Mayors On Bikes

I am going to make a confession.  If you've been reading this blog, you probably guessed--correctly--that my politics (such as they are) are to the left of most Americans.  Some of that has to do with my temprament, but more, I think, has been shaped by my life experiences--which, of course, include cycling.

Knowing that, it might surprise you that I am mostly lukewarm about the mayor of my city, Bill de Blasio.  I had hopes when I first voted for him:  His wife is black and, in her youth, lived as a lesbian.  And he talked about things we rarely, if ever, heard from politicians not named Elizabeth Warren, Bernie Sanders or even Barack Obama.

But while he did something that, I think, will help to address racial and economic inequality--namely, universal Pre-K--he failed to address other issues, like affordable housing.  On the other hand, he has made efforts toward gender and LGBT equality and the city's environment and health.  

About that last issue:  While he didn't start the Citibike share program or the collection (I wouldn't call it a network) of bike lanes and other infrastructure, he accelerated their development.  So, in some ways, I would see he was at least expressing support for, if not actually supporting, cycling as a viable transportaion and recreation alternative.

My biggest problem with him, though, is that--if you'll indulge me a cliche--he sometimes talks the talk but doesn't walk the walk.  As an example, for all that he's talked about environment and health, he had his driver take him--in his City limousine--nearly 20 kilometers from Gracie Mansion (the Mayor's residence) to the gym in his home neighborhood in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

Oh, and I don't recall seeing him on a bike--until the other day.

All right, I didn't actually see him on a bike: He may well have been riding when I was.  But, still, I have to give him credit:  He pedaled the 10 kilometers from Gracie Mansion to City Hall.

Granted, he made the trek on protected bike lanes and probably had police escorts.  I must nonetheless acknowledge that he's the first NYC mayor in half a century to even make a "photo op" on a bike.

The last Mayor to replicate the trip de Blasio took was John Lindsay who pedaled his English three-speed on more than one occasion:  on the trip from Gracie to City Hall, in Central Park and in other places around the city.  Early in his mayoralty--and the first time he was seen on a bike--there were still relatively few adults on bikes.  About midway through his term, the North American Bike Boom took off.  Photos of him on a bike didn't hurt the cause:  Often compared to JFK, he was dashingly handsome in a patrician way and looked the part of a sportsman who could look as at-home on a bike as on a boat, a horse or small plane.

Bill de Blasio might not win as many style points as Lindsay could command on a bike.  But it certainly doesn't hurt the cause of cycling, whether for transportation or recreation, to see him riding. 

Riding The Penny Bridge To The Market

"Penny Bridge."  It sounds like a song from Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club doesn't it?

But its location is less quaint, if oddly bucolic.  Actually, I should say "was":  That bridge, so named because it cost a penny to cross (It was privately built and operated), stood at a spot I reached on my afternoon ride.

I'd ridden into the area-- possibly the last part of Williamsburg not claimed by hipsters, trust fund kids or Hasidim--before.  I had not, however, stopped at that particular spot, on Newtown Creek, until yesterday.

It's only a few hundred meters upstream from the new Kosciuszko Bridge, which has a nice pedestrian and bike lane.  But that spot, on the edge of an industrial area, is out of reach of the trucks, cars and buses and, it seems, rarely visited by anyone.  So, in spite of the hustle and bustle, the soot and grime all around it, it's rather peaceful.  

The Penny Bridge, built over 200 years ago, was the first crossing over Newtown Creek and helped to spur industries that continues to this day.  According to a marker at the site, the Creek, being a navigable waterway that empties into the East River (which is really a bay of the Atlantic Ocean), once carried more nautical traffic and freight than the Mississippi River!

I meandered along side streets, from one Brooklyn neighborhood to another, and after about 20 kilometers of pedaling, I found myself in another interesting spot about 5 kilometers from Penny Bridge:

Before today, I think I'd read or heard about the Moore Street Retail Market.  Opened in 1941, it's one of the later Works Progress Administration structures built in New York City.  Architecturally, it's hardly unique but certainly identifiable as a WPA structure.  One reason it's interesting and important is that it's one of a series of Retail Market Places built by the WPA. (Others include the Arthur Avenue Market in the Bronx, Essex Street in Manhattan and 39th Street in Brooklyn.)  While other WPA projects include everything from schools and courthouses to roadways and waterworks, the marketplaces may have been unique in their conception and purpose.  

Fiorello LaGuardia's tenure as Mayor of New York City almost exactly coincided with the Presidency of Franklin D. Roosevelt, who signed the WPA into being.  Though they were of opposing parties, they were allies on many issues. (Funny how crises like the Great Depression had a way of making that happen!)  They both wanted to put people back to work, and LaGuardia was trying to clean up the city, literally.  He was able to get the WPA to build those market places, which contain stalls of everything from fresh produce and homemade specialties from the ethnic groups living in the neighborhood to housewares and children's clothing, were meant to replace horse-drawn vending carts, which he believed to be un-hygenic and unsightly.

I'd wanted to go inside the marketplace, but the "no bikes" policy was being enforced.  I propped Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear, against a pole.

 

"Don't leave that bike here!"  Of course I wouldn't; even if I'd brought a lock with me, I wasn't about to leave Tosca, or any of my Mercians, on the street.  But I think the wiry Hispanic man knew that. "That's one nice bike you've got."  I thanked him. "Do you want to see mine?"  Of course I did, and he pulled out his i-phone to show me images of a Throne track bike and a Trek road bike with a Creamsicle finish (which I actually liked) and, I think, Shimano 600 components.  I mention that last detail because I couldn't tell which model it was, but my guess it was one of the better ones in the Trek lineup.

Another man, a friend of his, stopped to greet him and look at my bike.  He, too, pulled out his phone to show me his Bianchi road bike--carbon fiber, but still in that trademark Celeste green.

So, while I didn't get to shop in the marketplace, I did pick up a few moments of cameraderie with a couple of cyclists.  Perhaps I'll bump into them again.

Bike And Food Drive In Washington State

During the pandemic, increasing numbers of people have needed...well, everything.  Folks who have lost jobs or been otherwise affected are looking food, clothing, anything that can connect to the Internet--and, in some cases housing.

And bicycles. 

Between folks who have discovered or re-discovered cycling for fun, or are using it as an alternative to public transportation, it's hard to find a bicycle--new, used or otherwise.

 

Apparently, the folks at Keller Williams Realty of Kent, Washington understand as much.  Tomorrow, they will close their offices, as they do every year, for a day of community service.  This year's event will be a contactless food drive to benefit the Kent Food Bank and other local food banks through Northwest Harvest.  

For the drive, Kelller Williams is accepting non-perishable food items with current shelf life*.  They are also taking in used bicycles and usable bicycle parts that Bicyce Rescue for Youth will refurbish for low-income households with children.

I think it's good that Keller Williams recognizes that certain needs go hand-in-hand:  Families that need food also can use bikes, whether for the kids or adults, for the trip to school or work--or to look for work.

*--Pasta is a commonly-donated item.  It's a good choice, as it has a long shelf life, and most people like it.  But, as my mother, who helped run the food bank at her church, taught me, it's a good idea to give a jar or can of sauce with each package of pasta you give.

Where Are You Going? Does The Bike Lane Go There?

In one of my early posts, I recounted a distracted driver who made a dangerous turn in front of me.  She rolled down her window and castigated me for not riding in a bike lane.

I explained, as politely as I could, that the lane followed another street and wouldn't take me to where I was going.  She insisted that I should ride that lane anyway, not "her" street, where I was riding.  I then asked her whether, if she had to be someplace, she'd drive down a street that didn't take her there.

The memory of that incident has stuck with me because that woman echoed what seems to be a notion that (mis)guides planners, designers and builders of bicycle infrastructure.  They seem to think that cycling is only a recreational activity, not to be taken seriously.  So bike lanes are designed for, at best, aimless meandering (which I sometimes do) rather than as conduits of transportation. The lane that woman believed I "should" have taken is fine for riding from the neighborhood near LaGuardia Airport to Astoria Park, and useful for commuting if you work at the power generating plant or one of the metal fabrication shops (or the Halal slaughterhouse!) along the way.  

That driver didn't "get it;" perhaps she still doesn't.  But Alex Kent of Amherst, Massachusetts does. In a letter to the Daily Hampshire Gazzette, Kent makes the point that "bicycles are essential."  

The letter is a response to another letter writer who "claims not to understand why bike lanes are needed in Northampton when there is a rail trail nearby."  That person, Kent shows, does not understand that a bicycle is not simply a piece of exercise or recreational equipment; it is "an essential form of transportation."  The bicycle is "a way of getting from one place to another" and, as Kent points out, that place "may well be a business on Main Street and not on the rail trail."  Moreover, Kent explains, many cyclists--especially in places like Northampton and Amherst as well as cities like Boston and New York--don't even own cars:  The bicycle is their main form of transportation.

Alex Kent could have been me on that day when a driver cut me off and tried to tell me it was my fault because I wasn't riding in a bike lane that, at that moment, was of no use to me.  Unfortunately, I think there will be many more encounters like the one I had with that woman, letters like Kent's and "bike lanes to nowhere" before we have bike lanes or other infrastructure conceived as though the bicycle is a viable form of transportation.

R.I.P. Helmut Jahn

He once remarked that one of his creations made his reputation throughout the world but killed it in Chicago.

Bicycling gave him a long, healthy life, but two cars killed him about 100 kilometers west of the Windy City.

The creation in question is the Thomposon Building, nee the State of Illinois Center, designed by architecht Helmut Jahn.

That building, and 55 West Monroe (originally known as the Xerox Center), the Chicago Board of Trade and the United Airlines Terminal at O'Hare International Airport, are among the most iconic structures in Chicago's distinctive profile. Jahn created the Art Deco Revival addition to the Board of Trade, and conceived and designed the others.

His quip about how he's regarded is a result of the Thompson Building's history.  Like too many high-rise structures, like the Empire State Building and the World Trade Center (Twin Towers) in my hometown, it has been a "white elephant" that bled barrels of cash.  (ESB, finished just as the world was about to plunge into the worst economic depression of the past century, didn't break even until 25 years after it opened; the Twin Towers were in the red from the day they opened until the day they fell.)  Last week, the State of Illinois began accepting bids for the Thompson's sale.

Of course, the edifice's financial woes are not Jahn's fault.  I hope the same can be said for the crash that ended his life.  According to a police report and witnesses, he didn't stop at a stop sign and proceded through an intersection in St. Charles.  There, a Chevrolet Trailblazer SUV traveling southeast knocked him into the northwest lane, where a Hyundai Sonata going in the opposite driection from the Trailblazer struck him.

Now, not having seen a video of the incident, or the incident itself, it's hard to know whom or what, if anyone or anything, to blame.  Did Jahn not see the Stop sign?  Did he not see the vehicles until it was too late?  Perhaps he misjudged their speed and figured he had enough time to cross?  Or were the drivers of either or both of the vehicles speeding or driving distractedly?

Whatever the answers to these questions, losing anyone in what must have been a gruesome collision is bad enough.  And, just as the world renowned Helmut Jahn as an architecht, it--we--will mourn his loss.