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New
"Olde Townes"
By Marien
Helz―first published in
Word Worth®
©2005 all rights reserved
Kentlands is a community in Gaithersburg, Maryland, that
was begun in 1988 and is now a premier example of the
“new urbanism” or “neo-traditional”
movement in community design. Kentlands is a development, but one
with a difference. It’s based on the concept of “the
towne.” Towns and villages have existed in our lexicon
before the year 725 in the common era with roots given
in the Oxford English Dictionary going
back before Old English “tuun” and the word “village”
used by Chaucer in 1386. The nature of the town and
village hearken back to the principalities of Europe
during the last two millennia and to the city states of
Greece before that. Essentially, what we see in human
development is a fission-fusion society in which
humankind lives together in various clusters which can
range from tribal organizations to communities within
cities in which individuals live, work, and interact
with other members of their group. When clusters get
too large, it is natural for communities to break into
sub-groups which are small enough for members to know
and interact with each other in terms of local
government, religious and social activities, and
livelihood.
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Barnstaple, England, is an example of a European
town with an extended history. "In the year 930
A.D. Barnstaple was a typical Saxon Stronghold,
key to the defense of North Devon and ,as such,
surrounded by a stong wall designed to withstand
the attacks of Danish raiders. It was not only
as a strongpoint in the country's defensive
system, however, that Barnstaple was important
for, as it's old name, Beardestaple (i.e. the
market of staple of Bearda) implies, it was also
the centre of commerce for the sub-shire of
North Devon...
"In 1066 A.D. the Normans came to Britain, and
two years later the proud town which had held
out against so many Danish attacks fell at
last."
from Barnstaple History by
Stephen Upcott |
At the
mid point of the 20th century, developments
grew up around urban centers that were designated as
single use communities. The advantages were that no one
could put in a store next to your house that was
unsightly or had too big a parking lot. The houses were
all similar, meaning that people who had a “keep up with
the Jonses” mentality didn’t have to worry about
something too splendid coming in next door to them—nor
did they have to be concerned about something that was
too shabby being built on the vacant yard nearby. All
the houses were within economic reach of each other.
The plan seemed to solve a number of problems.
What
such a plan did not anticipate, however, was that it
generated a lifestyle that became progressively more
dependent on the automobile and also more isolated.
While one car was sufficient in the 1940’s with women
typically being homemakers, the suburbs with
cookie-cutter developments necessitated a second car for
anyone to get anywhere. Children could be bussed to
school, but if they were to do anything after school—any
sports, see friends who did not live within several
blocks, join any clubs or any organizations, take any
lessons—they had to be driven. Hence, Momism
developed and homemakers became full time chauffeurs.
In addition, the homemakers needed a car in this plan in
order to shop for groceries, take on projects in their
churches or communities, join PTA’s, or participate in
any of the necessary activities outside the home.
In
order to prevent these housing developments from
becoming too sterile looking, the streets in many of
them were not laid out in a north to south, east to west
pattern. They curved and swirled, and turned into giant
mazes which made finding a home difficult even for the
inhabitant, not to mention for a visitor. Malvina
Reynolds wrote a song mocking such communities:
Little
boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky-tacky, … little boxes,
all the same.
In the
intervening years, those houses have been individualized
by successive owners, and most have distinctive
character.
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What has
not changed, however, has been the ever increasing
commuting distance between house and job. In the
1940’s families around Washington, D.C., for example,
who wanted to “get away from it all” could move ten or
fifteen miles from the city to a small community or
twenty miles away and be “in the sticks”—in one of the
small farming towns, like Gaithersburg was then, with
all the conveniences for pleasant living including easy
train rides into the city for commuting or for more
extensive shopping for more exclusive items.
Predictably, the pleasant living in such places drew
more and more residents, at least half of whom were
commuters. By the mid 1960’s the small farming towns
turned into small cities and traffic tie-ups reached
from D.C. all the way along the super highways to them.
Not long after, the tie-ups reached way past what had
been an escape from the bustle of city crowding and
extended from one major metropolis to another.
Resenting commuting time, drivers want more and more
super highways—going, of course, through your
neighborhood, not theirs.
An idea
whose time had come was to create communities that
crumbled the cookie, that broke away from the single use
design and returned to a more natural and congenial
setting. This concept envisioned developments that
included their own town centers and could become miniature
cities in terms of convenience.
Architects began developing, not just buildings, but
communities which were designed to bring back the more
natural and traditional look and lifestyle of the town
and village.
The
architects who are credited with the push for the new
urbanism, Andres Duany and Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk with
their firm DPZ, founded The Congress for the New
Urbanism which has promoted what they call the
“smart growth” concept. This promotes high density and
traditional, appealing design. The theory behind the
high density is that human population will be clustered
in urban areas with the fields and woodlands left for
wildlife and environmental reserve. Houses are close
together with small or no yards—this is a perfect
arrangement for urbanites who leave for work at 7 am and
return at 7 pm with little time for landscape upkeep.
Shops and offices are within walking distance, as are
schools.
In
1981, DPZ designed Seaside, Florida, the setting for The Truman Show. Seaside’s charm was over-looked by
no one, but that community, on eighty acres, is largely
second homes many of which are short term vacation
rentals. This inhibits the formation of an interactive
community. In 1988, the firm began work on Kentlands, a
much larger canvas with 350 acres.
Kentlands is thus named because it was built on the
estate of Otis Beall Kent who bought the property in
1942
from the Tschiffely [pronounced shƏ - fāl’- lee] family.
They had owned the land since 1852 when they purchased
it from the Clagett family. Kent has been referred to
as “eccentric,” largely, it seems, because of his
perspicacity and foresight. Kent gave some of his land
to the Izaak Walton league, some for a NIKE base for the
protection of Washington should it ever be under attack,
and some to the National Geographic on the condition
that hunting, fishing, or trapping of any bird or animal
would be prohibited. Early purchasers of Kentlands’
homes were told that that land would always remain wild
due to the protective covenant. Such did not hold,
however, when the National Geographic moved and sold the
land. It has since been divided, and the Lakelands
community sits on part of it. The part that would most
please Kent would, no doubt, be that used for
Gaithersburg’s Lakelands Park.
After
Kent died in 1972, his heir worked with the developer to
create a place that she felt Kent would approve of, and
hence Kentlands came into
being.
Kentlands includes paths and wooded tree-save areas, and
trees are carefully preserved. In his article, “It
Takes a Village” in The New Yorker in March of
2000, Paul Goldberger pointed out that “you can do a lot
of your daily business without a car.”
Kentlands is not, however, without its detractors.
Goldberger, although he points
out the many positive
qualities of Kentlands, states, “most of the places Duany and Plater-Zyberk design do, alas, look too cute
by half.” He also deplores the “heavy missionary
work,” stating, “I wish these people could loosen up
about the world a little more, because so much of what
they say is right.”
In his
article, “This Old House” published in the
New
Republic May 8, 1995, Witold Rybczynski, the
Meyerson Professor Of Urbanism at the University of
Pennsylvania, accedes, “Walking through Kentlands
is a pleasure” and is pleased with
architecture’s bringing back something “that had all but
disappeared from American town planning: beauty.” He
concludes, however, that Kentlands is:
bordered
not by countryside but by highways, strip malls, office
parks and other planned communities. It’s composed of
two-wage-earner families whose workplaces are scattered
across the urban region….
Kentlands
does include less-expensive condominiums and rental
apartments, but these are located in a separate
“neighborhood,” separated by a wide boulevard in an
unwitting re-creation of another small-town tradition:
the other side of the tracks. This is a reminder that
the traditional town had many faces—shanties as well as
gracious houses, skid rows as well as main streets,
narrow-minded discrimination as well as neighborliness.
…Traditional neighborhood developments are definitely a
way of building better suburbs, but it will take more
than narrow streets and grassy squares to deliver the
sense of community they promise.
Urban
Mobility Corporation in Abstract Vol.13, No. 6 –
November/December 2002 states:
The New Suburban Frontier
For many years, advocates of managed growth (or its
contemporary sobriquet, “Smart Growth”) have exhorted
Americans to turn their backs on suburban sprawl and
embrace living at higher densities. But despite
impassioned rhetoric, hardly anything has changed.
Suburban America continues to develop at average
densities that have changed little since Levittown.
While a few “neo-traditional” communities, such as
Kentlands and King Farm in Maryland, and Seaside and
Celebration in Florida, have added cosmetic features
that make them look more like traditional villages
(sidewalks, front porches, ersatz “town centers” with
Disney-like urban streetscapes), they are no more
“self-contained,” or “auto-independent” than the
neighboring subdivisions. Homes in Kentlands and King
Farm are no closer to jobs and schools than elsewhere in
Montgomery County and their vehicle ownership rates
equal or exceed those in the surrounding developments.
The neo-urban “villages” are simply small pockets of
planned development, planted in the midst of spread-out
suburbia.
Actually, while Kentlands may still be working on a
sense of community, the market center is becoming
more and more developed with shops, businesses,
international restaurants, and live/work units where a
number of families are managing to work in their homes
or close by. Whereas few places in the United States
are truly automobile independent, it is possible at this
point to live in Kentlands and Lakelands without a car.
There is enough of a town center.
The
best known commentator on the advantages and
disadvantages of small towns is the man from Anoka,
Minnesota, in his weekly monologues about “the town that
time forgot” in The Prairie Home Companion. Garrison Keillor includes the man whose
family was considered lazy and has had to fight that
image his entire life by never refusing to help people.
He tells of the very talented woman in the church choir
who has to downplay her ability to avoid having everyone
say, “who does she think she is?!”
Small towns have long memories, and the residents don't
want their neighbors getting uppity whether they have
talent or not.
In
spite of all that, we still want to look into Ralph’s
Pretty Good Grocery [a general store where if they don't
have it, you can get along without it]. We still want to drop in at
the Chatterbox Café [where everyone in town drops by
at one point or another during the week and gets to meet
and chat with each other]—and Kentlands is a step
toward entering the café. |