Pirates' bounty never ends

In this fair city we used to get construction that allowed for this:

but now we get this:

There's a garage in that black hole somewhere,
but no one can park there.

If the owners of these bloated replacement homes weren't so busy making their mortgage, they might have cash left over for plants. Look how little the neighborhood gets in return with most of the new construction: fences or walls provide no open space or interest at the ground level for pedestrians and neighbors, mature urban trees are sent to the chipper, garages are dug under at such a grade that they can never be used for parking, and multiple stairs added out front send the message that no one entering should ever have a knee problem. Unlike the homes that were bulldozed to make way for these lot-sprawlers, no aging in place is possible here.

We hope the Residential Infill Project can make headway helping plot the shape of construction to come so it benefits everyone.

Activists from South Burlingame turn up at the Residential Infill Project
meeting last week, where city staffer Morgan Tracy described how
height is measured for new construction.

In the good news file, there are people coming forward from all parts of the city to express their dismay and displeasure. Plenty will be heard 2 p.m. Wednesday, Oct. 14, at City Hall, 1221 S.W. Fourth Ave., when Mayor Hales presents his version of a demolition tax that likely will increase demolitions. More here, along with a suggestion for a revised tax that would actually curb demolitions.

In this increasingly lawless built landscape, where Council staff has said there is no money to ensure enforcement of permitting rules, it's no wonder that developers are bypassing permits altogether. The "complaint-driven" systems for compliance also appear to be pointless, given that one developer—Metro Homes—doesn't bother paying its noise citations for construction work after hours. (Those citations are work; I tried to file one recently, and it took six phone calls, two emails, and a form to fill out and scan back—who has the time, especially when nothing happens, and behavior doesn't change?)

Recently a Portland Business Journal writer was interviewed by Oregon Public Broadcasting about shell companies and their role in the current development scene. One of the companies plying Portland—Columbia Redevelopment—runs all its management through an outfit in Cheyenne, Wyoming, that's caught the attention of a national wire service. Wonder what Columbia Redevelopment has to hide that it can't do out in the open and locally if it's so proud of being one of the few supposedly Portland-based builders?

We plant them. They cut them down.

With a tentative agreement reached with the developer to buy the site where three giant sequoias stand in Eastmoreland, it's time to look at some lessons learned. (Even so, vigilance is required because the Remmerses have been known to say one thing and do the opposite, as yesterday's skirmish showed: In the midst of negotiations the trucks showed up with chain saws, and protesters rallied to turn them away.)

This is what failed land-use policy looks like: 22 police officers called in to protect
one developer's "interest" in chopping down 150-year-old trees. Portland neighbors likely will
get the bill; they already endure all the costs of this destructive style of
development citywide.

On the way home to my neighborhood, I saw Renaissance Homes/Columbia Redevelopment harvesting signature trees at Northeast Edgehill Place and Fremont Street with nary a protester in sight:

Chain saws take it away in the Alameda neighborhood.

Meanwhile, the city of Portland sends out the following flier with its water bills, encouraging people to plant trees. Every schoolkid knows trees pump out oxygen for us to breathe and provide habitat, but there are other compelling reasons to keep them standing. Where are our water and environmental services bureaus while wholesale deforestation takes place?

As one who has participated in many Friends of Trees plantings, I wonder why neighbors would or should spend so many Saturdays putting do-good trees in the ground when they're razed just as quickly for new development that brings no benefit to the neighborhood.

Eastmoreland, as organized as neighbors are there, worked tirelessly to beat back the would-be developer of the site at 3646 SE Martins St. They had help this week from neighbors citywide. As many have pointed out, less affluent, less engaged, and less proactive neighborhoods would have a hard time doing the same.

We do, but the city won't protect them.

Check out your neighborhood association, which the city likes to say is our most effective conduit for protecting neighborhood interests. When Bob McCullough of the Eastmoreland Neighborhood Association was asked why he was at the SE Martins site risking arrest earlier this week. He simply said, "This is my neighborhood. This is what I have to do." Many neighborhoods don't have such accountable and strong leadership. Does yours? If not, what can you do to help? If every neighborhood had a land-use rapid response team, we'd be ahead in this game.

Eastmoreland's fight may be over, but there will be more citywide.

Laugh or cry—it all works

Courtesy Dermot O'Connor

When trees fall in an urban forest, do our leaders hear the sound?

Even the passerby interviewed by television journalists for the tree story on KOIN tonight notices the unequal requirements of tree protection for some developers over others. For years the city worked on a highly anticipated tree plan that was meant to solve Portland's deforestation trend; now it turns out developers only have to pay $1,200 per tree to fire up the chain saw.

 

This story came out the day I finally made the pilgrimage to see the huge trees awaiting the Remmers chopping block at 3646 SE Martins St., one block south of Woodstock Boulevard. We reached them close to sunset, when the neighborhood kids took to a bit of after-dinner ball next to the chainlink fence. The fence makes it hard to get close to, never mind touch, the three giant sequoias that took root there some 150 years ago. Since the Civil War era, they grew to more than 20 feet around and top out at around 150 feet.

Take a drone tour of the overstory here. Better yet, visit these impressive oxygen generators in person before they're gone. You hardly ever see huge trees like these in a city. If Remmers has his way, our kids never will.

If you decide to bear witness to, and document, their fall, sign up here.

While you're contemplating a trip to the trees, dash off a letter to your elected leaders about what a giant mistake it is losing these sequoias, along with the rest of the mature urban canopy that's been harvested to make room for mass-produced plan-book construction.

 (As an aside to buyers of this type of new housing, please plant trees! Consider heading up a tree-planting effort for your neighborhood to contribute foliage and privacy to the environs; most developers raze every green thing on a site to make way for new construction. It's hard to replace long-lived great shade trees that generations enjoyed, but here's a group that helps get people started.)

Why do we need trees? Because they exemplify beautiful living history, and we need to breathe.

Portlanders give a RIP!

Apparently there are at least 85 applications received for the approximately 25 spots on the city's nascent task force looking at new-construction guidelines as well as lot splitting, confirmations, and other factors that have incentivized many demolitions.

Plenty of Portlanders want to take part in building a better city.

Filmmaker tackles the hard questions

Longtime North and Northeast Portland journalist Cornelius Swart is wrapping up a film chronicling Portland's evolution—and needs our help. (He's not new to the topic: This second film picks up where the first left off.) Readers of this blog and supporters of responsible growth in Portland should consider taking part in the Kickstarter campaign to get this worthy project in the can and on the screen before more neighborhoods are plowed under.

Priced Out: 15 Years of Gentrification in Portland, Oregon 
looks at what happens when homes come down.
Photo courtesy Cornelius Swart.

This movement to curb demolitions, protect affordable housing, and prevent displacement has asked little of activists financially apart from the option to buy a sign or a T-shirt. Kicking in some bucks (pledge levels start at $5) costs less than $9 cocktails and it'll make you feel at least as good—if not better—and the results last a lot longer. Again, here's the link to be inspired, and to inspire others.

Meanwhile, in a sleek office building downtown

The Developers Review Advisory Committee, or DRAC, continues to meet monthly. Last week the entire meeting was dedicated to examination of DRAC's "role/purpose/work." I was pretty excited about this one! The august body, and its spin-offs, often come up with code and policy that do not seem to "implement[] the City's goals for ... neighborhood livability and the environment," as stated in its mission.

DRAC is overwhelmingly made up of developers, and underwhelmingly of the people who must bear the impact of that development. DRAC also has had trouble adhering to Oregon's Public Meetings Law, making it hard for Portlanders to learn what DRAC is doing, much less participate.

In the center of it all, DRAC vice chair Rob Humphrey of Faster Permits (in black), Bureau of Development Services
director Paul Scarlett (middle), and DRAC chair Maryhelen Kincaid (in blue) wrap an inconclusive
meeting on a mission.

Despite some DRAC members' support for sticking to the mission as codified, clearly other aspirations may trump any desire to stay the course. "We're the Supreme Court," Chairwoman Maryhelen Kincaid said in the July 16 meeting, and later, as justification for why DRAC should go bigger in scope and ambition: "We're the one well-rounded body." If this body's so "well-rounded" why the City Hall showdowns where the public protests how developers get to decide new rules for demolition delays, whether to protect neighbors from hazmat during demolitions, and so on, with little, if any, public input?

Claire Carder (right) is meant to represent "neighborhood coalition
land use committees" on DRAC but here she expresses concern
for developers having to pay additional fees in permitting. The fees
could help slow the trash-and-build bonanza or at least help stockpile
 funds for needed affordable housing. Maybe they just haven't figured
out how to shovel such city-sponsored projects to Humphrey's clients—yet.

After much discussion, DRAC decided to extend the monthly meetings by a half-hour.

It can be done

Returning to a more positive note, here's a pic of newer construction in Beaumont-Wilshire. I do not remember what was there before, if anything, but oh how I love this house. Let's count the ways:

• scaled to fit its surroundings, including adjacent homes
• provides plenty of off-street and useable parking
• designed with care and creativity
• built with quality materials
• makes smart use of space
• presents a friendly and interesting mien at street level
• allows neighboring properties access to privacy and light

You're invited, but not really

Keeping Portland weird all right. Photo by Heath Lynn Silberfeld.

Now that Oregon Senate Bill 705—which requires an accredited inspector to perform an asbestos survey before demolition—has passed both the Senate (April 30) and the House (June 9), Portland's Hazardous Materials Task Force has something substantial to talk about when it meets tomorrow.

The powers that be at the Bureau of Development Services (BDS) and its task force seem to be in the painful position of including the public when they discuss and decide on public policy. Witness this announcement of the meeting tomorrow, and its caution:

 "we have most of the seats spoken for by BDS and other agency staff, so I would request that you limit the number of people you send."

The meeting runs 1 p.m. to 2:30 p.m. Thursday, June 11, at 1900 S.W. Fourth Ave., Room 6E. Feel free to stand up for your right not to ingest hazardous materials such as lead and asbestos emanating from the Great House Harvest of 2013, 2014, and now 2015, as Portland continues its run of record-breaking numbers of home demolitions.

The good news is that Senator Dembrow, who helped spearhead SB 705, has more in mind. Here's his update (with emphasis added) as SB 705 wended its way through the legislature, and before it passed the House:

"The bill passed the Senate on a 22-8 vote, and I expect similar strong support in the House next week. Once the session ends, we’ll start working on similar legislation regarding testing homes slated for demolition for lead paint." 

Dembrow and the other state leaders who helped make asbestos protection happen—Rep. Keny-Guyer, Sen. Shields, and Reps. Frederick, Nosse, and Smith Warner—are looking out for us even if city leaders won't or can't. Please thank these conscientious players in Salem and applaud their continuing work to protect neighbors and neighborhoods. Read here and the next post for more on hazmat fallout from demolitions and its dangers.