Point of View
The neighborhood with the busy street
And the traffic moves on and on and on...
By Carl Heintze
Once upon a time, not so long ago, in a neighborhood not so far from my own, there was a street.
The street was about a mile long, straight as an arrow and lined with houses, some of them fairly expensive. The street ran through three arterials-that is, three major east-west streets crossed it.
As the neighborhood grew, so did the number of cars using the street. Drivers tended to cut down the street to avoid traffic on the arterials. As a result, those who lived on the street found they were seeing not only too much traffic, but it was going too fast, endangering their children.
So, in the best tradition of American democracy, those along the street formed a neighborhood association. They sent representatives to city hall to complain. The city, being democratic, listened to the complaints. And, in keeping with city halls everywhere, for awhile it didn't do much of anything.
But the association persisted over the years, and finally the city council, being a political body and dependent on elections, got into action.
(It didn't hurt that the federal government just happened to have appropriated money for local street problems and wanted to give the city some.)
So, at long last, the city went into action.
First the city installed speed-limit signs on the street.
Nothing much happened. Time passed.
After some more visits to the city council, the city installed stop signs at the arterial corners. This did slow traffic a little, but it did nothing much to diminish its volume. Just as many cars came down the street as before.
So the street's residents complained some more, and a traffic light was erected on at least one intersection in an effort to slow drivers. The city also established a speed monitor, a device on a trailer that logs the speed at which drivers are moving and flashes it on a screen. Drivers are supposed to see that they are going faster than the speed limit and slow down. That's the theory, anyway.
As long as it was there, this did help slow cars down, but as soon as the trailer was removed, the speed picked up.
So the residents complained again.
This time the city handed the problem over to city bureaucrats, who rubbed their hands in glee because they now had something to "study."
They studied the traffic flow, the average speed and the traffic volume, and recommended what is called traffic amelioration. This included the installation of islands at intersections, which forced drivers to circle rather than drive directly down the street; berms-also called chokers-which are ridges placed in the street at the curb to force drivers toward the center of the street (and hopefully slow them down) and stripes down the middle of the street to keep drivers from hitting oncoming cars.
Meantime, of course, time had passed-quite a bit of time. The children who had been playing on the street had grown up and many had moved away. The officers of the original neighborhood association had served their time and moved on.
But the project, once launched, had achieved a life of its own. The city bureaucrats prepared, in addition to their "studies," architectural plans. They researched the kind of trees and shrubs that might be planted in the traffic islands. They organized neighborhood meetings.
They surveyed the neighborhood around the street.
And, to their chagrin, they found the neighborhood didn't like their ideas for traffic amelerioration. Of course, they didn't like the traffic, either. But they didn't like the bureaucrats' suggestions any better.
That's where things are now. Like a juggernaut, the city is plowing on with plans to build permanent islands and berms; the residents are unhappy no matter what the city builds; and local American democracy has scored yet another triumph.
I have thought about all this for some time, for it has taken quite a while-about 10 years, in fact-to get this far. I have a feeling the biggest problem is neither city hall nor bureaucrats. I think it's the fact that the average American just doesn't like someone-especially someone from city hall-deciding what's good for them. Rather, it's a case of "I'd rather do it myself, even if I don't know what it is I'm supposed to do."
In the meantime, the traffic moves on, slowed down a mile or two an hour in speed, somewhat diminished in volume, but still there.
Probably it will be for some time to come.
But, hey, that's the democratic way.
Saratoga, California Since 1955
