see, as we saw at Paley,
lots of visual secondary use, some people pausing to look in and then going on.
Well, there's pausing, sort of drifting down to plaza, and the whole usage begins to build.
Layer by layer, people looking at people looking at other people.
We come to a key person: the undesirable.
It is for fear of him, that spikes are put on ledges
and benches made too short to sleep on.
In actual fact, these people are harmless and sometimes very well-behaved.
Most often, they are to be found in the places where other people are not.
Then, there are the people who do odd things, like Drumsticks,
who happens to be a compulsive cleaner-upper of litter.
In many ways, the odd people do a service for the rest of us.
They reassure us of our own normality.
In well used public places, people are tolerant of the odd ones.
Life goes on with little fuss or trouble.
This is Pershing Square in Los Angeles.
In the morning, you'll see many older men, and some who move to a beat of their own.
But, they don't hurt anybody, it's not unsafe.
And, later in the middle of the day, office workers will come out with their brown bags,
and there will be a nice coexistance.
Here is a pigeon lady. Every square should have one.
Here's a place that is dangerous:
Bryant Park in the middle of New York.
It's green and spacious, and the cops patrol it in pairs as well they should.
Real undesirables--muggers, dope dealers-- have made it their territory.
They've been able to because it had been cut off from the street by fences and walls.
Very pleasant these tree-shaded paths, but you can get a feeling of entrapment in them.
Even a shuffling derelict poses a threat that he wouldn't elsewhere.
To make a place like this work, you must unfence it.
For guarding plazas, television cameras are often favored.
Their usefulness seems to be largely symbolic.
They reassure management.
But, they don't see very much. Nothing beats a human being.
Safe and successful places ususually have a kind of mayor.
Here's one of the best: Joe Hardy of Exxon.
He's good at spotting potential trouble, but what he likes best is helping people.
Two girls for example, who would like to have their picture taken.
And that's one reason why there isn't much trouble.
People do like the sun. They so visibly like it, men, as well as women.
But, we were pretty sure that sunlight would be the major factor in plaza use,
and that a southern exposure would be almost a necessity.
And, for awhile it looked as if we were right.
Our early timelapse, you'll recall, showed a very strong correlation between sitters and sun.
That was in May. As time went on-- June, July, August--the correlation vanished.
People sat anywhere--sun or shade.
Paley gave us another lesson. It lost part of its sun to a new office building.
People came just as many as before.
Sun was clearly not the ruling factor.
Sun is most important in nippy weather, when the rays make the difference
between sitting comfortably, or not sitting.
At Greenacre Park, the upper terrace is warmed by infrared heaters.
Less costly is protection from the wind.
Where it's provided you can have a sort of nice sun theater.
What hurts most is not so much the absence of sun, but of light.
If we can't get the sun directly, perhaps we can borrow it.
Same new buildings that are cutting off the sun from some places,
are reflecting it into others.
As a matter of fact, some of the city's pleasantest lighting effects
are from this kind of bounce light, particularly in the late afternoon.
The new city court building reflects the sun with such a wallop,
that in one receiving block, trees are growing much faster than they did before.
This black, brick building bounces a surprising amount of light, and guess where to:
Paley Park.
It's a very soft pleasant light.
Here's a plaza with a northern exposure that gets lots of light
thanks to the building across the way.
The best light at Seagrams is by reflection, some of it on the second, third, or fourth bounce.
All these effects are quite unplanned, of course,
but they do suggest there are really some fascinating potentials for urban design.
Water is a wonderful amenity in the city, and it's an element
that designers and developers are really doing quite well with.
We're getting water walls, waterfalls, fountains, lots of spray.
Here's a brook running through a lobby.
One of the nicest things about these water works is the sound of them.
Sometimes it's very loud.
This water wall at Paley is about 75 decibels.
But, it's white sound; very raspy, and masks traffic noise from other people's conversations.
Another thing about water is the look and feel of it.
I always felt that the water at Seagrams is particularly liquid,
and I suppose the reason is that it's so very accessible.
You can stick your hand in it, splash about and nobody will rush up to stop you.
You just know that girl has got to put her foot in the water.
Some cities put water before people and then tell them not to use them.
This isn't right.
And, it isn't right to take a grand, old fountain like Chicago's Buckingham,
and put an electric fence around it.
This girl is living dangerously perhaps, but water ought to be used.
This fellow wants to cool his feet, and why not?
Forbidden.
On this Denver bank plaza, there's water that's good to look at,
and there's also water in which people can wade and splash about and no one will fret over it.
Praise to the bank.
This splendid fountain in Portland dares people.
If this were taken in summer, you'd see teenagers clamoring all over it.
It's obviously dangerous. Lawrence Halprin designed it to be obviously dangerous,
and there's been scarcely an accident.
Here's some vicarious water.
This tunnel at McGraw Hills Small Park splashes you if you don't get wet.
It's fun, and has become quite the tourist attraction.
Another thing we're at last doing is opening up access to our waterfront.
This is Jeanette Park on the East River, the park of an office building complex.
This is the South Street Seaport, an excellent example in how simple elements
make a great urban space.
It has all the elements: nice space, places to sit, nice view, and plenty of people.
Louisville has come back to the Ohio River, with this rather elegant Belvedere.
The prize goes to San Antonio.
It took what was little more than a drainage ditch,
and turned it into a river that goes right through the heart of the city.
It's lined with a walkway, cafes, and sitting spaces;
and is a perfectly wonderful example of good enclosure.
You feel very comfortable here.
Trees are so beneficent for a city, it's a wonder we haven't planted more.
And, we have certainly have plenty of good practical reasons to do so--
microclimate, shade, transpiration, cooling, beauty, so forth.
But now, we have a new reason. What with all the travertine architects are lying about,
the glare index of cities is soaring.
We should make the most this and press for many more trees.
New York's new zoning now requires builders to plant far more in the way of street trees,
and more trees within the plaza itself.
Where possible, they ought to be planted in groves--quite close together.
This produces a fine canopy.
As we noted at Seagram, the places that people liked best
are those which are opened to the action but are slightly recessed, slightly protected.
You get a cavy feeling. Just a few honey locusts overhead will do it.
If you want to see the place with activity, put in food.
At almost every lively plaza, you'll find a pushcart vendor.
This man has been at Seagrams for years at 52nd and Park.
Even in wintertime, when he moves over the steam manhole.
Merchants don't like vendors and they're always trying to get the police to shoo them away.
Some cities don't allow outdoor eating at all.
But, the vendors are providing service that people want;
and they sometimes perform a social function, too.
Often they're the mayors, the rendezvous points, the gossip station,
and here at Charles Center in Baltimore, a word with them is part of the day.
Here's a little study in food dynamics.
At the Exxon Mini Park, the management experimented with a food cart.
It attracted people. Here's one of the first impulse buy.
The activity, in turn, attracted other vendors. More people came to the park.
Encouraged, the management next put in an outdoor cafe.
The optimal leverage in these things is really quite amazing.
All they take is a few simple props: some tables, some chairs.
Put up the umbrellas, bring on the people, and the effect is really quite striking.
It's a shill effect. The people who eat usually attract far more people.
Built-in snack bars are a great draw.
At Paley and Greenacre parks, they provide good food (good coffee, too).
They do it at reasonable prices and they make a modest profit doing it.
New York zoning now favors such facilities.
Food kiosks, fastfood counters used to be classified as obstructions.
Now, they're an amenity. Outdoor cafes are specifically encouraged,
and developers are allowed to use up to 20% of the open space of the plaza for these cafes.
The first cafe after the zoning pass was put up by the city itself.
This windy space next to the municipal building was made into a kind of street festival.
First concessionaires were from Little Italy.
Later it was Chinese food and soul food.
But, the best thing about the cafe has been a shrewd use of space.
The person who organized the cafe, then deputy borough president Jolie Hammer,
laid out the tables and chairs with a tyrant's eye of a good hostess.
She didn't spread them out. She compressed them.
And the walkway was compressed also.
So, when waiting in line or threading your way to a table, you almost have to meet someone.
I've never seen so many people saying hello and goodbye and being introduced.
It's the first time there's been a meeting ground for people from all of the departments.
And, it's splendid for politic, and it's splendid for younger people, too.
I wonder how many marriages can be traced back to this cafe.
Another lesson that was learned was the utility of the simple wastebasket,
or rather, lots and lots of them.
When there aren't enough, people are really quite conscientious in using them.
It was also found important to make concessionaires keep up the cleaning job.
Now, most of them used children to do this, but they did a rather effective job.
We've gone over the basic factors.
But there's one more, and for lack of a better term, I call it 'triangulation'.
By this I mean that characteristic of a public space that can bring people together.
It's usually an external stimulus of some kind.
It could be a physical feature or a happening. Here's a good example:
These people are having a great time. Something is going on.
Strangers are beginning to talk to each other about it.
Two bank robbers have been caught and the police are searching them.
Now, this is a little extreme example. Here's a more typical one.
This mime has attracted a good crowd, and so far no cop.
He makes fun of people. Here he goes up to some junior executives and draws a square.
Everybody laughs.
Ah, here comes the cop.
It's a nice moment. A city kind of moment.
It doesn't make too much difference if the act is skillful or corny.
It will draw a crowd in less than a minute, usually.
Strangers will act as though they were not.
What the performer does best is to provide a connection between them.
What are they looking at?
This, again, is at Seagrams. This time it's the sculpture.
"What in the world will they think of next!" some people will say.
Sculpture by Mark di Suvero, and people certainly react to it.
They argued about it, they went up to touch it. Strangers started talking about it.
This is Debuffet's Four Trees on the Chase Manhattan Plaza.
This sculpture draws people to it!
They like to walk underneath it, to touch it, to look up at it.
They like to stand around it. It does a lot for the rest of the plaza.
The scale is just right for this rather large space.
It is a very sociable element.
Here's a very similar combination on the Federal Plaza in Chicago.
Here is a morality tale. This is Louise Nevelson's Night Presences.
When she gave it to the city, it was placed in front of the walkway to the Central Park Zoo.
People sat on it, they ate lunch on it, they looked at it and argued about it.
They touched it almost surreptitiously to see what it was made of--corten steel.
It didn't block the pedestrian flow. In a sort of venturi effect,
it seemed to stimulate the flow, to attract people to it, around it.
No longer. The statue was moved to Upper Park Ave.
Nobody sits on it anymore. Or touches it.
Usefullness is not the only measure of sculpture and street furniture,
but it certainly doesn't hurt.
As this woman is demonstrating, what better use for a glass curtain wall, and why not shelves.
Here's a wall that's a digital clock.
I've never been able to read the time here, but it's a lot of fun to look at.
See if you can figure this one out.
The real sun will show you the clue. It's a painting by Richard Oz.
Here's a nice one up in Boston.
Here's an inspired example of triangulation: St. Peter's, a church with a window to the street.
Passerbys are drawn to it. They talk to each other about what they see.
- Isn't that gorgeous? - That's beautiful!
[woman] Why do the seats face different ways?
[woman] Isn't that something? Look at the organ!
[woman] ...and the minister sits just right in the center there, where it looks like a table.
That's where he stands. It's a very beautiful church.
[woman] I love it! I like it!
[woman] Oh, I love the organ.
[woman] Not my idea of a church.
- It's very little. - Yeah, but it's nice!
[man] I think it's great for the city an the building to have all this.
It brings religion right closer to the people.
[narrator] Our recommendations after many stormy meetings and public hearings,
are incorporated in New York City's new zoning code.
Main points we've noted: sitting space, close linkage to the street,
trees, and food--not made mandatory alas, we lost on that one--but strongly recommended.
Another provision requires that at least 50% of the building's frontage
must be for retail activity, not just for banks or blank walls.
There must be access for the disabled: ramps, easy steps--in effect, better access for everyone.
The plaza must tie closely to the seat, be no more than three feet
beneath street level, or three feet above.
There are stiff maintenance requirements, and the zoning enables and encourages
the rejuvenation of existing plazas.
As a next step, the commission's excellent urban design group came up with
comparable requirements for residential construction.
As a result, small neighborhood parks.
One of the most encouraging things that's been taking place
has been the livening up of existing plazas.
A New York telephone company put in this snack bar and lots of tables and chairs.
They are very well used. So well, indeed, that there's no vacuum anymore for undesirables.
On other existing spaces, cafes have been going up.
The spaces are much the better for it.
More benches are being put out in front of office buildings and stores;
the ones closest to the activity--bus stops, store entrances, other ones
that people like best, older people especially.
The closer to the action, the more they like it.
We're also seeing a spontaneous invigoration of a number of public places.
One is the plaza area around 60th St in Central Park.
It's always been a pleasant place, but now, as office construction has moved up to it,
there's a big, new constituency, and on weekdays, it's jammed.
Vendors of every kind are there--shish kebab, with or without pita, falafel, fruit, lemonade.
There's usually a lot of chitchat back and forth.
"What's that?" "Chinese beef!" he answered.
Now, they're in. It draws more of a crowd, then that draws more people.
He usually has a cycle of about eight minutes on this,
and mostly it's very much of a show.
The beef, by the way, is quite good.
Now, the cops have to give tickets, and so they do rather desultory.
But, mostly it's live and let live.
Frederick Law Olmsted said that Central Park should be a great gathering place
for all kinds of people, and so it is here.
You need a pretty good sized sidewalk for bookstalls,
but they do busy a place up rather nicely.
These particular bookstall's first two years of operation barely broke even.
It takes time to build a market, but now they're doing quite well.
Another great place is the front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Steps are fine for sitting. As you might expect, the steps right smack
in front of the entrance are the most favored.
But, there are movable chairs as well, and they're out 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
People have been so good at not taking them, that the museum figures
it's cheaper just to leave them out and replace the few that are lost.
The water is to be used.
The museum is quite hospitable to entertainers and venders.
Some of the neighbors are not, and call the cops.
So the chasing of the vendors has become a stocked act in the street theater
out in front of the steps.
The vendors are a very resourceful lot. They will be back.
Question: From city to city are the basic factors pretty much the same?
Answer: Generally, yes.
But, there is one key variable: scale.
This is Philip's Square in Toronto. Very big place, but its proportions
are right for the buildings around it.
Here's another well-scaled place: the park Seattle built over its freeway.
It's quite large, too. But it's experienced on foot as a series of smaller spaces.
Now, we come to a smaller city, Lansing, Michigan.
The best part of its new pedestrian mall is this one square.
Not very big, but quite comfortable in relation to its surroundings. Very pleasant.
The tendency is to overscale. Here is the mall of Riverside, California.
Sometimes it is almost empty.
Cities like Riverside, which are low density to begin with, need to concentrate.
This mall disperses over a fairly large space, activity, and people and stores,
which had they been compressed, might have come together in a critical mass.
Here is a critical mass.
This is Fountain Square, Cincinnati, which covers considerably less space then the mall we just saw.
There are many, many more people in it.
It's probably the best public square in the country.
It has a close relationship with the street, it's well enclosed by the surrounding buildings,
the designers have provided all kinds of choice; different kinds of sitting space,
different kinds of places to eat, it's well programmed with activity.
But, most important of all: they put the space in the very center of town.
Not five or six blocks away, but at the 100% location.
This is why it is such a unifying place.
Cincinnati comes together here.
And, you can touch the water.
A public square that's indoors: the Crystal Court at the IDS Center in Minneapolis.
It's nicely transparent, no black walls here.
It connects well with street, stores, and buildings around it.
On the second level, there are walkways. They've become quite a notable feature,
helped by the fierce Minnesota winter climate and by very heavy pedestrian flows.
Some smaller cities are copying the walkways but without the heavy flows or the weather.
They should look again. This place works because of its fundamentals,
and they are the same for a space with a roof as one without.
Like Fountain Square, this is right smack in the center of town.
It shows in the people. That's why this is such a good place for looking at.
There are all kinds: old people, young people, blue collar, white collar.
You get quite a different feeling here than you do at a suburban shopping center.
Here you are at the crossroads.
In the old city of Boston, next to Nathaniel Hall, ancient market buildings
have been made into the most sucessful market place in the country.
It's a very urban one; there are lots of highly specialized shops, every conceivable kind of food.
The place is crowded, and it's a bit messy.
People sit all over the place.
Notice how they're sitting on the steps, especially.
It's quite energy efficient. These public spaces open out to the outside.
In good weather, these garage-type windows are rolled back to the open air,
and almost always, even in the coldest weather, people will be sitting and eating outdoors.
What we have here is the very opposite of the self-contained mega-structure.
The market is very much a part of downtown, the street is going right through it.
It's only after we had studied many other places, that I realized we could learn all of the lessons
right here on 101st St.
It's an excellently scaled block; comfortably sized space, very nicely enclosed.
Lots of people and food!
Very social activity, too.
Water? Yes, and you can touch it, you can aim it, you can slosh around in it.
Sitting? The best kind of space: slightly elevated.
The lot at the corner is used for games, but the street itself is the number one
area for recreation, including that very popular form: the polishing of the car.
This block has its problems, but it works as a place.
Here we are back in Seagrams. It's a hazy muggy afternoon.
Incidentally, that's the kind that always seem to bring people out,
even moreso then the nippy ones.
A group of music students are giving a little impromptu concert.
Some executives are still conferring.
It's a very nice time, just before 2 'o clock, everybody's about ready to close up.
So, we end our film on plazas, not on the plaza, but on the street itself.
That's where we should.
Street is the river of life for the city.
We come to these places not to escape, but to partake of it.