A City That Never Sleeps

A few years ago, a critic writing in The New York Times observed that Manhattan (the one in New York, not Kansas), was the last remaining village in America—a statement which seems preposterous in the extreme.

To most of us, New York City seems the least village-like of any place on the continent. When we think of a village, we think of a pastoral little hamlet, where people live, work, and socialize in close proximity to their neighbors; a self-contained, self-sustaining, community. “Pastoral”, “little”, and “hamlet” are not words that immediately come to mind when describing New York. However, New York City in general, and the borough of Manhattan specifically, are places where people live, work, and socialize in close proximity to their neighbors. Many of Manhattan’s neighborhoods are self-contained, self-sustaining, communities.

Even though, everyday, hundreds of thousands of people commute by train, subway, bus, and automobile to and from their jobs in New York, hundreds of thousands also walk to work because they live close enough to their places of employment that walking makes the most sense. Sometimes they only have to walk downstairs to the store in the street-level floor of their apartment building. Sometimes it’s only down the block. And on their way home from work, they stop at neighborhood bars or restaurants for drinks or dinner, or corner markets for groceries, or at local pharmacies, dry cleaners, etc. to pick up the stuff they need for their daily lives. Many, perhaps most, of the people they work with, sell their products to, and buy their products from, are people who also live in their neighborhood—their “village”.

Of course, these neighborhood bars, restaurants, and corner markets also serve the hundreds of thousands of commuters who don’t live nearby, but work in nearby offices, and businesses. It’s this mix of commuters and “villagers” that makes for the “vibrant street life” that characterizes New York’s business district(s).

I’m not naïvely idealizing or romanticizing New York City. It has lots of problems I hope we never have. And New York City is an extraordinarily expensive place to live. So, why do people continue to choose to live there? In addition to the aforementioned fact that it is one of the few places left in America where one can live, work, and socialize all within the same larger neighborhood, it may be the intimacy of the place.

Intimacy? There’s another word most Midwesterners would not use to describe New York. Yet, the population density of the city’s residential areas—which are frequently inextricable from commerical areas—and the congestion of its sidewalks and streets, put people in close daily, even hourly, contact with one another. There’s an intimacy that results from that close contact; that intense proximity. Because so many New Yorkers share so little space, there’s a greater sense of shared destiny and identity. New Yorkers are belligerent in proudly identifying themselves as New Yorkers. Kansas Citians are not belligerent about anything. We identify ourselves as Kansas Citians with mild pride or mild defensiveness.   

As Kansas City’s downtown renaissance has progressed, civic leaders and downtown boosters have talked about the need for a “vibrant street life” in our downtown. (Google “vibrant street life”; there are more than 19,000 search results for the phrase. Clearly it’s a widely embraced concept.) It is understood that a vibrant street life is a critical element in sustaining downtown’s continued revitalization. A vibrant street life is proof that a downtown is a place where people want to be, where things happen. But a vibrant street life can’t be imposed by city planners. It can only grow organically.  

A vibrant street life is a product of high density residential and commercial interaction; 24 hours a day/seven days a week. A vibrant street life results when lots of people—perhaps too many people—are compelled to, and are willing to, and want to, and seek to share the same streets and side-walks, day in and day out. They don’t mind bumping into one another. They are neither frightened nor offended by the sights, sounds, and smells of people, languages, and food unfamiliar to them. A vibrant street life is crowded, hectic, noisy, exciting, hopelessly maddening, and endlessly interesting. It cannot be managed. It can only be allowed.

If Kansas City wants a vibrant street life for its downtown, it needs to understand the dynamics of village life. A village is where people live, work, and play, all in one place.

Doug Worgul

Managing Editor

DWorgul@IngramsOnLine.com