Great City Parks

Great City Parks is a celebration of some of the finest achievements of landscape

architecture in the public realm. It is a comparative study of thirty significant public parks
in major cities across western Europe and North America. Collectively, they give a clear
picture of why parks have been created, how they have been designed, how they are
managed, and what plans are being made for them at the beginning of the twenty-first
century.
Based on unique research including extensive site visits and interviews with the
managing organizations, this book is illustrated throughout with clear plans and
photographs – with this new edition featuring full colour throughout. Tate updates his
seminal 2001 work with ten additional parks, including: the High Line in NYC, Golden
Gate Park in San Francisco and Westergasfabriek, Amsterdam. All the previous city parks
have also been updated and revised to reflect current usage and management.
This book reflects a belief that well-planned, well-designed and well-managed parks
and park systems will continue to make major contributions to the quality of life in an
increasingly urbanized world.
Alan Tate has a degree in Town and Country Planning, an accredited Diploma in
Landscape Design from the University of Manchester, and a PhD in Architecture from
Edinburgh College of Art. He has over twenty years’ professional experience and is a
Fellow and Past President of the United Kingdom Landscape Institute. He has been
teaching at the University of Manitoba since 1998 where he was promoted to the position
of Professor in 2007 and was Head of Department from 2000 to 2005 and from 2011.
Marcella Eaton has a Bachelor of Environmental Studies from the University of
Manitoba and a PhD in Landscape Architecture from Edinburgh College of Art. She has
many years of professional experience, largely in Toronto, and has been teaching at the
University of Manitoba since 1998. She has been Associate Dean Academic in the Faculty
of Architecture since 2009.
Great City Parks
Second Edition
Alan Tate
with
Marcella Eaton
First edition published 2001 (hardback), 2004 (paperback) by Spon Press
Second edition published 2015
by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada
by Routledge
711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2015 Alan Tate
The right of Alan Tate to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him/her in accordance with sections
77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Every effort has been made to contact and acknowledge copyright owners. If any material has been included without
permission, the publishers offer their apologies. The publishers would be pleased to have any errors or omissions
brought to their attention so that corrections may be published at a later printing.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic,
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information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.
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British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Tate, Alan, 1951– author.
Great city parks/Alan Tate. — 2nd edition.
pages cm
Includes bibliographical references and index.
1. Urban parks – Europe, Western. 2. Urban parks – North America. 3. Landscape architecture – Europe, Western. 4.
Landscape architecture – North America. I. Title.
SB484.E8T37 2015
712′.5–dc23
2014013944
ISBN: 978–0–415–53802–2 (hbk)
ISBN: 978–0–415–53805–3 (pbk)
ISBN: 978–1–315–75071–2 (ebk)
Typeset in Weiss and Futura
by Florence Production Ltd, Stoodleigh, Devon, UK
Contents
List of drawings
Acknowledgements
Preface
INTRODUCTION
1 PALEY PARK, NEW YORK
2 VILLAGE OF YORKVILLE PARK, TORONTO
3 FREEWAY PARK, SEATTLE
4 BRYANT PARK, NEW YORK
5 THE HIGH LINE, NEW YORK
6 PARC DE BERCY, PARIS
7 WESTERGASFABRIEK, AMSTERDAM
8 PARC ANDRÉ-CITROËN, PARIS
9 PARK GÜELL, BARCELONA
10 PARC DES BUTTES-CHAUMONT, PARIS
11 ST JAMES’S PARK, LONDON
12 PARQUE DE MARIA LUISA, SEVILLE
13 LUISENPARK, MANNHEIM
14 VONDELPARK, AMSTERDAM
15 PARC DE LA VILLETTE, PARIS
16 BIRKENHEAD PARK, MERSEYSIDE
17 QUEEN ELIZABETH OLYMPIC PARK, LONDON
18 GRANT PARK, CHICAGO
19 THE REGENT’S PARK, LONDON
20 STADTPARK, HAMBURG
21 LANDSCHAFTSPARK DUISBURG-NORD
22 GROßER TIERGARTEN, BERLIN
23 PROSPECT PARK, BROOKLYN, NEW YORK
24 CENTRAL PARK, NEW YORK
25 STANLEY PARK, VANCOUVER
26 GOLDEN GATE PARK, SAN FRANCISCO
27 EMERALD NECKLACE, BOSTON
28 FOREST PARK, ST LOUIS
29 AMSTERDAMSE BOS
30 MINNEAPOLIS PARK SYSTEM
REFLECTIONS
Appendix: List of parks by date construction to current design commenced
Bibliography
Image Credits
Index
Drawings
Location of New York parks
Paley Park, New York
Yorkville Park, Toronto
Freeway Park, Seattle
Bryant Park, New York
The High Line, New York
Location of Paris Parks
Parc de Bercy, Paris
Location of Amsterdam Parks
Westergasfabriek, Amsterdam
Parc André-Citroën, Paris
Park Güell, Barcelona
Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, Paris
Location of St James’s Park and Regent’s Park, London
St James’s Park, London
Parque de Maria Luisa, Seville
Luisenpark, Mannheim
Vondelpark, Amsterdam
Parc de la Villette, Paris
Birkenhead Park, Merseyside
Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park, London
Location of Grant Park, Chicago
Grant Park, Chicago
The Regent’s Park, London
Stadtpark, Hamburg
Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord
Location of the Großer Tiergarten, Berlin
Großer Tiergarten, Berlin
Prospect Park, Brooklyn, New York
Central Park, New York
Location of Stanley Park, Vancouver
Stanley Park, Vancouver
Location of Golden Gate Park, San Francisco
Golden Gate Park, San Francisco
Emerald Necklace, Boston
Forest Park, St Louis
Amsterdamse Bos
Minneapolis Park System
Acknowledgements
This project is the result of contributions from five sets of people – designers and
managers of the parks examined in the book; friends and family members who arranged
meetings with them; colleagues at the University of Manitoba; the people who took the
photographs and prepared the plans of the parks; the publishers; and – first and foremost –
my partner, colleague, fellow researcher, photographer, script reviewer and mentor
Marcella Eaton. Her personal support and intellectual contributions have been immense.
Louise Fox, in succession to Georgina Johnson-Cook, and the production team at
Routledge, particularly Jennifer Birtill, were reliably responsive and supportive during the
research and writing up and have been highly professional in the production of the book. I
also thank Jan Baiton for the copy-editing. Photographs for this edition, in addition to
those by Marcella and myself, were taken by Martin Jones – who, sadly, did not live to see
his work in the first edition, by Belinda Chan in New York and Vancouver, by Patrick
Hayes, by Pauline Boldt and by Peter Neal. Marcella, Belinda and Pauline also made a
major contribution in helping to reduce a collection of literally thousands of images down
to those that you see in the book. Plans of the parks for the first edition – most of which
are used again here – were drawn by the now-established landscape architecture
practitioner Peter Siry. Updates and new plans for this edition were drawn by landscape
architecture graduate Shawn Stankewich, who did a fine job of following Peter’s lead.
I thank Ralph Stern, Dean of Architecture at the University of Manitoba for his support
– both financially towards the extensive travel that the project required and in terms of the
time that it took me away from my other duties at the university. I am also grateful to
colleagues Dietmar Straub, for arranging meetings in Germany, and in the Architecture
and Fine Arts Library who have been an invaluable resource. I also thank my cousin,
Richard Tate, a long-time Paris resident, for arranging and acting as interpreter during
meetings with park managers and designers there; Peter Neal for providing introductions
to designers and managers in Britain; Mireia Fernandez for setting up meetings in
Barcelona; Iñigo Segurola and Juan Iriarte for introducing us to Sonsoles Peña Iriarte and,
in turn, the Ayuntamiento de Sevilla.
The designers, managers and advocates for the respective parks and park systems have
been extraordinarily generous with their time and insights about the individual parks for
which they are responsible and about city parks generally. Particular thanks are due to
Patrick Gallagher (Paley Park); Stephen O’Bright and Michelle Reid (Village of Yorkville
Park); Dan Johnson, Michael Shiosaki and Mark Mead (Freeway Park); Daniel Biederman
(Bryant Park); Joshua David, James Corner and Lisa Switkin (the High Line); Nicolas
Szilagyi (Parc de Bercy); Evert Verhagen and Nurah Abdulkadir (Westergasfabriek);
Fabrice Yvelin and Etienne Vanderbooten (Parc André-Citroën); Anna Ribas and Jordi
Rodrígez Martin (Park Güell); Delphine Biot (Parc des Buttes-Chaumont); Colin Buttery,
Mark Wasilewski and Nick Biddle (St James’s Park and Regent’s Park); José Miguel
Reina Becerra (Parque de María Luisa); Joachim Költzsch, Stefan Auer, Renate Fernando
and Horst Wagenfeld (Luisenpark); Quirijn Verhoog and Remco Daalder (Vondelpark);
Florence Berthout (Parc de la Villette); Mary Bagley, Anne Litherland, Adam King and
Robert Lee (Birkenhead); John Hopkins, Phil Askew and Peter Neal (Queen Elizabeth
Olympic Park); Julia Bachrach and Ed Uhlir (Grant Park); Heino Grunert (Stadtpark
Hamburg); Egbert Bodman, Claudia Kalinowski and Claus Heimann (Landschaftspark
Duisburg-Nord); Klaus von Krosigk, Klaus Lingenauber and Bettina Bergande
(Tiergarten); Emily Lloyd, Tupper Thomas, Christian Zimmerman and Paul Nelson
(Prospect Park); Sara Cedar Miller and Maura Lout (Central Park); Bill Harding, Brian
Quinn, Guy Pottinger and Joyce Courtney (Stanley Park); Eric Anderson (Golden Gate
Park); Jeanie Knox (Emerald Necklace); Bill Reininger, Jasmine Evans, Stephen
Schenkenberg, Dave Lenczycki and Esley Hamilton (Forest Park); Jan-Peter van der Zee,
Astrid Kruisheer and Evert Middelbeek (Amsterdamse Bos); Mary deLaittre and Bruce
Chamberlain (Minneapolis).
Preface
This book is intended for designers, administrators, planners and politicians with current
and future responsibilities for city parks. It should also be valuable for students and
teachers of landscape architecture, for other academics and for park users. The idea of
writing ‘a book about parks’ arose in the early 1980s when the firm that I was running
with Brian Clouston in Hong Kong was commissioned to design the town park for Sha Tin
New Town. Brian and I recognized that, at that time, there was limited literature to inform
the understanding and design of urban parks. When I discussed this study with Sir
Geoffrey Jellicoe in 1986, he suggested, with characteristic acuity, that the continuing
purpose of public parks ‘should be to lift people out of their everyday lives’ and told me
that it took him and Susan Jellicoe seventeen years to complete their research for the first
edition of The Landscape of Man. A mere twelve years later – following further work on
parks in Hong Kong and London, and a term as president of the United Kingdom
Landscape Institute that included a proactive campaign to promote government concern
for the plight of urban parks in Britain – I became an academic at the University of
Manitoba and wrote up my investigations.
The first edition of Great City Parks was published in 2001. It presented case studies of
twenty significant parks of varying ages and sizes in western Europe and North America.
It sold well enough for the publishers to invite me, in 2011, to prepare this expanded and
updated second edition. I agreed for three reasons. First, there have been major initiatives
in existing and new city parks; second, space limitations restricted the first edition to
presenting twenty case studies – causing the omission of five that are included here; third,
the production standard of the print-on-demand paperback copies that followed sell-out of
the initial print run.
Also there have been numerous publications bringing new perspectives on the subject –
including Setha Low, Dana Taplin and Suzanne Scheld’s Rethinking Urban Parks (2005);
Karen Jones and John Wills’ The Invention of the Park (2005); Julia Czerniak and and
George Hargreaves’ Large Parks (2007); Peter Harnik’s Urban Green (2010); Alexander
Garvin’s Public Parks (2011); Clemens Steenbergen and Wooter Reh’s Metropolitan
Landscape Architecture (2011); and Catie Marron’s City Parks (2013). There have also
been some excellent books on the individual parks, particularly Sara Cedar Miller’s
Central Park, An American Masterpiece (2003); Olaf Koekebakker’s Westergasfabriek
Culture Park (2003); David C. Smith’s City of Parks – The Story of Minneapolis Parks
(2008); Joshua David and Robert Hammond’s High Line – The Inside Story of New York
City’s Park in the Sky (2011); John Hopkins and Peter Neal’s The Making of the Queen
Elizabeth Olympic Park (2013); David P. Colley’s Prospect Park – Olmsted and Vaux’s
Brooklyn Masterpiece (2013); Paul Rabbitts’s Regent’s Park (2013), and monographs on
the work of park designers Allain Provost (Racine 2004), Kathryn Gustafson (Amidon
2005), Joseph Paxton (Colquhoun 2006) and Peter Latz (Weilacher 2008).
The title Great City Parks is enigmatic. Does Great refer to the parks? Or to the cities?
Or both? The book certainly examines important parks in major cities and reflects a belief
that well-planned, well-designed, properly funded and well-managed parks are invaluable
components of liveable and hospitable cities. But what might constitute a great park?
There is no easy answer. Well, there is. It’s like being in love. You know when you’re in it.
And that gels with Burke’s definition of beauty as ‘that quality or those qualities in bodies
by which they cause love [“that satisfaction which arises to the mind upon contemplating
any thing beautiful, of whatsoever nature it may be, from desire or lust”] or some passion
similar to it’ (Burke 1757: 83). Hargreaves, lead-designer of the Queen Elizabeth Olympic
Park, talked about great parks having ‘long-lived identities’ that ‘accrue over time’ (in a
magazine/journal, Landscape Architecture, September 2009: 63). That’s true. But it is
more than a question of non-sensory attributes such as longevity. It is a question of
something closer to a total sensory experience. Or, as hermeneuticist Hans-Georg
Gadamer put it, ‘a work of art does not satisfy in a “purely aesthetic” way, in the same
sense as a flower or perhaps an ornament does’ but the products of human expression say
‘something to each person as if it were said especially to him [sic]’ (Gadamer 1964: 97,
100). This applies to the sensory attributes of the examples in Great City Parks.
But why do the case studies address these particular city parks? And why are they
confined to North America and western Europe? Taking the second question first, the
more economically developed countries are going through a post-industrial transition that
is having similar impacts on their cities and parks. Inner cities in developed countries are
experiencing population growth; distinctions between time allocated to otium (leisure) and
to negotium are de creasing, and demands on parks to provide escape, exercise and
entertainment are growing. So these parks are prescient examples for less developed
countries. And as James Corner, designer of the park on the High Line noted, parks are
playing ‘new roles as essential infrastructure renewal, colonizing no-man’s-land, healing
abused sites, and overcoming barriers connecting communities’ (in Landscape
Architecture, September 2009: 58). But why these parks? The original criteria for
inclusion were that they had to be significant examples of park planning and design; they
had to be specifically designed – or substantially redesigned – for public use, and they had
to allow free admission. The selected parks deliberately represent a broad cross-section
from different ages and places, and are of vastly differing size. This range helps to
highlight similarities and differences – one fundamental basis of all human
comprehension.
The twenty parks that were included in the first edition are re-examined and updated
here, together with five parks that were written up but excluded from that edition – Park
Güell in Barcelona, St James’s Park in London, Luisenpark in Mannheim, Golden Gate
Park in San Francisco, and the Emerald Necklace in Boston. A further five have been
added – The High Line in New York, Westergasfabriek and the Vondelpark in Amsterdam,
Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park in London and Forest Park in St Louis. This is inevitably
an eclectic selection. Other commentators would almost certainly suggest other personal
favourites. Richard Haag, for instance, suggested his own excellent, groundbreaking Gas
Works Park in Seattle – opened in 1975 and now on the National Register of Historic
Places. The Olympic Sculpture Park, also in Seattle, Crissy Fields in San Francisco, the
not-yet-completed Brooklyn Bridge Park in New York, the Englischergarten in Munich,
and the Miroir d’Eau in Bordeaux are other examples that might also have been
instructive.
And why are the parks presented in size order? One reviewer of the first edition
suggested that this was as random as lining up their designers by height and ordering the
parks accordingly. But size is measurable, current and specific, whereas date, for instance,
is dependent on variable criteria – date of designation or date of design or date of opening
or date of redesign? And although the history of each park is examined, this is not a
historical study. It is suggested that the character and function of a park is heavily
influenced by its size – and that size, in turn, is heavily influenced by age and by location.
This means that the parks are presented in an approximate chronology from more recent to
older – with a few anachronisms.
In order to present the parks as a series of comparable case studies, the same template
has been used for each one, adapted where necessary. This template was also used for the
first edition. For both editions it was sent to the managers of each park before meeting
with them. The questions are set out in the Introduction. The template is used for each
chapter and for the closing reflections. In addition to being based on the cited literature,
each case study is based on at least one follow-up site visit between July 2012 and
December 2013 including meetings with the current managers and, where available,
designers of the parks. The plans of the parks are presented in a consistent style and to
standard scales – subject to their relative size – in order to aid comparison, and the date of
each image is given as an aid to comprehension of each park’s development over time.
Dimensions for parks in the United States are given in Imperial measurements (with SI
equivalents in parentheses). Dimensions for parks in Canada and Europe are given in SI
Units. References to work on historic landscapes are based on the United States Secretary
of the Interior’s Guidelines for the Treatment of Cultural Landscapes (1996), which
adopted the standard words ‘Preservation’, ‘Rehabilitation’, ‘Restoration’ and
‘Reconstruction’ to define different types of intervention. ‘Restoration’ means maintaining
a property as it was at a particular point in time, and ‘rehabilitation’ means to ‘convey
historical values’. Otherwise the word ‘renovation’ is used. Citations use the (publisher’s
preferred) Harvard referencing system. References are provided at the end of the book
with general references – referred to in more than one chapter – first, and then chapter-
specific references. Notes are provided at the end of each chapter.
Introduction
Rapid population growth in European and North American cities in the nineteenth century
made the provision of public parks a primary concern for national, state and city
governments. In the United States, land allocation was based on the principle of private
ownership. The idea of public land was generally an alien concept and the role of
government was seen – and to some extent, still is seen – as being to protect private
property rather than to provide universally accessible public services. The principle of
land held in common was more familiar in Europe – and European cities had the benefit of
royal parks that could be made available for public use.
This study examines and celebrates city parks as a principal product of the profession of
landscape architecture. It has been suggested that the title landscape architect was first
used with respect to the work of Frederick Law Olmsted (1822–1903) and Calvert Bowyer
Vaux (1824–95) on Central Park, New York.1 The development of new city parks began in
the mid-nineteenth century and led to the growth of the profession in Europe and North
America. The development of parks presaged two major changes in the character of
western cities. First, it led to the allocation for public use of large tracts of land in or close
to rapidly growing cities – and, in Europe, also to the transfer of areas of royal land to
public use. Second, it led to the creation of non-productive, vegetated scenery for purely
recreational purposes in urban areas. Urban parks of different shape, size, type and
purpose can now be found in cities and towns throughout the world. This study adopts the
view that the underlying theoretical approach of ‘consulting the genius of the place’ –
which prompts landscape architects to ‘think first of what is there, rather than what one
can put there’ (Greenbie 1986: 56) – makes them uniquely suited to design urban parks.
J. B. Jackson noted that ‘the picturesque park, open to the public … came to represent
the impact of three distinct social forces: the urge to improve the living conditions of
factory workers … the urge to bring all classes in close contact with … “natural”
environment, and the urge to improve the real estate value of areas surrounding the new
parks’ (Jackson 1994: 114). This was summarized in a letter from Olmsted published in
the San Francisco Daily Evening Bulletin on 4 August 1865 (Young 2004: 46). It
presented what Young listed as four virtues – increased real estate values promoting local
prosperity, better public health, an amicable public gathering place, and promotion of
safety and social order – although it is difficult to see a significant difference between the
last two.
Olmsted’s real estate argument was based on early evidence from Central Park. This has
recently been investigated by the Land Restoration Trust (latterly the Land Trust) in
Britain – an organization charged with establishing public–private partnerships to oversee
public open space resulting from brownfield reclamation (www.landrestorationtrust) – and
by John Crompton, a specialist in park financing at Texas A&M University. The
Restoration Trust avers that green space can increase adjacent property values by 6 to 35
per cent. Crompton, terming this the ‘proximate principle’, suggested that ‘a positive
impact of 20% on property values abutting or fronting a passive park area is a reasonable
starting point’ (Crompton 2000: 3). He recorded that ‘approximately 20 studies
investigating the issue have appeared in the past two or three decades’ and have
‘overwhelmingly verified the legitimacy’ of the principle (Crompton 2007).
The public health issue has also retained its currency – in terms of both psychological
and physical health. Environmental psychologists Rachel and Stephen Kaplan found that
‘peace, quiet, fascination, the chance to share with others and to do what one wishes are
deeply important to human beings. The natural setting makes these satisfactions more
available. Even the view of trees can lead to psychological gains’ and that ‘the immediate
outcomes of contacts with nearby nature include enjoyment, relaxation, and lowered stress
levels … well-being is affected by such contacts. People with access to nearby natural
settings have been found to be physically healthier than other individuals’ (Kaplan and
Kaplan 1989: 172–3). Multiple subsequent studies have supported these findings (see, for
instance, Kellert et al. 2008). Equally, Schama argued that ‘one of our most powerful
yearnings’ is ‘the craving to find in nature a consolation for our mortality’ and that ‘all our
landscapes, from the city park to the mountain hike, are imprinted with our tenacious,
inescapable obsessions’ (Schama 1995: 15, 18). Schama’s argument is supported by an
account from Ned Friedman, director of the Arnold Arboretum, of Bostonians seeking
solace in the arboretum after the Boston Marathon bombing in April 2013.2
The third issue – amicable public gatherings and social order is more contentious. Ward
Thompson has argued that ‘In today’s multicultural society, just as in Olmsted’s time, the
urban park is one of the few places where strangers come together regardless of economic,
ethnic, or social status’ and that it ‘continues to be the place where the democratic process
is worked out on the ground’ (Ward Thompson 1998: 19, 21). Rosenzweig and Blackmar
noted, with respect to Central Park, that even towards the end of the nineteenth century
‘self-segregation had a temporal as well as a spatial dimension’ (Rosenzweig and
Blackmar 1992: 334). Similarly, Elijah Anderson noted that the ‘public spaces of the city
are more racially, ethnically, and socially diverse than ever’ but that in ‘many impersonal
spaces, social distance and tension as expressed by a wariness of strangers appear to be the
order of the day’ (Anderson 2011: xvii). One positive observation that can be made in this
connection is that, despite varying degrees of private funding and events, and despite some
parks charging entry fees to non-citizens, the parks in this study remain freely accessible
to their citizens.
The design of nineteenth-century parks in most Western cities was based on primarily
pastoral models developed first in Germany and England. Danish-born Christian Cay
Lorenz Hirschfeld (1742–92), professor of philosophy and aesthetics at Kiel University,
wrote about the provision of public parks in 1785. His doctrines were adopted by Peter
Joseph Lenné (1789–1866), principal designer of the Tiergarten in Berlin, and Lenné’s
pupil, Gustav Meyer (1816–77). The work of Humphry Repton (1752–1818) on English
country estates was interpreted by John Nash (1752–1835) in picturesque designs for
Regent’s and St James’s Parks in London and adapted by Joseph Paxton (1803–65) at
Birkenhead to create the proto-typical pastoral English urban park. The model was further
adapted and applied by practitioners such as Olmsted, Vaux and H. W. S. (Horace William
Shaler) Cleveland (1814–1900) to the specific conditions of the rapidly expanding cities
of the United States – referred to here as ‘American Pastoral’ – and by Jean-Charles
Adolphe Alphand (1817–91) and his team of municipal designers in Paris. Towards the
end of the nineteenth century, the pastoral model for the public park gave way to
symmetrical, geometric layouts, typified by the Beaux-Arts Grant Park in Chicago and the
axial Stadtpark in Hamburg, forerunner of the modernist Volkspark.
Cranz identified four eras in the design and management of urban parks in the United
States – the Pleasure Ground, 1850–1900; the Reform Park, 1900–30; the Recreation
Facility, 1930–65; and the Open-Space System, 1965 and after (Cranz 1982). She and her
student, Michael Boland, subsequently identified a fifth era – the Sustainable Park –
running from 1990 (Cranz and Boland 2004). Young, in his study of parks in San
Francisco, concluded that there were only two eras in their development – the romantic era
up to the 1920s, after which ‘urban parks were no longer the promoters of moral order’
and ‘changed little’, and the rationalistic era whose ‘vision continues to dominate it today’
(Young 2004: 13). As we will see from the case studies, both of these categorizations
reflect a transition from nineteenth-century romantic paradigms to twentieth-century
functionalist paradigms. But neither categorization is entirely satisfactory.
Lachmund noted that ‘the city witnessed various attempts to approximate it to nature’ –
the first ‘led to the creation of parks and greeneries [rus in urbe], the second to the
creation of garden cities or suburbs that located the city in existing natures [urbs in rus]’
(Lachmund 2013: 223). This prompted an argument that there have been three major eras
in the design and management of urban parks, reflecting – among other things – three
distinct approaches to the design of cities:
• the era of the industrial city before 1940, divisible into two parts of around forty years
each – the romantic part until around 1900, typified by bucolic pastoral parks or
‘pleasure grounds’ for passive recreation, and the post-Nietzschean, modernist /
functionalist part until World War II, typified by axial, neo-Baroque / City Beautiful
parks designed for primarily active recreation;
• the era from World War II to 1980, an era of rapid suburbanization, new town building,
major highway construction and ‘white flight’, leading to declining tax bases and
severely reduced park budgets. This pattern of de-centred expansion of cities was
reinforced by developments in remote communication, promoting what Webber termed
the ‘non-place urban realm’ (Webber 1964). The expansion of regional highway systems
and spread of suburbs was followed by the development of places of commerce and
employment at nodes on regional transport systems, creating what Garreau called ‘Edge’
or ‘Node Cities’, primarily in North America (Garreau 1991);3
• the post-industrial era, after about 1980 – the beginning of the politics of Reagan and
Thatcher and what Soja termed, in urban development terms, ‘Postmetropolis’ (Soja
2000) – with ‘white flight’ reversed and lower income groups being pushed to the edges
of cities. This period coincides with establishment of the Central Park Conservancy and
appointment of the Prospect Park Administrator in 1980, reflecting the beginning of an
era of return to central-city living and returning prosperity for many traditional city
parks – largely through public–private partnerships in the United States and through
 significant state-sponsored public investment in Europe. This era has seen establishment
of parks such as Parc de la Villette in Paris, Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord,
Westergasfabriek in Amsterdam and Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park in London on
former industrial land – all with state funding – and, latterly, the High Line in New
York. This era has certainly displayed both the Cranz- and the Boland-identified
propensity for greater ecological awareness. But it has also demonstrated a propensity
for subdivision of parks into smaller garden areas – as in Parc de Bercy, Parc André-
Citroën and Village of Yorkville Park, and a huge increase in herbaceous planting – as in
the Luisenpark in Mannheim, Bryant Park, the High Line, the Lurie Garden in Grant
Park, the Westergasfabriek and Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park. This study was
conducted from the per spective that we are still in this post-industrial era. It is
becoming apparent, however, that the centres of major cities are increasingly the
preserve of the rich, the poor, the old, the young – and tourists – while ever-expanding
suburbs remain the habitat of people raising families and, increasingly, lower income
groups.
The template for the questionnaire and for meetings with park designers and/or
administrators comprised:
History / publications
• Can you recommend publication(s) which detail the history of the development of the
park?
• Which person and/or organization was responsible for the decision to build the park?
• What was the condition of the site when the park was designated?
• What was the original land area of the park and what is it now?
Plans of the park
• Can you provide a scale plan (in whatever format) of the park including landform,
vegetated areas, entrances, roadways, pathways and principal facilities?
• Do you have current or recent plans indicating the areas of the park under different types
of land cover (vegetation types / water bodies / recreation areas / hard surfaces etc.)?
Management and usage
• What organization manages the park; what is its legal / political status; how does the
public represent their views to it and are there any factors which may change this?
• What are the current sources of funding for the park?
• What is the current annual budget for recurrent maintenance of the park?
• How has this changed (in real terms) over the last twenty years?
• How many full-time staff are engaged in the maintenance of the park?
• Do you have recent user surveys indicating numbers of visitors to the park and the
purposes of their visits?
• Do you have a record of crimes committed in the park over the last ten years?
Plans for the future of the park
• Is there a current physical master plan guiding works in the park – including the
redesign of certain areas or the provision of new facilities – and if so, is it possible to
obtain a copy?
• Is there a current plan guiding the management of the park – and if so, is it possible to
obtain a copy?
The same format and range of issues was addressed in each of the case studies and is used
as the template for each chapter in the body of the book. To all intents and purposes, this
format matches the one outlined by Mark Francis in Landscape Journal (Francis 2001).
The same format is used for presentation of the closing Reflections.
NOTES
1 Vaux-biographer William Alex suggested that the New York State Legislature used the title when referring to them
in April 1860 (Alex 1994: 10); Witold Rybczynski suggested that Vaux used the title first in correspondence with
Olmsted in 1865 (Rybczynski 1999: 261), whereas John Claudius Loudon published the book The Landscape Gardening
and Landscape Architecture of the Late Humphry Repton Esq. in 1840.
2 Noted from Friedman’s address to Annual Meeting of Emerald Necklace Conservancy on 12 November 2013 that
the arboretum received ‘huge numbers of visitors after the bombing’.
3 In fact Clark, well ahead of Webber and Garreau, recognized that motor vehicle-based urban expansion could be
virtually endless – with employers moving places of work closer to places of residence in periods of boom, and
employees being prepared to travel further to work in economic downturns. His (somewhat premature) conclusion was
that transport had ‘done its work all too well’ and would lead to the ‘complete disintegration of the city’ (Clark 1958:
250).
Location of New York Parks
1 New Jersey
2 Central Park
3 Paley Park
4 Bryant Park
5 The High Line
6 Manhattan
7 Long Island
8 Prospect Park
1 Paley Park, New York
(4,200 square feet / 390 square metres)
INTRODUCTION
Paley Park was completed in 1967 and completely rebuilt to the same design in 1999.
Privately owned, privately built and privately run for free public use, it is the model ‘vest
pocket park’. Located on the north side of East 53rd Street in midtown Manhattan,
between Fifth Avenue and Madison Avenue, Paley Park is the product of a concept
promoted by landscape architect Robert Zion (1921–2000) and taken up by William S.
Paley (1901–90). Paley, founder and Chairman of the Columbia Broadcasting System
(CBS), established the park as a memorial to his father, Samuel Paley (1875–1963). It was
not a result of ‘Incentive Zoning’, a policy commenced in 1961 that permitted developers
‘to install paving around their buildings, call them plazas, and collect their 10:1 or 6:1
floor area bonus as of right’ (Kayden 2000: 18). Paley Park was a philanthropic donation
to the people of New York. Few human-made places provoke such unequivocal praise –
‘one of Manhattan’s treasures, a masterpiece of urbanity and grace … memorable because
it makes no effort to be so’ (Johnson 1991: 191, 194); ‘visiting Paley Park affects me as
much as going to Yosemite’ (Kim 1999: 88); and again, ‘a restrained and effective
multisensory experience’ (Kim 2013: 79).
HISTORY
Date and reason for designation as a park
The concept of the pocket park was demonstrated by Zion in May 1963 at an exhibition,
New York Parks for New York, organized by the Park Association of New York and staged
at the Architectural League of New York. He showed prototypical designs for parks ‘as
small as 50 by 100 feet [15 by 30 metres] between buildings where workers and shoppers
could sit and find a moment’s rest’ (Tamulevich 1991: 7). The sites that Zion used were
vacant lots on 40th, 52nd and 56th Streets. Such proposals caused controversy between
their advocates, Mayor John Lindsay (1921–2000 – Mayor 1966–73) and his Park
Commissioners Thomas Hoving and August Heckscher, on the one hand, and Robert
Moses, New York park commissioner from 1934 to 1960, on the other. Moses argued that
open spaces of less than 3 acres (1.2 hectares) would be ‘very expensive and impossible to
administer’ (Seymour 1969: 5).
Paley would have been aware of the exhibition and of the controversy surrounding
pocket parks. In a statement issued shortly after the opening of the park in May 1967, he
stated that ‘as a New Yorker, I have long been convinced that, in the midst of all this
building, we ought to set aside occasional spots of open space where our residents and
visitors can sit and enjoy themselves as they pause in their day’s activities. When I was
casting about for an appropriate way to create a memorial to my father … it occurred to
me that to provide one such area in the very center of our greatest city would be the kind
of memorial that would have pleased him most’ (Paley – undated). Paley formed the
Greenpark Foundation in 1965 to acquire a site close to CBS headquarters and build the
park. Construction began on 1 February 1966. The park opened on 23 May 1967.
Size and condition of site at time of designation
The site had been occupied from 1929 to 1965 by the Stork Club – ‘one of New York’s
most legendary nightspots’ (Lynn and Morrone 2013: 241). It is 42 feet wide by 100 feet
deep (12.8 by 30.5 metres). In line with the Manhattan street grid, it is oriented to the
southwest – optimal for sun pockets. Although the sidewalk in front of the park belongs to
the City of New York, it is a visual extension of the park.
Entrance from 53rd Street (October 1999)

Twenty-foot/6-metre-high waterfall (November 2011)

Key figures in the establishment of the park

Paley’s father was a Russian immigrant who became a successful cigar merchant. Paley
joined his father’s company after graduating from Wharton School of Finance at the
University of Pennsylvania. He developed an interest in broadcasting after buying
advertising time on a Philadelphia radio station. Described as ‘fabulously wealthy and
notoriously despotic’, Paley had an uncanny ability to succeed with projects that others
treated more cautiously. This led him, first, to buy an unprofitable chain of radio stations
and, later, to invest in TV broadcasting ‘when skeptics were denouncing the new
medium’. He was ‘an intensely private man with patrician tastes’ (Macleans Magazine
1990: 58).
Robert Zion obtained masters’ degrees in business and in landscape architecture from
Harvard. In 1957 he went into business with fellow Harvard-trained landscape architect,
Harold Breen. Zion’s marketing included writing letters to newspaper and magazine
editors about the firm’s work and an article in the AIA Journal about ways to make New
York City more habitable – including gallerias, parklets and zoolets – ideas that were
eventually presented at the Architectural League exhibition in 1963 (Decker 1991: 22).
Zion was, by all accounts, as demanding a person as Paley.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location
Paley Park is located ‘in the midst of one of the most congested and frenetic parts of
midtown Manhattan’ (Lynn and Morrone 2013: 240) – a concentrated area of stores,
offices and hotels, just the other side of Fifth Avenue from the perennially popular
Museum of Modern Art.
Original design concept
The concept demonstrated at the 1963 exhibition showed a prototype ‘based on the
concept of a small outdoor room … with walls, floors and a ceiling’ (Zion 1969: 75). It
dealt with size – as small as 50 by 100 feet; enclosure – removed from the flow of traffic
and sheltered from noise; purpose – for adults to rest; furniture – movable, comfortable,
individual seats; materials – rugged; walls – neighbouring buildings, covered with vines;
floor – with textural interest and pattern; ceiling – dense canopy from trees 12 to 15 feet
apart; waterworks – bold and simple; kiosks – with vending machines or cafés (ibid: 76).
‘Food’, as William H. (Holly) Whyte noted, ‘draws people, and they draw more people’
(Whyte 1980: 53).

Tables and chairs in half of park during building works on other half (May 2013)
Paley Park, New York
1 Waterfall
2 Honey Locust Grove
3 Gatehouse/Pump Room
4 Gatehouse/Kiosk
5 East 53rd Street

Layout and materials

The trees in Paley Park – honey locusts – were planted in a 12-foot (3.6 metre) quincunx
rather than the square grid shown in the 1963 exhibition. This looser layout, their
continuation onto the sidewalk and the long, low steps at the entrance all contribute to the
ordered casualness in the park. The shelter from surrounding buildings and the orientation
create a comfortable micro-climate, allowing sunshine at lunchtime from spring to fall.1
But the single most alluring feature in Paley Park is the 20-foot-high (6 metre) waterfall
that thunders down the full width of the back wall at the rate of 1,800 gallons (6,800 litres)
a minute. The loud but somehow soothing roar dulls the sounds of the surrounding city.
The steps, outer paving and planter walls are stippled pink granite – smooth but not too
slick. The central paving is 4-inch (100 millimetre) red-brown granite setts in a square grid
– controlled but not too stiff. The sixty movable, white Bertoia-designed wire chairs and
twenty white marble-topped tables add to the sense of informality. The mono-specific tree
planting and ivy on the walls complement the almost Zen-like restraint of the hard
materials. The year-round cycle of herbaceous plants includes yellow tulips each spring.2
The renovation in 1999 included replacement of the waterfall pumps and of the
underground irrigation system; replacement of all soils and planting (apart from the three
honey locusts in the City-owned sidewalk); lifting, cleaning and reinstallation of all hard
materials, and replacement of all site furniture. The granite setts were re-used, bedded on
concrete and grouted-in, incorporating grilles around the trees.3 The original cost of the
park, including land acquisition, was around $1 million. The renovation cost around
$700,000.

Paley Park and 53rd Street from above (October 1999)

MANAGEMENT AND USAGE

Paley Park is owned by the Greenpark Foundation and funded by an endowment
established under Paley’s will. In 2013 the park had three on-site staff. There is virtually
no vandalism beyond the occasional theft of flowers. In its early years it was noted that
‘since its opening, between 2,000 and 3,000’ people visited the park ‘every sunny day’
(Birnie 1969: 173). Whyte recorded in 1980 that ‘the two places people cite as the most
pleasing, least crowded in New York – Paley Park and Greenacre Park – are by far and
away the most heavily used per square foot’ (Whyte 1980: 73). He recorded thrity-five
people per 1,000 square feet in Paley Park and concluded that sensitive design increases
the carrying capacity of small urban spaces. The current capacity is set at 200 people at
any one time. The heaviest use is between 11:00 a.m. and 4:00 p.m. The park is open
twelve hours a day seven days a week but closed on Thanksgiving, Christmas and
Independence Day, and for the month of February – a change in 2014 from the previous
practice of closing the park for the month of January.4 The intention is for the park to
remain exactly as it was originally designed.
CONCLUSIONS
Subtle and sophisticated, Paley Park is a carefully conceived retreat from the bustle of
midtown Manhattan. Its Zen-like restraint creates an ideal contrast with its hyper-urban
setting. It is an object lesson in the use of orientation to create optimal micro-climate, use
of flexible seating to accommodate dense crowds, use of white noise to obscure street
noise, the attraction of outdoor food outlets in urban locations, and the value of human
surveillance. The scale and function of Paley Park are a specific response to Manhattan
conditions. Its impact has been as potent in its own way as the impact of Central Park.
NOTES
1 Jacobs (1961: 103–6) argued that enclosure, intricacy, centring and sun are the principal requirements for the
success of neighbourhood parks.
2 Noted at meeting with Phillip A. Raspe Jr. of the Greenpark Foundation on 24 April 2000 that yellow tulips form
part of cycle because, at the time of opening, Paley’s wife, Barbara Cushing Paley, requested that they always be
displayed in spring.
3 Noted at meeting with Patrick Gallagher of the Greenpark Foundation on 20 May 2013.
4 Noted at meeting with Patrick Gallagher of the Greenpark Foundation on 20 May 2013.
2 Village of Yorkville Park, Toronto
(0.36 hectares / 0.9 acres)
INTRODUCTION
The Village of Yorkville Park lies just north and one block west of the iconic intersection
of Toronto’s two major streets – Yonge and Bloor. It occupies a 150-metre by 30-metre
strip directly above the Bloor-Danforth subway line. It comprises a series of gardens
representing different types of Canadian landscape. The individual gardens follow the
footprints of the former nineteenth-century buildings on the site. The design was prepared
by San Francisco-based landscape architects Schwartz / Smith / Meyer in collaboration
with Toronto architects Oleson Worland, for an international competition launched in July
1991.1 Construction commenced in spring 1992 and was completed in spring 1994 at a
cost of around C$2.5 million. The park demonstrated the emerging commitment of
Toronto, fourth largest city in North America, to investment in its public realm – but only
after concerted pressure from local business owners. After a lengthy gestation, the City
proceeded with the competition and with construction of the winning design. Then it
withstood a barrage of scathing commentary in the local and national press, particularly
over the cost of cutting and transporting to site the granite rock that is the focal point of
the park.2 Latterly repair and replacement work has been undertaken in line with the
receipt in 2012 of a Landmark Award from the American Society of Landscape Architects
(Hume 2012).
HISTORY
Designation as a park
The Village of Yorkville developed in the 1830s on 80-hectare farm lots north of Bloor
Street.3 It was incorporated in 1853 and annexed to the City of Toronto in 1883. By 1930
the village had become a centre for business and entertainment. Yorkville was known in
the 1960s ‘for its cafés and hippie culture; the atmosphere of the village past can be found
in the narrow tree-lined streets, Victorian mews houses and picturesque gardens’ (City of
Toronto 1994). The row of brick-built houses on the south side of Cumberland Street was
demolished in 1954 to make way for the subway line. An entrance to its Bay Station is
located in the park. Following construction of the subway, the site was acquired by the
City for use as a parking lot. Local residents did, however, exact a promise from the
council in 1973 that the land would, eventually, be designated as a park. In 1974 a small
area was designated as public open space. But the short-stay car park was lucrative for the
council and some traders feared that its closure would be bad for their businesses. The
Bloor-Yorkville Business Improvement Area (BIA), formed in 1985 ‘in response to
tremendous commercial, retail, residential and tourist growth’ (www.bloor-yorkville.com),
helped to sustain demand for the park. Although money for acquisition of the site and for
construction of the park had been approved in 1983/84, it took until July 1991 to launch
the design competition.
 The competition was organized in two stages – first as an international call for
expressions of interest; then as a limited competition between eight shortlisted applicants.
The extraordinarily perceptive brief stressed that the park was ‘an opportunity to create a
new natural oasis’ and to ‘re-establish a foothold for nature in this vibrant neighbourhood
… to contribute to the Greening of Toronto and to implement the City Council’s
environmental and urban forestry initiatives’. It called for an ‘ecosystem approach …
resulting in local and regional ecosystems remaining intact’ – a reflection, perhaps, of the
zeitgeist, more than of the scale of the park. The brief also called for a park that
encouraged ‘use in all seasons, daytime and nighttime’ and created ‘a sense of quietitude
distinct from the surrounding uses and activities’. It called for competitors to ‘consider
how the beauty and phenomena of natural processes can be articulated through design’ and
encouraged exploration of ‘qualities of seasonality, colour, texture, fragrance, sound, form
and the process of natural decay … in temporal and spatial terms’ (City of Toronto 1991).
A long list for a small, disturbed, city centre site.

Village of Yorkville Park, Toronto

1 Cumberland Street
2 Amelanchier Grove
3 Herbaceous Border Garden
4 Rock in Canadian Shield Clearing
5 Water Curtain
6 White Alder Grove
7 Ontario Marsh/BC Douglas Fir Boardwalks
8 Crab Apple Orchard
9 Fragrant Herb Rock Garden
10 River Birch Grove
11 Prairie Wildflower Garden
12 Former Scots Pine Grove/Fog Emitters
13 Bellair Street

Condition of site at time of designation

The site is almost entirely located above the subway tunnel, making it, to all intents and
purposes, a ground-level roof garden. Competitors had to deal with toxic soils that
contained concentrations of spilled oil residues, heavy metals and de-icing salt. They also
had to address pollution levels that would ‘inhibit the ability of trees and other plant
material to grow’, and the fact that existing building shadows across the park were
anticipated to remain and to increase as a result of further development on the north side
of Bloor Street (City of Toronto 1991: 26). Competitors were also required to consider
how to achieve zero per cent stormwater runoff from the site.
Key figures in the establishment of the park
Toronto City Park Commissioner Herb Pirk and staff are to be admired for withstanding
the barrage of criticism that the project provoked. But without the campaigning work of
Budd Sugarman (1921–2004) on the part of Yorkville residents, businesses and the BIA,
the process might never have started. Interior designer Sugarman persistently goaded the
City Council into agreeing to build the park after the construction of the subway line in the
1950s. He helped to elicit the council’s commitment in 1973 to build it and he eventually
sat on the panel that judged the design competition in 1991. Other jurors were journalist
Adrienne Clarkson (Governor General of Canada 1999–2005), architect Carol Kleinfeldt
and professors of landscape architecture Walter Kehm and Moura Quayle.
Toronto Mayor Phil Givens (1922–95 – Mayor 1963–66) had campaigned for the
purchase and placing of a Henry Moore sculpture, The Archer, outside the new city hall.
That campaign became the subject of heated political debate. He launched an appeal to
raise the money from private sources. Moore agreed to reduce the price of the piece.
Givens lost the subsequent mayoral election. Toronto acquired the sculpture. Toronto Star
columnist Pierre Berton suggested that ‘the city hall competition and the purchase of The
Archer marked a turning point for a city just emerging from its anal-retentive past’. He
also suggested that Yorkville Park was ‘exactly the sort of thing we need if we’re going to
boast about being a world class city’ (Berton 1993: F3).
By all accounts, formation of the competition-winning team was instigated by Oleson
Worland – architects David Oleson and Wilfrid Worland. They contacted Martha Schwartz
at the practice she had formed in 1990 with Ken Smith and David Meyer, fellow designers
from the office of Peter Walker. The agreement for detailed design of the park was made
with Oleson Worland conditional on them retaining the services of Schwartz / Smith /
Meyer. Credit for the design of the park is often accorded to Martha Schwartz – perhaps
because of the notoriety of her work – but if any individual is to be singled out as author
of the design it should be Smith himself.4 The detailed design, writing of specifications,
testing of prototypes for installation in the park and inspection of work on site was,
however, very much a collaborative exercise.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location within city
The project can be seen (and dismissed, if you will) as a boutique park in a boutique
district – a point that did not go unremarked upon by the press when the rock was being
transported to site during a recession in 1993. It marks a transition between high-rise
commercial buildings to the south, high-culture businesses and newer high-rise residences
to the north. The influence of the park has ‘migrated outward … up and down the subway
as well as north to the rest of the village and south to Bloor … it contributed to the rise in
real estate values in the immediate vicinity’.5 The area has gradually become ‘a high-end
shopping and entertainment district popular among visiting movie stars [when the Toronto
International Film Festival was staged nearby] and resident wannabes’ (Hume 2012: 168).
Design concept

Water Curtain (August 2009)

The ten gardens each represent a different type of Canadian landscape. They are
interspersed with three crosswalks. The gardens and crosswalks follow the property lines
of the previous nineteenth-century buildings. Smith described the objectives for the park
as being to:
• reflect, reinforce and extend the scale and character of the original village. This had to
be done in the face of very different scales of development on either side of the park and
led, in particular, to alignment of the gardens with the previous property lines;
• provide unique inner-city ecological opportunities for the introduction and display of
native plant species and communities. Smith continued the nineteenth-century
symbolism by likening the diverse individual gardens to the specimen trays in a
Victorian ‘collection box’;6
• provide a variety of spatial and sensory experiences, landscape qualities and park
functions. Pergolas, trellises, the climate-sensitive water / ice curtain and the fog
 emitters supplement the high density of vegetation in closing out the surroundings and
heightening the experience of the park;
• link the park to existing pedestrian walkways and adjacent areas. The north–south
alignment of the park – the ‘collection boxes’ – are the key to its diversity and to its
integration with wider pedestrian patterns (Smith 1999).

Cumberland Street/Ontario Marsh/Pergola (August 2009)

Crab Apple Orchard and Pergola (August 2009)

Design review
The park is like a bolt of banded fabric unfurled along the length of Cumberland Street –
one park but many gardens. A high-density distillation of the landscapes of a huge
country. It is a thoughtful response to a demanding brief for a difficult site; it is
particularly successful in relating to the contrasting scales of surrounding buildings and
reflecting the history of the site; and it uses seasonal changes of climate to dramatic effect.
The park is remarkably open, permeable and visible from all sides and from above – ‘the
post-Olmstedian opposite of that iconic anodyne, a park that screens everything out’
(Griswold 1993: 68). It remains, to all intents and purpose, an island in a sea of roads. It
has busy streets on two sides and private accesses along the other two sides and the only
ways across the island are the north–south pedestrian ways.
The detailing of the park demonstrates a delicate balance between robustness and
lushness. The galvanized steel beams of the pergola, the stainless steel water / ice curtain
and the massive re-assembled rock assert a powerful, rugged presence.7 The groves – the
pine, the birch and the alders – have similar presence. They are powerful abstracts,
particularly in counterpoint to the wildness of the prairie garden, the fragrance of the herb
garden, the various greens in the marsh garden and the lushness of the herbaceous border
garden in summer and its skeletal forms in winter. The park contains an astonishingly
dense collection of visual images, historical references and representational landscapes. At
first these can seem too dense, too clever and too self-referential, and the north–south
alignment can seem too rigid and too restricting. But, with a site that is so narrow and so
visible and which is perched on the surface of a subway tunnel, perhaps it was appropriate
to approach it with such caution. The result provides a rich contrast to the stark built-up
setting.
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
The park is owned by the City of Toronto and managed by its Parks, Forestry and
Recreation Division.8 It is maintained by the Toronto and East York District, one of five
districts of the Parks Branch. During the establishment stage, immediately after
construction, the park was allocated specifically assigned staff and it still requires more
attention than ‘regular parks’. There are two principal reasons for this – heavier, day-long
and year-round usage, and the nature of the individual gardens, which require care levels
comparable to herbaceous planting. The BIA takes an active role in overseeing and
maintaining the condition of the park, including the purchase of movable site furniture and
performing clean-ups before and after events that it sponsors. Use levels have risen
significantly over the last decade, partly as a result of the increasing number of nearby
high-rise residential buildings, leading to increased demand for dog exercise – something
for which the park was not designed and is not particularly suited. There are, however,
relatively few regulations and there is relatively little vandalism – a result, undoubtedly, of
it being so openly visible.
Funds for maintenance of the park all derive from the general revenues of the City of
Toronto. No separate breakdown is kept of the cost of maintaining individual parks.
Observations have been made that the park – and particularly the rock – has drawn
children to an otherwise adult part of town, but no formal surveys of park usage have been
conducted. The BIA remains proud and protective of the park and successive local
councillors have been cognizant of the contribution that it makes to the business
community and, increasingly, the residential community.
PLANS FOR THE PARK
The principal aim for Village of Yorkville Park is to maintain the designers’ original
intentions.9 This requires additional care for the plant material and additional servicing
and/or replacement of the mechanical components, particularly because of ambient
climatic and micro-climatic conditions. In late 2013 the grove of Scots pine at the east end
of the park – which had been suffering from the difficult micro-climate and, probably,
road salt – was clear-felled ahead of replacement planting. The mist-emitters within the
grove were also malfunctioning, and the water / ice curtain and irrigation systems had
been put out of commission by extraordinarily heavy rainstorms. To its credit, the City
budgeted for repair, rehabilitation and replacement – rather than removal – of these items
in 2014. It has also retained an advisory relationship with Oleson Worland in order to
maintain the continuity of the original design.
Rock in Canadian Shield Clearing (November 2013)

CONCLUSIONS
The Village of Yorkville Park won the President’s Award of Excellence from the
American Society of Landscape Architects (ASLA) in 1996 and a Landmark Award in
2012 for projects completed between fifteen and fifty years previously. The ASLA Awards
jury described it as conveying ‘a strong sense of Canadian identity’ being ‘a four seasons
project, like very few are’ and being a ‘remarkable piece of work and just getting better
with age’ (www.asla.org). The design was an object lesson in response to context, drawing
on the history of the site with wit and sincerity and introducing cameos of the landscape of
this vast country into the heart of its largest city. Its development demonstrated first
dilatoriness and then commitment on the part of the council. When they eventually reacted
to the promptings of Sugarman et al., they showed tenacity in staging the competition and
following through with construction of the selected scheme. This was articulated by one of
the many journalists who wrote about the park during its design and construction. ‘Cities
that don’t nurture such ideas aren’t very interesting. They aren’t the kind of place people
talk about or want to visit. Or even want to live in’ (Monsebraaten 1993). The City – and
the BIA – deserve recognition for maintaining the integrity of a living landmark.
River birch grove (November 2013)

Scots Pine Grove / Fog Emitters (August 2009)

NOTES
1 The competition was run under the name Cumberland Park, after the street along its north side. That name was used
until September 1992.
2 The cost of the rock was widely reported as C$282,933.
3 Account largely drawn from City of Toronto 1991 and 1994.
4 Noted at meeting with Stephen O’Bright, Parks and Recreation Division, City of Toronto and David Oleson on 12
October 1999.
5 Noted at meeting with Stephen O’Bright and David Oleson on 12 October 1999.
6 Competition juror Walter Kehm noted, ‘when we talk of ecosystem we must in an urban context think in terms of
metaphor’.
7 The rock originated from an outcrop of Muskoka granite near Gravenhurst, Ontario. It was removed in 135 pieces –
each weighing between 225 and 900 kilos – and transported on flatbed trailers for re-assembly on site. This caused
extensive, and not altogether supportive, comment in the local and national press throughout 1993.
8 This account largely noted at meeting with Stephen O’Bright and Michelle Reid, Parks, Forestry and Recreation
Division, City of Toronto on 18 November 2013.
9 Noted at meeting with Stephen O’Bright and Michelle Reid on 18 November 2013.
3 Freeway Park, Seattle
(5.2 acres / 2.1 hectares)
INTRODUCTION
Freeway Park, like Yorkville Park, is primarily a roof garden over a transport route. It
spans the Interstate 5 (I-5) highway as it passes directly east of downtown Seattle, the
largest city in the Pacific Northwest of the United States. The I-5 runs from the US-
Canadian border 110 miles (176 kilometres) north of Seattle to the US-Mexican border,
more than 1,300 miles (2,000 kilometres) to the south. The park covers most of a 1,500
foot (460 metre) long, ten-lane wide stretch of the highway at its closest point to the
downtown. The highway was constructed through Seattle between 1959 and 1965. The
park is a prime example of the exploitation of air-rights over a highway. It was built in
three stages during the 1970s and 1980s. Two of these stages involved the construction of
substantial buildings.

Thundering water in Concrete Canyon (September 2012)

Freeway Park, Seattle
1 Convention Center
2 East Plaza
3 I-5 Freeway South
4 I-5 Freeway North
5 Pigott Memorial Corridor
6 First Hill District
7 Eighth Avenue
8 Parking Garage
9 Apartment Building
10 Park Place
11 Concrete Canyon
12 Seneca Street
13 Naramore Fountain
14 Sixth Avenue
15 Spring Street

Concrete Canyon (September 2012)

The park is iconic for two reasons. First, it set a precedent as a noise-reducing ‘lid’ over
a small section of one of the many freeways built to and through the hearts of United
States cities in the 1950s and 1960s, embodying principles proposed by San Francisco-
based landscape architect Lawrence Halprin (1916–2009) in his 1966 book Freeways.
Second, its centre-piece is a concrete canyon where 27,500 gallons (104,000 litres) per
minute of water thunders into a deep void over the median of the highway. It was designed
by Halprin’s associate Angela Danadjieva (b. 1931). It was a development of her earlier
work with Halprin on ‘Ira’s Fountain’ (the Auditorium Forecourt), a one-block water
feature in Portland, Oregon whose iconic design was inspired by the cliffs and mesas of
the American west. With its angular, blocky, board-marked concrete forms and its
regularly replicated palette of primarily evergreen plants, Freeway Park is an essay in
brutalist late modernism. In some respects it is little more than a band-aid over the deep
gash of the I-5; in a broader perspective it signalled the start of urban revival in the United
States after a post-war orgy of highway construction, and created a precedent for the ‘Big
Dig’ – the under grounding between 1991 and 2006 of the I-93 through downtown Boston.
HISTORY
Designation as a park
Environmentally concerned citizens conducted a forceful campaign for a lid over the
downtown portion of the freeway, and for a park to be built on that lid. Their call was
initially rejected – ‘the freeway was costing enough money without adding any frills’
(Marshall 1977: 399). Floyd A. Naramore (1879–1970) – the ‘N’ of architects NBBJ –
continued to cam paign for a park over the freeway. But the real impetus for creation of
the park did not develop until a number of forces came together in 1968.
In that year Seattle voters approved a Forward Thrust Program with bond resolutions
for $334 million included $65 million for park facilities. The principal advocate of that
programme was Seattle attorney James R. Ellis (b. 1921). The State Highway Department
had finally agreed to provide the ‘lid’ on which the park would be built. At the same time
the City of Seattle was looking for a site on which to build a parking garage that would
intercept downtown traffic leaving the freeway. Also at that time, property developer R. C.
Hedreen was looking for a site for a twenty-one-storey office building. He wanted to
develop the land fronting Seneca Street west of the freeway – the place where the
Highway Department wanted to locate the footings for one of the spans across the
freeway. The outcome was an agreement whereby Hedreen located his building, Park
Place, at the northwest corner of the lot and his parking garage to the east. This ensured
that the heart of the park (as then conceived) would not be in the afternoon shade of Park
Place and that the park could extend over the roof of the parking garage. The park was to
continue over the roof of the city’s East Plaza Garage – further north, on the east side of
the freeway.
Convention Center and park above Interstate Highway 5 (September 2012)

Construction began in 1972 and the park was ceremoniously opened on the bicentennial
Independence Day – 4 July 1976. The total cost was $13.79 million. The bridges cost
$5.53 million derived from federal and state funds. The parking garage cost $4.20 million
raised through city council bonds but was expected to pay for itself. Construction of the
park itself cost $4.07 million. The majority of that figure – $2.80 million – came from the
Forward Thrust bonds. The remainder was largely drawn from various federal and city
funds. As Ellis pointed out, constructing the park in the air space above the freeway cost
about $45 per square foot at a time when the purchase price of land in the downtown was
about $50 per square foot (Marshall 1977: 400). Moreover, the annual property tax on the
Park Place building was $175,000 compared with a figure of $50,000 for the previous
buildings on that site.
Freeway Park was extended twice during the 1980s. First, in 1984, the city extended it
eastward into the First Hill residential neighbourhood – the Pigott Memorial Corridor.
This linked a retirement community with the original park. Then, in 1988, the park was
extended northward over the freeway as part of the construction of the 370,000 square foot
(49,000 square metre) Washington State Convention Center – another project inspired by
James Ellis. This led to an increase from 400 feet (120 metres) to 1,500 feet (460 metres)
in the overall length of freeway spanned by the park.
Key figures in establishment of the park
Clearly, the key figure in the initial establishment and subsequent extension of the park
was James Ellis. The Forward Thrust Program that Ellis inspired led to the involvement,
in turn, of architects NBBJ, of Lawrence Halprin and of his associate, Angela Danadjieva,
and landscape architects Edward McLeod and Associates. Walker and Simo noted that ‘as
Halprin confronted problems of urban landscape design in cities … he began to focus on
process rather than immutable product’. They suggested that ‘he discovered a new role for
the artist – not the solitary hero but the person who choreographs … activities … for and
with the community’ (Walker and Simo 1994: 146–7).

Upstands to prevent ‘horizontal use’ of bench (September 2012)

Part of original park above freeway (September 2012)

 Ada Louise Huxtable described Ira’s Fountain in Portland, Oregon – also by Halprin
and Danadjieva – as ‘one of the most important urban spaces since the Renaissance’
(Thompson 1992: 68). And we have a picture of Halprin as the facilitator / catalytic
choreographer working with individuals who gave physical form to his dance scores.
Halprin has been compared with Frederick Law Olmsted in that ‘his singular
achievements rest on his unusual skill at harnessing the efforts of others’ (ibid: 64).
Danadjieva confirmed that she was given ‘all the opportunities you can ever imagine for
creativity’ and that ‘her imagery came from a month long tour of western canyons she
took while working for Halprin’ (ibid: 68). She trained as an architect in Sophia, Bulgaria
and in Paris, moving to the United States after winning an international competition in
1965 for a new civic center plaza for San Francisco (Danadjieva 1977: 406). She left
Halprin’s office in 1977 to establish a partnership with Thomas Koenig. Danadjieva and
Koenig Associates designed the Pigott Memorial Corridor (1984) and Convention Center
(1988) extensions to the park.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location within city
As the I-5 descends into Seattle from the north it offers stunning panoramas across Lake
Union to Gas Works Park and the more distant Space Needle and downtown. It heads
directly towards the down town, curving around the foot of First Hill before veering away
onto a north–south alignment between Sixth and Seventh Avenues, parallel with the grid
of downtown streets. First Hill is a residential neighbourhood and the park creates a
physical link between there and the downtown. The park, which has sometimes seemed to
be shunned by both neighbouring areas, has consistently reflected this transitional
location. This was more evident before the demolition in March 2004 of the Jensonia
Hotel at 1214 Eighth Avenue, following a series of fires. The Jensonia had provided low-
cost accommodation and contributed to the park becoming a ‘destination for the displaced’
(Hines 2005: 115). Taller office buildings to the west have further enclosed the park,
causing heavier shade (Robertson 2012: 79) while the physically linked Convention
Center has become operationally detached from it.
Shape of site and natural landform
The site is, unsurprisingly, a long thin strip. Initially it covered only 400 feet (120 metres)
of freeway. It is now nearly 1,500 feet (460 metres) long overall. Seattle is ‘characterized
by strong changes in elevation, both natural and man-made’ – including hills, freeway
cuttings and high-rise buildings (Danadjieva 1977: 406). There is a change in grade of
some 50 feet (15 metres) between the park and Ninth Avenue and a 90 foot (27 metre)
difference between the highest and lowest points of the park itself. This difference is
largely taken up by the central waterfall that plunges into the canyon between the carriage-
ways.
Design
The canyon, clearly, is the focal point of the park. It exploits the change in level between
the deck and the highway. The noise of the water thundering into the canyon helps to
drown out the roar of the traffic. Danadjieva herself explained the design from three
perspectives: first in terms of micro-climatic imperatives; second in terms of the metaphor
of natural canyons; and third in terms of motion through and within the site. She exploited
the siting of Hedreen’s Park Place to arrange the park elements so that ‘the most exciting
areas (the canyon, the cascade) are oriented towards the south’; she composed these
elements ‘to allow the fresh breeze from the waterfront to enter the park’; and she
‘designed walls and berms to block the penetration of the fumes from the freeway’ (ibid:
404). The walls and planter boxes on the edges of the park were also designed to act as
sound barriers. The blocky concrete forms in the park (and latterly inside the Convention
Center) reflect Danadjieva’s fascination with replication of natural canyons – a fascination
that had already emerged in Ira’s Fountain. But equally significant was her interest in
motion.
Reflecting Halprin’s interest in choreography and pre-figuring Tschumi’s design for
Parc de la Villette (Chapter 15), Danadjieva wrote about her experience as an art director
for movies, observing that ‘motion changes the perception of the scale of the city texture’
and that ‘scale appears different from a driver’s viewpoint than from that of a pedestrian’
(ibid: 404–5). She sought to relate these two different impressions of scale by making the
‘frame of the park’ particularly heavy and by making the interior elements smaller in
scale. This intention is also reflected in the planting. Larger trees were planted in higher
areas and on made ground. They grew to dominate the view of the park from the road,
particularly deodar cedar (Cedrus deodara), creating an oasis by blocking views of the
city while suppressing other plants (Robertson 2012: 83). These were augmented by more
deciduous tree planting within the park, including Callery pears (Pyrus calleryana), red
maples (Acer rubrum), Liquid ambar styraciflua and Japanese maples with trailing
English ivy (Hedera helix) and Cotoneaster lacteus hanging from stacks of planter boxes
facing the freeway (ibid: 85, 87).
The park was significantly over-planted for early impact and major thinning operations
were carried out in 1985 and 1995 – and more than 100 trees had been removed by 1999.
Further thinning was carried out over the following fifteen years, including a programme
of replanting between 2007 and 2011 directed by landscape architects Iain Robertson from
the University of Washington and Ted Holden from the City of Seattle. Whereas Halprin,
Danadjieva and their Seattle associate Edward McLeod had allowed in their specifications
for soil, irrigation and fertilization for hostile growing conditions, their selected species –
chosen for resistance to harsh conditions – actually thrived. And too little allowance was
made for thinning (ibid: 90).
The overgrown park was seen as dangerous. Robertson and Holden’s replanting was
designed to maintain the essential character and function of the original design while
adapting the planting ‘to meet the changed site context and conditions and to respond to
contemporary social needs’ using species ‘suited to … actual growing conditions’ (ibid:
90). In short, ‘giving it a new coat [rather] than reshaping the body’ (ibid: 92). The
replanting comprised primarily ‘groves or “islands” of trees and lower ground cover
plants’ (ibid: 97). Walker and Simo suggested that the park had been ‘perhaps overly
melodramatic’ with planting that was ‘opulent, recalling the ancient forests of the Pacific
Northwest’. They described it as ‘a place of great beauty … tinged with terror – the
sublime’ where ‘the concrete forms are heroic’ (Walker and Simo 1994: 158–60). But
melodrama was not an inappropriate approach to such a hostile site. And, like the High
Line (Chapter 5) the strength of the original design gave sufficient impetus for the park to
be extended northward over the freeway and eastward up First Hill.
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Freeway Park is managed by the Seattle Department of Parks and Recreation in concert
with the owners of Park Place and the Board of the Convention Center. The Department is
run by a superintendent appointed by the Mayor of Seattle. A volunteer advisory board of
park commissioners is appointed by the mayor and Seattle City Council for three-year
terms. That board ‘consults and makes recommendations to the Super intendent of Parks
and Recreation regarding that department’s policies for the planning, development and use
of the city’s park and recreation facilities’ (www.ci.seattle.wa.us). The park is entirely
maintained by staff who are directly employed by the department, while Park Place and
the Convention Center Plaza and Walkway are maintained by private maintenance
contractors.
Steps at Convention Center extension to park (November 1999)

Emergency alarm buttons and gates to close off the Plaza at night were installed when
the Convention Center was built. It was noted in 1993 that ‘homeless people and drug
addicts occasionally use the park after dark’ and that ‘panhandling is routine and assaults
have been reported’ (Roberts 1993: 56). A neighbourhood group – the Freeway Park
Neighborhood Association (now simply the FPA) – became particularly active at that time
in seeking to address the perceived lack of safety in the park. They contributed towards
installation of additional lighting in the park in 1994 and widening of the Eighth Avenue
underpass in 1995. Nevertheless, the labyrinthine design of the park contains many
concealed corners and the ever-thriving vegetation makes these harder to police. By the
end of the 1990s the Association was playing a more participatory role towards the
management of the park – particularly in the organization of popular events.
The Department has never done user surveys of the park but is aware that the heaviest
usage is around weekday lunchtimes, particularly by ‘brown baggers’. It was also aware,
following a murder in one of the park washrooms in January 2002, that the park was
perceived as a dangerous place and that this had to be addressed. Although illegal
activities in the park reduced after closure of the Jensonia, the City commissioned (serial
design denigrators) Project for Public Space (PPS) to make recommendations for the park.
Their objectives for the park were that it should be well managed and funded, improved
while respecting the original design, a regional destination, more active more often,
visually and physically accessible, expanded, and subject to a programme of short-term
changes (PPS 2005: 12–13). They identified the main issues as lack of activity, poor
perception, poor connection to adjacent buildings, hidden entrances, inadequate signage
and lack of a broad management strategy (ibid: 14).
PLANS FOR THE PARK
Proposals for all parks in Seattle fall within the general ambit of five-yearly plans, with
the ‘Parks Legacy Plan’ being due to run from 2014 to 2019, addressing fundamental
resource and service issues. The PPS proposals for Freeway Park contributed to a number
of changes including new lighting, renovation of pumping and mechanical systems –
including those for the canyon, new signage – including plans and fingerposts, and, of
course, the changes in the planting. The proposals drawn up by Robertson and Holden
include ongoing plans for five-yearly thinning and replanting of the park. Interventions
also included some poorly designed upstands on timber benches to ‘deter horizontal use’
of them. But the fundamental intention is still to remain faithful to the Halprin–Danadjieva
design – effectively ‘a nature trail in the city’ (McIntyre 2007: 43). Current plans include
further activation to make the park feel more safe, open and hospitable – including Out-to-
Lunch, Dancing till Dark and ARTSparks programmes.
CONCLUSIONS
Seattle is renowned as the home of enterprises such as Boeing and Microsoft – and for its
rainy coastal climate. It is also renowned as one of the most ‘liveable’ cities in the United
States. James Ellis (for whom the park is now named) commented in 1977 that the park
was ‘a joint project by imaginative private owners, by sensitive highway officials and by a
city determined to stay livable’ and that ‘the result was a successful private investment, a
successful public investment and a demonstration of use to other cities’ (Marshall 1977:
402). The park has been through some trying times since then – particularly in the early
years of this century. But it is reassuring that while the City adopted the proposals from
PPS, they continue to retain and protect the original design – its numerous management
challenges notwithstanding. It still demonstrates what can be achieved by citizens and
designers who seek to turn adversity to advantage – and by designs that are bold enough to
counteract engineering imperialism.
4 Bryant Park, New York
(6 acres / 2.4 hectares)
INTRODUCTION
Located between 40th and 42nd Streets, and between Fifth and Sixth Avenues, Bryant
Park shares two midtown Manhattan blocks with the New York Public Library. There have
been five distinct phases in the history of the park. It came under the City’s jurisdiction in
1822 and was used as a potter’s field until 1840. From 1842 it contained the 4-acre above-
ground Croton Reservoir until its demolition in 1899 to allow construction of the Library.
It was completely re designed in the 1930s, and completely renovated between 1988 and
1992.1 That renovation followed transfer of the park to private management and
transformed it from a forbidding haven for drug dealers – referred to as ‘Needle Park’ –
into the most intensively used public open space in midtown Manhattan. The recovery of
Bryant Park symbolized the revitalization of New York in the 1990s.
The renovation followed principles developed by William H. (Holly) Whyte (1919–99),
an urbanist who spent much of the 1970s analysing how people in New York used urban
spaces. He noted in 1980 that ‘Bryant Park is dangerous. It has become the territory of
dope dealers and muggers because it was relatively underused by other people. Bryant
Park is cut off from the street by walls, fences, and shrubbery. You can’t see in. You can’t
see out. There are only a few entry points. This park will be used by people when it is
opened up to them’ (Whyte 1980: 58). The ‘opening-up’ of the park was engineered by the
Bryant Park Restoration Corporation (BPRC) established in 1980 under Executive
Director – now President – Daniel Biederman (b. 1954), a disciple of Whyte and an
advocate of highly attentive, event-driven management. Where Paley Park (Chapter 1)
became a prototype for private pocket parks made available to the public, Bryant Park has
become a model for private funding and management of small public parks. Under current
arrangements the Bryant Park Corporation (BPC – it dropped Restoration in 2006) has a
lease on the City-owned park until 2024, with a management agreement that is
renegotiated every five years.
HISTORY
Designation as a park
The land adjacent to the Library was designated in 1842 as a public space named
Reservoir Square.2 It was renamed in 1884 for New York Post Editor William Cullen
Bryant (1794–1878), a leading advocate for creation of Central Park. The reservoir was
made redundant by construction of the Central Park reservoir and demolished in 1899 to
make way for the Library. The park was already neglected by the time it was used in the
1920s as a dump for excavate from the Sixth Avenue subway. ‘More than a hundred plans
for the rehabilitation of Bryant Park were proposed’ during the 1920s and early 1930s
(Thompson 1997: 19). In 1934 Robert Moses became the first Parks Commissioner to
oversee the unified New York City Department of Parks covering the five boroughs of
Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island and the Bronx. Moses excelled at tapping
into the federal funds made available under Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s New Deal.
Reconstruction of Bryant Park was one of the many projects he initiated that year.
Appointed through a competition sponsored by the Architects’ Emergency Committee – a
group formed in response to the Great Depression – the designers were Lusby Simpson
and landscape architect Gilmore Clark, a friend of Moses who went on to do multiple
projects for the Department of Parks. The Simpson / Clark design produced the Great
Lawn and the promenades of London plane trees. It was also the source of many of the
park’s subsequent problems. Moses required that the subway excavate remain on site –
elevating it above the surrounding sidewalks – and called for railings and a thick hedge
around the edges. There were only ‘five skinny, steep entry staircases at its perimeter’
(Kahn 1992: 61).

Bryant Park, New York

1 Sixth Avenue
2 42nd Street
3 Food Kiosks
4 Lowell Fountain
5 Herbaceous Perennial Beds
6 Great Lawn
7 Library Terrace
8 Restaurant and Grill
9 New York Public Library
10 Fifth Avenue
11 40th Street

Renovation of the park

Bryant Park was designated a Scenic Landmark in 1974 – the same year as Central Park.
But by then it was already in severe decline – again. In 1979 the Rockefeller Brothers
Fund was considering support for renovation of the New York Public Library. The Fund
was not prepared to support that project unless the park was also renovated. The Library
and the Fund went for advice to Whyte and the Project for Public Space (PPS). They
reported in November 1979 that the critical issue was access. They recommended removal
of the iron fences, removal of the shrubbery, cutting openings in the balustrades,
improving visibility into the park from Sixth Avenue, providing a broad, shallow flight of
steps between the two existing flights on 42nd Street, providing ramps, providing access
to the terrace at the back of the Library, and restoring the Lowell Fountain (Thompson
1997: 23).
In January 1980 the chairman of the Library, Andrew Heiskell (1915–2003), hired then
26-year-old Harvard MBA Daniel Biederman. They formed the BPRC as a non-profit,
private management company whose first task was to develop a viable plan for revival of
the park. Biederman’s strategy was ‘to attack all the park’s problems simultaneously rather
than piecemeal, as had been tried previously’ (ibid: 23). The principal barrier to this type
of approach was lack of funds. BPRC therefore established a Business Improvement
District (BID). BIDs are ‘self-financed legal entities that allow local property owners … in
commercial areas to provide common services beyond those that the city can provide’
(Berens 1997: 48). Income is generated through an annual assessment on commercial
properties in the district.
Landscape architects Hanna / Olin were introduced to the project in 1982 through their
work on redesign of the Fifth Avenue frontage of the Library. Design work almost came to
a halt in 1985 when the Library announced that its shelves were full. It was considering
vacating the building. The impasse was resolved by a decision to construct 84 miles of
reserve stacks housing over three million volumes under the Great Lawn so that, in effect,
it became a huge roof garden (Berens 1997: 50; www.asla.org/2010awards). Approval was
granted in July 1988 for a relatively conservative renovation of the park. Construction
commenced that year, and was completed in 1991. The park was opened in three phases
between 1991 and May 1995. The total cost of the works was $17.69 million.3 It was
funded two-thirds by the City and one-third by the private sector.
Key figures in the renovation of the park
Many of the people involved in the renovation of the park regarded it as ‘a monument to
the vision of Holly Whyte’ (Thompson 1997: 22). Whyte has been described as
‘something of a philosopher-king of open space’ (Goldberger 1999: 34). Much as Zion had
already developed the model that materialized at Paley Park; so, Whyte had already
developed the principles that determined the approach at Bryant Park. The extent to which
those principles informed the final scheme is attributable in large part to their promotion
by Biederman. He was chair of the local Community Planning Board when he helped to
establish BPRC in 1980. He had been a volunteer assistant to Whyte’s Street Life Project
in 1975 and has been immersed in managing the park since 1980. Since 2000 – working
under the name Biederman Re development Ventures (BRV) – he has also provided
consultancy across the United States and overseas on the application of private sector
techniques to downtown redevelopment and management (www.brv.corp.com). In 2010
Olin received a Landmark Award for the park from the American Society of Landscape
Architects.

Lowell Fountain at Sixth Avenue end of park (May 2013)

PLANNING AND DESIGN

Location
When the reservoir was built in the 1840s, the site was at the edge of the built-up area of
Manhattan. Northward development led to the park being subsumed by the city but not
embraced by it. Even after the reservoir gave way to the Library, the park did not take on
any great significance – until the board of the Library insisted in 1979 that ‘something
should be done about it’. By then, Bryant Park was an island of open space in a sea of
skyscrapers. Two years after the park reopened, ‘leasing activity on Sixth Avenue had
increased 60 per cent in the first 8 months of 1994 compared with 1993’ (Berens 1997:
56). Use of the address One Bryant Park by the neighbouring Bank of America Tower,
completed in 2010, reflects the continuing commercial impact of the park. And by 2013
there were more than a dozen adjacent takeout food stores catering primarily to park
visitors.4
Shape of site and landform
The site is 560 feet (170 metres) by 470 feet (140 metres). The reshaped Great Lawn is
270 feet (82 metres) by 180 feet (55 metres). The lawn is the main feature of the park but
occupies less than 20 per cent of its total area. Elevation of the park by about 4 feet (1.2
metres) above the surrounding streets resulted from filling that followed excavation of the
Sixth Avenue subway. The Library terrace is a few feet higher than the tree-lined
promenades and the lawn sits like a huge central stage below the promenades.
Lunchtime (May 2013)

Design concept
The Simpson / Clarke design was a large Beaux-Arts garden, symmetrically organized
around the axis of the Library – ‘no less than America’s finest classically designed park’
(Lynn and Morrone 2013: 236). It reflected a predilection on Moses’s part for treating
parks as refuges cut off from the city. The park had fortress-like edges – walls, railings and
shrubs under a canopy of large trees – and the open, hedge-lined lawn at the centre.
Seating was all fixed benches rigidly aligned with the rest of the park. While Whyte
provided the programmatic parameters for renovation of the park, the peripatetic
Biederman was also impressed by Parisian precedents – particularly the Jardin des
Tuileries. This manifest itself in the introduction of sealed gravel pathways and movable
chairs. The large beds of ivy under the plane trees were retained, and the trees remain a
significant shade-giving attribute.5
The first part of Whyte and Biederman’s concept was to make the park as accessible
and unthreatening as possible – particularly to women.6 The second part was to provide
facilities and events that would draw people to the park – and generate revenue to sustain
it. This led to installation of two kiosks at the Sixth Avenue end of the park and
construction of the hard-fought-for Bryant Park Grill and Café at the back of the Library.
Proposed in 1981, the Grill was eventually opened in May 1995. In the meantime a
significant schedule of events was developed – including major fashion shows and open-
air film screenings. In the mid-1990s the BPRC was receiving five or six requests a year to
stage events in the park. By the end of the decade they were dealing with ten requests a
day.7 By the 2010s BPC had introduced a huge range of activities including opera
highlights and vignettes from Broadway shows – but it stopped hosting New York Fashion
Week. In 2013 park users cited Monday-night movies, the lawn and the Reading Room as
the most popular features. Programming is kept under constant review – including events
such as square dancing, that allow singles to meet without going online or to a bar, and the
possible introduction of conceptual art, subject to review by a committee of curators from
established galleries.8

Movable tables and chairs (May 2013)

Bryant Park and New York Public Library from west side of Sixth Avenue (May 2013)
Female visitors (May 2013)

Renovation works
Many elements were repaired and returned to their original locations as part of the
renovations – including the Lowell Fountain, (most of) the outer wall and cast iron railing,
and many of the pavings and balustrades. Five new entrances were cut into the wall and
railing. Existing entrances were widened and flattened out. Bluestone paths under the trees
were widened. A ramp was constructed at the Library terrace. A larger reincarnation of the
Great Lawn was created on 6 feet (1.8 metres) of soil over the new Library stacks. The
lawn was given a definitive granite edge – which now doubles as a seat when all others are
occupied – and was surrounded by a sealed gravel walk. New beds for herbaceous
perennials were created either side of the gravel walk. These have become a motif
distinguishing Bryant Park from other open spaces in Manhattan. But the main motif
remains the green, wood and metal, movable chairs.
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Managing organization
Responsibility for management of Bryant Park was transferred to BPRC (now BPC) in
1988 under a fifteen-year agreement with the City of New York. BPC continues to share
its management team with the 34th Street Partnership – another BID run by Biederman.9
BPC and 34th Street Partnership had an in-house team of thirty-seven staff in 2013, with
divisional responsibilities for business affairs, security and operations, capital projects,
horticulture, retail services, design, public events, finance, and information
(www.bryantpark.org). Its mission – having ‘transformed the park into the greatest public
space in this world’ – is to ‘create a rich and dynamic visual, cultural and intellectual
outdoor experience for New Yorkers and visitors … to enhance the real estate values of its
neighbours … by presenting a meticulously maintained venue for free entertainment
events … to help prevent crime and disorder in the park by attracting thousands of patrons
at all hours, thus fostering a safe environment’ (ibid).
After 1991 there was less than one felony per year in the park. This was achieved
through promotion of heavy usage rather than through heavier policing. By early 2013
strategic concerns included continued political support for the current public / private
management agreement; becoming overrun with tourists (seen as a serious issue on the
High Line and in neighbouring Times Square); and risk of an act of terror ism, particularly
when the lawn is full of visitors.10 A rare, random, late night, personal robbery-shooting at
the ice rink in November 2013 was an isolated reminder of the need for security even in a
heavily used park.
Funding
The BPRC budget for 2000 was $3.7 million inclusive of organizing events and
administration.11 By 2013 it was $11 million – without the $3 million per year from
hosting New York Fashion Week – and without direct funding from the City. Income came
from BID assessments, from event fees, sponsors and concessions, and from the Grill
(with a turnover of around $13 million) and the Café (with around $4 million).

The Winter Village (November 2011)

User characteristics
Like Whyte, Biederman regards user counts as the ‘only form of profit and loss account
that exists in park management’. BPC therefore does counts by gender at 1:15 and 6:00
p.m. every day. Figures are tabulated alongside weather conditions, events that are being
staged and whether the lawn is open. The carrying capacity of the park according to
Whyte’s calculations was around 5,000 visitors at any one time. The statistic that is still
regarded as key to the success of the park – the proportion of women users – is sensitive to
temperature; to the day of the week and to whether the lawn is open, and whether it is wet.
On 21 May 2013 – the first day that year with temperatures above 80˚ Fahrenheit (26.7˚
Celsius) and the tenth day that the lawn had been open – there were 4,407 people in the
park at lunchtime, of whom 2,282 (52 per cent) were female. Success!
PLANS FOR THE PARK
The BPC Mission prescribes ongoing priorities for the park – security, sanitation,
concessions, restrooms, chairs and tables, lighting, horticulture, programming, design and
management.12 The plan for Bryant Park remains to perfect these factors with the
‘ultimate goal’ of ‘presenting the perfect park to the public’ (www.bryantpark.org).
CONCLUSIONS
Inevitably, the operation of Bryant Park has been held up as an example both for and
against privatization of the public realm. Typical of the comments in the early 1990s about
BPRC was that ‘in the long run, the idea of maximum access to public parks may not be
well served by city government turning over considerable control to private agencies’
(Carr et al. 1992: 149). Such comments should be balanced against the views of New York
journalists at that time. Architecture critic for the New York Times Paul Goldberger noted
after the renovation that ‘the park has become a more truly public place than at any time in
the last generation’ (Goldberger 1992: 34). In November that year Eve Kahn, architecture
critic for the Wall Street Journal, described a walk in Bryant Park as being ‘like meeting a
once-troubled friend who kicked all bad habits and found a great new job’ (Kahn 1992:
61).
The Great Lawn (May 2013)

Nevertheless, Fred Kent, leader of the rump of PPS, claimed in 2004 that ‘instead of
drug dealers, private events dominate the park’ (Kent 2004: 164). Olin retorted that PPS, a
‘once brilliant and innovative organization has become a traveling roadshow that peddles
nostrums’ (Olin 2007: 140). And the work of BPC should be viewed in the context of a
park that has been transformed from public nuisance to public asset and in the context of
electorates that empower politicians who promise tax cuts. Bryant Park is an object lesson
in the application of Whyte’s observations on the use of small urban spaces and in the
application of sound business principles in the public realm. It might be argued that these
lessons are only applicable in the commercial heart of a major city. Aspects of New York’s
Bryant Park are, of course, unique to that city and to that park. But many of its lessons are
widely applicable.
NOTES
1 The organization charged in 1980 with revitalizing the park called itself a Restoration Corporation and landscape
architect for the project Laurie Olin used that term – much to the annoyance of Charles A. Birnbaum, author of the US
Secretary of the Interior’s Guidelines for the Treatment of Cultural Landscapes (1996), which adopted the words
‘Preservation’, ‘Rehabilitation’, ‘Restoration’ and ‘Reconstruction’ to define different treatments of historic landscapes.
In brief, restoration involves maintaining a property as it was at a particular point in time; rehabilitation aims to ‘convey
historical values’. ‘Restoration’ is only used here in the name of the corporation or in the sense proposed by Birnbaum.
Otherwise the word ‘renovation’ is used.
 2 History drawn largely from Berens 1997: 45–7, Thompson 1997: 18–21 and www.bryantpark.org.
3 Berens 1997: 56 noted that the total cost comprised basic park rehabilitation – $5.95 million; concessions,
monuments and horticulture – $9.76 million; fees – $1.98 million.
4 Noted at meeting with Daniel Biederman on 21 May 2013.
5 Noted at meeting with Daniel Biederman on 21 May 2013 that one or two of the plane trees have succumbed to
Plane Anthracnose over each of the last few years. The crowns of the remaining trees have closed-up the gaps – but the
heavy shade prevents establishment of replacement trees. The remaining trees are subject to regular inspection and deep-
root feeding.
6 Berens 1997: 46 noted Whyte’s thesis that ‘a park’s success can be measured in part by the percentage of female
users. When women feel safe in a space, they are likely to use it more frequently.’
7 Noted at meeting with Daniel Biederman on 25 April 2000.
8 Noted at meeting with Daniel Biederman on 21 May 2013.
9 Noted at meetings with Daniel Biederman on 25 April 2000 and 21 May 2013. Goldberger 1999: 34 noted that
Biederman was delighted that the new users of Herald and Greeley Squares, refurbished by 34th Street Partnership in
1999 were ‘mostly black, Hispanic and Asian’ and included ‘plenty of women and families’, validating his belief that the
BPRC approach was not dependent on well-heeled office workers for its success.
10 Noted at meeting with Daniel Biederman on 21 May 2013.
11 Noted at meeting with Daniel Biederman on 25 April 2000.
12 Noted at meeting with Daniel Biederman on 25 April 2000.
5 The High Line, New York
(Sections One and Two: 1 mile / 1.6 kilometres. Section Three: 0.5 miles /
0.8 kilometres.
Total area 6.7 acres / 2.7 hectares)
INTRODUCTION
Dubbed ‘the most talked-about landscape space in the world’ (Richardson 2012: 46) and
‘America’s most original urban park’ (LaFarge 2012), the conversion of the High Line
from rusting rail trestles to an elevated promenade is an extraordinary story. In many
respects the High Line is comparable to Central Park. It resulted from extensive advocacy
led by community activists Joshua David (b. 1963) and Robert Hammond (b. 1969),
founders of Friends of the High Line. It has generated exceptional political and philan
thropic support. It redefines people’s relationship to the city. It is a place for people-
watching, plant-observing and social interaction – ‘nudging New York back into the past’
(Gordinier 2011). It has been an astounding stimulus to real estate development, and it is
run on similar lines to the Central Park Conservancy. The similarities are summarized in a
comment by Lisa Falcone, a leading donor to the project. Visiting during construction in
2008, she told Joshua David that ‘she lived close to Central Park, and she’d often thought
about the people who’d built it, and what a great thing they had done for the city, so many
years ago. Someday, she said, New Yorkers would look back in a similar way at the people
who’d made the High Line’ (David and Hammond 2011: 112).
The elevated tracks ran between Clarkson and 34th Streets on the Lower West Side of
Manhattan. They were constructed between 1931 and 1933 to remove conflicts between
street-level freight trains and motor vehicles. Raised 30 feet (9.14 metres) above street
level, the High Line ran through and between buildings rather than over the street. The
lines were only fully operational from 1934 to 1960. Thereafter they were slowly
decommissioned. A ten-block section between Clarkson and Bethune Streets was
demolished in the 1960s. The last train ran in 1980 and the line went into limbo. The
Consolidated Rail Corporation (‘Conrail’), the federal government agency charged from
1976 with fostering reprivatization of bankrupt rail carriers, and various private parties
wrangled over its future. Federal legislation permitting ‘railbanking’ – ‘temporary’ use of
rail routes as trails (‘rails-to-trails’) while protecting them for possible future rail use –
was passed in 1983.
The five-block section between Bank and Gansevoort Streets was demolished in 1991,
leaving a twenty-two-block, mile-and-a-half-long section of track (LaFarge 2012: 10).
Conrail was superseded by CSX Transportation in 1999. CSX declared its willingness to
consider proposals for re-use of the line for light rail and/or a greenway (David and
Hammond 2011: ix–xi). And that is where the park story began. Over the following ten
years, before opening to the public in June 2009 of the first of the three sections, there
were further threats to demolish the structure. The Friends orchestrated a hugely
successful publicity and fund-raising campaign and staged a major international ideas
competition and exhibition in 2003, followed by a professional design competition in 2004
that led to selection of James Corner Field Operations (with architects Diller Scofidio +
Renfro and ‘new perennial’ plantsman Piet Oudolf) with an approach that acknowledges
the previous ruderal character while providing a safe and capacious public promenade. It
is a landscape architecture-driven approach that turns the park outside-in, presenting
surprising panoramas of the surrounding city.
There are, inevitably, critics of the project. Complaints include that it is a celebrity
project that has sanitized a ‘melancholy’ relic, at great expense, leading to gentrification of
the area, high-density development and overcrowding with out-of-towners: ‘a tourist-
clogged catwalk and a catalyst for some of the most rapid gentrification in the city’s
history’ (Moss: 2012). However, the Friends, co-founded and driven by locally living
activists David and Hammond, helped to secure a public future for a threatened relic that
could never satisfy preservationists’ nostalgia for it as ‘the epitome of the aesthetic of
melancholy’ (Bowring 2009: 128). And, with or without the park, pressure for
redevelopment of the post-industrial Meatpacking / Chelsea Market / Gallery District /
Hudson Yards section of the Lower West Side would have been inevitable.

Gansevoort Street end of High Line (November 2011)

HISTORY
Designation as a park
David and Hammond first met at a ‘High Line-focused community hearing’ in August
1999 (David and Hammond 2011: xi). At that time New York Mayor Rudolph ‘Rudy’
Giuliani (b. 1944 – Mayor 1994–2001) was seeking to demolish the High Line to facilitate
development, including a new stadium in the Hudson Yards as part of New York’s bid for
the 2012 Summer Olympics. Giuliani wanted the demolition deal done before the end of
his term in office – 31 December 2001. Equally CSX, who made a presentation of possible
futures for the line at that August hearing, wanted to ‘get out of the High Line business’
and were indifferent whether it was retained or demolished (ibid: 11).
There were two main strands to David and Hammond’s strategy – publicity and
‘railbanking’. Clearly they were both media savvy – David was a freelance magazine
writer; Hammond had worked for a number of start-up companies – and they combined
this with immense enthusiasm and energy, taking every possible opportunity to persuade
politicians and public servants of their case, and to persuade everybody from celebrities to
local residents to support them. They were deeply design-driven. This combination of
attributes led to the recruitment of fine art photographer Joel Sternfeld (b. 1944) to
produce what became a 14-month-long series of images – under overcast skies and with
no signs of human life. These images made a major contribution to the mystique of the
High Line and may have influenced laments such as Bowring’s about its ‘melancholy
beauty’. Published in The New Yorker, they also generated a huge amount of support for
retention of the structure – to the extent that Hammond regarded Sternfeld as a third co-
founder of the Friends (David and Hammond 2011: 32).

Tenth Avenue Square (May 2013)

North of Tenth Avenue Square (May 2013)

‘Railbanking’ required a Certificate of Interim Trail Use from the federal Surface
Transportation Board (STB). In accordance with the 1983 legislation, this would allow the
rail easement to be used as a trail, with the proviso that it could be returned to rail use (at
an unspecified future date). It sounds simple. But the Board had already issued a
‘conditional abandonment order’ in 1992. The Friends had to start that battle with a
serious disadvantage. They also had to address the issue of zoning and the transfer of
development rights to other nearby sites if the High Line was retained. This led to a battle
with underlying landowners, known as the Chelsea Property Owners, orchestrated by
developer Edison Properties. They too wanted the demolition ratified before Giuliani left
office.
Three factors played to the Friends’ advantage. First they commenced a legal challenge
on the basis that the proposal to demolish the High Line would have to go through the
City’s Uniform Land Use Review Procedure. Second, they persuaded all the mayoral
candidates – including the eventual Mayor, Michael Bloomberg (b. 1942 – Mayor 2002–
13) – to proclaim their support for retaining the High Line. Bloomberg described it as a
‘no-brainer’ (ibid: 38). Third, destruction of the World Trade Center on 11 September
2001, which jolted confidence in new development and reduced New Yorkers’ appetite for
further demolition. Indeed, Hammond suggested that the High Line was ‘something
positive’ that people ‘could work on, something that wasn’t so weighted with emotion’
(ibid: 40). Nevertheless, Giuliani signed the demolition papers shortly before leaving
office. But the change of mayor signalled a change of fortune for the High Line.
By December 2002, the new administration was so supportive that the City itself filed
the application to the STB for a Certificate of Interim Trail Use (CITU). This was
eventually granted in June 2005 – a momentous month for the removal of restrictions on
creating the park. A city council hearing was scheduled for 15 June. Negotiations and
representations ahead of the hearing led to most parties achieving most of their aims.
These included, critically, the right of underlying landowners ‘to sell their development
rights above the High Line to sites along Tenth and Eleventh Avenues … height
restrictions were kept low near the Chelsea Historic District, but greater allowances were
made at its north and south ends’ (ibid: 89). This agreement was enough to prompt the
landowners, before the hearing, to rescind their objection to the High Line being
‘railbanked’.
On 13 June, the Friends learned that the STB had approved the City’s application for a
CITU (ibid: 89) – the first time that ‘railbanking’ had been used to convert a rail viaduct
into an urban park (Ulam 2004: 68). Formal designation of the High Line as a park was
achieved once the City and CSX reached a Trail Use Agreement. And when they did, CSX
donated the line south of 30th Street to the City. CSX retained the section looping around
the Hudson Yards – the eventual Section Three (David and Hammond: 93). In November
2011, CSX also donated that section to the City (LaFarge 2012: 209).

23rd Street Seating Steps and Lawn (May 2013)

Tapered walkway planks and reinserted rail tracks (May 2013)

Size and condition of site at time of designation

Described in 1999 by former Chair of the New York City Planning Department Joseph
Rose as (administratively) ‘the Vietnam of rail trestles’, the High Line was seen as an
‘emblem of blight for neighboring property owners and city officials who saw it as an
impediment to development’ (Ulam 2009: 99, 97). Physically, it was in a tenuous
condition, ‘a tattered ribbon of wildness’ (Gerdts 2009: 20). Community member Cheryl
Kupper described it in 2001 as ‘not the hanging Gardens of Babylon, but the place where
all the pigeons seem to make their nests, a huge, ugly, dirty and dangerous structure and an
absolute prison wall’ (Lafarge 2012: 178).
When construction began in February 2006, the structure had to be stripped back, the
concrete slab repaired, the drainage system replaced and the lead-based paint removed. It
had only been painted twice since the 1930s and ‘very little of the original paint remained.
The color most people associated with the High Line was rust’ (David and Hammond
2011: 99). And while ‘the spaces underneath were very dramatic; they had a dark, gritty,
industrial quality, and a lofty church-like quality as well’, the dysfunctional drainage
system was ‘one of the reasons people complained about the High Line. It leaked on them’
(ibid: 6, 94). Removing the lead-based paint and repainting the structure (in Sherwin-
Williams ‘Greenblack’) ‘was one of the costliest parts of all – $16.4 million’ (ibid: 99, 94).
Conditions on top of the High Line were what really sold people on the project – a
linear meadow of self-sown wildflowers with extensive elevated views across Manhattan
and out to the Hudson River. ‘The wildflowers and plants had taken over … it was another
world, right in the middle of Manhattan … it was a shock to see how beautiful it was …
most people were moved by it. You brought them up, you showed it to them, and they
would do anything for the High Line after that’ (ibid: 12, 13). Surveying the vegetation in
2003, botanist Richard Stalter recorded 161 different species – eighty-two that were native
and seventy-nine that were introduced (including the widely proclaimed Queen Anne’s
Lace) – from 122 genera (LaFarge 2012: 65, 17). This range of species was remarkable
given that the High Line was (and remains) a roof garden on top of a bridge, drying out
and freezing faster than adjacent land. This landscape of ruderal plants and rusting rails
was what Sternfeld recorded. His images ‘would drive the vision of the entire project’
(LaFarge 2012: 67). They also provoked nostalgic laments about the loss of ‘decaying,
desolate places … suffused with an enigmatic poignancy, a vulnerable allure’ (Bowring
2009: 128). This is an era that fetishes the decaying relics of its imperious industrial past.
But, as David put it, ‘you can’t justify a 22-block ruin that you can’t enter in a place like
New York’.1 Nevertheless David and Hammond remained acutely aware that converting
the High Line to a park might destroy its wildness.
North of Diller-von Fürstenberg Sun Deck (May 2013)
Tenth Avenue Square (May 2013)

Key figures in establishment of park

Chelsea resident Peter Obletz (1946–96) preceded David and Hammond in their efforts to
prevent demolition of the High Line. Obletz formed a group called the West Side Rail
Line Development Foundation. He lived in a concrete railway building adjacent to Penn
Station and entertained in two restored Pullman cars. He bought the High Line from
Conrail for ten dollars in 1984, despite fierce opposition from the group that became the
Chelsea Property Owners. Obletz campaigned to resurrect it for recreational use. He also
noted, in 1987, the potential for it to be converted into a linear recreational route
(www.thehighline.org). He was ‘in a sense, a spiritual parent of the High Line preservation
effort’ (Goldberger 2011). David and Hammond’s subsequent account of the High Line –
from their first encounter at a community meeting in 1999 to the opening of the First
Section in 2009 – acknowledged the importance of Obletz in resisting pressure to
demolish the trestles.
David and Hammond, initially at least, had little idea where they were going. They were
passionate advocates who simply learned on the job. Their attributes included
extraordinary energy and enthusiasm, an innate sense of good design, disarming
sociability and the ability to persuade others to support their cause. Hammond noted that
someone had told him ‘Friends of the High Line functions more like a political campaign
than a non-profit, mobilizing a lot of people to get behind something in very little time’
(David and Hammond 2011: 60). And they were darned good at it. Figures from politics
and public administration, show business and philanthropy who became Friends and
advocates of the High Line included Gifford Miller (b. 1969), a college friend of
Hammond who became councillor for the Upper East Side in 1996 and Speaker of New
York City Council from 2002 to 2005 – ‘the High Line would never have happened
without Gifford … [who] … provided political will and key public funding’ (ibid: 14,
118); Amanda Burden (b. 1944 – daughter of ‘Babe’ Paley, second wife of William S.
Paley), member of the City Planning Commission under Giuliani and chair under
Bloomberg; Christine Quinn (b. 1966), local city councillor and Speaker of New York
City Council from 2006; Dan Doctoroff (b. 1958), Deputy Mayor for Economic
Development from 2001 to 2011, ‘who, one step at a time, integrated the High Line into
the rail yards planning process’ (ibid: 106); Adrian Benepe (b. 1957) New York City Parks
Commissioner (2002–12) – who saw the High Line as ‘a work of art’ (ibid: 85); and, of
course, Mayor Bloomberg himself.

Sunbeds on Diller-von Fürstenberg Sun Deck (May 2013)

The Friends’ own advocacy team included the photographer Joel Sternfeld; friend-of-a-
friend real estate developer Phil Aarons, formerly assistant to Ed Koch (1924–2013 –
Mayor 1978–89) and president of the Public Development Corporation – over seeing
projects such as South Street Seaport between 1979 and 1983, and initial Chair of the
Friends. Aarons ‘provided strategy and confidence, and served as a kind of moral
compass’ (ibid: 118); lobbyist Jim Capalino (b. 1950), manager of Koch’s two election
campaigns; real estate adviser John Alschuler (b. 1950) who prepared the initial feasibility
study, and ‘had the ability to frame complex ideas in simple ways’ (ibid: 115). Alschuler
went on to become Chair of the Friends in 2009 as it moved ‘from an advocacy organ
ization into a conservancy that could run the park’ (ibid: 116).
 Chief among the celebrity supporters were actors Edward Norton (b. 1969), whose
father, also Edward, was a founding member of the Rails-to-Trails Conservancy and
whose maternal grandfather was the public space real estate developer James Rouse
(1914–96), and Kevin Bacon (b. 1958) whose father, the planner Edmund Bacon (1910–
2005), was Director of Philadelphia City Planning Commission and author of Design of
Cities (1976). Among the major donors two that stand out are celebrity couples –
businessman Philip Falcone and philanthropist wife Lisa, and the fashion designer Diane
von Fürstenberg and broad-casting executive husband Barry Diller, both of whom pledged
an initial $10 million, somewhat competitively, in 2008. The Diller-von Fürstenberg
Family Foundation made a $20 million commitment to the park in 2011, at that time the
largest single donation to a New York park.
Key figures in design of the park
The first proposals for repurposing the High Line were produced in 1981 by New York-
based architect Steven Holl (b. 1947). That was only ever a paper project. Holl was,
however, one of the shortlisted designers for the eventual design competition. The Friends’
first foray into a design for the park was an international ideas competition staged in
spring 2003, around the time that the local community group voted in favour of saving the
High Line (David and Hammond 2011: 56–9). It generated 720 entries from thirty-six
countries and was probably more valuable as a publicity exercise – culminating in a major
public exhibition in Grand Central Terminal – than as a review of realistic possibilities.
But it did produce two important realizations – the ‘strongest common thread … was an
appreciation for the existing landscape’ and Hammond’s view that ‘if it’s like other parks,
we’ve failed’ (ibid: 58, 59).
The competition that led to the final design was staged in 2004. It was run jointly by the
City and the Friends, and based on the principle of producing a publicly accessible place
that would be as special as the existing landscape. Pre-qualification applications were
invited from teams comprising architects, landscape architects, planners, designers and
engineers. Fifty-one expressions of interest were received; seven teams were shortlisted
and inter viewed; four were invited to make submissions: Zaha Hadid with Diana Balmori;
James Corner Field Operations (JCFO) with Diller, Scofidio + Renfro, and Piet Oudolf;
Steven Holl with George Hargreaves; Michael Van Valkenburgh with Julie Bargman /
D.I.R.T. Studio and Beyer Blinder Belle (under the name TerraGRAM).
The High Line, New York
1 Hudson River
2 Hudson Yards
3 West 30th Street
4 Tenth Avenue
5 Eleventh Avenue
6 Wildflower Field
7 Falcone Flyover
8 23rd Street Seating Steps and Lawn
9 Chelsea Thicket
10 Chelsea Grasslands
11 Tenth Avenue Square
12 Diller-von Fürstenberg Sun Deck
13 Gansevoort Woodland
14 High Line Headquarters and Whitney Museum
15 Gansevoort Street
 Hammond noted that if he went through the exercise again, he would ‘require a
landscape architect to be in the lead’ (David and Hammond 2011: 73). And Philip Nobel, a
contributing editor at Metropolis magazine, argued that James Corner Field Operations et
al. ‘did not propose an excess of buildings … but neither did they leave well enough
alone’, turning the project into ‘a canvas for games of the mind … overshadowing the
main event: an elevated path through the city, the simple experience of which – not
architecture – is the goal’ (Nobel 2004: 146). James Corner (b. 1961), chair of the
Landscape Architecture programme at the University of Pennsylvania from 2000 to 2012,
had a strong theoretical background but relatively little practical experience in North
America. This may have provoked Nobel’s ‘games of the mind’ comment. All three
sections of the High Line have been overseen by Corner’s associate partner / managing
director, Lisa Switkin, a Penn graduate and winner of the Rome Prize in Landscape
Architecture. Switkin worked on the project with Corner from 2005. She regards the High
Line as an inspiration for all post-industrial cities to value underused sites and she sees
Corner as having dedicated his career to demonstrating the scope, and elevating the
profile, of landscape architecture – as both a theoretical and a practical discipline.2
Corner’s work ‘doesn’t have a signature design style’ because, as he noted, ‘sites are
always unique’ (Ulam 2009: 102).
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location
The High Line passes through the West Chelsea, Hell’s Kitchen and Meatpacking Districts
of the Lower West Side. This part of the city went through a long, slow transition from
being a port and rail-related transport and food production area to becoming an area of art
galleries, night-clubs and prostitution. In short, a sometimes dangerous ‘fringe area’. The
High Line itself was an impediment to redevelopment – in the eyes of Mayor Giuliani, at
least. West Chelsea was also part of the community district that had ‘the fourth least
amount of open space of New York City’s 51 community districts’ (Ulam 2004: 67). That
alone was a major cause of City support for its conversion to a park. Retention of the High
Line also afforded the opportunity for creative re-zoning of the neighbourhood.
In 2005 Amanda Burden and a team led by Vishaan Chakrabarti, of the Manhattan
Office of the Department of City Planning, applied principles that had been used to
preserve Grand Central Terminal and historic buildings in the Theater District while
enabling underlying property owners to ‘monetize their unused rights’ by selling them to
site owners along Tenth and Eleventh Avenues (David and Hammond 2011: 64, 89).
Burden and Chakrabarti also sought to retain the galleries, which they did by precluding
residential development in the middle of the blocks where most of them were located.
And, adjacent to the High Line, they developed restrictions that would preserve sunlight
on the park, protect views from it, and provide stairs and elevators to it.
Mayor Bloomberg stated at the opening of Section Two, that between ‘2000 and 2010,
the population within the rezoned area’ grew by ‘more than 60 per cent’ and that since
work on the High Line began there had been ‘more than $2 billion in private investment
… adding 12,000 jobs, 2,558 new residential units, 1,000 hotel rooms, more than 423,000
square feet [39,300 square metres] of new office space and 85,000 square feet [7,900
square metres] of new art gallery space’ (www.nyc.gov) – including the 50,000 square feet
(4,600 square metres) of indoor galleries in the new Whitney Museum building at the
southern end of the park, due to open in 2015 (www.whitney.org).
Shape and natural landform of site
The three sections of the park are 1.5 miles (2.4 kilometres) long and between 30 feet
(9.14 metres) and 88 feet (26.8 metres) wide. The majority of the park sits at 30 feet (9.14
metres) above street level except where it comes down to grade at the northern end. In
common with many park sites, the High Line was a difficult place to establish vegetated
public open space. It functions like a bridge. It is colder than surrounding areas in winter
and hotter and drier in summer. It also presents serious challenges in providing public
access. There was strong commitment to the fact that ‘there is no tradition [in New York]
of private access to public parks, and we didn’t want to start one’ (Hammond and David
2011: 97).
Original design concept
The park is conceived as an elevated linear promenade presenting views of the
surrounding city. It is not so much about the High Line itself as the city around it, with the
path veering towards the most striking views from the deck. It is choreographed as a
cognitive journey from south to north and back from north to south.3 The design team
developed the slogan ‘keep it simple, keep it wild, keep it quiet, keep it slow’ (David and
Hammond 2011: 96). The walk to the north presents a sequence of landscape character
types or episodes – Gansevoort Woodlands, Washington Grasslands, the (Diller-von
Fürstenberg) Sun Deck, Tenth Avenue Square, Chelsea Grasslands, Chelsea Thicket, the
Lawn, the (Falcone) Flyover, the Wildflower Field.
Intensive maintenance (May 2013)

The principal challenge was how to evoke the found state of the self-vegetating High
Line while making it safe for public use. The system of precast concrete walkway planks,
tapering off into the respective planting beds to give the impression of invasive plants
breaking through the concrete, runs the entire length of the park. Switkin cited the
modular planking as ‘a basis for consistency but allowing variation’ and a major reason for
JCFO – ‘then young / edgy and hungry for it’ – being awarded the design.4 Equally, David
saw the planks as ‘the great answer for allowing the walkway to have the invasive
vegetation coming through it’. And he saw the walkway as a PPS / Amanda Burden-
influenced way of moving through the city, with the Sun Deck (at 14th and 15th Streets)
as ‘the most spectacular image’ but the view of the Hudson as ‘the best feature’.5
Meanwhile, architect Charles Renfro has said that he does not ‘think it’s a park at all, but a
museum about New York’ (Minutillo 2011: 104).
Spatial structure, circulation system, landform, materials and planting
As Hammond noted, ‘the High Line works because it never takes you away from New
York’ (Hammond and David 2011: 128). So while the park does have its own spatial
structure, it has to be read in concert with the surrounding city, with the walkways being
directed towards parapets and seating areas with significant views. And where width
permits, the circulation system is divided between the main prom enade and ‘solitary
splinter paths where one can commune with the High Line’s plant life’ (Ulam 2009: 93).
And the ‘peel-up’ benches, pared down to 12 inches (300 mm) width, despite initial
requests for an 18 inch (450 mm) width from Burden, are integrated with the paving,
rising up as continuations of the walkway system. Equally, downward lighting – focusing
on the planting rather than polluting the night sky – is incorporated into handrails and
parapets. Corner credited the Friends with orchestrating the designers’ resistance to Parks
and Recreation Department requirements for other features that might have compromised
the design.6 These included 8 foot (2.4 metre) chain link fencing along the parapets; trip
rails and higher kerbs between walkways and planting, and applying mulch around the
embedded rail lines that did not look like railroad aggregate – resolved by using a
lightweight tufa aggregate.
Oudolf’s planting comprises around 250 species of perennials, grasses, shrubs, vines
and trees, selected to project the intended character types or episodes that occur along the
park. The plants provide foreground where the city is the background, and they probably
constitute the longest perennial border in the world. And perhaps the most powerful
planting areas are the large swathes of different grass species. They clearly reflect the
changing seasons and are most redolent of the abandoned, unkempt atmosphere captured
by Sternfeld. Initially Oudolf only wanted the trees to be irrigated and for the other
material to be hand watered as necessary. But, after a wet first summer and a dry second
summer, irrigation was incorporated in Section Two and retrofitted into Section One. In
summer 2013 Oudolf was visiting the project every six weeks to observe and advise on the
progress of the plants.
MANAGEMENT, FUNDING AND USAGE
Managing organization
The park is owned by the City of New York and, like Central Park, it is run and largely
funded by the Friends of the High Line under the jurisdiction of the Parks and Recreation
Department. The Friends ‘raises private funding to support 90 per cent of the public park’s
annual budget for staffing and day-to-day maintenance’ (www.nyc.gov). They have about
100 staff of whom about thirty are office-based and seventy are on site – with the
perennials being particularly demanding. The Friends operate from a purpose-built office
and maintenance depot at the southern end of the park.
Funding
Alschuler estimated in 2002 that the High Line would cost $65 million to build but would
generate $140 million in additional tax revenues over a twenty-year period (David and
Hammond 2011: 46, 81). The estimate for additional tax revenues was later raised to $900
million (Gillette 2013: 114). The actual capital cost of Sections One and Two was around
$153 million – $86.2 million for Section One and $66.8 million for Section Two, with
$112.2 million coming from the City; $20.7 million from federal government and $0.7
million from the State. The remainder was raised by the Friends (www.nyc.gov). By that
time they had already raised more than $50 million in private funding towards the
campaign to save the High Line and for establishment of an endowment for its extension
and long-term maintenance.
Annual operating costs were running at about $7 million in 2013 with $5 million being
spent in the park and $2 million on administration. Ninety per cent of this was covered by
the Friends and 10 per cent, towards maintenance, by the City. The New York Post stated
in 2009 that the High Line, at $671,741 per acre, is the most expensive park in New York
to maintain, followed by Bryant Park at $479,166 per acre (Ulam 2009: 106–7). The
Friends’ income is more or less evenly divided with half coming from events, restaurants
and merchandise, and the other half coming from a combination of direct mailing, major
gifts, corporate support (which is relatively volatile) and foundation giving. ‘There are no
windfall donations – they all take hard work – but we do have the advantage in being in a
very philanthropic city’.7 In terms of future income, the three main streams will be earned
revenue (from restaurants and merchandise), philanthropic donations and growth of the
endowment fund. A possible fourth stream is through the establishment of a 37-block
High Line Improvement District, along the same lines as the Business Improvement
District (BID) that supports Bryant Park (Ulam 2009: 108). The main difference between
the two is that Bryant Park (Chapter 4) is surrounded by commercial establishments that
want to bring business into the area; the High Line is surrounded by residential properties
that do not benefit from additional visitors.
Usage
Visitor levels have been far higher than expected, occasionally demanding restriction of
numbers entering the park. When Section One opened in June 2009, the Friends guessed it
would receive ‘about 300,000 people per year’ but over one June weekend ‘more than
100,000 people visited’ (David and Hammond 2011: 125). It was never anticipated that the
High Line would be a tourist attraction. But it is now on most ‘must-see’ tourist lists,
currently attracting more than ten times the numbers originally anticipated (David: 20
May 2013). Estimated visitor numbers were 3.7 million in 2011, 4.4 million in 2012 and
4.5 million in 2013. Clearly these visitors exert increased maintenance demands. They
also provoke questions such as the one from Gillette of whether the High Line is ‘an urban
park for the use of the neighborhood or a tourist attraction that will be an inconvenience
for local residents unless – economic disaster! – it loses its appeal?’ (Gillette 2013: 116).
Equally, they provoke comments such as Moss’s about overcrowding ‘of the streets
around it – that’s beginning to turn the tide of sentiment’ (Moss 2012). But visitor
numbers are expected to be self-regulating ‘like a subway platform’8 and David is
reassured by its resiliency – ‘it was built to carry fully loaded freight trains … it can hold
its own against most things that happen around it’ (David and Hammond 2011: 127).
Movable chairs (November 2011)

Crime
There are CCTV cameras at each entrance to the High Line but not within the park itself.
And one of the upsides of having so many visitors is that Jane Jacobs’s doctrine about
eyes-on-the-park comes into play. Any new graffiti is removed rapidly, and there were no
crimes necessitating police call-outs in the four years following opening of Section One.9
PLANS FOR THE PARK
The main issues confronting the park in 2013 were construction of Section Three (which
began in May that year) and fund-raising to pay both for that work – at an estimated cost
of $90 million – and for 90 per cent of the ongoing maintenance costs. Section Three is
quite different from Sections One and Two. It runs east–west rather than north–south. It is
relatively straight and narrow. It has a different relationship with the river. It will be
integrated with the 12 million square feet (11.1 million square metres) of new high-rise
development in the Hudson Yards rather than winding through the backs of existing
buildings, and it will ramp down to grade at the end. Switkin characterized the three
sections as representing the past (Meatpacking District), the present (Chelsea
condominiums) and the future (rail yards development).10 Section Three opened in
September 2014. The biggest challenge, it seems, will be to limit visitor numbers to
acceptable levels.
CONCLUSION
The High Line story has been described as ‘part fairy tale and part collective urban
romance mixed with old-fashioned city politics, bottom-up community activism and
celebrity fund-raising’ (Gerdts 2009: 18). Like Bryant Park, aspects of this story could
only occur in a city like New York. Such levels of private philanthropy and demand for
new downtown development are far from ubiquitous. But while the costly conversion of
the abandoned rail trestles to a popular public park may not be a model that other cities
can imitate, it is certainly an example of what can be achieved with sufficient
commitment, intelligence and energy. It is also an inspiring example of the resurgence of
New York – described by Amanda Burden as ‘a city that is built on dreams’ (David and
Hammond 2011: 32) – after the ‘apocalyptic’ events of September 2001.
In terms of parks based on industrial remains, the High Line is a significant sequel to
Gas Works Park in Seattle and the Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord (Chapter 21), and a
significant advance on the somewhat sterile Promenade Plantée in Paris. It is no more or
less than ‘a place that is wild and cultivated, slow but animated, intimate and gregarious
and quite simply, not too much more than it was originally – a way to get off the street’
(Gerdts 2009: 22). It is a project that has ‘expanded people’s notion of what landscape
architecture can accomplish’ (Ulam 2009: 95). More widely applicable lessons from the
High Line involve the changing relationship between parks and cities, the importance of
not wasting opportunities, the limitations of nostalgia, and the value of ‘media savvy’
advocacy. The High Line exemplifies parks being seen as integral components of cities
and their processes of change rather than as bucolic escapes from them. It demonstrates
the importance of seeking new futures for all types of unwanted industrial site. It shows
that design based on intelligent integrity is an effective alternative to lamenting abandoned
authenticity.
NOTES
1 Noted at meeting with Joshua David on 20 May 2013.
2 Noted at meeting with Lisa Switkin on 20 May 2013.
3 Noted at meeting with James Corner on 20 May 2013.
4 Noted at meeting with Lisa Switkin on 20 May 2013.
5 Noted at meeting with Joshua David on 20 May 2013.
6 Noted at meeting with James Corner on 20 May 2013.
7 Noted at meeting with Joshua David on 20 May 2013.
8 Noted at meeting with Lisa Switkin on 20 May 2013.
9 Noted at meeting with James Corner on 20 May 2013.
10 Noted at meeting with Lisa Switkin on 20 May 2013.
Location of Paris Parks
1 Bois de Boulogne
2 River Seine
3 Parc André-Citroën
4 Jardins de Trocadero
5 Champs-de-Mars
6 Champs Elysées
7 Jardins des Tuileries
8 Canal St Martin
9 Parc de la Villette
10 Parc des Buttes-Chaumont
11 Parc de Bercy
12 Bois de Vincennes
6 Parc de Bercy, Paris
(13.5 hectares / 33 acres)
INTRODUCTION
Parc de Bercy was the third major park completed in the 1990s on former industrial land
in central Paris. The other two – Parc de la Villette (Chapter 15), built by the French
national government, and Parc André-Citroën (Chapter 8), like Parc de Bercy, built by the
City of Paris – were the first major parks to be built in central Paris since the Parc des
Buttes-Chaumont (Chapter 10) in the 1860s. The designs for all three new parks resulted
from open international competitions. The design and development of Parc de la Villette
and Parc André-Citroën became something of a bragging match between leftist President
Francois Mitterand (1916–96 – President 1981–95) and rightist Mayor of Paris Jacques
Chirac (b. 1932
– Mayor 1977–95 and President 1995–2007). The design and development of Parc de
Bercy was more low key. Competition-winning architect Bernard Huet eschewed
monumentalism in favour of more garden-scale proposals.
HISTORY
Reason for designation as a park
Until the seventeenth century, Bercy was part of the rural landscape of the Plain of
Conflans in the commune of Charenton to the east of Paris.1 During that century a number
of private mansions were constructed along the Rue de Bercy with gardens running
towards the Seine. These were laid out perpendicular to the river – before it was realigned
in the nineteenth century. The mansions and their gardens were followed by the
development of timber yards and, from the beginning of the nineteenth century, wine
warehouses. The Château de Bercy, the principal eighteenth-century building on the site,
was abandoned after the French Revolution (1789) and demolished under Napoléon III
(Emperor 1852–70). The mansions were sold and their sites taken over, little by little, by
the buildings and warehouses of the wine trade. Wine was brought by boat from the
Bourgogne region and unloaded at Bercy, which was outside the city, thereby avoiding
city taxes, and then delivered by road or rail.
By the beginning of the nineteenth century, Bercy was one of the principal European
markets for wines and spirits. The settlement was eventually annexed to the city in 1859
as part of its reorganization by Baron Haussmann under Napoléon III. The warehouses
became liable for taxes. The government appointed architect Eugène-Emmanuel Viollet-
le-Duc (1814–79) to ‘establish a rational plan for the warehouses’ (Mairie de Paris 1999).
Some official warehouses were built to Viollet-le-Duc’s plan. But he made little change to
the network of streets or to the diverse ensemble of picturesque buildings. The site
contained remains of the earlier, now oblique, pattern and of newer roads perpendicular to
the realigned river – particularly the Boulevard and Pont de Bercy and the Rue de Dijon
(now Rue Joseph Kessel) leading to the Pont de Tolbiac. The marks of each era of
development were superimposed on the lines created by earlier eras – a veritable
palimpsest.
By the beginning of the 1970s, wine trading had ceased and Bercy had become ‘more
than an old wine depot; it was a secret village of vintages’ (Diedrich 1994: 74). The idea
of creating a new quarter with a park at its heart emerged in that decade. It was affirmed in
1977 by the Schéma Directeur d’Architecture et d’Urbanisme (SDAU – Plan of the
Director of Architecture and Planning) for Paris. The SDAU contained the succinct
statement that the area should comprise ‘a park surrounded by housing and other
activities, with the placing of a large public building in the area of the Boulevard de
Bercy’ (Micheloni 1993: 122). Also in 1977, a system of directly elected city government
under a mayor was established for Paris, leading to a dramatic change in role for the
Atelier Parisien d’Urbanisme (APUR – city planning authority) in 1978 from being ‘an
advisory body in charge of elaborating … general development and land use plans’ to
assuming ‘control of various inner city schemes’ (Dumont 1994: 64). Suddenly the people
who ‘for years had been “thinking” the city now found themselves in charge of actually
“making” it’ (ibid: 66). Pierre-Yves Ligen, then Director of the APUR, had all the Zones
d’Aménagement Concerté (ZACs – comprehensive development areas) suspended. In the
space of two years revised master plans were prepared for all eighteen of them.

Maison du Jardinage in Parterres (September 2011)

The ZAC de Bercy was established in 1979. The proposed park remained as the focus of
the development area. The objectives for Parc de Bercy – and for the park in the ZAC
Citroën-Cevennes in the southwest of the city – were:
• to contribute to the creation of new mixed ‘quarters’ with residential and other activities
on former market or industrial sites close to the edge of the city;
• to create spaces of a city-wide scale and that opened onto the Seine in the Parisian
 tradition;
• to provide attractive open spaces giving distinct identity to the new neighbourhoods
(Starkman 1993: 88).
Also in 1979 a competition was staged for the design of the Parc Omnisports de Paris
Bercy (POPB) – the octagonal sports hall on the south side of the Boulevard de Bercy with
a seating capacity of 17,000, characterized by its turfed 45-degree slopes. This was
followed in 1983 by commencement of construction of the Ministry of Finance building
on the north side of the Boulevard de Bercy – one of Mitterand’s Grands Projets. These
two major structures gave Bercy a new identity and launched it as a major development
area. They presaged the inauguration by the Council of Paris in November 1983 of their
Plan Programme de l’Est de Paris (Planning Programme for Eastern Paris). A major
thrust of this programme was the creation and embellishment of major public parks and
open spaces – including Parc de la Villette and Parc de Bercy.
Size and condition of site at time of designation
The ZAC de Bercy covered about 40 hectares. The park was broadly defined in 1973 as
occupying an area of 8–10 hectares. This eventually increased to more than 13 hectares. In
addition to the pattern of streets left by the wine trade, there was a mosaic of more than
500 mature trees, mainly planes and horse chestnuts, largely over 100 years old and
mostly in good phytosanitary condition. Bercy was a ‘world apart’ from the rest of the city
– such ‘romantic evocation of nature and the rural atmosphere of the site were exceptional
in Paris’ (Ferrand et al. 1993: 150).

Parc de Bercy, Paris

1 Ministry of Finance
2 Boulevard de Bercy
3 Pont de Bercy
4 Rue de Bercy
5 Parc Omnisports de Paris Bercy (POPB)
6 River Seine
7 Bosque of Tulip Trees
8 Quai de Bercy
9 Grandes Pelouses
10 Grande Terrace and Cascade
11 Line of Footbridge to National Library
12 Cinémathèque Français
13 The Parterres
14 Rue Joseph Kessel
15 Pont de Tobiac
16 Jardin Romantique

Key figures in the establishment of the park

Whereas Parc André-Citroën was Mayor Chirac’s direct response to President Mitterand’s
Parc de la Villette, the development of Parc de Bercy was less ostentatious. Chirac did,
however, take a direct interest in the project. He imposed a decision, for instance, that the
maximum possible number of existing trees be retained throughout the ZAC (Mairie de
Paris 1999). The individual who commanded most publicity in the professional press was
architect Bernard Huet (1932–2001). Huet was the leading figure in a tripartite team
composed of architects FFL (Marylène Ferrand; Jean-Pierre Feugas; Bernard Le Roy) and
landscape architect Ian Le Caisne. Le Caisne died in 1991 and was succeeded by Philippe
Raguin. The members of FFL had all been students of Huet at the Paris-Belleville School
of Architecture. Le Caisne and FFL had been shortlisted for the Parc André-Citroën
competition in 1985.
Meanwhile, Huet came to prominence with his restoration of Place Stalingrad at the
western end of the Bassin de la Villette. In February 1992 he stated that he trained as an
architect and used to hate landscape as much as he hated city planning. Huet went on to
note, however, that ‘a city is, in essence, a continuous process. And an urban project is
totally different from architectural design, because time and space are totally different’
(Huet 1993: 19). Displaying a conservative classicism, Huet argued that green spaces
result from ‘destruction of the city by modern, functionalist urbanization’ but that ‘you
have to be very eclectic according to the problem you have to resolve’ (ibid: 19, 25). He
was characterized as regarding ‘the park’ as representing ‘a nostalgic longing for Arcadia
that justifies an autonomous position in the city’ (Knuijt et al. 1993: 28). Huet’s work was
essentially pragmatic urban design.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location
In September 1978 the Council of Paris approved a policy from the SDAU for
improvement of the banks of the Seine and the canals in the city (Mairie de Paris 1999).
The new parks at Bercy and Citroën-Cevennes were seen as reinforcing the axis of the
river – Bercy near its entry to the city, André-Citroën at its exit. They were to become the
central Paris counter-parts to the two massive peripheral parks – the 845-hectare Bois de
Boulogne and the 995-hectare Bois de Vincennes – that had been redesigned for mass
recreation under Haussmann more than a century earlier. In 1981 the APUR conducted a
strategic study of public open space in the city (Mairie de Paris 1981). That study
established simple hierarchies of space on the basis of, first, quantity of space per
inhabitant and, second, the quality and range of facilities in those spaces. It called for the
creation of new parks that would ‘provide an excellent service in poorly catered-for
riparian areas like the development areas at Bercy and Citroën-Cevennes’ (ibid). They
were envisaged largely as facilities for local inhabitants but also intended to serve the city
as a whole and adjacent suburbs.
A major influence on development at Bercy was its enclosure by railways on its
northeastern and south-eastern sides. The southwestern side is defined by the right bank of
the Seine, occupied by the high-speed highway along the Quai de Bercy. The left bank
opposite Bercy – the site for the Bibliothèque Nationale – was also cut off from the rest of
the city by railways. The response to this confinement was to introduce a range of
activities intended to promote vitality, including cultural facilities such as the Frank
Gehry-designed American Center (now Cinémathèque Française), commercial
developments including offices, hotels and restaurants, and 1,500 apartments. The POPB,
opened in 1984, occupied the northwest side of the ZAC, and retained wine warehouses
converted into the Cour Saint Émilion restaurant and shopping area – opened in 1998 –
closed off the southeast side. Architect Jean-Pierre Buffi coordinated the design of new
development; architect Muriel Pagès designed the public spaces in the ZAC. Buffi’s
proposals included a series of openings between buildings to appear like extensions of the
park (Rebois 1994: 69–71).
Shape of site and natural landform
The site was a 13.5-hectare, 710 metre by 190 metre rectangle parallel to the Seine. It was
subdivided by the Rue Joseph Kessel (then Rue de Dijon) into areas of 8.5 hectares to the
northwest and 5 hectares to the southeast. The only significant level change across an
otherwise effectively level site was the Rue de Dijon, which sat 2 metres higher.
Competition brief
A policy launched in 1982 mandated the staging of design competitions for public
construction projects with a value in excess of FF 180,000 – around €27,500 (Dumont
1994: 66). The competition for Parc de Bercy, organized by the APUR for the City of
Paris, was announced in February 1987. Expressions of interest were invited from
European teams comprising landscape and building architects. A total of 106 dossiers
were received – sixty from France and forty-six from other countries. The jury shortlisted
ten teams and called for their proposals by December 1987. The brief required competitors
to conceive of the park at the scale of Paris while imagining a programme designed for
daily routines rather than for spectacular activities; to resolve the question of the isolation
of the site as a result of highways and railways; and to draw on the individual character,
heritage and history of the site (Paris Projet 1993: 132–3). The brief also drew attention to
constraints within the site – including retention of the better existing large trees; the
crossing of the site by the Rue de Dijon, and the height of the water table. Competitors
were required to provide additional parking for the POPB and to take account of a future
footbridge across the river – the eventual Passarelle Simone-de-Beauvoir, opened in 2006.

Vineyard in Parterres (September 2011)

Design concept
The entry from Huet’s team was called Jardin de la Mémoire – ‘Garden of Memory’. It
‘conformed with the terms of the brief and clearly expressed the history and morphology
of the place. The composition was based on the idea of a palimpsest: writing over writing.
In effect, the design proposed the superimposition of a new grid on top of the existing grid
without either disturbing the other’ (Micheloni 1993: 128). The new grid projected into the
site the geometry established by the Rue de Bercy and the Rue de Dijon. This enabled the
design to address the POPB and the new development to the east of the park. Retaining the
old, oblique grid facilitated the protection of the existing mature trees as well as the
‘network of rails, tanks, casks, warehouse foundations and piles of stone from the gardens
of eighteenth-century mansions’ (Mairie de Paris 1999). Huet himself commented that ‘the
grid gave continuity to the city. The continuity is very formal here, because it is in line
with the street, the grid and so on, but the continuity is also in time … it is a piece of urban
archaeology’ (Huet 1993: 26).
Spatial structure, circulation system, landform, materials and planting
Parc de Bercy comprises five main areas:
• a quincunx of Tulip trees around the diamond-shaped fountain at the foot of the
monstrous POPB;
Cascade (June 2007)

Jardin Romantique (September 2013)

• the Grandes Pelouses – ‘large meadow’ – mediating between the POPB and the
Parterres – flat, formal plant beds at ground level – and between the entrance from Rue
de Bercy and the cascade down the Grande Terrace. It too is virtually flat – a freely
accessible lawn punctuated with irregular lines of retained trees and a regular grid of
 nine new, stone pavilions;
• the Parterres – the heart of the park, comprising a fenced-off grid of nine gardens. The
eight outer squares are occupied by theme gardens that drip with symbolism (kitchen,
orchard, perfume, rose, and four colour-coded seasonal gardens). The central square is
occupied by the retained Maison du Jardinage – an eighteenth-century mansion
converted into a garden display and instruction centre;
• steep, unramped embankments and two foot-bridges over the Rue Joseph Kessel link the
parterres to the Jardin Romantique – ‘romantic garden’. A symbolic link between the
two areas is also created by a canal on the centreline of the POPB. The canal opens into
a circle of water in the middle of the romantic garden;
• the Grande Terrace – 7.5 metres above the level of the park and 8.5 metres above the
Quai de Bercy – is a substantial but deceptively simple noise-attenuating device running
the entire length of the park. Aligned with the river, it fulfils the mandate of relating the
park to the scale of the city; it encloses the park and it houses parking, storage and
security facilities. It also supports the sharply detailed cascade that runs down towards
the Grandes Pelouses on the line of the Passarelle.
The park has an established verdure from the more than 200 mature trees retained on
site. These were augmented by more than 1,200 newly planted trees and 30,000 shrubs. It
is a tightly controlled composition of gridded gardens inserted between the existing tree
canopy and the largely flat remains of the village of wine warehouses. Landscape
architects criticized the park for loss of rustic charm, directness and cost of paving
materials, flatness, revivalist classicism, and its planting combinations (Holden 1998;
Arnold 1998; Diedrich 1994). Nevertheless, the design respects the ‘genius of the place’;
it feeds from the history of the area; it exploits existing tree cover and it relates the site to
the city. The design reflects an emerging pattern of providing for dispersed rather than
centralized activities through the use of a gridded structure that allows garden-scale
facilities.
Canal and colonnades in Parterres (September 2011)

Construction of the park did not begin until December 1992 – five years after Huet and
his team had won the competition. Completion of the succeeding phases ran from
northwest to southeast. The final phase of the park – the southeastern end of the Jardin
Romantique and the terrace – was opened in September 1997. They were followed by the
Cour Saint Émilion in 1998 and the passerelle in 2006, linking Bercy to the new library on
the left bank.
MANAGEMENT, FUNDING AND PLANS
Design and management, and maintenance of City of Paris parks handled by two separate
organizations. Design and management are undertaken by the Direction des Espaces Verts
et de l’Environnement of the Mairie de Paris. Maintenance is divided by Arrondissement
and undertaken by directly employed staff. The initial construction cost of the park was
reported in 1994 to be FF 390 million – around €60 million (Diedrich 1994: 78). The only
significant change in the park has been the insertion of a new play area in the southern
corner. Otherwise management continues to be directed towards maintaining the
established layout and garden-scale character, and being careful not to erode this.2
CONCLUSIONS
The Parc de Bercy is tighter, less monumental and more garden-based than the slightly
earlier and slightly larger Parc André-Citroën on the other side of Paris. It reflects the
more modest ambitions of the City of Paris for this peripheral enclave and the more
pragmatic approach of designer Bernard Huet and team. As Huet put it, ‘the city is
inhabited by many people, and you do not have to be aggressive with them’ (Huet 1993:
25). They called their design Jardin de la Mémoire. They regarded it as a piece of urban
archaeology. It is a pragmatic mediation between memory and modernity. The
requirements of the brief are met through the careful combination of two orthogonal grids
that allow the original street pattern and associated mature trees to be retained at the same
time as responding to the newer geometry of nineteenth-century highways and 1980s
buildings.

Potager and housing in ZAC de Bercy (September 2013)

Footbridge over Rue Joseph Kessel (September 2013)

 The park is remarkably flat except where it meets an obstacle such as the raised Rue
Joseph Kessel or the riverside expressway. Huet and team did, however, seek to treat both
these obstacles as opportunities. They overcame the first with a dramatic sweeping hill
and two footbridges; the latter with a massive terrace affording views across the city. The
ornamental landforms in the Jardin Romantique are somewhat contrived – particularly the
conical belvedere – and the gardens require high levels of maintenance to retain their
appeal. But, overall, the park is a delightful, legible, secure and peaceful place for a
promenade in the Parterres or the Jardin Romantique, or a kickabout on the Grandes
Pelouses.
NOTES
1 This account largely drawn from Micheloni 1993: 122–9, Mairie de Paris 1999 and Diedrich 1994: 74–80.
2 Noted at meeting with Nicolas Szilagyi of the Direction des Espaces Verts et de l’Environnement of the Mairie de
Paris on 12 September 2013.

Location of Amsterdam Parks

1 Westpoort Harbour Area
2 The IJ
3 Westergasfabriek and Westerpark
4 Old Amsterdam
5 Vondelpark
6 Oosterpark
7 Schiphol Airport
8 Amsterdamse Bos
7 Westergasfabriek, Amsterdam
(14.5 hectares / 36 acres)
INTRODUCTION
Resurrected from a heavily contaminated town gas production site, the Westergasfabriek
unites the 6-hectare nineteenth-century Westerpark to its east with open polder landscape
to the north. This includes a Waternatuuruin (water nature park), a Ruig Speel terrein
(adventure play area), allotments and the Sint Barbara cemetery. The entire 50-hectare
area is now referred to as the Westerpark, a name also used for the neighbourhood to the
west of the inner city and for its former district council. Like The Nether lands as a whole,
the Westerpark area displays a combination of natural vulnerability and cultural
progressiveness. And the Westergasfabriek itself provides a heady mix of indoor and
outdoor culture, business and entertainment.
The gas plant operated from 1885 until 1967. It was rendered redundant by discovery in
1959 of the Groningen Gas Field. Converting the site from a brownfield to a centrally
located city park was a convoluted process that required extraordinary financial resources
and organizational ingenuity. It demanded effective treatment of the contaminated ground,
careful management of complex groundwater conditions, retention and repurposing of
historic buildings, design – through competition – of a manufactured landscape on
previously manufactured land, engagement in extensive public consultation, and
establishment of a hybrid management model described as ‘cultural entrepreneurship’.
The buildings and events are managed by a private corporation, Westergas-fabriek BV.
The Kathryn Gustafson-designed park was officially opened in 2003. It is managed and
maintained by the City of Amsterdam.1
HISTORY
Designation as a park
City Engineer J. G. van Niftrik’s Uitsbreidinsplan, presented in 1867, ‘showed for the first
time a definite pattern of city parks’ (Chadwick 1966: 302), including the Vondelpark but
not the Westerpark. That plan was rejected by the City Council as being ‘too ambitious’. It
was followed by the ‘more pragmatic’ General Expansion Plan for Amsterdam, prepared
in 1875 by Director of Works J. Kalff. That plan sought ‘to synthesize developments that
were already under way, [rather] than to steer developments itself’ and to provide streets
to service those developments (Hall 1997: 240). It accommodated only two, smaller, parks
within concentric rings of dense development – the Sarphatipark (1886) south of the city
centre and the Oosterpark (1891) to the southeast – ‘islands amidst dense concentric rings
of development’ (Chadwick 1966: 303). The Westerpark (1890), designed in a pastoral
style by landscape architect Leonard Springer (1855–1940), ‘was created in the space left
over between the sharp edges of the 17th century infrastructure and the new railway lines’
(Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 268).
Consistent with the aims of van Niftrik and Kalff’s plans, records include a map from
1875, before construction of the gasworks, showing the site designated ‘to become part of
a much enlarged Westerpark’ (Koekebakker 2003: 29). But in 1883 a concession for
production of town gas (for street lighting) was granted to the Imperial Continental Gas
Association of London. They immediately built two plants – the Westergasfabriek and
another plant in the east of the city. The Westerpark site was chosen for its strategic
location ‘between water, rail and access roads’ (www.drawingtimenow). The city
terminated the concession in 1898, took over the plant, and added a coke gas plant,
completed in 1905 – the last major gas generation building on the site. Gas production
ceased in March 1967, and until 1992 many of the buildings were used by the municipal
energy company for maintenance and storage purposes.
Stadsdeelkantoor and paddling pool (July 2012)

Various proposals for the site were subsequently aired. These included use as a tram
depot, as a train washing yard, and as a part of a widened Haarlem-merweg. The latter
proposal, which would also have destroyed much of the Westerpark, provoked calls from
residents in this densely populated part of the city for the site to be designated for ‘green
functions’. Time passed. Eventually, in late 1978, following protests about damage to
polder landscapes from construction of new rail lines, the city instructed officials to draw
up landscape proposals for the Overbrakerpolder. This led to designation of the
Westergasfabriek for recreational activities (Koekebakker 2003: 29). It was officially
opened as the Cultuurpark in September 2003.
Size and condition of site at time of designation
At the time of designation the site was heavily contaminated from years of gas production.
Residual toxic wastes included cyanide, asbestos and tar. The full extent of the
contamination could not be discerned until remedial work actually commenced. And the
work could not commence until the district of Wester-park, formed in 1990, could agree
remedial measures with the federal Ministry of Housing, Spatial Planning and
Environment. Initially the Ministry insisted on ‘multi-functional’ decontamination such
that the site would be suitable for any type of use. This would have required replacement
of vast amounts of contaminated material with clean fill. The cost of this type of operation
– even if a dump site could have been found – would have been prohibitive. It would also
have left the site cleaner than almost any other part of the city.
Eventually, in 1996, Jan Cleij, director of the Amsterdam Environmental Department,
convinced the City Council to apply a ‘function-oriented’ or ‘isolation-plus’ approach to
decontamination (www.project-westergasfabriek). This involved two principal policies –
preventing people from coming into contact with the pollutants and preventing the
pollutants from leaching through groundwater (Koekebakker 2003: 126). It resulted in the
import of some 30,000 cubic metres of clean fill, largely from expansion of the Bosbaan,
and an average rise in elevation across the park of 2 metres above the adjacent polder.
The cost of the treatment – which eventually reached over €20 million – was borne by
the national and city governments, with the district council being responsible for
construction and management of the public space, also costing over €20 million
(www.project-westergasfabriek). The City insisted that the refurbishment and operation of
the remaining buildings on site – many of which were already being used for cultural
activities in what became known as the ‘Interim Use’ (1993–2000) – should be undertaken
by a private enterprise (Koekebakker 2003: 51). An agreement was signed between the
Westerpark Council and urban real estate developers Meijer Aannemers Bedrijf (MAB) in
December 1999, transferring the buildings to them for 1 Dutch guilder and requiring that
they run and maintain them as arts and cultural facilities.
Many of the older, more substantial brick and stone-banded Dutch neo-Renaissance
buildings were designed by architect Isaac Gosschalk (1838–1907). These included the
Zuiveringsgebouw (Purification Building – 1885), the Machine Building and Ketelhuis
(1903), the Transformer House (1904) and the Super visors’ Houses. The main, 3,000
square metre gasometer (1902) was designed by German engineer August Klönne (1849–
1908) (www.nemo). A number of these buildings were granted national heritage status in
1997.2 Toxic wastes were found under many of the retained buildings and the ‘Interim
Use’ without remediation could not continue after early 2001 (Koekebakker 2003: 62).
Renovation of the buildings was completed in 2007 (de Kruijk 2012).

Paddling pool (July 2012)

Key figures in the establishment of the park

Key organizations in the establishment of the Cultuurpark were the federal government
and the City of Amsterdam (primarily as regulators and funders), Westerpark Council
(established in 1990 and superseded in 2010 by the larger borough of Amsterdam-West),
and real estate developers MAB (contracted in 1999 as ‘cultural entrepreneurs’). MAB
established a subsidiary company, Westergasfabriek BV, to manage the 15,000 square
metres of buildings and to run events in the park. That subsidiary was not included in the
deal when MAB merged with Bouwfonds / ABN Amro in 2004. Creation of the
Westerpark district in 1990 as part of the decentralization of city governance gave fresh
impetus to development of the park. The new district inherited the site.
Water garden in excavated gasholder – 1 (July 2012)

Evert Verhagen (b. 1955), a hydrologist-cum-urbanist, was appointed director of Public

Works for the district and guided the decontamination of the site and development of the
park from 1990 until 2004 (www.creativecities). Under Verhagen’s direction, an initial
design for the park was prepared in 1991 by widely respected Dutch landscape architect
Hans Warnau (1922–95). But this was deemed premature in light of emerging data about
the extent of contamination. It was, however, ‘strikingly similar’ to the eventual Gustafson
design – particularly in the location of the ‘Events Field’ and the sloping amphitheatre to
its north (Koekebakker 2003: 31). Until 1995 it was anticipated that De IJsbreker, a
contemporary music centre, would be a major user of buildings on the site. After that
proposal fell through, the district ‘had a free hand to determine the future use’ of the site
(ibid: 50).
Two other government figures who had major influences on the park: first Jan Cleij of
the Amsterdam Environmental Department (mentioned earlier) and City Alderman Edgar
Peer, whose portfolio covered economic affairs. Peer was appointed to oversee the project
on behalf of the City Council. The City retained responsibility for major infrastructure
projects following decentralization in 1990 and felt obligated to the Westerpark Council
for having off-loaded the liability of a large, polluted post-industrial site on them. It
wanted to ensure a prudent approach to development of the site and Peer was insistent that
refurbishment and operation of the buildings should be undertaken by private developers,
not by Wester park Council. Hence the ‘cultural entrepreneurship’ model and the
agreement between the district and MAB signed, symbolically, just before the new
millennium, in December 1999.
MAB’s subsidiary Westergasfabriek BV was established early in 2000 under the
direction of Liesbeth Jansen, formerly active in the Amsterdam theatre scene. Jansen had
been project leader for events from 1993 to 2000 – the relatively relaxed period of
‘Interim Use’ (Koekebakker 2003: 52–5). She was managing director of the new company
until October 2010. After the merger in 2004 between MAB and Bouwfonds / ABN
Amro, ownership of Westergasfabriek BV remained with cultural entrepreneurs Ton and
Marya Meijer – source of the ‘M’ in MAB. The company was founded by Ton Meijer in
1970. He was accustomed to taking on challenging urban projects. But refurbishment of
the retained buildings proved more challenging than MAB originally anticipated. Delays
caused by the contamination, by more stringent building regulations and by rising building
costs took their toll. A stand-off between the district and MAB was only resolved through
a loan of €26.5 million, agreed in 2003, from the National Restoration Fund, and
guaranteed by the district council (ibid: 65–6 and www.project-westergasfabriek).

Water garden in excavated gasholder – 2 (July 2012)

Meanwhile, following the agreement in 1996 to adopt the ‘function-oriented’ approach

to contamination and while the ‘Interim Use’ allowed continued temporary use of the
buildings, the district council established a working group – including three local residents
– to select a landscape architect for the park itself. First twelve landscape architects were
invited to make presentations, then five of them were invited to participate in a design
competition. This group comprised four Dutch landscape architects – Michael van Gessel,
Lodewijk Wiegersma of Bureau B+B, Edwin Santhagens of Buro Sant en Co, and Adriaan
Geuze of West 8, together with American Kathryn Gustafson (b. 1951), working initially
with Francine Houben of Mecanoo Architects – who subsequently worked on refurbished
and new buildings on the site – and latterly with Neil Porter at Gustafson Porter in
London. The competition was won by Gustafson. Her design – Changement – was the
least diagrammatic and the most strongly ordered of the five submissions.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location within city
The Westerpark occupies part of the Overbraker-polder, reclaimed land separated from the
Binnen-polder of Sloten by completion in 1632 of the east–west Haarlemmervaart Canal
on the south side of the park. The land was further subdivided by construction in 1839 of
the Amsterdam–Haarlem rail line to the north of the Westergasfabriek. It is about 2.5
kilometres (1.5 miles) northwest of Amsterdam Central Station, making it easily
accessible to a significant city and nationwide population, and about the same distance
east of the Sloterdijk rail interchange, meeting point of the metro and rail lines from
Amsterdam to Rotterdam, and to Schiphol Airport. The A10 highway, also to the west, is
even closer.
The Westergasfabriek is both a destination park for people from a wide catchment area
and an important local adjunct to the more passive Westerpark and the Waternatuuruin.
They serve a resident population of about 130,000 in Amsterdam-West. Access from the
Sparndammer residential area north of the site is restricted by the Haarlem and Zaanstad
rail lines to two entrances – one at the north end of the Ruig Speelterrein and the other to
the north side of the original Westerpark. It was always understood and expected that the
professional management and marketing of events in the park required by Alderman Peer
would attract large audiences and necessitate occasional closure of parts of it – particularly
the Events Field. Local residents have ensured that the number of crowd-generating events
is subject to continual negotiation. For 2012 it was agreed that there would be six major
events on the Field.

Westergasfabriek, Amsterdam
1 Waternatuuruin and Ring Speelterrein
2 Amsterdam-Haarlem Rail Line
3 Water Gardens
4 Grid of Taxodium
5 Paddling Pool
6 Main Gasometer and Klönneplein
7 Transformer Building
8 Korfball Court
9 Events Field
10 Broadway
11 Stadsdeelkantoor (former Council Offices)
12 Westerpark
13 Gosschalklaan
14 City of Arts
15 Water Gardens in Excavated Gasometers
16 Ketelhuis
17 Market Square
18 Converted Industrial Buildings
19 Haarlemmervaart Canal

The significant locational benefit of the Westergasfabriek park is that it provides an

effective transition between the nineteenth-century Westerpark, surrounding residential
areas and the residual open space of Overbrakerpolder to the north and west. These
residential areas include Staatsliedenbuurt to the south of the Haarlemmervaart Canal,
Sloterdijk to the west, and the upmarket Jordaan and central Amsterdam to the east. The
larger Westerpark also forms part of the Bretten Zone, a green corridor that extends 10
kilometres westward from the park (www.archined), past Sloterdijk station and beyond the
city limits to Spaarnwoude (www.drawingtimenow).
Shape of site and natural landform
The Westergasfabriek site is a scalene right-angle triangle with its hypotenuse pulled
outward to form a fourth angle. The south side is formed by a flat frontage of about 800
metres along the Haarlemmervaart Canal. The two sides of the would-be hypotenuse are
about 600 metres and 270 metres on the northwest and northeast sides respectively. The
east side of the site adjoining the original Westerpark is about 230 metres long. It
incorporates the 100-metre-long Stadsdeelkantoor (former district council offices) with
linkages between the two park areas running north and south of it. And, sitting as it does
in the Over-brakerpolder, the site was predictably flat but disturbed first by transport
infrastructure and latterly by the need to bury contaminated material. This led, as in
Warnau’s design, to the stacking of earth into the would-be hypotenuse along the north
side of the Westergasfabriek. And under Gustafson’s design ‘the ground plane slides, tilts,
undulates, and shifts’ (Hinshaw 2004: 63) including creation of a south-facing
amphitheatre rising to an apex in the fourth angle. The whole scheme is effectively a large
roof garden isolated from redistributed underlying contaminants.
Original design concept
A ‘preliminary design appeared in 1985’ showing the expansion of the Westerpark
(including the Westergas fabriek) ‘in the same “English” style as the existing park’
(Koekebakker 2003: 29). This was followed by Warnau’s proposals in 1991, which were
prescient of the eventual design, Changement, by Gustafson et al. (ibid: 31), adopted in
1998 and built out between then and 2007. The underlying concept of change is expressed
in three lines of script beneath Gustafson’s competition submission. These read, from east
to west: stad – city / tuin – garden / landschap – landscape / natuur – nature; and below
that: politiek – politics via spel / sport – game / sport to kunst – art; and beneath those two
lines: organisatie / organization at the east side and vrijheid / freedom at the west side
(ibid: 73; Amidon 2005: 181).
This is by no means a novel concept. Indeed, it could be argued that comparable
concepts underpin most late twentieth / early twenty-first century urban landscape
architecture – the progression from urban order to natural wilderness reflecting
consciousness of (if not a conscience about) the way humans have occupied the earth. The
contamination of the site reflects unfettered human profligacy whereas its northern edge,
transitioning into the Waternatuuruin, appears to reflect and respect natural conditions. Of
course the entire site, in whatever condition, is a consequence of human invention and
intervention. But the strength of the design for the Cultuurpark is that, while it responds
pragmatically to previous site conditions, it powerfully projects through its physical form
and character the idea of the park as a medium for exploring concepts of culture and
nature.
Spatial structure, circulation system, landform and materials
The spatial structure of the Cultuurpark is defined by three principal factors – the location
and disposition of the retained buildings and gasometers; the expediency of creating a
landform that would isolate park users from the buried contaminants; and the particular
demands in The Netherlands for careful groundwater management. The preparatory
earthworks facilitated provision of an invaluable feature, unique to Gustafson’s
competition design – the 2-hectare Events Field located within the open elbow of the
south-facing amphitheatre, bordered by a heavily used elongated paddling pool. This
gentle elbow is redolent of the long, flowing arcs in the Gustafson-designed Lurie Garden
(Chapter 18) and Old Market Square, Nottingham.
Despite the relatively limited size of the park, the expansive reinforced turf Events Field
is the unbuilt heart of the park. It has a capacity of 16,000 and, as its name suggests, it is
the venue for major commercial / cultural events, ranging from music festivals to tennis
tournaments, that cannot be accommodated in the buildings. Provision of the field
recognizes two enduring functions of public parks. First, making substantial, flexibly
programmable outdoor gathering spaces available to city dwellers, and second, when not
being used for events, providing a wide open contrast to surrounding built-up areas.
Equally the openness and heavier use of the field, amphitheatre and pool area contrasts
with the secluded character of the planted areas along the Broadway and in the water
gardens north of the refurbished gasometer. This secluded character is reinforced off-
Broadway by the distribution of benches without paths through the planting, encouraging
users to create their own routes to them.
Site-specific water features are another attribute of Gustafson’s work. The black-based,
reflective paddling pool is operated as a discrete filtered water system while the water
gardens to the north of Klönne’s refurbished gasholder are part of two separate hydraulic
systems. The western part is fed by cleansed water from the reed and theatre pools,
running down an artificial bed built over an original ditch. It includes ferns and other
foliage plants in a series of lush and increasingly intimate spaces. This part of the water
system is recycled internally and topped up from or drained to the polder area as
necessary. The water running eastward from the reed pools passes under a boardwalk and
into a pivotal grid of Taxodium distichum and then directly to the polder. The conjoined
excavated gasometers to the south create an enclosed water garden, an experience
enhanced by surrounding steel walls and wood decks inside them.
The pedestrian circulation system responds to the land-shaping imperatives of the
industrial contaminants and the locations of retained buildings and structures. There is a
dominant linear connection from the ‘Market Square’ at the southeastern entrance, with its
grid of industrial-scale recycled, steel-edged reinforced concrete paving units and
maturing Tulipifera trees, tapering into the ramrod straight central axis (Gosschalklaan –
after the architect) running westward to the ‘City of Arts’. This axis is the fulcrum
between restored and re-used commercial and cultural canal-side buildings and the
gasometer gardens on the south side, and the Events Field with the paddling pool,
amphitheatre and the refurbished gasometer (now used for concerts and commercial
displays) and the Transformer Building, facing onto Klönneplein to the west.
The meandering, plant-flanked Broadway, named after the similarly snaking street
through the Manhattan grid, runs from the northern plaza at the entrance from the
Westerpark and right into the gasometer gardens to the west. The other main components
of the circulation system are park-length routes along the ridgeline above the amphitheatre
and the canal promenade, the Polonceaukade, with its stepped turf areas and ‘beaches’
along the north side of the canal – again working a southerly orientation into the layout of
the park. One peculiar feature of the circulation system is that while there are numerous
routes across the pools and streams north of Theatre Square, there are none across the
elongated paddling pool, causing an apparently deliberate separation between the two
main grass areas in the park.
The planting was designed by Gustafson with horticulturist Piet Oudolf (b. 1944) to
provide a strong year-round floral display. It included 62 different tree species, 100 shrub
species, 130 herbaceous species, 19 wetland species, 14 fern species and 23 bulb species
(Koekebakker 2003: 84). It has generally achieved its aim. Minor difficulties have
included establishment of shade plants, Rhododendrons suffering from high soil pH, and
some of the soil from the Bosbaan being inadequate for horticultural purposes. Overall,
however, the development of the planting has been relatively rapid – particularly for such
a wide range of species on an entirely manufactured site to which an eager public was
admitted almost as soon as it was planted.
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Managing organization and funding
The unitary City Council will take over responsibility for management and maintenance of
the external areas of the Cultuurpark and for overall programming of activities within the
park. The buildings are leased and maintained by Westergasfabriek BV and/or their
tenants and, with promoters, they manage most of the events in the park. The company
itself comprises a director and ten professional staff (de Kruijk 2012). Following the
amalgamation of Westerpark district into Amsterdam-West in May 2010, direct funding
for the park was reduced by about €150,000 per year. This led to a call to increase income
from other sources and, in turn, to pressure for heavier use of facilities, bringing more
disturbance to local residents, and more impact on planted areas.
User characteristics
No comprehensive user surveys have been carried out. Estimates of use are largely
anecdotal. They include estimates of 250,000 visitors in 1995 during ‘Interim Use’
(Bonink and Hitters 2001: 232). Estimates suggest more than five million visits per year
(de Kruijk 2012) to the park and 700,000 to the buildings (Westergasfabriek 2011: 3).
Visitor numbers would probably be far higher if there were more than the six major events
allowed on the Events Field and four large parties each year. By contrast there is no limit
on the number of events allowed in the gasholder (capacity 3,000) and other buildings,
where ‘more than 250 events take place every year’ (de Kruijk 2012).

Water garden northwest of refurbished gasholder (July 2012)

PLANS FOR THE PARK

Evert Verhagen, project manager for construction of the park, observed that ‘parks are in
cities … cities contain a high proportion of young people with disposable income …
young people want to be entertained … parks are part of the entertainment industry’.3 This
reflects the original intention that the park should have ‘three key areas of focus: parkland,
culture and activities’ (Westergasfabriek 2011: 3). This programme, referred to as the
‘Brown Book’ (ibid: 5), was superseded in 2011 by the Green Manifesto: Vision for the
Westergasfabriek 2025. Very much a manifesto, this document continues to promote the
commercial / cultural vision that informed Alderman Peer’s original model. Claiming to
be a ‘“new school” city park: a city park for everyone’ the Manifesto projects the park
playing a ‘crucial role in increasing social cohesion and reinforcing Amsterdam’s image as
a tolerant and innovative city’ (Westergasfabriek 2011: 7). It is based on five factors:
‘diversity … reinforcing the combination of green, industry and culture; permanent
innovation from the business community and government; transparency in all levels of
accessibility; sustainability in design, policy and accessibility; public-private cooperation
as a successful condition for development’ (ibid: 7).
In looking at translation of the Manifesto into a more concrete ‘plan of approach’, the
authors – the company and the council – stressed the importance of ‘a new form of public-
private cooperation’ (Westergasfabriek 2011: 15). This included taking into account the
‘local environment and populace’, working in the context of ‘the entire Westerpark’,
preserving ‘the core existing layout of the park’, and preserving the ‘existing zero-traffic /
low traffic policy’ (ibid: 15). Possible short-term outcomes from this approach included
establishing retail outlets; testing a more relaxed permitting system for public events;
repurposing the former district council office building; building an additional pedestrian
bridge over the canal; providing a tunnel from Spaarndammerbuurt; improving public
transport; providing car parking to the north of the park (ibid: 15).

Walkway around water garden in excavated gasholder (July 2012)

This list addresses openly, but cautiously, a number of the issues that could become
more contentious as a consequence of the different aspirations of the principal
stakeholders. These include the council – wanting to maintain a healthy park that satisfies
local residents while receiving an income from the activities that occur in it; the company
– wanting to fulfil its mandate of making a reasonable return on those activities without
alienating local residents; local residents – wanting a well-maintained and easily
accessible park with limited crowd-pulling events; businesses occupying the retained
buildings in the park – wanting to maintain their privacy and easy vehicular access to their
buildings while benefiting from what is now a ‘happening’ location. Clearly this is an
exercise in cooperation and collaboration. Westergasfabriek BV is the principal
protagonist in this exercise and, to their credit, the company’s own business plans (as
opposed to the more publicly promoted Green Manifesto) recognize the importance of its
core business of staging live events – while seeking to upgrade the quality of their
operations, to support and/or subsidize arts events, and to explore how technological
innovations can improve outdoor experiences. For example, in 2012 the Westergas-fabriek
was the first park in The Netherlands to be made a free WiFi zone (de Kruijk 2012).
CONCLUSIONS
The Westergasfabriek is essentially a re-made land-scape lying on top of an earlier
artificial landscape. Its conversion from contaminated gas production site to Cultuurpark
supports the theory that urban parks are allocated land with the lowest real estate value
and the highest development costs. Few examples, however, demonstrate such a concerted
achievement in isolating contaminants and managing groundwater to create a verdant
landscape. The park complements but demonstrates a distinctly different character from
the adjacent Westerpark and Waternatuuruin. And although the central Events Field might
be seen by some as a throwback to pastoral precedents, it continues to be well used and to
facilitate major open-air events. As with the major event space at the Amster damse Bos,
there is evident demand in Amsterdam for this type of venue.
The Cultuurpark also includes relatively intricate, intimate and vulnerable garden areas
and significant water features. Its range of landscape types is a tremendous achievement
on a relatively limited land area susceptible to such challenging hydrological and
horticultural conditions. Inspired by examples such as Gas Works Park in Seattle
(Gustafson’s home base) and the IBA Emscher Park / Landschaftspark Duis burg-Nord,
the park is also punctuated by numerous repurposed gas works structures (Koekebakker
2003: 13). But it goes further than the Land-schaftspark in terms of the range of
commercial activities that it hosts – particularly the number of businesses accommodated.
The model for management of the park is comparable to the model for Bryant Park. In
both places an entrepreneurial approach to cultural activities generates revenues that
support the essential public functions of the park. The main difference here is the range
and number of retained buildings. The Westergasfabriek Cultuurpark has established
momentum as a centrally located ‘destination park’ and seems highly likely to continue to
offer a potent mix of entertainment, public engagement, private business, technological
innovation and horticultural ambition. Some critics might call it gentrified
commercialization of leisure time. Others may see it as a response to rising demand for
programmed outdoor entertainment.
NOTES
1 The fourteen district councils established in 1990 were due to be amalgamated in 2014 under a single central
council.
2 www.vanderleelie.hubpages stated thirteen; www.archined stated sixteen; Hinshaw 2004: 60 stated twenty-two.
3 Noted at meeting with Evert Verhagen on 5 July 2012.
8 Parc André-Citroën, Paris
(15 hectares / 37 acres)
INTRODUCTION
Located on the left bank of the River Seine in the southwestern corner of central Paris,
Parc André-Citroën is named after the car manufacturer whose factory used to occupy the
site. Launched through a design competition in 1985 by rightist Mayor Jacques Chirac (b.
1932 – Mayor 1977–95 and President 1995–2007), it was to be a city-owned park ‘for the
twenty-first century’, standing in direct contrast to Parc de la Villette, located in the
northeastern corner of central Paris and one of leftist President François Mitterand’s
Grands Projets, a state-sponsored cultural park – also ‘for the twenty-first century’.
The final design for Parc André-Citroën was a combined product from two teams of
landscape architects and architects – Allain Provost (b. 1938) with architects Jean-Paul
Viguier + Jean-François Jodry, and Gilles Clément (b. 1943) with architect Patrick Berger.
Proposals from the two teams were considered sufficiently similar for them to be invited
to produce a joint final design. The central feature of the park – and a common element in
each of the winning designs – is a canal-bordered rectangle opening onto the River Seine.
Aligned perpendicular to the river, it was intended to follow the monumental tradition of
the Champs de Mars, the Esplanade des Invalides and the Jardin des Plantes (Provost
1991: 2). It is a slightly sloping lawn, 300 metres by 100 metres, with a single diagonal
path across one corner. This part of the park, designed by Provost, sets the tone for a place
characterized by rectilinear minimalism. Towards the edges of the park, six busier, colour-
themed gardens and the Jardin en Mouvement – ‘Garden in Movement’ – were designed
by Clément. The park contains about 1 hectare of water in a variety of forms. It is
punctuated by two conservatories at the head of the central lawn and a set of six light and
lofty glasshouses regularly spaced above the theme gardens. An extension of 1.1 hectares
was completed in 2014.
HISTORY
Reason for designation
Like Bercy, the Javel area was annexed to Paris as part of its reorganization by Haussmann
for Napoléon III. In 1784 the Count d’Artois – a passionate balloonist – established a
chemical factory in Javel. The 80 hectares that were annexed to the city had less than
seventy-five inhabitants. Only riverside quays were developed there until construction, at
the end of the nineteenth century, of the Pont Mirabeau to the north of the park. This was
accompanied by construction of three roads radiating from the bridge at 45-degree angles.
The southward road is the Rue Balard. It runs east of the park. The site was occupied by
melon clôches until establishment of the Citroën works in 1915. Little immediate change
was made to the site beyond the construction of sheds for car manufacture. These were
used during World War I for the manufacture of shells (www.equipement.paris). The car
assembly lines, the first in France, were established by André Citroën (1878–1935) in
1920. The Citroën works relocated in the early 1970s to Aulnay-sous-Bois outside Paris
and 23 hectares were acquired by the city. Following the establishment in 1977 of a
directly elected government for the City of Paris, the Zone d’Aménagement Concerté
(ZAC – comprehensive development area) Citroën-Cévennes was set up in 1979. As with
the ZAC de Bercy, a public park was proposed as the focus of the development area. In
addition to the park, the ZAC was to include a hospital, offices and 2,500 new apartments.

Central Lawn and Conservatories (September 2013)

Size and condition of site at time of designation

Shortly after being acquired in 1970 the site ‘was envisaged as the location for part of the
World’s Fair that France dreamed of holding in 1989’ (Bédarida 1995: 12) – the
bicentennial of the French Revolution. By 1985 the site had been completely cleared of all
previous development. A few obsolete municipal ware-houses to the north of the site were
cleared to make way for the Richard Meier-designed head quarters of TV company
Canal+. Nathan Starkman, director of the APUR during the 1990s, described the site as
having been ‘a blank page for the imagination of its creators’ (Starkman 1993: 88). The
clearance was so effective that ‘not a trace remained of the sixty years of industrial
occupation. So the memory of these places was destroyed, with the exception of the
negative effect they have had on urban planning, since the size of the automobile plant had
blocked the process of urbanization of this quarter’ (Bédarida 1995: 12).
Key figures in the establishment of the park
Just as President Mitterand inspired the establishment of Parc de la Villette, so Mayor
Chirac inspired the establishment of the Parc André-Citroën. Political rivalry between
them was manifest in the building projects that they sponsored. Where Mitterand had his
programme of state-sponsored Grands Projets, Chirac’s Paris began a programme of
construction and restoration of streets, squares, parks and gardens that it boasted to be ‘of
a scope not seen since the time of Haussmann’ (ibid: 12). The Parc André-Citroën was a
major element in Chirac’s response to Mitterand’s Parc de la Villette. Where the
competition for la Villette had called for a multi-cultural urban park for the twenty-first
century, the competition for Parc André-Citroën called for a park that would form part of
the ensemble of green spaces along the river that would ‘reflect the influence of Paris,
both in France and abroad, and above all should imprint upon garden history a hallmark
truly representative of contemporary trends’ (Ellis 1993: 64). Where the competition for la
Villette became a final choice between proposals from two architects, the competition for
Parc André-Citroën requested proposals from landscape architects working with
architects. This was ‘a way of stating clearly that what was needed above all was a
specialist in plants’ (Bédarida 1995: 12). A very architectural perspective!
In the event, the City – like the judges for la Villette – narrowed its deliberations to two
entries. These were from Allain Provost with architects Jean-Paul Viguier + Jean-François
Jodry and from Gilles Clément with architect Patrick Berger. The final design of the park
is a reflection of the approach of the two landscape architects. Provost described himself
as being, initially, a geometrician in reaction to ‘the demand for prophylactic green spaces’
generated by the Athens Charter, then an environmentalist and, from 1980, an advocate of
‘tradition reviewed and corrected’ (Provost 2003: 204). Provost was the mandataire
commun – ‘common representative’ – for the design team. Clément (b. 1943) is a
horticulture-oriented landscape architect with an agricultural background and an extensive
garden design portfolio. In the original Clément-Berger submission the Jardin en
Mouvement was proposed in the central rectangle. The collaboration of Clément and
Berger – who eventually designed the northern part of the park – has been compared to
that of the mason and gardener. Clément lamented that ‘words characterising succession
and change have lost out to those describing form’ (Clément 1995: 85). Unsurprisingly,
the collaboration between Provost and Clément was ‘more of a peaceful existence than a
community of ideas’ and the main characteristic that they shared was the passion of their
writing (Garcias 1993: 111).
Parc André-Citroën, Paris
1 River Seine
2 Railway Viaduct
3 Jardin d’Ombre
4 Jardin en Mouvement
5 Serial Gardens
6 Central Lawn
7 Peristyle of Magnolias
8 Conservatories
9 Peristyle of Water Jets
10 Rue Balard
11 White Garden
12 Line of Nymphées
13 Cascades
14 Elevated Canal
15 1.1-hectare Extension to Park
16 Commercial Buildings
17 Jardin de Roches
18 Black Garden
19 Hôpital Européen Georges Pompidou

PLANNING AND DESIGN

Location within city
Parc André-Citroën was intended to be the focus of the ZAC but decisions that were made
by the APUR before the staging of the competition reduced the ability of the park to fulfil
its mandate as a focus for the quarter. In particular, designation of land to the south of the
park site for what is now the Hôpital Européen Georges Pompidou, and the definition of
the surrounding development sites by 45-degree angles led to the park being ‘trapped in
the district, as if concealed from the view of the city’ (Bédarida 1995: 13). The most
imposing of these developments is the lumpen, glass curtain wall complex directly south
of the central lawn. Nevertheless it is ‘the only park in Paris to actually touch the river’
(Provost 1991: 2). And, following conversion of a 2.5 kilometre section of the former
Petite Ceinture rail line, there will be an ecological walkway link to Parc Georges
Brassens to the southeast.
The competition brief
Like Parc de Bercy, Parc André-Citroën was the subject of a Europe-wide design
competition (as opposed to the global competition for la Villette) organized by the APUR.
It was launched in July 1985. Ten teams of landscape architects and architects were
shortlisted from sixty-three applicants – forty-five from outside France – and invited to
‘propose their version of a contemporary urban park’ (Starkman 1993: 88). The
fundamental requirement of the brief was to ‘treat this new park at a double scale but to
give it a unified image overall’. It was to operate, on the one hand, as part of the great
open spaces of Paris – particularly those bordering the Seine – and, on the other hand, as
part of the daily life of the new quarter and the rest of the 15th Arrondissement.
Competitors were called on to enrich their proposals with original spaces, programmes
and themes, and to address the treatment of new buildings bordering the park. It was not to
be ‘a neo-constructivist fairground [presumably a shot at la Villette], nor an “English-
style” or a “French-style” park – the new park could only find its legitimacy through its
own poetry’ (Garcias 1993: 100). Nevertheless, the competitors had to draw up designs for
what was, essentially, ‘a niggardly space’ (Bédarida 1995: 14).

Jardin de Roches (September 2013)

Northern corner of Central Lawn (September 2013)

Design concept
The similarities in form between the submissions from the Provost team and the Clément
team were greater than the similarities in content. Both focused on the canal-bordered
central rectangle; both had a series of rectangular gardens aligned roughly north–south
along its northern edge. But that is more or less where the similarities ended. The Provost
scheme evoked Le Nôtre’s geometry and reduced the vegetation to regular blocks set
within a thick irregular peripheral screen, reinforcing the one big feature of a huge central
lawn focusing on the River Seine. The Clément proposal, by contrast, eschewed ‘static
visual order … in favour of the idea of a dynamic management of spontaneous vegetation’
(Bédarida 1995: 14). Clément’s Jardin en Mouvement occupied most of the central
rectangle. Most of the edges of the site were occupied by a series of individual rectilinear
‘theme’ gardens.
In the combined scheme, responsibilities were divided on the basis of:
• Provost / Viguier + Jodry: southern area of park including central lawn and surrounding
canals, Nymphées – line of towers along the canal; Jardin des Métamorphoses – ‘Garden
of Metamorphosis’ – in westernmost triangle of park; and Black Garden in the
southeastern corner. Provost was made responsible for overall landform. Viguier + Jodry
were responsible for the railway viaduct and, eventually, the riverfront plaza;
• Clément / Berger: northern area of park including conservatories at head of central lawn,
White Garden and play area east of Rue Balard, serial gardens including greenhouses
and water channels between the gardens, and Jardin en Mouvement (in northernmost
triangle of the park). Clément was responsible for park lighting and Berger was
responsible for site furniture (which included a range of finely flexed benches and
recliners).
Peristyle of water jets (September 2013)

Spatial structure, circulation system, landform, materials and planting

Construction began in 1987 and the park was formally opened in September 1992. But its
spatial structure was not fully formed until the opening in summer 2000 of the final
connection between the central lawn and the banks of the Seine. This completed the
relationship between the two conservatories flanking a central peristyle of water jets, the
steeper slope between them and the lawn, the subtler slope of the lawn itself, and the river.
The importance of this relationship to the overall design is reinforced by alignment of
water features towards the river. The park was completed by construction during 2013 of
the 1.1-hectare parcel lying between the conservatories and Rue Leblanc.
The central lawn has a distinct and imposing presence. This is reinforced by the
conservatories, by the white arc of the viaduct, by the overall landform of the park, and by
its other built elements. The conservatories are each 15 metres high and 45 metres long.
Their only widely visible structural members are their teak columns. They sit on a raised
platform and might be expected to dominate the lawn. However, they are the focal point of
the park but they are not overpowering. Their importance is emphasized by the grid of
variably programmed water jets that occupy the space between them. The centrality of the
lawn is also emphasized by the southward incline of the six serial gardens, by the water
chutes between them, by the glasshouses above them, by the blocks of pleached trees
north of the lawn and by the regular line of grey and black marble nymphées opposite
them.
The direct slash of the 850-metre-long diagonal path across the lawn, almost parallel to
Rue Balard, pulls it back from absolute stasis. And Clément’s planting design –
particularly in the serial gardens – creates the fragmentation that is a necessary antidote to
the monolithic geometry of the park. The serial gardens ‘express developmental stages in
nature according to alchemical theory about the transformation of lead into gold. Each
garden is devoted to a metal. Its colour gives the garden its name. Colour and the senses
determine the choice of plants; water establishes the ground plan of the garden’ (Clément
1995: 87). The serial gardens are comparable to Ken Smith’s ‘collection boxes’ in Village
of Yorkville Park, reflecting a fin-de-siècle interest in small-scale gardens within parks –
‘cyberspace gardens’ enabling people to make rapid leaps between different worlds. The
Jardin en Mouvement is designed to be ‘constantly changing, like fallow ground’ where
‘nature dominates’ and ‘the gardener only regulates’ (Clément 1995: 88). The initial seed
planting comprised 40 per cent wild herbaceous plants for dry sites, 40 per cent for damp
sites, and 20 per cent ornamental plants for both types of site. Located close to the
northern entrance of the park, together with the adjacent Jardin d’Ombre – ‘Garden of
Shade’ – it offers a didactic statement about the relationship of humankind and nature in
urban settings. They both also serve as an effective transition between the city and the set
piece central lawn.

Orange Garden in Serial Gardens (September 2013)

An imposing passenger balloon on the main axis of the lawn is a permanent addition,
redolent of the Count d’Artois’s use of the site but sterilizing a significant area of grass.
The 1.1 hectare extension was built in l’esprit général of the original design at a cost of
around €4 million and with the blessing of Allain Provost.1 It continues the existing levels
and line of the diagonal path while adding play facilities for adolescents and for younger
people, a café / restaurant – intended to evoke the industrial history of the site – and
substantial planting. It will allow significant overflow from the main lawn.
MANAGEMENT, USAGE AND PLANS
As with Parc de Bercy, design and management, and maintenance are handled by two
separate organizations. Design and management are undertaken by the Direction des
Espaces Verts et de l’Environnement of the Mairie de Paris. Maintenance is divided by
Arrondissement and undertaken by directly employed staff. Initial construction of the
main part of the park is reported to have cost FF 388 million – around €60 million
(Schäfer 1993: 79).
User studies of the park are not available. Anecdotal evidence suggests, however, that
use is relatively weather sensitive but very heavy on sunny summer weekends.
Nevertheless, on the basis of a slow Saturday morning one July, design philistines Kathy
Madden and Fred Kent from Project for Public Space (PPS) concluded that this was
entirely the fault of the design and that ‘it might be easier and less expensive to just
demolish Parc Citroën and start over’ (Madden 2006: 127). The original part of the park
was certainly suffering from deferred maintenance in 2013 – another victim of la crise and
funding for the tramway system – but, fortunately, Paris is one city that is not following
advice from PPS. The park remains an important space in a dense residential area.
CONCLUSIONS
A combination of industrial decline and rivalry between French President Mitterand and
Paris Mayor Jacques Chirac provoked the development of three major new parks in the
core of the capital during the last twenty years of the twentieth century. Parc André-
Citroën and Parc de la Villette were intended to be models of the urban park ‘for the
twenty-first century’. They could not have been as indulgently designed without the
counterbalance of the space provided by the Bois de Boulogne and the Bois de Vincennes,
and other older parks and open spaces in the central city.
Parc André-Citroën remains a hybrid between the work of the lyrical geometrician
Allain Provost – who gave the park its overall structure – and the lyrical plantsman Gilles
Clément – whose symbolic planting of the individual gardens is one of the more engaging
aspects of the design. Together with their architect collaborators they have produced an
urbane monument to late twentieth-century minimalism. But not to the exclusion of
subtlety and delight. And although the park follows the tradition of monumental Parisian
spaces perpendicular to and opening onto the River Seine, it has not entirely dispelled the
feeling that it is an inward-looking place whose role is directed towards the immediate
neighbourhood as much as the wider city. Perhaps the additional links along the Petite
Ceinture will change this – but it seems set to remain primarily a local park – albeit one
whose conception communicated Chirac’s broader political message.
NOTE
1 Noted at meeting with Fabrice Yvelin and Etienne Vanderbooten of the Direction des Espaces Verts et de
l’Environnement of the Mairie de Paris on 6 September 2013.
9 Park Güell, Barcelona
(17 hectares / 42 acres)
INTRODUCTION
Eccentric and esoteric, Park Güell was a private extravaganza built between 1900 and
1914. Located on the edge of the Collserola hills above Barcelona, the principal city of
Catalonia, it was conceived as the centrepiece of a sixty-house garden suburb but became
a laboratory that owner Count Eusebi Güell y Bacigalupi (1846–1918), designer Antonio
Gaudí y Cornet (1852–1926) and ceramicist Josep Maria Jujol (1879–1949) fashioned into
a fantasy world of structural and decorative symbols, metaphors and allegories from the
worlds of Catholicism, Catalan regionalism, classicism, mythology, epidemiology,
alchemy, astrology and Freemasonry. Only three of the houses were ever built.
Nevertheless, the site was prepared with such respect for natural landform that it feels
more like an exposed sculpture than a series of superimposed structures. It was acquired
by the city of Barcelona in 1922 and opened as a public park in 1923. The park is divided
into two principal parts – the original historic site, which was added to UNESCO’s World
Heritage List in 1984, and the forest park above it. It is now seen both as an historic park
and as part of a series of linked open spaces – the Parc dels Tres Turons (Hill Park) –
running through the foothills of the Collserolas.
HISTORY
Date and reason for designation as a park
Barcelona expanded beyond its medieval city walls in the 1850s. The plan prepared by
Idlefons Cerdà (1815–76) for the Eixample – a gridiron imposed on the flatter land
immediately west of the city – was adopted in 1860 and was rapidly developed. In the
second half of the nineteenth century the population of Barcelona quadrupled from
150,000 to 600,000. Urban living conditions remained poor. There was a plague in 1870
and ‘the neighbourhood in which the park was situated (la Salud) came in to being in 1864
built around a sanctuary, and soon became an upper class residential area … protected like
a fortress with a cordon sanitaire’ (Carandell and Vivas 1998: 5). Güell acquired the site
for the park in the 1890s. It was to be a private residential development – along the lines
of the Garden Cities proposed by Ebenezer Howard in Tomorrow: A Peaceful Path to Real
Reform – first published in 1898.1 The park ‘was to serve as a haven, a private world made
possible by the industrial and commercial prowess of Güell, and made necessary because
of the congestion and changes in the life of Catalonia’ (Kent and Prindle 1993: 31).
Güell and Gaudí presented their plans for the park to the City Council in October 1904.
Construction began with the communal elements – access points, market, plazas and
pathways. The land was divided into sixty triangular lots, shaped to minimize earth-works.
Building footprints had to occupy less than one-sixth of the lot in order to protect views
over the city to the sea. In the event, only three lots were developed and the scheme was a
commercial failure, despite the fact that ‘Güell managed to get the Civil Guard to move
into a purpose-built barracks near the Park, in 1909, a year of serious social conflict in
Barcelona’ (Gabancho 1998: 17–18). There is, however, a contrasting view that Güell was
more interested in development of the park as a private paradise – an enclave of Catholic
Freemasonry – than as a commercial real estate venture (Carandell and Vivas 1998: 124).
Work stopped in 1914 and the city bought the land in 1922.

Stairway at Carrer d’Olot entrance (June 1999)

Condition of site
The site had been ‘a field … situated on the southern flank of the so-called Montaña
Pelada [the Treeless Mountain], a hill 400 metres [1,300 feet] above sea level and
overlooking the plain of Barcelona … with, on the horizon, views of the Mediterranean’
(de Sola-Morales 1991: 439). The hill was steep and ‘with poor soil, sustained very little
vegetation, almost all grassy, with a few scattered trees, survivors rather than progenitors
of new foliage’ (Gabancho 1998: 41). It rose by 60 metres from 150 to 210 metres above
sea level and contained no natural springs.
Key figures in the establishment of the park
Eusebi Güell is one of the most renowned patrons in the history of European architecture
and design.2 His father, Joan Güell I Ferrer, began building the family fortune in the
Spanish Antilles. He was involved in various businesses including the slave trade. When
he returned to Spain, he invested in the textile industry. Similarly, Antonio López, Eusebi
Güell’s eventual father-in-law, returned from Cuba with a fortune. The restoration of King
Alphonso XII (1857–85 – reigned 1874–85), who gave great support to business and
industry, enabled people such as López and Joan Güell to rise rapidly in social status.
Eusebi Güell studied in Nîmes and in England. He is described as ‘a painter, linguist,
and … an architect and medical theorist’ (Carandell and Vivas 1998: 30). He is also
described as widely travelled, highly cultured and politically motivated. He was a city
councillor at the age of 30 and later became a member of Spain’s parliament. He married
López’s daughter Isabel and, with López’s son Claudio, was made a king’s chamberlain in
1884. Many of the newly established families of ‘industrialist-entrepreneurs had profited
from the confiscation of Church properties … between 1835 and the mid-1850s. Now
their descendants were looking for ways to be restored as communicants of the Church’
(Kent and Prindle 1993: 42). Güell and López therefore became leading figures in the
Catalan Renaixença – a regional cultural and religious revival that was expressively
manifested in built elements of the park.
Antonio Gaudí has been alternately sanctified and caricatured – and he has been
described as a genius.3 Born near Reus, also in Catalonia, his father was a coppersmith
and Gaudí grew up acquainted with metalwork. He moved to Barcelona in 1868 to study
at the Escuela Provincial de Arquitectura, graduating in 1873. He was awarded his
professional qualification in 1878. Güell first met Gaudí that same year when he was
designing a display-window for a Barcelona glove-maker to be used in the Universal
Exposition in Paris. Gaudí was appointed in 1883 as architect in charge of the Sagrada
Familia cathedral. His first major project with Güell was the Colonia Güell, a model
industrial estate commenced in 1891 at Santa Coloma de Cervelló, 30 kilometres from
Barcelona. But the park was their major collaboration.
Work on the park commenced in 1904 and continued for ten years. In 1906 Gaudí
moved into one of the three houses to be built there and lived in it until 1925 when he
relocated to the Sagrada Familia. He died three days after being knocked down by a
tramcar in June 1926. Gaudí’s house in the park is now a museum. Güell lived in the
Larrard House near the market hall – subsequently a state school – from 1906 until his
death in 1918. The third house in the park has been continuously occupied since 1906 by
the Trias family whose forebears were close friends of Güell. King Alphonso XIII (1886–
1941 – reigned 1886–1931) made Güell a count in 1908.
The third key figure in development of the park was ceramicist Josep Maria Jujol,
creator of the trencadis – traditional Catalan mosaic tilework using broken ceramic
fragments. Jujol met Gaudí while he was still an architecture student. He is regarded as the
freer thinker of the two and was given great latitude in the detailing of the motifs on the
main stairway, the underside of the market hall and the serpentine seat along the parapet of
the plaza. Jujol’s work is one of the most characteristic and most widely illustrated
features of the park.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location within city
Park Güell was originally conceived as the nucleus of a private housing development far
removed from the rapidly expanding industrial city below.4 It is now a public park
surrounded by high-density residential development. Income levels in the El Carmel area
to the north of the park are relatively low – but higher than at the end of the Franco era in
the 1970s. Income levels on the other three sides of the park are higher. In addition to its
cultural significance, the park remains a major amenity for the neighbourhood.

Park Güell, Barcelona

1 Les Menes Hill and Crosses
2 Güell’s House / School
3 Carrer d’Olot
4 Plaza over Hypostyle Hall
5 Main Stairway with Salamander and Shaded Seat
6 Carrer d’Olot Entrance and Pavilions
7 Gaudi’s House / Museum
8 High Viaduct
9 Middle Viaduct
10 Low Viaduct
11 Carmel Gate
12 Trias House
13 Fountain of Sant Salvador

Barrier between sections of the park (July 2013)

Design concept
Park Güell can be seen as a prototypical product of Art Nouveau, the movement known in
Spain as Modernisme – a vehicle for the ‘assertion of regional (even nationalist) pride and
identity’ (Curl 2006: 495). It also synthesized a range of architectural styles from Catalan
Romanesque to Greek classicism. The design is an eclectic ensemble that has been
regarded as a link with the gardens of Roberto Burle Marx in Brazil (Chadwick 1966: 302)
and as a version of the English garden city and, for little apparent reason other than the
sinuous forms that Gaudí employed, as a scion of the English landscape movement – ‘a
picturesque garden suburb attached to a metropolis, not posing an alternative to it … part
of a shared vision which was precisely a program for reconnecting a people to the
fundamental realities of their land and culture’ (Kent and Pringle 1993: 68, 58). Kent and
Pringle also suggested that ‘for Catalan artists in general, and Gaudí in particular, the
challenge was to raise contemporary Christian art to a lofty level while rooting it in
vernacular culture’ (ibid: 173).
Detailed attention has been paid to the allegorical symbolism of the journey from the
Carmel Gate to the Les Menes Hill with its three crosses.5 Clearly Catholic symbolism
was an important part of the concept. But, in Carandell’s view, only one part of it. He also
attached great significance to the influence of Freemasonry on Güell and Gaudí – and its
attendant symbols of hard work directed towards promotion of Catholicism and
Catalonian regionalism (Carandell and Vivas 1998: 6 et seq.). In his analysis of the
entrance sequence, for example, the white and red friezes on the walls of the park are the
colours of the Phoenician navy and indicate that the park is an island or ship, the
gatehouses with their snake’s head plan forms are the pair of mutually neutralizing
serpents on the god Mercury’s staff, the carriage shelters are elephants feet (reflecting
Güell’s childhood memory of India coming under British rule), the trencadis on the roofs
of the entrance lodges are Masonic axes (symbols of industry), the mushrooms on their
pinnacles reflect Gaudí’s interest in mycology, the snake’s head emerging from the
Catalan crest on the entrance stairway symbolizes defence from plague and reflects
Güell’s publications on immunology, the brightly coloured alchemist’s salamander
symbolizes fire, with the water dribbling from its mouth demonstrating its ability to
withstand fire. Latterly the shape of the market has been interpreted as a petal-shaped
tribute to the Virgin Mary, and the entrance has been seen as inspired by Engelbert
Humperdinck’s 1893 opera Hansel and Gretel.6
Carandell saw the 6-metre-high distorted Doric colonnade of the hypostyle hall as a
loose ‘colonial’ version of the classical order, interpreting it as an exercise in numerical
symbolism and suggesting that the omission of the four columns from the grid, leaving
eighty-six, created ‘a module or constant for the park, since the square above is 86 metres
wide, the sum of these figures is: 8+6=14 and 1+4=5’ (Carandell and Vivas 1998: 56). The
four omitted columns are expressed by plafonds (ceiling features) of stone, porcelain and
glass where their heads would have been – each expressing the sun in different seasons.
He related the use of Greek imagery to a desire on the part of Güell and Gaudí to stage the
tragedy Oedipus Rex on the plaza above (ibid: 90).
Carandell saw the sinuous bench on the edge of the plaza as a snake folded in three –
representing ‘Totality, Nature, the World, God’ – as a device to create theatre boxes, and as
a reflection of waves in the sea to the east (ibid: 82–3). He went on to relate the sloping
porticos higher up the hillside to the parting of the waves of the Red Sea and to wine
glasses. He equated the large stones that punctuate the main avenue to the beads in a
rosary and saw the entire park as an allegory of a pilgrimage, and flirted with the idea that
Gaudí may have become a Rosicrucian. In more pragmatic terms, the entire park can be
seen as a display of the versatility of reinforced concrete and Portland cement – a material
central to Güell’s commercial affairs.

Plaza and supporting colonnades (July 2013)

Spatial structure, circulation, landform and planting

The idea of the park as a pilgrimage underscores its layout as a series of processional
routes. The gatehouses at Carrer d’Olot create an intriguing entry comparable to an opera
house – a place in which to see and be seen by high society. Arrival at the plaza presents
the view over Barcelona below, to the Sagrada Familia rising above the city, and to the sea
beyond. Two sequences begin from the Carmel Gate. First, the pilgrimage to Les Menes
Hill at the southern edge of the park. This begins as a broad, relatively level rosary-stone-
punctuated route along colonnaded viaducts. The route loops round the top of the plaza
and remains level until the final ascent to the shrine. This part of this journey is a tightly
twisted series of serpentine bends carefully worked into the hillside to give a steep but
even climb to the symbolic summit with its three crosses.
The other sequence beginning at the Carmel Gate is the carriage routes designed to
access the building lots. The viaducts that carry these routes ‘made direct and economical
use of all the stone rubble left over from the blasting and excavation for the roadbeds cut
into the mountainside’ (Kent and Prindle 1993: 79). They are a magnificent example of the
manipulation of steep landform with a minimum of cutting and filling. Similarly, in order
to provide a perfectly flat surface on the plaza, Gaudí developed a drainage system that
filtered the water through layers of aggregate and down the supporting columns into an
underground cistern – from which it is now used for irrigation as well as dribbling from
the mouth of the salamander on the stairway.
 The circulation system in the park is a hierarchy with four components – the 10-metre-
wide viaduct from the Carmel Gate; the 5-metre-wide carriage routes with inclines of up
to 6 per cent; the 3-metre-wide, winding pedestrian paths with inclines of up to 12 per
cent; and the direct, stepped links between

View from east to crosses on Les Menes Hill (July 2013)

Trencadis below plaza (July 2013)

PLANS FOR THE PARK

With much of the open space proposed in Cerda’s plans for the Eixample having been
used for development, proposals approved in 1953 called for the park to become part of a
series of linked public open spaces on the west side of the city (Kent and Prindle 1993:
202). This proposal was updated in the 1990s under the name Parc dels Tres Turons and
these winding paths.7 Gaudí’s experimental stone and mortar bridges, and his sloping
porticos ensured that the web of carriage routes hugged the hillsides. They also created
spaces redolent of the grottos that were an important symbol of sanctity to Catalans. His
evenly graded paths – despite stone-retaining walls on their tight bends – also sit back
comfortably onto the hillside. Gaudí created a tantalizing balance between respect for the
existing landform and shockingly sublime structural projections from it. His respect for
subtleties of landform and orientation is reflected in the seat at the top of the tiled stairway
from the Carrer d’Olot. This is designed to be in the sun in winter and in shade for the rest
of the year. Similarly, Gaudí’s planting was based on indigenous Catalan species –
particularly pines, carobs, palm trees, oleanders and broom. It has even been suggested
that Gaudí was ‘anticipating the ecological movement that was to develop some 50 years
later’ (Goode and Lancaster 1986: 422).
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Managing organization
The direction of city parks is the responsibility of the Medi Ambient Espais Verds of the
Ajuntament de Barcelona.8 Management responsibilities are divided between ten districts,
with one park manager for each two districts. Park Güell is in the Gràcia district. It has a
curator (some parks do not) and, as an historic park, it has a park conservator based on-
site. In 2013 there were ten full-time maintenance personnel for the park. The curator is
based in one of the lodges at the Carrer d’Olot gate. Operators of the cafés and bookshop
pay concession fees direct to the Ajuntament. All funding for management of Barcelona
parks comes direct from the Ajuntament. It has pursued a policy of ‘Sustainable
Gardening’ for maintenance of its parks since the early 1990s. This aims to ensure that
parks contain primarily native Mediterranean plant species that require relatively little
irrigation.
User characteristics
In 1999 it was estimated that the park received around two million visits per year. That
number had reached nine million by 2013 and, after a long campaign by the managers, the
Ajuntament implemented an €8 entry charge to the historic section of the park from
October 2013 for every visitor without a Barcelona library card. Crime levels are minimal
– confined largely to disputes over sales pitches between the multiple (unlicensed)
souvenir vendors.9 remained operative in the twenty-first century. It involved the linking
of the green patches of the Parc del Guinardó and Monte Carmel to the north of Park Güell
through to the Parc de la Crueta del Coll, completed in 1987, to the west. The Fountain of
Sant Salvador in the Can Coll area was remodelled in 1984 and the Mirador (viewpoint) at
the top of Park Güell was refurbished in the late 1990s as a feature of the Parc dels Tres
Turons. But the major programme for restoration of the park followed its designation in
1984 as a World Heritage Site.
Pavilion at Carrer d’Olot entrance (July 2013)
Viaduct above plaza, from east (July 2013)

In 1985 a strategy for conservation of Park Güell was commenced (Broughton 1996:
27). This included improved circulation on the north side of the park to reduce impact on
Gaudí’s structures; provision of tourist facilities adjacent to the hypostyle hall; restoration
of the gatehouses; enclosure of the park and its closure at night; restoration work on the
porticos supporting the viaducts, and complete refurbishment of the hypostyle hall. The
first stage of work – completed in 1996 at a cost of one thousand million Pesetas (roughly
€6 million) – involved the rein statement of Gaudí’s drainage system incorporating new
PVC waterproof membranes, followed by refurbishment of the trencadis on the bench
where lack of movement joints had caused cracks of 2–4 mm to open in the tilework (ibid:
27).
Current policies seek to interpret Gaudí’s intentions – a difficult task since he left no
record of them – and to mitigate the damage done by a testing climate and burgeoning
visitor numbers.10 The park is currently managed on the basis of three zones – Historical /
Monumental Zone (largely maintained by the Patrimoni – heritage – section of the
Ajuntament); Monumental / Forest Zone; and the Forest Zone. Work in the 2010s was
primarily focused on the Monumental / Forest Zone – installing irrigation and drainage,
inserting narrow paths between plant beds to prevent trampling of plants, and replanting
with native species that would have been available in Gaudí’s time. In addition to the links
with the Parc dels Tres Turons, proposals have been drawn up to strengthen pedestrian
links between the park and the Sagrada Familia – via the Hospital de la Santa Creu i Sant
Paul (a World Heritage Site restored as a cultural centre) and Avenida Gaudí.
Overview of park from southern corner (July 2013)

Salamander and seat at top of stairway from Carrer d’Olot (July 2013)

CONCLUSIONS
The long history of plans for the expansion of Barcelona – including Cerdà’s 1860 plan for
the Eixample, Le Corbusier’s sketch plan from 1933 and the post-Franco programme of
revitalization through park and open space construction – produced a network of parks
reflecting ‘the need for both organized and random public space, paved and unpaved
surfaces, built and grown materials, formal and informal experience’ (Luiten 1997: 85).
Park Güell provides most of these features. It also provides numerous lessons for
landscape architects. It illustrates the extent to which allegory and symbolism can be
employed in park design – ‘Gaudí appears to have conceived of the park as a synthesis in
the image of paradise, the sacred archetype of both the garden and the city in the West …
no simple escape into a pastoral fantasy, the park’s complex blend of sublime truth and
sensuous delights was a hallmark of the Gaudí style’ (Kent and Prindle 1993: 188, 192).
Park Güell also provides lessons in the design of circulation systems on steeply sloping
sites and, like the Villa Medici at Fiesole, in the co-option of the city as ‘borrowed
landscape’. It presents an extraordinary fusion of technology, temperament and setting.
Nevertheless, despite having been a public facility for almost a century, it remains the
fabulous product of an indulgent private fantasy. And that makes it unrealistic to compare
it – as Chadwick did – with synchronous Spanish parks such as the Parque María Luisa in
Seville (Chadwick 1966: 302).
NOTES
1 Republished in 1902 under the more familiar title Garden Cities of Tomorrow. That it was based on English
precedents may account for Güell’s adoption of the English-language spelling of Park.
2 Account of Güell largely drawn from Carandell and Vivas 1998: 5–6, 30–2; Gabancho 1998: 11–15; and Kent and
Prindle 1993: 41–2.
3 Account of Gaudí largely drawn from Fleming et al. 1999: 217–18; Gabancho 1998: 11–15; and Kent and Prindle
1993: 56 and 185.
4 Paragraph largely based on conversation with Monser Rivero of Servei Municipal Parcs i Jardins of the Ajuntament
de Barcelona on 4 June 1999.
5 Kent and Prindle 1993: 137–69 examined the park as a pilgrimage.
6 Noted at meeting with Park Conservator Anna Ribas and Jordi Rodrígez Martin of Media Ambient Espais Verds of
the Ajuntament de Barcelona on 1 July 2013.
7 Kent and Prindle 1993: 135–7 gave these widths; Gabancho 1998: 31 gave the inclines.
8 Paragraph largely based on meeting with Anna Ribas and Jordi Rodrígez Martin on 1 July 2013.
9 Paragraph largely based on meeting with Anna Ribas and Jordi Rodrígez Martin on 1 July 2013.
10 Paragraph largely based on meeting with Anna Ribas and Jordi Rodrígez Martin on 1 July 2013.
10 Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, Paris
(24.7 hectares / 61 acres)
INTRODUCTION
Buttes-Chaumont is the justifiably acclaimed product of the design team directed by
engineer Jean-Charles Adolphe Alphand (1817–91) and supported by horticulturist Jean-
Pierre Barillet-Deschamps (1824–75), architect Gabriel Davioud (1824–81) and land-
scape architect Edouard François André (1840–1911). Alphand and his team were
responsible for reshaping the Bois de Boulogne and the Bois de Vincennes; for articulating
the Champs-Elysées; for creating the Parc Montsouris and the gardens of the Champs de
Mars, and for twenty-four other gardens and squares across Paris. These parks were part
of the dramatic remodelling of Paris instigated by Napoléon III (1808–73 – Emperor
1852–70) and implemented under the direction of Baron Georges-Eugène Haussmann
(1809–91), Préfet of the Seine (1853–1860) and Minister for Paris (1860–69).
Haussmann’s remodelling brought about the boulevards, building lots, promenades and
street planting that remain inimitably characteristic of Paris. He also arranged the
development of city-wide systems of water supply and sewerage for an expanded city.
Alphand and his team created at Buttes-Chaumont an intricate park enclosed by new roads
and traversed by railway tracks. Layers of flat and falling water, exotic planting and
curvaceous paths were superimposed on the reshaped landform of a worked-out gypsum
quarry. Punctuated with rustic structures, and concrete and metal site furniture, the park
reflects synchronous developments in engineering and in horticulture. Picturesque and
poetic, sublime and seductive, it sits between late romanticism and proto-modernism in
the stylistic lexicon of European urban parks.1 Opened in April 1867 – to coincide with
the Exposition Universelle d’Art et d’Industrie – the design remained virtually unchanged
for the rest of the nineteenth century and throughout the twentieth century. A programme
announced in 1999 finally led to restoration work commencing in 2013.
HISTORY
Date and reason for designation as a park
Napoléon III began his programme of remodelling with the donation in 1852 of the Bois
de Boulogne to the city, so that it could be designed for public use in the style of the Royal
Parks in London – particularly Hyde Park.2 His ideas for Paris seem to have taken shape
before he called on Haussmann in 1853 to direct the work. Indeed, when Napoléon III sent
for Haussmann, ‘everything was in place for the project to be realised’ (Loyer 1989: 150).
The model that Napoléon and Haussmann adopted had been initiated by Louis XVI
(1754–93 – reigned 1774–92). Louis, in turn, had sought to introduce to Paris the type of
baroque radial plan for Rome produced by architect Domenico Fontana (1543–1607) for
Sixtus V (pope 1585–90). The 17.54 metre height limit – derived from nine toises, a
measure of roughly 1.95 metres – for the cornice of new buildings was set in 1784 (Loyer
1989: 146). It gave rise to the uniformity that remains characteristic of central Paris.
 Following the Revolution in 1789 and the execution of Louis XVI in 1792, a call was
made to the artists of the Parisian academies to make proposals for development of the
city. The resultant Plan des Artistes (1796) was also based on classical models – and
focused primarily on the Seine (Loyer 1989: 144; Chadwick 1966: 152). Between 1800
and 1860 the population of Paris grew from around 550,000 to over a million. Legislation
for compulsory purchase (eminent domain) was established in 1841 and 1848. The speed
and extent of Napoléon and Haussmann’s changes were extraordinary. Nevertheless it was
not until 1860 that the communes of Belleville, Bercy, la Villette and other peripheral
settlements were absorbed into Paris. The site of the Buttes-Chaumont was acquired in
1863 with the specific purpose of converting it into a park for the burgeoning population.
Work on the park commenced in 1864 and, although it opened in 1867, construction was
not completed until 1869 (www.equipment.paris.fr).

Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, Paris

1 Rue Marin
2 Hotel de Ville/Place Amand Carrel
3 Restaurant/Café
4 Suspension Bridge
5 Lake
6 Temple of Sibyl
7 Railway cutting
8 Rue de Crimée
9 Rue Botzaris
10 Park Office
11 Cave
+59 = elevation in metres above sea level

The parks initiated by Napoléon III signified his ‘paternal and benevolent interest in the
well-being of his subjects’ (da Costa Meyer 2013: 74) – particularly in the wake of the
political unrest across Europe in 1848. They also reflected ‘the social and economic
aspirations of … the professionals who designed them’ (ibid: 81). And Buttes-Chaumont
reflected Napoléon’s ‘martial, economic, sanitary, social and aesthetic agendas’ (Komara
2004: 5). It also projected his ‘ideological agenda to celebrate French élan and further
public appreciation of the artistic capacity of applied technology’ (Komara 2009: 35). It
was comparable in this respect to Louis XIV using the landscape of Versailles as an
instrument for demonstration of France’s technological prowess (Beneš 1999).
Condition of site at time of designation
The name Buttes-Chaumont indicates the nature of the site – butte means mound or
hillock and Chaumont derives from the words chauve – bald – and mont – mountain. It
had been quarried for gypsum – mainly for export to the United States – then, because it
was outside the city, used as a garbage dump and knackers’ yard. When the site was
acquired it comprised ‘old quarries, enormous in size, and surrounded by acres of rubbish
… it was by cutting away the ground around three sides … and leaving the highest and
most picturesque side intact that the present results were brought about’ (Robinson 1883:
66). Alphand himself described the buttes as having ‘the sad privilege’ of being the site of
the gibbet of Montfaucon (Vernes 1984: 57). It was noted in 1999 that ‘there remain
underground three levels of old mining galleries that were filled in. The relief of the cliff
and peak were created from a rocky promontory that was left by the miners and re-profiled
with millstone cement to create their current form. A bed of clay was spread on the
remodelled slopes in order to protect the underlying gypsum and to assure the growth of
vegetation, and 200,000 cubic metres of soil were imported to the site’ (Hôtel de Ville
1999 – author’s translation).
Temple of Sibyl above rockface (September 2010)

Key figures in the establishment of the park

Napoléon III’s project is regularly referred to as ‘Haussmann’s Paris’. Vernes attributed
Napoléon’s interest in remodelling the city to nostalgia for England – where he lived from
1837 to 1840 and from 1846 to 1848 – and to ‘latent Saint-Simonisme’ (Vernes 1989:
15).3 Haussmann has been described as ‘ruthless, canny and obstinate’ (Fleming et al.
1999: 254) and ‘one of the most obnoxious of recorded beings’ (Russell 1960: 152). Born
in Paris, his family were French Protestant textile manufacturers from Colmar in Alsace.
Haussmann trained as a lawyer and became a civil servant in 1831, spending the next
twenty-two years in the provinces where he was renowned as a tough negotiator – having
‘broken the back of socialism in the Var, and of Republicanism in the region around
Auxerre’ (ibid: 154). From 1851 to 1852 he was Préfet of the Gironde – where he was
probably impressed by the eighteenth-century remodel ling of Bordeaux – before being
summoned by Napoléon.
Between 1853 and his resignation in 1869, Haussmann organized wholesale change in
the structure and appearance of Paris. This involved improvements in circulation and
sanitation, and provision of new public spaces and their unification through the planting of
street trees. ‘Properties were expropriated, whole areas – formerly “strongholds of
insurrection” – demolished, new avenues created, enormous road junctions constructed,
bridges and squares built, drains and drinking-water mains excavated’ (von Joest 1991:
390). More than 90 kilometres of new boulevards were created; more than 50 kilometres
of existing streets were widened and the city was provided with a dependable supply of
water (Garvin 1996: 429). All streets wider than 26 metres were planted with rows of trees
(Vernes 1989: 15). Chadwick credited Haussmann as ‘creator of the first real urban park
system’ (Chadwick 1966: 152). Loyer noted that ‘l’haussmannisme’ was ‘more than an
episode in the history of Paris’ and that, driven by practicality rather than by any
theoretical position, Haussmann created ‘an urban model’ that has ‘survived multiple
social and economic changes without losing its vitality’ (Loyer 1989: 144, 152).
Haussmann’s resignation resulted from obstinacy in the face of increasing opposition to
certain of his proposals. Russell noted, however, that unlike the many speculators who
benefited from his works, Haussmann was not corrupt (Russell 1960: 162). He was also
extraordinarily astute in his appointment in 1854 of Alphand as an engineer in the newly
formed Service des Promenades et Plantations de la Ville de Paris. Alphand was born in
Grenoble and graduated as an engineer in Ponts et Chaussées. He worked for various
provincial départements before being assigned in 1840 to Bordeaux where he was
responsible for administration of the seaports of the Gironde region. In 1857 Alphand was
appointed Chief Engineer. In 1861 he was appointed Director of the Service and in 1867
he was also given responsibility for Voies Publiques (‘public ways’). Following Napoléon
III’s abdication in 1870, Alphand refused the position of Préfet of the Seine under the
Third Republic but accepted the position of Directeur des Travaux de Paris (Marceca
1981: 66). This role included responsibility for highways, refuse, promenades, planting,
architecture and planning – the ‘health and beauty of the visible outdoor areas of Paris’
(Vernes 1989: 16). It was extended in 1878 to include water and sewerage services.
Alphand remained Director of Works until his death in 1891.
Alphand’s initial appointment and establishment of the Service provoked scepticism
from Haussmann’s critics (Vernes 1984: 59; von Joest 1991: 397). But his first task –
remodelling the Bois de Boulogne – and his many subsequent tasks continue to provoke
praise. Alphand then took charge of the remodelling of the Bois de Vincennes,
construction of the Parcs des Buttes-Chaumont and Montsouris, redesign of Parc
Monceau, and design between 1854 and 1870 of the 24 squares created by Haussmann’s
boulevards. Alphand participated in preparations for the Expositions of 1867, 1878 and
1889. He designed areas of the Champs de Mars for the Exposition of 1867 ‘as an
inextricable maze, an unending labyrinth of curves, a profusion of vegetation, sheets of
water and paths, bewildering in the complexity of its layout’ (Marceca 1981: 63).
Intensely patriotic and assiduously anonymous, ‘Alphand was proud to devote his career
to the service of the state’ (Merivale 1978: 32). Vernes noted that ‘more precisely than the
lawyer Haussmann, the engineer was capable of ennobling the technical necessities of
urban management with artistic finishing touches’ and that ‘Haussmann only imperfectly
gave credit to the creative genius of his collaborator, concerned to appear the one and only
master of the transformation of Paris’ (Vernes 1989: 16).

The ever-popular Temple of Sibyl (September 2009)

Horticulturist Jean-Pierre Barillet-Deschamps was brought to Paris – also from

Bordeaux – by Alphand in 1860 as Chief Gardener for the city. ‘His adaptation to the
urban realm of art exercised almost exclusively in the private domain made him as much
as Alphand, a precursor of the urban landscape architect’ (Vernes 1989: 15). Architect
Gabriel Davioud joined Alphand and Barillet-Deschamps in the Service when they were
working on the Bois de Boulogne. While Alphand designed landforms, water bodies and
pathways and Barillet-Deschamps laid out ‘groves of trees and the undulating lawns
dotted with charming island beds’, Davioud designed whimsical kiosks, lodges,
restaurants, bars, cafés and aviaries in a rustic style referring to Gothic architecture and to
Swiss chalets (van Joest 1991: 392, 397). Landscape architect Édouard-François André
also joined the Service in 1860 as a pupil, and went on to win the competition in 1867 for
design of Sefton Park in Liverpool.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location
One of Haussmann’s first projects was the creation in 1853 of the Boulevard de
Strasbourg, running southward from the Gare du Nord and extending across the Seine into
the south of the city. It formed a new ‘frontier’ between the rich to the west and the poor to
the east. This was deliberate. Haussmann also ‘understood very well that his works would
have the effect of wiping out a large part of the private planted areas of the city and
therefore promoted the art of roadside planting. Having to choose between the creation of
two or three appropriately spaced parks and a large number of smaller gardens spread
along the arteries of the city, he preferred the latter system’ (Vernes 1989: 15). Haussmann
and Alphand planned the parks of Buttes-Chaumont in the north of the city and
Montsouris in the south as counterparts to the remodelled Bois de Boulogne to the west
and Bois de Vincennes to the east. The 19th Arrondissement – also created under
Haussmann – remains a relatively poor, densely developed and ethnically populated part
of Paris.

Sunbathers on the lakeshore (September 2009)

Shape and landform of site

The park occupies a paisley-shaped site on the northwest-facing slopes of Belleville. The
acute angle at the southernmost point of the park has an elevation of 85 metres. Elevations
of the park along Rue de Crimée are 89 metres at the south and 67 metres to the north.
Quarrying operations and Alphand’s reshaping of the site left five peaks – at elevations of
104, 101, 93, 77 and 80 metres respectively – running south to northeast across the park.
These are largely grassed and/or planted. The dramatic focal point of the park, however, is
the Temple of Sibyl. This is situated at an elevation of 90 metres on a sheer-faced, rocky
island 30 metres above the 1.5-hectare shield-shaped lake. Another major landform
element is the grotto between the high point of Rue Botzaris (elevation 96 metres) and the
lake. This was exaggerated in the creation of the park and has a height of 20 metres; a
width of 14 metres and contains 8-metre-long artificial stalactites – introducing another
sublime element to the design.
Design concept
In her studies of Alphand’s work, Marceca noted that ‘creation of the nineteenth century
public park’ was ‘enriched by contributions emerging from different fields of knowledge:
botany, agronomy, hydraulics and topography’. She suggested that Alphand saw Buttes-
Chaumont as a ‘site for the glorification of technology and of the machine’ noting that he
made ‘overwhelming use of metal, demonstrating the extent to which he is aware of the
technical possibilities of the new materials’ (Marceca 1981: 59). Beth Meyer commented,
in response to Bernard Tschumi’s dismissal of the nineteenth-century urban park as ‘an
undefiled Utopian world-in-miniature, protected from vile reality’ (Tschumi 1987: 1), that
‘Buttes-Chaumont was never conceived or perceived as a replica of nature; its
transformation from a scarred remnant into a verdant, undulating panorama … required
massive technological ingenuity. That effort was not concealed … rather, it was
exaggerated in the precise streamlined engineered topography and road alignment’ (Meyer
1991: 21).
Equally, Komara noted that Alphand’s plans for the earthworks were ‘the first
documented example of the use of contours as the basis for developing a new design
leading to construction through re-grading and cut and fill’ (Komara 2009: 32). They cost
more than 70 per cent of the construction budget (ibid: 33). She termed the park
‘engineered picturesque’ (Komara 2004: 5) in much the same way that da Costa Meyer
commented that the designers ‘were not imitating nature but constructing it according to
the economic precepts of modernity’ (da Costa Meyer 2013: 82). Her use of the term
‘mass-produced scenery’ (ibid: 81) is redolent of the carefully contrived and perfectly
presented landscapes of Disney theme parks. In short, the design for Buttes-Chaumont
derived from functionalism rather than pastoralism.
Montmartre from the Temple of Sybil (June 2000)

Spatial structure, circulation system, landform, materials and planting

Alphand’s design process involved the sequential composition of landform and water, then
vegetation, then paths – which were subordinate to the rest of the composition (Merivale
1978: 34). Landform is certainly the principal element in the spatial structure of Buttes-
Chaumont. The high points in the park provide panoramic views across the city, the lower
areas – particularly by the water – provide complete enclosure and a sense of distance
from the city, and the steep slopes allow parts of the site to face the sun throughout the
day. Unlike other major parks in Paris, Buttes-Chaumont contains few flat areas. Its
dramatic landform obscures its relative smallness. The main entrance from Place Armand
Carrel presents an astonishing, sublime view of the rocky cliff face with the Temple of
Sybil above it. The rocky crags, the grotto and the alarmingly high bridges to the island
provoke a sense of hazard while allowing the park to be experienced from a giddying
variety of viewpoints.
The essence of Alphand and Barillet-Deschamps’ planting was to use large-leafed trees
– including Paulownias, Catalpas and Magnolias – as background, and plants with
prominent foliage – including Acanthus, Begonias and Cannas – as foreground. Other
exotic plants such as bananas and bamboos were also used in groups or isolated clumps.
Alphand preferred indigenous species but also eschewed mono-specific planting.4 Latterly
this style of planting has been reintroduced in the park. Another remarkable feature of the
woody planting at Buttes-Chaumont is the extensive use of silver-leafed cedars, yellow-
leafed robinias and copper-leafed beech that combine with the extraordinarily steep lawns
to increase the theatricality of the park.
Eiffel-designed suspension bridge to island (September 2013)

Merivale noted that Alphand’s ‘rules’ for the design of paths – his third layer –
produced continuous curves offering constantly changing views. They generally meet at
acute angles and were generally concealed – in much the way that Paxton concealed paths
in Birkenhead Park – by recessing them slightly. This conflicts with Robinson’s view that
French gardens had ‘too many walks’ and that ‘the way these are wound about in
symmetrical twirlings is quite ridiculous. In these cases’ Robinson suggested ‘the garden
is made for the walks, not the walks for the gardens’ (Robinson 1883: 70). Marceca
suggested that the ‘curved and serpentine lines act as metaphors for both the technological
and the biological cycles’ (Marceca 1981: 61). Meyer noted that the vehicular circulation
system – originally for horse-drawn carriages – inscribes the base of the mounds whereas
the pedestrian circulation system provides access to the high points in the park (Meyer
1991: 20). The final layer (the site furniture), included many of Alphand’s standard items
as well as extensive rusticage, including stuc ciment – stucco cement on the rockwork –
and, later, faux branchages – imitation wood handrails – in béton armée – reinforced
concrete – (Komara 2004: 9).
Repairs to footpaths and lawns (September 2013)

Sunny slopes (March 2014)

MANAGEMENT AND PLANS FOR THE PARK

The design and management of City of Paris parks are handled by two separate
organizations. Design is undertaken by the Direction des Espaces Verts et de
l’Environnement of the Mairie de Paris. Maintenance is divided by Arrondissement and is
undertaken by directly employed staff. No records are made of visitor numbers but
anecdotal evidence suggests very heavy use. The restoration programme announced in
1999 finally led to work commencing in 2013 – following prolonged acrimony about
allocation of a substantial portion of the city’s budget to the tramway system. The
restoration work aimed to translate as accurately as possible the designers’ ‘intended spirit’
while adapting the park to contemporary practices.5
This is seen as an exercise in restoring the simplicity and unity of the park, particularly
through re-establishing the hierarchy of paths. First phase works included:
• installing a recycling system for the cascades – originally the water drained to the Seine
– saving about a million cubic metres of water per year;
• installing automatic irrigation for the extensive lawn areas – originally water was
pumped from the Canal de l’Ourcq and distributed by gravity;
• selective thinning of woody vegetation to restore original vistas, although the Mairie of
the 19th Arrondissement is resistant to the removal of any large trees.
Second phase works cover renewal of four-and-a-half kilometres of roadways and four
kilometres of pathways, including removal of raised sidewalks and re-establishment of
rolled edges to adjacent grass areas, and re-installing Alphandian site furniture and details,
right down to the custom fabricated planter edging from a foundry in Metz.
The estimated budget in 1999 for restoration was FF 447 million – about €68 million.
The programme commenced in 2013 had a total budget of only €17.5 million, including
work on the Eiffel-designed suspension bridge to the island, and the city was seeking
sponsorship for high-cost elements such as restoration of the (constantly vulnerable)
rockwork. The possible re-use for recreation or transportation of the Petite Ceinture rail
line that runs through the park was a strategic issue under review in 2013.
CONCLUSIONS
The Parc des Buttes-Chaumont originated from Haussmann’s ruthless pursuit of Napoléon
III’s will to remodel Paris and provide it with ‘English-style’ urban parks. In the event the
plan form of Buttes-Chaumont is more like an elegy to the French curve. But the landform
is the most remarkable feature of the park. It results from an extraordinarily accomplished
act of land restoration which remains an object lesson in the use of earthworks to present a
superb sequence of unfolding views. It provides panoramas across Paris and allows
complete escape from the city within a remarkably limited land area. This sense of escape
is heightened by the sweeping lawns, the exotic planting and the rustic detailing. Buttes-
Chaumont is a place apart and yet very much part of Napoléon III’s, Haussmann’s and
Alphand’s Paris. Still heavily used, the park merits far more than the meagre programme
of restoration that has finally commenced.
NOTES
1 Sublime used here in the sense of Edmund Burke’s definition of ‘whatever excites ideas of pain and danger’ rather
than Uvedale Price’s sense of ‘creation of the sublime being “above our powers”’.
 2 Vernes 1989: 15 noted that London’s parks and squares were a strong influence on Napoléon III’s plans for parks in
Paris – but that they did not form a model for the ‘system’ put in place by Alphand.
3 Saint-Simon (1760–1825) was a French social reformer and philosopher who argued that society should be
organized by leaders of industry and given spiritual direction by scientists.
4 Noted at meeting with landscape architect Delphine Biot, Direction des Espaces Verts et de l’Environnement,
Mairie de Paris on 5 September 2013.
5 Noted at meeting with Delphine Biot on 5 September 2013.
11 St James’s Park, London
(35 hectares / 86 acres)

Location of St, James’s and Regent’s Parks, London

1 Regent’s Park
2 Park Square and Park Crescent
3 Portland Place
4 Langham Place
5 Oxford Circus
6 Regent Street
7 Piccadilly Circus
8 Charing Cross
9 Carlton House Terrace
10 Green Park
11 Buckingham Palace
12 The Mall
13 St James’s Park

INTRODUCTION
Despite its location at the heart of one of the world’s most vibrant cities, St James’s Park is
quintessentially a bucolic landscape. Radically redesigned in 1827, it represents a major
step in the development of ‘the park’ in England from private rural estates to public
facilities. Although not publicly owned, St James’s Park was ‘probably the first English
town park to be laid out entirely for public use’ (Chadwick 1966: 30). It therefore occupies
a pivotal position in the evolution of western landscape design from ‘landscape gardening’
for private estates to ‘landscape architecture’ for public (and private) clients.1 The park
was designed by John Nash (1752–1835) – whose land-scape designs were strongly
influenced by Humphry Repton (1752–1818). It provides a significant transition from the
work of Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown (1716–83) and the ‘English landscape movement’
via Repton to Joseph Paxton (1803–65) at Birkenhead and from there, however indirectly,
to the work of Frederick Law Olmsted (1822–1903) in New York and Boston.
St James’s Park comprises two distinct parts – the ceremonial outer areas and the
romantic inner area. The more formal outer part, particularly The Mall running between
Buckingham Palace and Admiralty Arch, is a focus for British national pageantry.2 The
bowl-shaped, 23-hectare inner part is a figure-of-eight circuit around and across a long
thin lake with islands towards either end. The experience of both parts of the park is
heightened by the interplay of mature deciduous trees with a skyline of major national
buildings – Buckingham Palace to the west and Whitehall and the Houses of Parliament to
the east. Together with Green Park, Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens it forms a more or
less contiguous series of parks, aligned broadly east–west, around which London
expanded before and during the eighteenth century. The other two central Royal Parks,
Regent’s Park (Chapter 19) and Primrose Hill, are a couple of kilometres to the north.
Regent’s Park was deliberately linked to St James’s Park by the Prince Regent (later King
George IV) through Nash’s design for Regent Street and Portland Place (see plan
opposite). This remarkable piece of urban design and radical piece of transport planning
created a north–south route across the predominantly east–west alignment of roads on the
west side of London.
The six central and the three outer Royal Parks (Greenwich Park, Richmond Park and
Bushey Park) are still owned by the ‘Crown’ – the reigning British monarch – but are
maintained for public use by funds largely – but by no means exclusively – from the
national government. Management of the parks, and expenditure of these funds, is
undertaken by the Royal Parks Agency – an executive arm of the government answerable
to the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport.
HISTORY
Designation as a park
The site was recorded in the Domesday Survey (1086), along with the land that is now
Hyde Park, as being ‘in plough and pasture with villeins [sic] and peasants living on it’
and, until the middle of the twelfth century, it was frequently flooded by the River
Thames, an arm of which originally came around the park side of Westminster Abbey
(Lang 1951: 293). St James’s Park was developed in three distinct phases.3 First, it was
formed as a ‘park’, an enclosed area set aside primarily for hunting, by King Henry VIII
(reigned 1509–47). It is thought, however, that although Henry VIII had St James’s Park
stocked with deer, these were for ornament rather than for hunting. Next, it was opened to
the public and completely reshaped by King Charles II following the restoration of the
monarchy in 1660, and Charles II ‘seems to have opened the park to the public after his
return’ (ibid: 295). Then it was radically remodelled for public use following orders from
the Treasury (acting for King George III) in January 1827.

Police and military presence (July 2013)

In 1529 Henry VIII seized York Place from Cardinal Wolsey and renamed it Whitehall.
Two years later the Crown acquired 65 hectares of adjacent land, including the site of the
park. The site had been a hospice for lepers under the control of Eton College and
dedicated to St James. The park was enclosed by a brick wall in 1532. Construction of St
James’s Palace, located centrally on the north side of the park, began that year. There are
various records from the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries of water bodies within
the park. This is a reflection of the poor natural drainage of the site – which was,
presumably, a strong factor in its having remained undeveloped. There are also records of
minor works being carried out under succeeding monarchs and during the rule of Oliver
Cromwell (ruled 1653–58), before the Restoration of the monarchy in 1660.
Charles II returned to England in 1660 from an exile spent largely in France, where he
witnessed development of classical French Renaissance gardens and the emergence of
their greatest exponent, André Le Nôtre (1613–1700). Le Nôtre had been made contrôleur
général des bâtiments du roi in 1657. Immediately after the Restoration, Charles ordered
the reconstruction of the park, to designs probably by André Mollet (d. 1665) – ‘Keeper of
St James’s Park gardens’ (Taylor 2006: 313) – and his nephew Gabriel Mollet (d. 1663).
They had already visited the park in 1658, at the instigation of Cromwell, who had
established good relations with Louis XIV – to the extent of having Charles exiled from
France. The designs included the creation of a long thin canal of 850 by 33 metres running
roughly east–west at about 30 degrees to The Mall, more or less on the centreline of the
existing lake. The eastern end of the canal was focused on Whitehall Palace and formed
the centre of a patte d’oie (‘goose foot’) radiating from it.
In 1698 Whitehall Palace burned down. The Court was relocated to St James’s Palace,
which remains a royal residence. Five years later, in 1703, the Duke of Buckingham began
building ‘Buckingham House’ on the then empty focal point at the west end of The Mall.
George III (reigned 1760–1820) recognized the significance of the site and bought the
house in 1761 but relatively little change was made to the park during his reign. This is
perhaps surprising given that ‘Capability’ Brown was appointed ‘Royal Gardener at St
James’s’ in 1764 and is known to have prepared a sketch plan (undated) for the park
(Stroud 1984: 122, 232). That plan suggested retention of the avenues along The Mall and
Birdcage Walk but called for the remodelling of the ‘inner park’. Brown proposed that the
canal be converted into an arc-shaped lake with a larger expanse of water and a larger
island at the eastern end. In the event little change was made to the park during the
eighteenth century. The inner area remained a fenced meadow for cows, and public access
was restricted to the ‘outer park’. Remodelling of the inner park began in 1827 to a design
by Nash.
Condition of park at time of Nash’s design
In 1825 King George IV (‘Prince Regent’ from 1811–20 – reigned 1820–30) decided to
demolish Carlton House, which had been his London home since reaching the age of
majority in 1783, and to rebuild Buckingham House as a royal palace. Carlton House had
been the focal point at the southern end of Nash’s scheme linking St James’s Park via
Regent Street and Portland Place to Regent’s Park. Its axis had even determined the
position of Piccadilly Circus. Removal of Carlton House ‘left nothing but a hole in the
ground and a view across St James’s Park to Westminster’ (Summerson 1980: 166). Nash
was instructed to draw up proposals for a building to replace Carlton House. Construction
of the current Carlton House Terrace began in 1827, the same year that the Treasury issued
orders for the general improvement of the park and the widening of The Mall. Summerson
described the park in 1825 as having been ‘a bare sumpy tract with a canal streaking down
the middle of it, unrelated to Buckingham House or to anything else’ (ibid). He argued that
‘Nash’s layout for the park was evidently suggested by a plan left by Capability Brown’
but, that ‘the planting is more in the manner of Repton’ (ibid: 169).
St. James’s Park, London
1 Green Park
2 St James’s Palace
3 Carlton House Terrace
4 Admiralty Arch
5 Buckingham Palace
6 The Mall
7 Inn the Park
8 Horse Guards Road
9 Horse Guards Parade
10 Whitehall
11 Downing Street
12 Foreign and Commonwealth Office
13 Birdcage Walk
14 Wellington Barracks
15 Former Home Office Building
16 Westminster Abbey
17 Houses of Parliament

The brief for the improvement of the park called for ‘universal access on foot as a
Pleasure Garden with sloped walks towards the water, and ornamental shrubberies’
(Colvin and Moggridge 1996: 8). The remodelling of the park went ahead relatively
quickly with excavation for the lake completed in 1828. Work on the park as a whole was
completed by 1835. It is recorded to have cost £19,253, including Nash’s fees (Lang 1951:
298). The rhythmically colonnaded Carlton House Terrace was completed in 1832. The
new palace, Buckingham Palace, took over from St James’s Palace as the official
residence of the monarch when Queen Victoria came to the throne in 1837. Nash’s
buildings remain behind the current, somewhat undistinguished, early twentieth-century
facade by Aston Webb (1849–1930).
Key figures in the planning and design of St James’s Park
John Nash had been private architect to the Prince Regent since being introduced to him
by Repton in 1797. In 1813 Nash was appointed as one of three architects ‘attached’ to the
Office of Woods, Forests and Land Revenues (Summerson 1980: 96). This was largely as
a result of his involvement with the development of Regent’s Park (1811–26) and Regent
Street (1812–19). Although John Nash is recognized as the author of the current design of
St James’s Park and Regent’s Park, the influence of Humphry Repton and of Uvedale
Price (1747–1829) on Nash’s landscape work cannot be understated. It was sufficiently
strong that even Geoffrey Jellicoe attributed their design to Repton (Jellicoe 1970: 71).
Planning and design
St James’s Park remains substantially unaltered since its remodelling to Nash’s design –
‘its winding paths and picturesque planting is still remarkably close to Nash’s intentions’
(Summerson 1980: 169). Principal changes that have occurred include:
• construction of Wellington Barracks at the west end of Birdcage Walk;
• addition in 1857 of a suspension bridge, described as ‘fitting perfectly into the Nash
setting’ (Lang 1951: 294), replaced in 1957 by ‘an offensively unromantic slab of
concrete’ (Goode and Lancaster 1986: 496);
• opening to ‘light wheeled Traffic’ in 1887 and the widening in 1903 of The Mall, and
complete enclosure of the inner park by highways when Horse Guards Road was opened
in 1916;
• construction of new government buildings, most notably the Foreign Office (1868),
Admiralty Arch (1912) and, to the south of the park, the brutalist former Home Office
(1976);
• completion in 2000 of the London Eye, giving views to the park and altering the view
from it;
• the green-roofed Inn the Park opened in 2004 in place of the somewhat alien pointy-
roofed Cakehouse.
Since its establishment in 1532 St James’s Park has remained physically and symbolically
central to the government of England (and latterly Britain). Its plan form is effectively an
isosceles triangle with Bucking ham Palace, home of the monarch, at the apex, Admiralty
Arch – representing the armed forces (but leased in 2011 for private development) at one
corner, and Parliament at the other. Government offices line Whitehall between Admiralty
Arch and Parliament. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that one of the park’s principal
functions is as a backdrop to – and resting-place from – affairs of state. The park is
regularly used by politicians and civil servants; by office workers from other offices in the
environs and by visitors to surrounding landmarks. In addition to its location at the centre
of British government, the narrowness of the park provides a relatively short walk through
from north to south.
Nash’s design brought the fruits of the English landscape movement to town. The
principal feature of his design was the lake, which hosts an exotic wildfowl collection
dating back to Charles II. It is the focal point of the park and, together with the trees,
forms the foreground and middle ground of views to the remarkable collection of
surrounding buildings – ‘one of the finest urban prospects in the world’ (Chadwick 1966:
27). Views within and from the park are directed by the subtle combination of the figure-
of-eight path layout around and across the lake, and by the deceptively gentle but highly
effective enclosing landform, combining with the many mature London plane trees to
create the quite distinct space of the inner park.
The structure of spaces, the circulation system and the visual composition of the park
are highly dependent on the presence of the (‘offensively unromantic’) bridge. It reflects
Repton’s view on the effectiveness of bridges over artificial water bodies, ‘to preserve the
idea of a river nothing is so effectual as a bridge; instead of dividing the water on each
side, it always tends to lengthen its continuity by shewing the impossibility of crossing it
by any other means, providing the ends are well concealed’ (Repton 1803: 100). And even
critics of the current design may console themselves that the best views in the park are
from the bridge rather than to it. In short, the lake solves a drainage problem, creates the
heart of the park and provides significant wildlife habitat.

The Mall (July 2013)

Whitehall and London Eye from west end of the lake (July 2013)

Cullen also noted that ‘the illusion of recession of water is created by hiding the actual
end of the lake behind islands and we are left with a mystery instead of a plain fact’
(Cullen 1971: 48). It is, perhaps, the incongruity of such gently presented romantic
mysteries with the formal pomp and certainty of its setting that gives St James’s Park its
alluring charm – an unpretentious romantic counterpoint to the relatively ephemeral
careers of politicians and monarchs whose lives unfold around its edges. It achieves a
remarkable sense of spaciousness through the uninterrupted flow of the ground plane and
a sense of unity through its canopy of large-sized trees – particularly London plane. The
park remains intimate without being ‘dinky or niggling’ (Lang 1951: 301).
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Managing organization
Management of the Royal Parks was transferred from the monarch to the national
government under the Crown Lands Act of 1851. And, since 1993, they have been
managed by the Royal Parks Agency, an executive agency of the government – first under
the direction of its Department of National Heritage (DNH) and latterly under the
Department of Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS). The DNH was established in 1992,
taking over responsibility for the Parks from another central government department, the
Department of Environment. Under that department, the parks had been somewhat
secretively run by civil servants with relatively little interference from their political
bosses (Darley 1985: 22–5).
The post of ‘Bailiff of the Royal Parks’ – now superseded by the position of Chief
Executive of the Royal Parks Agency – had been a royal gift, offered perhaps to a suitable
military figure, and the majority of the superintendent positions were held by
horticulturists. Other professional services were either provided from other agencies of the
Department of Environment or bought in by them as and when needed. Direct labour
teams under the direction of the superintendents of the respective parks undertook
horticultural maintenance and minor new works. Following the election of Tony Blair’s
Labour government in 1997 the functions of the DNH were absorbed into the newly
created DCMS, to which the Agency still answers.
The status quo was initially disrupted in 1985 by proposals from the government of then
Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher to ‘privatize’ a wide range of government services,
including maintenance of the Royal Parks. Until that time there had been little or no public
consultation over the running of the parks and no formal mechanism for local residents or
other park users to communicate with park managers. Privatization was widely perceived
as a means of reducing the cost of maintaining the parks with little concern for any impact
on their quality. This perceived threat spawned a number of new ‘Friends’ groups – one
for each individual park. Once it was accepted that procuring maintenance services by
competitive tender from outside contractors was less detrimental than originally feared,
those ‘Friends’ groups – which are generally dominated by vociferous and articulate local
residents – have remained active and serve as unofficial consultative bodies. The next
stage in this evolution was establishment in 2003 of the Royal Parks Foundation, a donor-
based charity whose funds are largely devoted to new capital works projects
(www.supporttheroyalparks.org).

The pedestrian bridge (July 2013)

Consistent with establishment of the Royal Parks Agency, an independent Royal Parks
Review Group, chaired by Dame Jennifer Jenkins, was appointed in July 1991 to provide
recommendations to the Secretary of State for Environment (and subsequently the
Secretary of State for National Heritage) on the future direction of the parks. The Group
submitted its final report in 1997. This formed the basis for much of the early work of the
Agency, particularly the proposal to prepare and regularly update management plans for
each park. Then, in 2012, a Royal Parks Board was appointed to ‘strengthen the ways in
which Londoners can have a voice in the oversight and management’ of the Royal Parks.
The Board comprises twelve members appointed by the Mayor of London
(www.london.gov.uk).4
Funding
Since its inception in 1997 the DCMS has been seeking to reduce the proportion of
government funding for the Royal Parks. In financial year 1998–99 the government
covered 82 per cent of the cost of running St James’s Park with the remaining 18 per cent
coming from events and services. The budget for works and maintenance for the park in
1998–99 was £1.6 million. The overall subsidy for the Royal Parks as a whole for 1999–
2000 was raised – on a one-off basis – by £5.4 million to £26.4 million. Support at around
80 per cent of the parks’ annual budget was maintained until 2005 before being slowly
reduced each year until 2010. That year government funding was cut by 10 per cent and
the Agency was informed that a further 25 per cent would be cut over the following five
years. The allocation for 2013–14 was £15.72 million and for 2014–15 it was £15.05
million (DCMS 2013). A further cut of 8 to 10 per cent was expected for 2015–16 while
total annual expenditure was anticipated to keep running at between £30 and £35 million
per year.
Shortfalls in government funding have been made up by increasing income and
reducing costs. Earned income has included events such as the annual Winter Wonderland
Festival and the Rolling Stones concerts in July 2013 in Hyde Park, and the letting of
lodges in the parks. Savings have been achieved by reducing the direct workforce.
Nevertheless the landscape maintenance and cleansing contract (at around £7 million per
year) and the mechanical and electrical maintenance contract (at around £5 million per
year) remain major costs. Consistent with this cost consciousness, current design policies
aim to standardize materials and minimize new water features, light fittings and moving
parts.

Characteristic Royal Parks deck chairs (July 2013)

Visitor characteristics
The Royal Parks Agency undertakes regular surveys of the usage of all the Royal Parks. In
1995 St James’s Park received an estimated 5.5 million visits with a further 3.4 million
visits to the adjacent Green Park for a total of nearly nine million visits per year. By 2013
these figures – for the ‘green parts’ of the park – had risen to 6.7 and 6.3 million
respectively for a total of 13 million. In 1995 there were around 29 million visits to all the
Royal Parks, which have an area in the order of 2,000 hectares, and by 2013 this figure
had risen to 40 million, with the most intensive use – and maintenance demands – being in
the central parks.5 The Visitor Research Report for 2009 showed the gender balance of
visitors to the central parks at 51 per cent male / 49 per cent female (43 per cent / 57 per
cent in the outer parks); 75 per cent between the ages of 20 and 50 and generally in higher
socio-economic groups.6 Thirty-seven per cent of visitors to the central parks were from
outside the UK and visits to the central parks were generally shorter than visits to the outer
parks. The main complaints about St James’s Park related to numbers and condition of
toilets – another reflection of the demands created by rising visitor numbers
(www.royalparks.org).
Crime
The Metropolitan Police took over policing of the parks from the Royal Parks
Constabulary in 2004. Crime levels in the parks are generally low – which is consistent
with their heavy usage, and the fact that the Agency pays them £7 million for additional
policing for events.
PLANS FOR THE PARK
One of the key aims set out in the Agency’s Framework Document (April 1993) was ‘to
manage the Royal Parks so that they offer peaceful enjoyment, recreation, entertainment
and delight to those who use them’ – a relatively flexible remit. This is now reinforced by
the aim of the Royal Parks Foundation ‘to help visitors enjoy the experience of nature in
the heart of London for years to come’ and the Agency’s corporate objectives, agreed with
the DCMS in April 2013, ‘to conserve and enhance the natural and built environment,
historic landscape and biodiversity of the parks for the benefit of our diverse audiences
and future generations’ and ‘to strengthen the organisation and its effectiveness by
continuing to deliver better value for money and exploring commercial opportunities’
(DCMS 2013).
The Management Plan for St James’s Park prepared by Colvin and Moggridge in 1996
was intended as a long-term strategy for the park. It acknowledged an observation from
the Royal Parks Review Group that the park is ‘imbued with the continuing story of
monarch and court, parliament and people … an urban stage of palaces, parks, historic
architecture and ceremonial ways’. Their strategy called for conservation of the historic
landscape, protection and improvement of views of the surrounding skyline, reinforcement
of the outer edge of the park, pedestrian primacy over vehicles, continuation of the
ceremonial role of the outer park as a venue for state occasions – and for promenading,
continuation of the recreational role of the inner park as a place for peaceful enjoyment of
the open air in an informal / romantic setting, management of vegetation and paths in the
outer park to complement its historic layout, management of vegetation in the inner park
to recreate picturesque shrubberies, protection of the sense of naturalness of the inner
park, control over the addition of statues and monuments, and protection of the riverine
illusion of the lake.
Subsequent Management and Operations Plans have pursued these principles and allied
them to criteria for Green Flag Awards – benchmark national standards for management
and maintenance of parks and green spaces, addressing issues such as being welcoming,
well maintained, well marketed, safe and sustainable (www.greenflagaward). These are
essentially questions of good housekeeping and, unsurprisingly, St James’s Park (along
with all the other Royal Parks) has received regular recognition. However, the managers
also acknowledge the importance of ‘looking one hundred years ahead’ in the protection
and promotion of the park.7
CONCLUSIONS
St James’s Park continues to be significant as the first example of a park designed for
public use according to the principles of the English landscape movement. It represents
the beginning of the transition of the focus of landscape design from the private
eighteenth-century rural park to the public nineteenth-century urban park. This was a
major transition in that ‘the great difference between the [eighteenth] century landscape
garden and the city park was in its institutional and urban character’ (Woodbridge 1981:
5). And, despite having been designed by John Nash, the park displays many hallmarks of
the work and writings of Humphry Repton. It is an early example of a reproduction of
idyllic countryside thrust into an urban setting; an abstraction that is made all the more
noticeable for its juxtaposition with the formal outer park. It demonstrates that ‘stroll
garden’ layouts can still be viable in the centre of a major city. It also demonstrates that
significant visual effects can be achieved through relatively minor manipulation of
landform and vegetation.
The character of St James’s Park clearly owes as much to its location as to its design. It
has become an integral part of formal state occasions and of casual patterns of pedestrian
movement between surrounding destinations. It is a popular thoroughfare, a powerful
magnet for tourists and a delightful distraction from the surrounding city. In design terms,
it was a refined version of Nash’s earlier excursions into the urban picturesque. In
management terms, creation of the Royal Parks Agency generated a more consistent and
forward-looking approach. The challenge lies in achieving a balance between meeting the
expectations of Londoners and tourists while protecting the historic, biotic and scenic
resource that they come to enjoy. And that justifies the approach of looking a hundred
years ahead while addressing the immediate issues arising from accommodating
burgeoning visitor numbers on a restricted budget.
NOTES
1 Merriam-Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary (1987, 9th edn) dated the origin of the term ‘landscape gardening’ as
1763 and of the term ‘landscape architecture’ as 1863.
2 The Mall is part of the traditional route for state ceremonies involving processions to or from Buckingham Palace.
Horse Guards Parade at the east end of the park is the site each June of the Trooping of the Colour, attended by the
monarch, and of the (daily in summertime) Changing of the Guard.
3 This account is based on Colvin and Moggridge 1996: 5–10; Land Use Consultants July 1981; and Goode and
Lancaster 1986: 496.
4 Appointees include the leaders of the four borough council areas that contain Royal Parks – Westminster, Camden,
Greenwich and Richmond; four people with business experience; a member of the Royal household; two selected for
other reasons, and two representatives of the Royal Parks Agency.
5 Nine tons of garbage were removed from St James’s Park over one weekend in June 2013.
6 This reflects anecdotal evidence – noted at meeting with Colin Buttery, Mark Wasilewski and Nick Biddle of the
Royal Parks Agency on 16 July 2013 – of residents in Peabody Trust properties in Pimlico commenting that they
regarded St James’s Park to be ‘too posh for them’.
7 Noted at meeting with Messrs Buttery, Wasilewski and Biddle on 16 July 2013.
12 Parque de María Luisa, Seville
(39 hectares / 96 acres)
INTRODUCTION
Designed in its current form by French landscape architect Jean-Claude-Nicolas Forestier
(1861–1930), the Parque de María Luisa was converted in the early twentieth century
from private royal park to public park. It was named for Princess María Luisa de Borbón y
Borbón (1832–97), Duchess of Montpensier and sister of Queen Isabella II (1830–1904 –
reigned 1843–68), who released the land in 1893. The park remains the enchanting
product of skilful conversion of the already well-wooded site into, first, the centre piece of
an international exposition and then a public park. Forestier achieved this transition
through adherence to two fundamental principles – respect for existing site qualities and
respect for nuances of regional design, history and climate. The outcome was an essay in
Moorish-inspired landscape design for a Mediterranean public park. Its strong rectilinear
layout is punctuated with tile-studded glorietas – arbours dedicated to local cultural
figures, shaded from the intensity of the Andalusian sun by a canopy of deciduous trees.
To the south and east the subtle intimacy of Forestier’s landscape design gives way to the
regionalist extravagance of architect Aníbal Gonzaléz’s designs for the Plaza de España
and the Plaza de América. These two exhibition spaces were formed as extensions to the
park so that it might host the Ibero-American Exposition in 1929. Forestier’s original
design, prepared in 1911, was intended for an exposition to be staged in 1914 but
postponed because of World War I.1
HISTORY
Date and reason for designation as a park
The site was identified as a public park a number of years before selection as the site for
an exposition. The principal reason for its designation was as part of an arrangement to
create better commercial transport links between the River Guadalquivir to the west and
the railway station to the northeast (García-Martin 1992: 38). The need for healthier living
conditions and opportunities for public recreation were seen as secondary justifications.
There had, however, already been public parks in Seville since the 1830s when a Jardin de
Aclimatación – botanical and zoological garden – and the Jardines de las Delicias –
‘Gardens of Delights’, between the river and the site of the Parque de María Luisa – were
established. The Jardines de las Delicias were extended in 1869 to an area of 7.5 hectares
according to designs prepared in Paris by horticulturist Jean-Pierre Barillet-Deschamps
(ibid: 37). In common with other European cities, Seville experienced rapid population
growth during the nineteenth century. And in common with other Spanish cities, there was
demand for public use of royal land.2
The site formed part of the estate of the Palace of San Telmo which had been allocated
in 1849 – by virtue of a law passed by Queen Isabella II – for the use of the Duke and
Duchess of Montpensier. In March 1893 the municipal government of Seville arranged
with María Luisa that she should retain the palace and adjacent gardens but that the city
would take over the land that attached to the palace to the south of the new avenue. The
agreement stated that the site should ‘offer to the city an extensive and pleasant park to
serve the needs of modern life’ (García-Martin 1992: 38). Plans from 1894 show the area
of the nascent park and new road as 20.7 hectares.

Parque de María Luisa, Seville

1 Tobacco Factory / University
2 Palacio de San Telmo
3 Exposition Pavilions (now used as offices)
4 Avenida de Maria Luisa
5 Jardin de Prado de San Sebastián
6 Plaza de España
7 Glorieta de la Infanta María Luisa
8 Avenida Hernán Cortés
9 Fuente de las Ranas
10 Monte Gurugu
11 Calle de Pizarro
12 Mudejar Pavilion
13 Plaza de América
14 Archaeological Museum
15 Paseo de las Delicias
16 Jardines de las Delicias
17 River Guadalquivir

History and condition of the site

Andalusia, the southernmost region of Spain, was part of the Roman Empire from about
200 BCE to 500 CE. Moors – Muslims of mixed Arab and Berber descent – conquered
southern Spain in 710 CE and controlled much of the peninsular until the final fall in 1492
of Granada, also in Andalusia, to the Catholic Monarchs. Trade with the New World led to
Seville becoming ‘the principal financial and commercial centre of the Old Continent’
(Mantero 1992: 65) until the early eighteenth century, when the focus of trade moved to
Cadiz at the mouth of the Guadalquivir.
The area northwest of the park, named San Telmo for the patron saint of navigators, had
been occupied since the Middle Ages by the bishops of Morocco. This land was
transferred to the Holy Office in 1560. It was intended that a college for navigators be
built there. Although a college was established on the site in 1628, plans for a substantial
marine university occupying arable land in San Telmo were not made until 1681.
Construction of the building now known as the Palacio de San Telmo was largely
completed by 1724 – although further additions were made until the 1770s (García-Martin
1992: 34). The adjacent tobacco factory, famed as the setting for Bizet’s 1875 opera
Carmen – now part of the University of Seville and still one of the largest buildings in
Spain – was also completed in the 1770s.
The palace building served as a marine university until 1847. It was used briefly as
railway offices and then as part of the Literary University before its acquisition by the
Dukes of Montpensier in 1849. The extensive and fertile huertas – orchards or
horticultural gardens – of Naranjal and grounds of the convent of San Diego to the south
were attached to the building when it became a ducal palace. They comprised in the order
of 150 hectares.3 It has been recorded that within this area French landscape architect
Lecolant designed ‘romantic gardens with abundant picturesque elements … which
stretched to what is today the Plaza de América’ (Gimeno et al. 1999: 35–40).4
Negotiations for their transfer to the City of Seville began with the death in 1890 of Duke
Antonio of Borbón and were completed in 1893. María Luisa continued to occupy the
palace itself until her death in 1897. It then became a metropolitan seminary until 1990
and was restored ahead of the Universal Exposition in 1992 to become the seat of the
President of the Andalusia region.
Typical sign for Glorietas (July 2011)

A plan of Seville from 1890 showed a relatively regular pattern of planting across the
site (García-Martin 1992: 32–3). Imbert, however, wrote about ‘the English-style
vegetation of the old San Telmo gardens’ noting that Forestier had to deal with ‘existing
irregular clumps of mature trees’ (Imbert 1993: 19, 17). Forestier himself noted that ‘some
of the avenues are irregular, because they were already there, and as they were bordered
by beautiful, old trees, it would have been a mistake to disturb them’ (Forestier 1924: 185–
6). The park was virtually abandoned from 1893 until approval of the site in 1910 by King
Alphonso XIII as the venue for the Hispano-American Exposition. There were reports
during the 1900s of plants being sold to private gardens, of trees being sold for carpentry,
of pigeons being stolen by breeders, of offers by a lion tamer for establishment of a
zoological collection, of proposals for creation of a sports field, and of complaints from
the municipal engineer about public respect for the vegetation and water bodies in the park
(García-Martin 1992: 55–7). In January 1911 the Executive Committee for the Seville
Exposition invited Forestier to redesign the park as the focus of an event then scheduled
for 1914.5 The work was completed by 1914 but, because of the outbreak of World War I,
the Exposition was delayed until 1929.
Plaza de América (July 2013)

Key figures in the establishment of the park

Although María Luisa released the land for the park in 1893, it was not until 1909 that
Seville industrialist Don Rodriguez Caso made a proposal to the City of Seville for the
staging of an exposition. Caso ‘saw the exposition as a way to reaffirm cultural and
commercial exchanges with the Americas following the loss of the Spanish colonies in the
nineteenth century’ (Assassin 1992). The principal individual figure in the design of the
park was Jean-Claude-Nicolas Forestier. He graduated from École Polytechnique in 1880
and studied forestry in Nancy. In 1887 he began work under Jean-Charles-Adolphe
Alphand, by then Directeur des Travaux de Paris. Forestier, like Alphand, was employed
by the Parisian authorities until he died. His earlier projects included work in the Bois de
Vincennes – from 1905 he redesigned the Bagatelle in the Bois de Boulogne, and from
1908 to 1928 he developed the gardens of the Champs de Mars.6
Forestier’s design for the Parque de María Luisa, when he was 50 years old, was the
first of his many projects outside France. In 1915 he went to Barcelona, at the invitation of
painter José Maria Sert, where he designed the Parque Montjuich. The Marquesa de Casa
Valdés described that scheme as ‘one of the finest parks in Spain’ and stated that Forestier
‘clearly initiated a new phase of gardening in Spain’ (Casa Vadés 1973: 251). He went on
to prepare plans for a number of Moroccan cities (from 1912), to propose a park system
for Buenos Aires (1924), and to develop the master plan of Havana, Cuba (from 1925 until
his death in 1930). The latter work was influenced by the City Beautiful Movement but
‘contrary to Alphand or Olmsted for whom the design of parks and gardens belong to a
global vision of the city, Forestier’s projects and realizations appear like particular
responses to specific problems, conditioned by the geographic, cultural and urban reality
of the site’ (Lejeune and Gelabert-Navia 1991: 58).
Imbert observed that ‘Forestier derived the morphology of his designs from a
consideration of climate and its corresponding plant palette rather than from strict
adaptation to function’ and that he ‘was able to bridge the gap between the detail-oriented
sensitivity of a jardinier-artiste and the expansive scale of the land engineer and city
planner’ (Imbert 1993: 12, 15). Indeed, he ‘championed the cause of public parks as a
fundamental element of modern, expanding cities’ (Lejeune 1996: 155). Sitting on the
edge of modernism but driven more by context than by functional sterotypes, Forestier
remains an under-acknowledged figure in early twentieth-century land-scape architecture.

Calle de Pizarro – in the shade of Sophora trees (July 2011)

PLANNING AND DESIGN

Location
The Parque de María Luisa is located directly south of the original walled settlement of
Seville. Its size and proximity to the centre of the city inevitably make it a pedestrian
destination for residents and tourists. It is augmented by the associated gardens and open
spaces between the park and the city centre, including the gardens of the Palacio de San
Telmo, the gardens of the Alcazar – each 6 hectares – and the Jardin de Prado de San
Sebastian, completed in 1996 on a 3.5 hectare site directly north of the Plaza de España,
and once used for the burnings ordered by the Spanish Inquisition. The main part of the
site is surrounded by heavily used highways and enclosed by impenetrable ornate fencing.
Shape of site and natural landform
The central section of the park is a roughly northwest–southeast aligned rectangle of about
600 metres by 300 metres. The Avenida María Luisa defines an equilateral triangle at the
northern end of this rectangle. The Plaza de España defines a 180 metre semi-circle to the
east and the Plaza de América comprises a 300 metre southward extension of the park.
The Jardines de las Delicias form a skinny triangle separated from the rest of the park by
the Paseo de las Delicias and lying between it and the River Guadalquivir. The site is
generally flat, rising only gently from the river. There is a higher point to the south –
Monte Gurugu – that Forestier used as a backdrop to his rose garden. Soils are generally
sandy and free draining. Plants need intensive irrigation.
Design concept
Forestier’s design remains an object lesson in response to context. It explored Moorish
garden design traditions at the same time as responding to existing site characteristics, to
climatic imperatives and to emerging functionalist paradigms. First he established a grid
of tree-lined avenues across the site. This was skewed to accommodate existing trees and
elements like the pond (now the Glorieta de los Patos) and the Monte Gurugu from
Lecolant’s design. It created the basic structure of the park – into which further individual
gardens, water features and more exotic planting could be installed. It also created the
deep shade that is essential to human comfort in the extraordinarily hot and humid
summer conditions in Seville. The glorietas are shrine-like gardens that are evenly spread
through the park – reminiscent of Kent’s Temple of British Worthies at Stowe and
providing punctuation comparable to Tschumi’s folies at la Villette (Chapter 15). The
intimate scale and subdivision of Forestier’s original design was contrasted by the grafting
on to the park of architect Aníbal González’s Plaza de España and Plaza de América, and
of the gardens of the Palace of San Telmo in preparation for the Exposition – buildings
that have been described as expressions of Andalusian ‘Arquitectura del Regionalismo’
(Movellán 2010: 81).

Pergola (July 2013)

Forestier’s design has been cited as ‘the first time in the twentieth century the
Mediterranean garden was brought forth as an alternative to the prevalent picturesque
model’ (Lejeune 1996: 154). And while the forms are comparable to Schumacher’s
synchronous Hamburg Stadtpark (Chapter 20), the scale was quite different – and ‘turning
such a vast area of land … into Moorish gardens, divided by hedges into compartments,
each one different with its fountain, benches and tiles, each imparting a sense of seclusion,
was a work of genius’ (Casa Valdés 1973: 250). Morgenthau Fox commented in her
introduction to Forestier’s Jardins that he exploited the qualities of colour, perfumes and
privacy in his Spanish designs (Forestier 1924: vi). He also employed one of his favourite
motifs – the pergola – as a means of dividing space and displaying plants. The first
impression of the park is of deep shade created by the regular rows of close-planted
mature deciduous trees, particularly the cathedral-like planes that were retained by
Forestier. The avenues that they create are in complete contrast to the hard and hot spaces
of the Plaza de España and the Plaza de América. The next layer of the park, the
glorietas, present a further reduction in scale. Here Moorish elements are introduced –
particularly tile work and water features – together with symbolic statuary, seating and
site-specific signage under a shade-giving canopy.
Fuente de las Ranas – Fountain of the Frogs (July 2013)

MANAGEMENT AND USAGE7

The park is directly funded by the Ayuntamiento de Sevilla (City Council). It is managed
by the Servicio de Parques y Jardines of the Ayuntamiento. Construction services are
provided by the City’s Obras Públicas (Public Works) section. Although it was formally
registered in 1983 as a Historical Garden of Andalusia, funding for the Parque María
Luisa (and other historic parks in Seville) comes entirely from the City. The park has
neither a conservator (like Park Güell) nor trustees (like the neighbouring Alcazar) and
capital investment is therefore sporadic. The political perspective seems to be that parks
take care of themselves and/or generate little political capital. Principal concerns
confronting the managers have been protection of the trees – from fungal attack on the
planes (by Splanchnonema platani) and on palm trees, particularly Phoenix canariensis,
by the red palm weevil (Rynchophorus ferrugineus); repair of the glorietas and footways,
and the irrigation system. User surveys are not conducted. There are estimated to be
around three million visits per year. The park is locked and not patrolled at night. There
are random acts of petty vandalism but few more serious crimes.
PLANS FOR THE PARK
The ongoing aim of the managers is to ‘maintain the park as a living museum’ – protecting
more than 3,500 primarily deciduous trees of more than 100 species (many introduced
since 1929), nearly 1,000 palms and more than 1,000 Seville orange trees, and the
glorietas, while catering for heavy public use. The southern-most allée – the Calle de
Pizarro – was replanted with Sophora spp. in the 1990s. The extensive network of hedges
– another important element in Forestier’s spatial composition – were due to receive
concerted attention in 2014. Major repair and restoration works were undertaken in
preparation for the Universal Exposition in 1992. Restoration work was undertaken on a
further seventeen glorietas between 1995 and 2002, together with extensive work on the
Plaza de América (Pérez 2003: 30). Restoration in the 2000s included work on the
Jardines de las Delicias – costing around €2.6 million – and installation of a centrally
controlled irrigation system – costing around €1.5 million (ibid: 32).

Museo Arqueologica (July 2013)

Plaza de España (July 2011)

CONCLUSIONS
French landscape architecture is often simplistically linked with the rectilinear designs of
André le Nôtre (1613–1700). Chadwick, for instance, suggested that in his Spanish
projects Forestier’s ‘earlier liking for the work of Le Nôtre … seems to prevail’
(Chadwick 1996: 301). Certainly his design for the Parque de María Luisa is based on a
rectilinear layout – but it is not an export version of a national stereotype. In strictly
formal terms it is an example of early modernism meeting the Moorish garden. But
Forestier’s approach was more context-driven than form-driven. He was already a mature
practitioner and quickly came to terms with existing site conditions and sought to relate
them to regional design traditions and use requirements. Parque de María Luisa is a
practical response to climatic conditions and an enduring testimony to creative
interpretation of context in landscape design. That the park continues to project these
values is to the credit of its highly committed management and maintenance staff. It merits
comparable cultural recognition and political commitment.
NOTES
1 Imbert 1993: 213 noted that the Exposition changed from being Hispano-American to Ibero-American in 1922
when it was agreed that Portugal would also participate in the event.
2 The Parque del Retiro in Madrid, for instance, was opened for public access when Queen Isabella II went into exile
in 1868 – but with less redesign than the Parque de María Luisa.
 3 Figure noted at meeting with José Elías Bonells of the Servicio de Parques y Jardines of the Ayuntamiento de
Sevilla on 31 May 1999.
4 Gimeno et al. 1999 noted that Lecolant designed the Monte Gurugu and the Duck Island; Lejeune and Gelabert-
Navia 1991: 53 also noted the involvement of Lecolant.
5 García-Martin 1992: 47 quoted from a report in the newspaper El Liberal of 27 January 1911. Imbert 1993: 17 gave
the date of Forestier’s appointment as 1 April 1911.
6 Imbert 1993: 211 noted that Forestier had originally intended to join the navy but suffered paralysis of the right arm
as a result of a horse-riding accident.
7 Much of this and the following section recorded at meeting with José Miguel Reina Becerra of Ayuntamiento de
Sevilla on 4 July 2013.
13 Luisenpark, Mannheim
(41 hectares / 101 acres)
INTRODUCTION
Mannheim, an industrial city with a population of about 315,000, is located at the
confluence of the Rhine and Neckar rivers in southwest Germany. It has a distinctive
gridded centre dating from 1606, and between 1720 and 1777 it was the residence of the
Electors Palatine. But ‘by 1799 [it] represented a straightforward exercise in
unimaginative drawing board geometry’ (Morris 1994: 235). And in a survey of twelve
industrial cities in Germany in 1971, Mannheim was ranked a clear last (Panten 1987: 92).
Few respondents were impressed by the city’s urban quality, its green spaces or the leisure
opportunities that it offered. The staging between April and October 1975 of the
Bundesgartenschau – Federal Garden Show – was intended to address these shortcomings.
German garden shows originated from adjudicated exhibitions of rare and exotic plants
(ibid: 8–11). The first one was staged in 1833. They became more substantial after the
success of the international horticulture show in London in May 1866. This encouraged
the staging of the first international garden show in Germany in 1869, at Hamburg. That
site remained largely unchanged until 1953 and is generally regarded as the starting point
of the current biennial Bundesgartenschauen (Schmidt-Baumler 1975: 40). In 1907
Mannheim itself staged a garden show to celebrate the 300th anniversary of the city.
Garden shows were also staged under the Third Reich at Dresden (1936), Essen (1938)
and – until cut short by war – at Stuttgart (1939). But it was not until after World War II
that the Zentral Verband Gartenbau (ZVG – Central Horticulture Organization) started to
commission different cities to present a show every two years, starting at Hannover in
1951. In addition to being horticulture exhibitions, the shows provided an opportunity for
cities to redesign and rebuild parks as part of the post-war reconstruction. Host cities
generally have ten years from designation to prepare their sites. Mannheim had only six
years, after Karlsruhe withdrew in 1969, as hosts for 1975.
The show had three main components – redesign of the two parts of the Luisenpark (53
hectares in total) on the left bank of the Neckar; redesign of the Herzogenriedpark (27
hectares) on the right bank of the Neckar; and improving the urban landscape of the city as
a whole – particularly the centre of the city. The two parks were linked for the duration of
the show by the ‘Aerobus’ – an overhead cablecar crossing the Neckar. It was intended
that, like most previous Bundesgartenschauen, the parks should be fenced, pay-for-entry
facilities for the duration of the show and be freely accessible once it closed. The
Mannheim show was exceptionally popular. A record 186,000 season tickets were sold
and the parks attracted 8.1 million visits – the highest number for any show other than the
11 million visits to the International Garden Show in Munich in 1983. Before the end of
the show citizens called for both the Luisenpark and Herzogenriedpark – jointly referred
to as Stadtparks Mannheim – to remain pay-for-entry so that the standard of facilities
could be maintained.
 The Herzogenriedpark now serves largely as a neighbourhood park for the Neckarstadt
area of the city. The 12-hectare Unterer Luisenpark – Lower Luisenpark – is now freely
accessible, but Herzogenriedpark and the main part of the Luisenpark, the 41-hectare
Oberer Luisenpark – Upper Luisenpark – are not. The Luisenpark remains much as it was
designed in 1970. And for more than forty years, any changes that were made were
referred to the original designer Horst Wagenfeld (b. 1934). This is a longer period of
continuous involvement than John Nash on Regent’s Park, Peter Joseph Lenné on the
Tiergarten or Frederick Law Olmsted on Central Park. It has given the park exceptional
continuity.

Gondolettas on the Kutzerweiher (July 2012)

HISTORY
Designation as a park
Development of the Luisenpark began in 1892.1 One of the principal proponents of a
public park in the eastern part of the city was Mannheim-born Carl Wilhelm Casimir
Fuchs (1837–86) a professor of geology at the University of Heidelberg. Fuchs believed in
the health benefit of urban parks, and left 20,000 Marks for the building of a park. His
legacy went towards the building between 1892 and 1894 of ten hectares of the Unterer
Luisenpark. The layout by garden designers the Brothers Siesmayer – which cost more
than four times Fuchs’s legacy – remains largely intact. In November 1896 the city council
resolved to name the park after Archduchess Luise of Baden (1838–1923), the daughter of
Kaiser Wilhelm I (reigned 1861–88). She married Archduke Friedrich I of Baden in 1856
at the age of 18. She was, by all accounts, an admirable person for whom to name a park,
particularly a park that originated from concern for public health. She was a pioneering
welfare worker in Baden, founding women’s organizations that under took charitable
work. Luise became increasingly involved in this work after her husband’s death in 1907
and was highly active in hospitals during World War I.
Between 1897 and 1903 a further 20 hectares, the Oberer Luisenpark – to the east of
(what is now) Ludwig-Ratzel Strasse – was added to the park. The Kutzerweiher, the lake
now at the centre of the park, originated from a natural bend in the Neckar and from
gravel extraction directly east of the park that ceased in the 1920s. Like many features in
the area, it was named for another former mayor, Theodor Kutzer (in office 1914–28).
Mannheim was heavily bombed in World War II. Parks and trees throughout the city
sustained heavy damage (Schmidt-Baumler 1975: 48). The park received relatively little
investment – for new projects or maintenance – from the end of World War II until 1958,
when a new glasshouse was constructed. At that time the park contained a small sand play
area, a few flower beds and shrub areas, and the maturing tree cover that became an
important characteristic of the Bundesgartenschau. Horticultural maintenance involved
little more than cutting grass for hay twice a year. Between 1959 and 1969 biennial
Blühender Herbst – ‘blossoming autumn’ – festivals were staged in the park.
Luisenpark, Mannheim
1 Unterer Luisenpark
2 Ludwig-Ratzel-Straße
3 River Neckar
4 Play Area
5 Telecommunications Tower
6 Perennial Plant Garden
7 Chinese Garden
8 Parksee Kutzerweiher
9 Bird Island
10 Double Bridge
11 Freizeitwiese
12 Floral Display Area
13 Lakeside Stage
14 Play Area
15 Spring Meadow
16 Plant House
17 Heinrich-Vetter-Weg Sculpture Garden
18 Maintenance Area
19 Am Oberen Luisenpark
20 Main Entrance
 The first discussions between the city council and the ZVG about staging the
Bundesgartenschau took place in summer 1968.2 A working group from the ZVG and the
council examined five possible sites for the show and recommended the Luisenpark and
Herzogenriedpark, together, as the most appropriate venue. Deliberations continued until
November 1969 when the council decided to proceed with a show that included both
parks. It was determined that the Oberer Luisenpark should be expanded to 41 hectares by
incorporating land to the east that had been a horse racecourse until World War II, and had
subsequently been taken over by the United States army for a golf course. Separate design
competitions were staged for each park between January and October 1970. The
Luisenpark competition was restricted to six pre-selected groups of landscape architects
and architects. It was won by landscape architects Richard Bödeker, Armin Boyer and
Horst Wagenfeld of Düsseldorf-Hubbelrath with architect Wilfred Behrens, also from
Düsseldorf. They had only four-and-a-half years, compared with the standard of ten years,
to organize the detailed design and construction of the park for the opening in April 1975.
And whereas other Bundesgartenschauen generally involved reshaping of an existing
park, the Luisenpark called for a comprehensive redesign of the expanded site. The call
for the park to remain a pay-for-entry facility arose in August 1975, two months before the
end of the show.3
Condition of site at time of designation
Plans from 1622 show the site to have been largely covered by an arm of the River
Neckar.4 Records show that by 1794 the Neckar had been straightened and that the land
then became ‘marshy meadows full of rabbit warrens’. High groundwater levels meant
that the site was still prone to flooding and supported few trees. In 1865 Friedrich
Engelhorn, the founder of chemicals firm Badische Anilin und Soda Fabrik (BASF),
applied to the city council to use 16 hectares of the ‘New Meadow’ – the area that now
includes the eastern part of the Luisenpark – as a production area. The council refused his
application. Their decision did not harm Engelhorn’s business. He located his factory in
the neighbouring town of Ludwigshafen, where it now has ‘around 2000 buildings in an
area of over ten square kilometres’ (www.basf.com). But it did prevent the growth of a
potentially polluting industry close to the centre of the city and it allowed the later use of
the land as part of the park. The site was described at commencement of the park in 1892
as ‘the rose garden in the cow pasture’.
Schmidt-Baumler noted that when gravel extraction from the original area of the
Kutzerweiher ceased (in the 1920s), the groundwater level was still relatively high.5 The
level had dropped significantly by the end of the 1960s and a decision was made early in
the design process for the Bundesgartenschau to isolate the lake from the groundwater by
filling it with imported gravel to the average level of the groundwater, caulking that gravel
with 200 mm of clay, and covering the clay with a further 800 mm of gravel to counteract
any upward thrust from rises in the groundwater. The surface area of the lake was doubled
to 4 hectares. Excess excavate was used in the creation of the new landform of the park.
And because so few trees remained in Mannheim after World War II, and because of the
short lead-time from designation to reopening, the design ensured that ‘no tree was cut
down merely for construction’ (Schmidt-Baumler 1975: 48). Tree surgery and protection
measures for existing trees became one of the themes of the show.
Key figures in the establishment of the park
There have been three principal personae in the development of the Luisenpark. At the
outset there was Dr Fuchs, whose legacy kick-started the creation of the Unterer
Luisenpark. Then landscape architects Bödeker, Boyer and Wagenfeld, whose 1970 design
for the Bundesgartenschau and long-running involvement in subsequent design decisions
have given unerring continuity from the original concept. Third, and equally significant,
has been the immense enthusiasm with which Mannheimers embraced the Luisenpark
right from its opening in 1975. When a local newspaper polled readers in August 1975, 83
per cent of 16,400 respondents called for the park to remain a pay-for-entry facility.
Wagenfeld was the principal author of the selected design. He oversaw construction and
retained an advisory role on design matters thereafter – ‘reorienting the design to its roots
… spotting inconsistencies and pointing them out to the managers’.6 This was particularly
beneficial, for instance, in creation in 1989 of the Heinrich-Vetter-Weg, under the title
Kunst und Natur im Dialog – ‘Art and Nature in Dialogue’ – to accommodate more than
twenty sculptures to be donated in 1992 by the eponymous Heinrich Vetter, and of the
setting in 1999 for the millennial Chinese garden. Wagenfeld explained his view of the
park as a distinct antidote to the city, away from ‘normal city stress’ with the landform and
trees creating a ‘sense of timelessness’ – very much the latter-day romantic park.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location within city
During the residence of the Electors Palatinate in Mannheim, the centre of the city was
laid out in a quartered grid – the Quadratestadt – radiating from their palace (now
occupied by the University of Mannheim) and bounded by a mushroom-shaped ring of
fortifications. The northern edge of the fortifications touches the bank of the River Neckar
– a reminder of Mannheim’s origin as a fishing settlement. Other Mannheim landmarks,
the water tower (built 1886–89) and the axially designed Friedrichplatz at its base, are on
the eastern edge of the ring. This reflects the direction of development of the Oststadt –
‘East City’ – beyond the fortifications in the nineteenth century. The Ludwig-Ratzel-
Strasse entrance to the Luisenpark is less than 1,500 metres from the palace and less than
750 metres from the water tower. The northern edge of the park is defined by the
embankment of the river. The south side is abutted by high-density nineteenth-century
housing – much of which is now occupied by higher-income households. There is a
network of sports stadia and railway lines directly east of the park and then more high-
density housing. It is very much an edge-of-centre park.
Outgrown baby pacifiers (July 2012)
Movable chairs (July 2012)

The April 1969 report for the ZVG noted shortages and poor quality of open space in
the inner city generally and a shortage of sports fields in Neckarstadt – directly north of
the River Neckar opposite the city centre (Panten 1987: 92). They therefore recommended
a three-part strategy for the Bundesgartenschau:
• redesign of the Luisenpark as a recreation zone for the entire city and as a catalyst for
the development of similar facilities in other parts of the city;
• redesign of the Herzogenriedpark as a recreational focus for existing and proposed high-
density housing;
• creation of pedestrian zones and open spaces within the fortification ring of the city
centre in order to increase its attractiveness as a residential area and as a shopping and
commercial area, and to prevent it from becoming ‘a ghetto for the underprivileged and
for foreign workers’ (Garten und Landschaft 1975: 336–8).
Shape of site and natural landform
The site is effectively an east–west rectangle with a bight along the middle third of its top
edge and a bulge to the southeast. It is nearly 1,000 metres at its longest and between 220
metres and 680 metres wide. The roughly semi-circular bight is occupied by a sports
complex. The western edge, accessed by an underpass from the Unterer Luisenpark, runs
straight along Ludwig-Ratzel-Strasse. The southern edge is defined by the rear property
line of houses facing the smoothly curving Am Oberen Luisenpark. The eastern edge
winds its way roughly north–south between the park and another sports complex. The
administration area, festival buildings and the maintenance yards occupy much of the
bulge-like southeast corner of the site.
The site was relatively flat land within the flood plain of the Neckar. The river
originally ran roughly along the line of the current northern section of the Kutzerweiher
and, after it was straightened, gravel was extracted from the former river bed. The
redesign of the park doubled the area of the Kutzerweiher, turning it into an isolated
system flowing east to west with water being pumped back to a source at the eastern end
of the northern arm. Enlarging the lake generated a substantial amount of excavate that
was used to create new elements of landform throughout the park – particularly the edges
to the lake itself and enclosure of the main ‘rooms’ or ‘cells’ on the south and east side of
the park.
Design concept
The layout of the Luisenpark bears comparison with St James’s Park in London. It has a
central lake running almost the length of the park. The lake contains islands that act as
bird refuges and are located so as to obscure views along the full length of the water body.
It narrows halfway along its length where it is traversed by two wooden bridges. The lake
also provides a barrier between what were intended as the active and eventful
Ausstellungsachse – ‘Exhibition Axis’ – to the south and the more relaxing Ruhebereich –
‘Quiet Area’ – to the north. The large Freizeitwiese – ‘Free Time Meadow’ – occupying
the site of the former race course / golf course between the arms at the east end of the lake,
became a major play area for the duration of the show and is now a large and flexible
venue for open-air events. Everything in and about the park speaks to its being a peaceful
town garden – no dogs; no bicycles (which, ironically, were in vented in Mannheim);
individual movable seats; flamboyant floral displays, and even a tree decked out with
outgrown baby pacifiers in a ritual adopted by succeeding generations of parents.
Rope bridge over narrow arm of Kutzerweiher (July 2012)

Spatial structure, circulation system, landform, materials and planting

Wagenfeld described the theme of the design as Raumbilding – ‘space forming’
(Wagenfeld 1975: 301). He explained this in terms of humans seeking to develop their
habitat to produce a balanced interaction between space and use. He also highlighted the
role of the Luisenpark in providing green open space near the centre of Mannheim – space
that would improve the micro-climate and increase the range of activities available to
residents. Wagenfeld explained the circulation system as connections through four major
zones:
• Exhibition Axis – the main route through the park, connecting the city centre to the west
via both parts of the Luisenpark to the Mainmarkt area to the east. This was designed to
link the exhibition activities ‘like pearls on a string’ (Panten 1987: 95);
• Water Axis – intended to link the telecommunications tower, also built for the
Bundesgartenschau, at the northwest edge of the park with the dock area at the end of
the southern arm of the lake via the ‘food wall’, bird island, double bridge and lake
stage. The lake itself included the circuit of still popular (and still ‘cute’) gondolettas;
• Quiet Area – along the north shore of the lake, linking contemplative areas including a
Rhododendron plantation, south-facing sun terraces and trickling stream areas;
• Leisure Space – focused on the Freizeithaus – ‘Free Time House’ – and Freizeitwiese –
‘Free Time Meadow’ – with associated play hollows. During the festival this area
included a rope-mesh restrained hill of air-filled rubber balloons that kids could climb
 and bounce down feet first from one balloon to another.
Wagenfeld described the landform as having been manipulated to create a ‘compressed
landscape’ of independent and contrasting spaces. Vegetation was used on higher ground –
in the same way as at Birkenhead Park – to raise plant roots above the groundwater and to
emphasize the individual character and atmosphere of the spaces. Re-used granite setts
from black-topped city roads were used throughout the park – as walls, edges to gravel
paths and for roadways through grass areas (Schmidt-Baumler 1975: 49). Intensive soil
preparation was undertaken to ensure successful re-establishment of the 150 trees that had
to be moved, early establishment of ground cover plants and long-term soil fertility for the
extensive herbaceous displays that remain a feature of the park. The show called for
extensive buildings for the staging of exhibitions and events, for entertainment and for
refreshments. These were designed to remain after the show. Some have been replaced –
such as the Otto Frei-designed wood lattice-framed restaurant which was destroyed by
storms. Others have been enlarged – such as the lake-side stage (Seebühne) whose
capacity was increased to around 1,000; and new ones have been added – such as the
cactus and butterfly facilities completed in 1996, and the KlangOase – ‘Sound Oasis’ – a
60-square-metre space playing calming music, now one of the most visited parts of the
park.

MANAGEMENT AND USAGE7

Managing organization
The Luisenpark and Herzogenriedpark are both managed by Stadtparks Mannheim
gGmbH – a company 99.9 per cent owned by the city. It is run by a board of eight city
elders or council members and chaired by the mayor or a delegate, while a director / CEO
is responsible for operations. A ‘Friends’ group was established in 1984. Thirty years later
it had over 1,700 members (www.foerderkreis-luisenpark.de). The group is informed and
consulted when appropriate by the management company on any changes in the park but it
has no decision-making powers. Its principal roles are to generate interest in the park and
to act as a fund-raising body for one-off improvements. The group has donated features
such as the rope bridges across the northern arm of the lake and a medicinal plant garden.
Funding and expenditure
The total operating costs of Stadtparks Mannheim gGmbH in 2011 were in the order of
€10.6 million – of which €5.9 million (55 per cent) came direct from the city council
while the other €4.7 million was raised independently, particularly from entrance fees
totalling about €3.3 million. In 2011 the company had a total of around 250 employees
including around thirty administrative staff – relatively large numbers for two relatively
small parks, and testimony to their high standards of maintenance.
Usage
Stadtparks Mannheim gGmbH has sold more than 40,000 season tickets each year since
1975 (when 186,000 were sold). The annual number of visits to the Luisenpark has
remained constant at between 1.1 and 1.3 million. Levels are generally lower in years of
poorer weather and when entry prices are raised. The vast majority of visitors live within
200 kilometres of Mannheim and around 53 per cent of all visits begin at the main
entrance, where there is more car parking – suggesting that heavier usage is made by
people from areas other than the city centre.

Freizeitwiese – ‘Free Time Meadow’ in northeast of park (July 2012)

PLANS FOR THE PARK

Preservation
The principal plan for the Luisenpark continues to be to keep it as near as possible to the
way it was at the close of the Bundesgartenschau. Two measures are taken to ensure that
this remains the case. First, it is a condition of the manager’s contract of employment that
s/he does not alter the layout, function or character of the park. Second, Horst Wagenfeld
is still consulted on all proposed amendments to the original design. This practice feeds
into the view, supported by a marketing study commissioned from the University of
Darmstadt, that the Luisenpark is a principal contributor to the ‘emotive appeal’ of the
city. And, as part of promoting the park’s wider civic role, significant street planting has
been done along Augusta-Anlage – on the axis of the water tower – and along
Schubertstrasse – leading to the park – in order to create more visual integration between
the park and city centre. The city has also submitted a successful bid to stage another
Bundesgartenschau in 2023 – on 65 hectares of a 500-hectare United States military base
scheduled to be relinquished in 2016 – narrowly achieving majority support for the
proposal in a plebiscite in September 2013.
Wildlife
One of the main selling points of the Luisenpark is its wide collection of domesticated
animals and its exotic and native bird life. The importance attached to them is reflected in
the staff numbers that are allocated to their upkeep and the copious records that are kept of
all wildlife in the park. The mainly exotic character of the bird life is ‘designed’ to be in
harmony with the garden-like character of the park. Many of the native species have made
their own way into the park – including a colony of storks that is now the largest in any
urban park in southern Germany, with a record sixty-nine chicks hatched in 2012. The
pink flamingoes, by contrast, are introduced and have their wings clipped to prevent flight.
Their numbers are also increasing. This eclectic mix of native and exotic, domesticated
and wild, plant and animal species fulfils the Stadtparks Mannheim gGmbH brief but does
not necessarily satisfy demands for more native species and more naturalistic management
regimes. The view of the managers remains that there are many other opportunities in
Mannheim to develop such regimes but that there is little scope for them in the
Luisenpark.
CONCLUSIONS
The Luisenpark is a remarkable example of preservation by popular demand of a latter-
day park design. The basic layout owes a lot to the figure-of-eight circuit around a central
lake exemplified by St James’s Park. An outstanding feature of the design is the pedestrian
circulation system with its combination of direct straight lines and flowing curves. It is
clinically effective in routing visitors towards the hub of the park – the buildings and
display areas at the southeast end of the lake – at the same time as creating a hierarchy of
paths that link other focal points – such as the double bridge and the omnipresent
telecommunications tower – in an apparently effortless and inevitable way.
The Luisenpark is as much a preserved garden show as it is a public park. This brings
about many garden-like conditions – such as being solely for human visitors on foot and
the flexibility of freely available, movable individual seats and recliners, and a large
unprogrammed lawn area. It sets impeccable standards of horticultural display and
landscape maintenance. It demonstrates the benefits of retaining existing mature trees in
the design of new landscapes and the effectiveness of a stretched water body and tightly
pulled landform together with new planting to create clearly defined spaces. It also
demonstrates the benefits of retaining the services of the original designer. If the Parque de
María Luisa (Chapter 12) is the doyenne of early twentieth-century public gardens, then
the Luisenpark is a leading example of that genre from the late twentieth century.
NOTES
1 This account largely drawn from Eisenhuth 1991.
2 This account largely drawn from Grebe 1975.
3 Panten 1987: 41 noted that the Bundesgartenschauen in Dortmund (1959 / 69), Essen (1965) and Karlsruhe (1967)
also continued to charge for entry.
4 This account largely drawn from Eisenhuth 1991.
5 This account largely drawn from Schmidt-Baumler 1975: 45–6.
6 Noted at meeting with Joachim Költzsch, Stefan Auer and Renate Fernando of Stadtparks Mannhein gGmbH and
Horst Wagenfeld on 9 July 2012.
7 Material on management and usage from Joachim Költzsch of Stadtparks Mannhein gGmbH on 9 July 2012.
14 Vondelpark, Amsterdam
(47 hectares / 120 acres)
INTRODUCTION
The Vondelpark is the de facto Central Park of Amsterdam, the capital and most populous
city in The Netherlands. It too is a long, skinny, inwardly focused nineteenth-century
pleasure ground providing a romantic contrast to its surrounding urban grid. Built in a
series of southwesterly extensions, it follows the alignment of the peat polder parcels
radiating out from the seventeenth-century city limit described by the semi-circular
Singelgracht canal. As the city expanded, the demand for recreational space grew. The
Vondelpark was established immediately outside this ring, under the initial name Rij-en
Wandelpark – Riding and Walking Park – and then Nieuwe Park – New Park (de Jong et
al. 2008: 84; Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 270). It was renamed Vondelpark in 1880 after
the statue of poet and playwright Joost van den Vondel (1587–1679) installed there in
1867.
Originally ‘planned and realized by a consortium of wealthy citizens on the same lines
as Regent’s Park in London, which may have been their inspiration’ (Hall 2010: 238), it
was taken into public ownership in the 1950s. The financial demands of maintaining a
major park on reclaimed peat polder in a suburbanizing city were onerous. The park
languished. Then, in 1996, when the population of post-industrial cities in western Europe
was once again rising, the Vondelpark was designated as a rijksmonument – state
monument – one of the first urban parks in The Netherlands to be so recognized. This
designation launched a major renovation programme implemented between 2001 and
2010 with the express purpose of achieving a balance between historic preservation and
the accommodation of intensive use (Amsterdam Oud Zuid 2001: 6). The park currently
receives more than 16 million visits per year.
The renovation programme was congruent with the tenets of the city council’s
subsequent Structural Vision: Amsterdam 2040. Ratified in 2011, the Structural Vision
included a proposal to build 70,000 new dwellings within the existing boundaries of the
city – a proposal that was only deemed feasible ‘if we simultaneously invest in public
space, public transport and greenery’ (City Alderman Maarten van Poelgeest in Lauwers et
al. 2011: 3). This re-echoes the concern of civic leaders in the 1860s, when the park was
first proposed, about ‘wealthy citizens fleeing the city – a concern made all the more real
by the development of the railways’ (Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 274). But at that time
they left park development to the private sector.
HISTORY
Designation as a park
By the 1830s strolling paths had already been created in Haarlem and Utrecht on the lines
of their former city walls (Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 258). Demand for similar facilities
arose in Amsterdam. The first plans for a park-related real estate venture came from a
medical doctor, Samuel Sarphati (1813–66). Displaying ‘a mixture of commercialism and
social commitment that was typical of the times’ (Hall 2010: 237), Sarphati’s project ran
into financial difficulty and all that remains is the 4.8 hectare – also now city-owned –
Sarphatipark, a kilometre or so to the east of the Vondelpark. The Vondelpark itself also
began as a commercial venture. Initiated by banker and philanthropist Christiaan Pieter
van Eeghen (1816–89), who established the Vereeniging tot Aanleg van een Rij-en
Wandelpark te Amsterdam (Society for the Construction of a Riding and Walking Park in
Amsterdam) in 1864, it was conceived ‘with an eye to general public health, but also as a
backdrop for a planned suburban residential development for wealthy Amsterdammers’
(Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 258).

Part of riverine lake system (July 2012)

Wagenaar quoted then Mayor Jan Messchert van Vollenhoven (1812–81 – Mayor 1858–
66) as saying ‘although willing to admit that everybody likes greenery, I’m also convinced
that people like to be compensated for loss of ownership. People’s love for money exceeds
their love for parks’ (Wagenaar 2011: 147). Nevertheless, City Engineer J. G. van Niftrik’s
Uitsbreidinsplan, presented in 1867, ‘showed for the first time a definite pattern of city
parks’ (Chadwick 1966: 302), including the Vondelpark as one of a series of parks on the
outer side of the Singelgracht. That plan was ‘indubitably an impressive attempt to create
a town planned in detail, in which nothing was to be lacking’ (Hall 1997: 239). It
responded to grossly unhygienic living conditions and ‘was based on a network of streets
ranging from 18 to 32 metres in width … coinciding with underground sanitation systems’
(Wagenaar 2011: 148). It was rejected by the city council as being ‘too ambitious’ and
beyond their legal capacity to implement. In short, it failed because it collided with the
virtual inviolability of land ownership (ibid: 148).
Van Niftrik’s plan was followed by the more pragmatic General Expansion Plan for
Amsterdam, prepared in 1875 by Director of Works J. Kalff. His plan, drawn up in
consultation with van Niftrik, sought ‘to synthesize developments that were already under
way, [rather] than to steer developments itself’ and to provide streets to service those
developments (Hall 2010: 240). It was produced against a background of a population
increase ‘from approximately 224,000 to 511,000 during the second half of the nineteenth
century’ (ibid: 239). Growth in the first half of the century had been much slower, perhaps
because of the insanitary living conditions in the city. Kalff’s plan incorporated the
Vondelpark but ‘only two smaller parks were suggested, as islands amidst dense
concentric rings of development’ (Chadwick 1966: 303). These eventually became the
imaginatively named Oosterpark and Westerpark. But it was not until the Expansion Plan
of 1935 that green space became a major element for structuring Amsterdam (see Chapter
29) – an approach that fuels the current policy of marketing the city on the strength of its
public space.
Restored bandstand (July 2012)
Vondelpark, Amsterdam
1 Amstelveenseweg
2 Willemspark
3 Rose Garden
4 Children’s Play Pool
5 Picasso Meadow
6 Tennis Courts
7 Open Air Theatre
8 Bandstand
9 ’t Blauwe Theehuis
10 Hippie Meadow
11 Vondel Statue
12 Vondelpark Pavilion
13 P.C. Hooftstraat
14 Stadhouderskade

Size and condition of site at time of designation

The Vondelpark lies in a peat polder landscape reclaimed since the ninth century from
bogs that ‘developed behind the beach ridges throughout what are today the provinces of
North and South Holland’ (Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 264). It is in the Binnedijkse
Buitenveldertse polder, part of the Haarlemmermeer complex, where a ‘cluster of parcels’
over 1,000 metres long ‘formed the base of the future park’ (ibid: 264). This pattern of
long, thin strips is defined by drainage ditches running perpendicular to the IJ (see plan in
Chapter 7). It was disrupted by the concentric extension of the city following approval in
1609 of proposals for its expansion and fortification (ibid: 266). These proposals included
construction of the Singelgracht as the outermost canal, and adjacent fortifications.
Until 1858 Amsterdammers could promenade in the Plantage – ‘a series of fifteen
privately held gardens with avenues between them’ located inside the Singelgracht on the
east side of the city (Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 270). That year the city sold the land and
permitted building in the Plantage. This prompted Van Eeghen’s interest in available land
in the Binnedijkse Buitenveldertse polder, directly outside the Singelgracht. The first
phase of the park, comprising 10 hectares, was commenced in 1865 and opened to the
public in June that year. But, from the outset it was envisaged that the park would extend
to the Amstelveenseweg, the eventual west end of the park – some two kilometres from
the Singelgracht – where country homes were already established. A further six hectares
were added in 1867 and another 16 hectares in 1872. The final stage of park construction,
from the now-removed cross-street Kruitwetering to the Amstelveenseweg, was
completed in 1876. It took until 1883 for commencement of residential buildings in the
adjacent Willemspark area on the south side of the park.
The Vondelpark was built on the bed of the polder at a level of NAP (Normaal
Amsterdams Peil – Normal Amsterdam Level, the level between average high and average
low tides) –2.45 metres. It has an average ground level of NAP –1.6 metres and the level
of water bodies in the park is NAP –2.45 metres compared with overall ground levels in
the city of between NAP +0.6 and –0.6 metres. Streets on the north side of the park were
constructed higher than the park; those on the south side – Van Eeghenstraat,
Koninginneweg and in the Willemspark area – were constructed lower in order to
establish strong connection with the park and, of course, to make properties there more
marketable (Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 274). The park continues to sink at a rate of up to
ten millimetres each year.
Since the park’s inception, it has been essential to manage groundwater levels in and
around it in order to address the threats presented by the underlying peat soils. Too much
water can lead to waterlogging of trees and/or flooding of adjacent properties; too little
water can lead to further shrinkage of the peat, exposure and rotting of wood piles and the
collapse of structures and trees. Stability has been achieved by maintaining what is
effectively a ring canal around the park at a level midway between ground levels in the
park and in adjacent streets, and building a three-metre-deep wall between the park and
the streets on the higher, northern side. Water levels can then be managed appropriately on
either side of the wall. Additionally, settlement and oxidation of the peat soils have caused
the park to sink further since its original construction (Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 278).
This has necessitated ‘total renovation each 30 years’
(www.amsterdam.info/parks/vondelpark).
East–west cycle route (July 2012)

Key figures in establishment of the park

Three leading figures behind the initial establishment of the park were the already
mentioned: Christian Pieter van Eeghen (1816–89) and the father and son designers
Johann David Zocher, Jr (1791–1870) and Louis P. Zocher (1820–1915). Philanthropist
and director of the Nederlandsche Bank, van Eeghen was the principal founding member
of the Vereeniging when it was established in 1864. There seems little question that he and
the other members of the Vereeniging were engaged in the venture as much for profit from
adjacent housing as for improved public health and welfare. These motives are reflected in
the set-up of the later developments in the Willemspark and, the unsurprisingly named,
van Eeghenstraat areas.
The Vereeniging provided one-third of the money for purchase in 1865 of the first 10
hectares (25 acres) of the park, with 938 other donors also making contributions. Another
120,000 guilders was collected for the purchase in 1867 of the next 6 hectares. The third
collection, for the expansion in 1872 by another 16 hectares, fell short of its target and led
to the Vereeniging purchasing and re-selling pastureland near the park for housing – for
example, P. C. Hooftstraat at its eastern end (Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 270). Slowly, as
the land adjacent to the park became built out, the city began to take on responsibilities for
the park, such as, in 1912, responsibility for pumping systems to ensure proper
management of the groundwater. Eventually, in 1953, the Vereeniging – with increasing
levels of park usage but limited disposable assets and limited income – could not afford to
maintain the park and donated it to the city.
The Zochers were a Haarlem-based dynasty of designers and horticulturists of German
descent. They were involved with the design of the park, of park buildings and of adjacent
housing developments, and with the management of the park from its inception until at
least 1887 (ibid: 280; Taylor 2006: 528). Johann David Zocher Sr (1763–1817) had been a
court architect to Louis Napoléon Bonaparte and Johann David Jr studied at the École des
Beaux-Arts in Paris, in Rome and in London – where, in 1838, he became an early
member of the recently founded RIBA. Apparently they ‘regarded themselves first and
foremost as architects’ (Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 260). Nevertheless, the Zochers did
operate their own plant nursery near Haarlem, which supplied the initial trees and shrubs
for the Vondelpark. And it is reported that in spring 1887 Johann David Jr conducted a tree
inspection with park directors with a view to significant thinning – an event that continues
to be conducted annually (ibid: 280).
One other individual who had a significant effect on the design of the park, albeit
temporary, was landscape architect Egbert Mos. Following transfer of the park to the city,
Mos was responsible for refurbishment undertaken in 1959. This resulted in the watering
down of the original design. The intention was to mechanize and reduce the cost of
maintenance and to make the park better equipped to withstand heavier levels of usage.
Mos’s work resulted in the local raising of ground levels, straightening of paths, and
replacement of established trees with fast-growing species (ibid: 284). Latterly, between
2001 and 2010, under the direction of landscape architects Michael van Gessel and Quirijn
Verhoog, and with input from landscape historian Erik de Jong, the park has been steered
back towards the Zocher’s original design.

Gates at Stadhouderskade entrance (September 2013)

PLANNING AND DESIGN

Location
The park was strategically located at the edge of the seventeenth-century city – where it
would be easily accessible to inner-city residents and could become the focal point of new,
lower-density housing. In this respect it followed the example of Central Park. Now, of
course, it occupies a central position within the city – close to the historic core, to the
tourist-thronged Museumkwartier and to high-end stores on P. C. Hooftstraat. And it is
surrounded by high-cost housing. The long, thin shape and radial alignment of the park
also make it an ideal cycle-commuting route between the city centre and inner suburbs.
The iamamsterdam website, a portal provided by the City and an amalgam of tourist
and business interests, is less circumspect in its description of the area. It described
Amsterdam Oud Zuid (Old South) as ‘the poshest neighbourhood in Amsterdam … with a
decadent mix of culture and shopping … lodged between De Pijp and Amsterdam West’
beginning just south of Stadhouderskade, it ‘fans out to Amster dam’s Ring highway’ and
‘in a way it is a geographical mirror to the horseshoe formed by the canal ring’
(www.iamamsterdam). The name Oud Zuid was applied colloquially to just the
Museumkwartier and Willemspark areas; then, in 1990, the stadsdelen (borough or
district) of Amsterdam Zuid was formed by combining that smaller area with a number of
surrounding areas. That entity lasted until 1998 when the Oud Zuid District was formed.
And in 2010, when city government was reorganized from fourteen to seven districts, Oud
Zuid became part of the larger Amsterdam Zuid. The districts were absorbed into a unitary
City Council in March 2014.
Original design concept
Dutch landscape architects Clemens Steenbergen and Wouter Reh described the original
character of the park as ‘a carriage and pedestrian park in nature, with a cultural purpose’
and suggested that the Zochers sought to ‘imitate a natural river landscape, but on a flat
plain’ (Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 280, 278). They also referred to the influence of
Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown (1716–83) on the planting design, and suggested that the
Zochers’ ‘design tools were borrowed from the English landscape parks … and
transformed into public parks’ (ibid: 258). They did acknowledge, however, that the
original design was not altogether derivative, describing it as ‘an entirely unique form: the
polder park as a nature idyll for the Low Lands’ (ibid: 284).
The most striking difference between the Vondelpark and English landscape parks is the
extent and complexity of its water bodies. Where the introduction and manipulation of
water in an English landscape park was often an expensive luxury, in Amsterdam water
management is a necessity. Although the water system looks like a series of small lakes, it
is in fact a continuous meandering stream that runs from Stadhouderskade to the
Amstelveenesweg (Amsterdam Oud Zuid 2001: 10). And if the planting is redolent of
‘Capability’ Brown’s work, the Zochers’ skinny sinuous water bodies are redolent of the
curving arms of the Nash-designed / Repton-influenced arms of the boating lake in
Regent’s Park. Overall, the influence of earlier public parks designs – particularly for
parks in Paris and London, where Johann David Zocher Jr studied – is readily apparent.
The park still reflects differences from east to west as a result of its phased
development, and from north to south as a result of imperatives for groundwater
management and intentions towards adjacent residences. As a consequence, the east end
of the park feels more tightly developed and more heavily used whereas the west end feels
more open and more casual. The sense of constriction at the eastern end is exaggerated by
the narrowness of the panhandle between the Stadhouderskade entrance and the main
park, and by the road bridge across the park, completed in 1947. The south side of the
park still reflects the original intention of the Willemspark area on the south side being the
‘front door’ to the park.
Spatial structure, circulation system and landform
In many respects, the layout of the Vondelpark applies an amalgam of then current
approaches to park design to a very distinctive landscape type – an imitation of a natural
river landscape on a flat plain with concave lawns designed to direct views into higher
clumps of trees (Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 278). This suggests a relatively dramatic use
of landform. It can be argued, however, that it is the combined effect of the enclosing belts
and clumps of trees, revealing and concealing the relatively flat and extensive meadow
areas, that generate the spatial structure of the park, and that the ubiquity of the water
suggests a wetland as much as a river valley. The extent and complexity of the water
bodies give the park its distinctive character.
Steenbergen and Reh also suggested that ‘the lines of the paths and the pond banks’ are
reminiscent of ‘an early prefiguration of Art Nouveau’ (ibid: 278). The form of the water
bodies is certainly redolent of Alphand’s arcing geometry in the Parc des Buttes-
Chaumont (Chapter 10). But, the fundamental figure-of-eight layout of the principal routes
through and around the park – the ‘lanes’ – is more reminiscent of the gentler
configuration of paths in the Nash / Repton design for St James’s Park. The seven bridges
are another important feature of the park – both in and of themselves and as raised
viewpoints. And, like the long, skinny Central Park, almost continuous tree planting
around the edges of the park directs the view inward along the length of the park and
across the meadows and water bodies rather than outward to the surrounding city. So, it
seems reasonable to suggest that the Zochers’ design represented a comfortable
combination of enduring romantic and emerging Art Nouveau forms with the pragmatic
demands of draining a depressed park on relatively flat, shrinkable peat soils.
Renovation of the park between 2001 and 2010
The most recent plan for renovation of the Vondelpark went hand-in-hand with its
designation in 1996 as a national monument. That designation reflected the historic
significance of the park and led, almost inevitably, to the heritage-based plan for ‘the
renovation and sustainable management of a living monument’ (Amsterdam Oud Zuid
2001). The plan developed organically over three years – including a year each for taking
stock of the physical condition of the park and for studying patterns of use. Definitive
proposals were commenced in March 2001 and adopted that December. It was intended to
give a clear insight for the Oud Zuid (Old South) district, the City of Amsterdam, the
national cultural heritage authority, water management agencies and other bodies to the
immediate and ongoing cost of retrieving the park from the functionalist interventions in
the 1950s and 1960s, and to maintaining historical integrity while continuing to be one of
the most heavily used parks in the country.
The renovation and management plan noted that the changes after 1959 simplified the
path system, replaced the rose garden (from 1936), and generally facilitated the
accommodation of larger numbers of visitors, such that by the late 1960s / early 1970s the
park had become a hippie hangout – a place where ‘almost anything goes’. By 1996, it
was noted, the park was suffering from increased wear and tear of paths and of grass areas
– particularly through their use for sports, larger numbers of cyclists passing through the
park, trees and shrubs becoming overgrown and dying back, diminishing coherence of tree
groves, blurring of the path hierarchy, and water bodies losing their original shape. The
plan was based on addressing eight ‘thematic layers’ for the restoration of the park –
water, landform, grasslands, paths, shrubs, trees, architectural elements, and facilities, as
well as ‘more general technical aspects that permeate all these “layers”’ (Amsterdam Oud
Zuid 2001: 15).
The water bodies had less continuity than in the original design and proposals included
returning them to their original form, increasing their visibility from adjacent paths, and
removing one of the fountains added in the 1950s. Images from the end of the nineteenth
century show banks rising gently from the water bodies. This ‘created the illusion of a
natural and endless landscape’ whereas, at the beginning of the twenty-first century, the
landform was ‘more or less a flat pancake with high banks’ (ibid: 20). The principle here,
then, was to reinstate the original landform and recreate the illusion of land draining
towards the water bodies without making slopes so steep that they would preclude casual
ball games. Equally, it was proposed that the water bodies themselves should have steeper
banks on the outside of bends and shallower banks on the inside in order to mimic the
natural morphology of erosion and deposition.
Two types of grassland were envisaged. In the earliest constructed, more intensively
used areas at the east end of the park, more durable, intensively managed and regularly
mowable seed mixes were proposed. This was intended to reflect the original character
around the statue of Vondel and to accommodate the large number of people using these
areas. By contrast, the western areas towards Amstelveenseweg were seen as being more
rural in character and it was envisaged that some of the meadows should comprise tall
grasses and herbs, particularly on the edges of woodland and water areas, ‘to strengthen
the illusion of natural landscape’ (ibid: 22). The renovation proposals included re-
establishment of the original main ‘lanes’ around the park as tree-lined avenues for
cyclists and with footpaths on each side, while the central areas of the park would be
planted with scattered trees. Individual large trees rarely reach a great age in the
Vondelpark. The high water table and relatively soft soils make them susceptible to wind
damage. Large healthy trees were therefore retained as part of the renovation works,
unless they blocked important sight lines or the reshaping of the water-courses (ibid: 32).
The proposals also addressed frequent ponding on the paths and proposed re-profiling and
re-surfacing with crushed limestone.
Restored bridge (September 2013)

Architectural elements within the park – buildings, sculptures, bridges, gates and fences
– were regarded in the renovation plan as ‘jewellery’ contributing to the illusion of a
romantic landscape (ibid: 34). Nevertheless it was determined that there should be no new
buildings, and that artworks only belong where they enhance the landscape. The seven
bridges, five of which are national monuments in their own right, are seen as
‘indispensable elements in the landscape’ both for their intrinsic merit and for the views
that they provide (ibid: 34). The plan called for their repair and for re-establishment of the
illusion of them crossing a flowing brook. Equally, any replacement of gates and fences
was to be based on the original wrought iron designs for these elements.
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Managing organization
Responsibility for management of the park transferred directly from the previous district –
Amsterdam Oud Zuid, formed in 1998 – to the Amsterdam Zuid district, formed in 2010
when fourteen districts were consolidated into seven larger districts. The concern for the
condition of the artifactual elements within the park that was expressed in the Renovation
Plan, adopted by the district of Amsterdam Oud Zuid in 2001, was underpinned by a clear
set of management and maintenance principles. These principles have continued to be
applied by the district of Amsterdam Zuid as the managing organization. The ultimate
owner of the park is the City of Amsterdam. The city government was due to be reunified
in 2014, returning the park to being the direct responsibility of the City Council.
Willemspark edge of park (July 2012)

Management principles
The stated principle behind the management of the park was described as ‘Sustainable
Management’ (Amsterdam Oud Zuid 2001: 44–51). This, though, should be seen as a
tactical objective in support of the strategic aim of balancing the – often competing –
demands of protecting the historical integrity of a heavily used park on a horticulturally
and hydrologically challenging site. Beyond the satisfaction of those demands, the
Renovation Plan called for maintenance practices that would ensure regular garbage
collection, well-surfaced and well-drained paths, use of materials from sustainable
sources, aerated and well-drained grass areas, variation in the age and species of plants
and animals – including adoption of different mowing regimes for grass areas, provision
of underground support for key, longer living species of broadleaf tree – particularly oak
and beech, maintenance of a general air of naturalness and environmentally sensitive
approaches to biomass and water sediment disposal.
Funding
The renovation of the Vondelpark was estimated in 2001 to cost 51 million Dutch guilders
excluding work on the buildings but including professional fees and taxes (Amsterdam
Oud Zuid 2001: 52). The estimate was based on water bodies Fl 12.6 million (24.7 per
cent); site structures, bridges, fences, furniture, lighting etc. Fl 25.6 million (50.3 per
cent); hard surfaces Fl 7.9 million (15.6 per cent); planting works Fl 4.8 million (9.4 per
cent). The eventual cost of the works was €30 million, which when taking into account
inflation would have been approximately 55 million guilders. In other words, the estimates
were very accurate and/or management of the project was commendably efficient. The
funds were provided by City of Amsterdam €12 million (40 per cent); Amsterdam Oud
Zuid / Zuid €12 million (40 per cent); National Office of Cultural Heritage €3.5 million
(11.6 per cent); water authorities €2 million (6.6 per cent); donations €0.5 million (1.6 per
cent).
The annual cost of maintaining the park after these works was estimated in 2001 at 3.16
million guilders (roughly €1.5 million). Costs in 2012 were in the order €2.02 million.
Inevitably, an intensively used park on a vulnerable reclaimed landscape set significantly
lower than surrounding terrain also requires regular monitoring of groundwater conditions
by water authorities. And, in order to attract private donations, foundations have been
established for provision of site furniture and to support the rose garden, and it is even
possible to buy virtual sections of the park as a gift.
User characteristics
Surveys of user numbers suggest figures of seven million per year in 1989; nine million
per year in 1998; over ten million per year in 2006 and again, after the renovation work
(most of which occurred between 2007 and 2010), over 16 million per year – or thirty-two
people per square metre per year. The park is never closed and as user numbers have
increased, crime levels in the park have fallen. Indeed, it is testimony to the idea of use
driving out abuse that the Vondelpark has become a major place of rendezvous for first
dates, giving it a high heat level on maps of ‘sex in the city’. But, at times when the park is
particularly full – such as sunny summer weekends – tensions have arisen between
different groups, leading to proposals to move attractions and activities away from the
(always busier) eastern end of the park.1
PLANS FOR THE PARK
The importance of parks to the development and marketing of Amsterdam is reflected in
the centrality of public space and greenery to Structural Vision: Amsterdam 2040.
Whereas parks were previously seen as areas that contrasted with the surrounding city,
they are now regarded as ‘green squares’ with specific roles in attracting new businesses
and new citizens to the city, or to remain in the city. Clearly current intentions for the
Vondelpark itself remain much as they were when the Renovation Plan was approved in
2001 and successfully acted on over the following decade. Nevertheless, the Structural
Vision already suggests changing prospects for the park.
CONCLUSIONS
The Vondelpark remains the de facto Central Park of Amsterdam. It has enjoyed and
endured transitions from piecemeal private development as a lure for real estate
development to being the centrepiece of a public space strategy for the promotion of the
city as a liveable landscape. It reflects, as much as any other example, the demand in the
twenty-first century for parks to perform multiple, often conflicting roles as heritage icons
and as increasingly popular public spaces in increasingly densely developed inner cities.
Above and beyond that, managers of the Vondelpark have to address the challenges of it
being 2.45 metres below normal water levels – and sinking.
 Major investment in renovation of the Vondelpark over the first decade of the century
has fine-tuned its form and condition so that it has a fighting chance to face these
challenges. But its demise – both before and after it became a publicly owned park in the
1950s – serve as a constant reminder of its vulnerability. Vulnerability to its groundwater
conditions; to its underlying soil conditions; to dilution of its heritage value; to excessive
demand for its use as a social hub. But, despite these challenges, the Vondelpark remains,
first and foremost, a magnificent piece of manufactured nature enjoyed by many millions
each year.
NOTE
1 Numbers provided by Quirijn Verhoog, Landscape Architect for Amsterdam Zuid at meeting on 3 July 2012 and by
email on 19 August 2013.
15 Parc de la Villette, Paris
(55 hectares / 136 acres)
INTRODUCTION
Parc de la Villette was one of the Grands Projets sponsored by François Mitterand (1916–
96 – President 1981–95). Proclaimed from the outset ‘the urban park for the twenty-first
century’, it has brought near-messianic status, primarily from a phalanx of architects, to its
designer Bernard Tschumi (b. 1944), and almost universal opprobrium from landscape
architects. The open space occupies 35 hectares of a 55-hectare former industrial site
abutting the Boulevard Périphérique in northeast Paris. The remainder of the site is
occupied by the Cité des Sciences et de l’Industrie – a national science museum primarily
located in the converted 1960s abattoir building; the converted nineteenth-century Grande
Halle – also a former abattoir; the purpose-built Conservatoire de Paris (1990), the Cité
de la Musique (1995), and the Philharmonie de Paris (2014). It is the largest public park
in central Paris. The three parts of la Villette – science, music and park – are under the
direction of three different organizations, each answerable to different ministers of the
national government.
The design of the park was the outcome of an international competition staged in 1982–
83. It attracted 472 entries from thirty-seven countries, overwhelming the panel of twenty-
one judges (Barzilay et al. 1984: 6). The panel called for second submissions from nine
shortlisted joint winners – two architects and seven landscape architects. The eventual
winner was French-Swiss architect Bernard Tschumi. His submission was an essay in the
architectural theory of ‘deconstruction’ and/or ‘disjunction’. It comprised three layers – a
grid of ‘points’ (bright red metal folies) and a series of ‘lines’ describing ‘surfaces’ – the
very flat, geometric prairies. The design derived from postmodern literary analysis rather
than from land-scape or architectural design precedents and prefigured the emergence of
computer technology capable of representing this type of layering. Indeed, the drawings
‘were brilliantly conceived and included an exploded axonometric view that masterfully
conveyed the design concept’ (Treib 1995: 52).
Tschumi stated that his park ‘could be conceived as one of the largest buildings ever
constructed’ (Tschumi 1987: 1) and that it was a ‘tabula rasa approach, as opposed to
following the genius loci or context’ (in Hardingham and Rattenbury 2012: 57). Elizabeth
Meyer argued that Tschumi’s design ‘is not an avant-garde piece of landscape design’ but
that ‘it may expand architecture’s boundaries to include the park, but it does not expand
the boundaries of landscape design’ although it ‘is also a substantial critique of landscape
design that is wallowing in kitsch and in the image of the Picturesque’ (Meyer 1991: 26).
Other commentators were less complimentary. John Dixon Hunt described the park as
‘silly’ (Hunt 1992: 229); Geoffrey Jellicoe observed that English landscape architects
would have placed Tschumi’s design last out of the nine second stage submissions ‘and
indeed wondered why it was placed at all’ (Jellicoe 1983: 56), and architect Piers Gough,
in reviewing the Grands Projets, proclaimed that ‘hell will be like this; a place where
vicious intellects deny natural pleasures; where time off will be more mechanised than
time at work’ (Gough 1989: 28).
HISTORY
Development of la Villette
La Villette – literally ‘small town’ – is located on a plain between the hills of Buttes-
Chaumont and Montmartre.1 There were Roman and then medieval settlements in the
area. By the sixteenth century the area had 400 inhabitants. La Villette continued to
perform resort and agricultural functions during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
It was constituted as a municipality in 1790 following erection in 1785 of the city wall. La
Villette remained a separate market town with tax-free status and a thriving entertainment
industry. Shortage of water in Paris prompted Napoléon I (Emperor 1802–15) to order
construction of the 25-kilometre-long Canal de l’Ourcq to bring drinking water from the
River Ourcq to the 800 by 80 metre rectangular Bassin de la Villette. The canal was
opened in 1808. It was improved in 1812 to allow navigation and extended southward in
1821 (Canal St-Martin), and northward in 1827 (Canal St-Denis) to create a direct link to
the looping River Seine. By 1840, 15,000 boats per year were using the canals. The
reservoir still provides non-potable water to the city.

Canal de l’Ourcq (September 2013)

Between 1800 and 1859 the population of Paris grew from 547,000 to one million. In
1853 Napoléon III (emperor 1852–71) authorized Haussmann to orchestrate complete
reorganization of the city. In 1860 it was expanded from twelve to twenty arrondissements
(districts); eleven whole communes and parts of thirteen others were annexed. La Villette
was annexed to the 19th Arrondissement. This coincided with the construction of new
military defences on the line of the current Boulevard Périphérique and the concentration
of particular industrial activities into specified zones. Haussmann’s proposal for la Villette
combined a slaughterhouse and meat market for the whole city in one location. He
oversaw development of a 40-hectare complex that came to employ 3,000 people.
Haussmann regarded the project as an accomplishment parallel to his road-building
operations (Baljon 1992: 29). The 250 by 85 metre Grande Halle of the cattle market was
completed in 1867.
The ramparts were dismantled in 1919 and replaced by the – much expanded in the
1970s – Boulevard Périphérique. In 1923 the Canal St-Denis and the Canal de l’Ourcq
were deepened and their locks were lengthened. Despite its accessibility, business at the
abattoir declined from the beginning of the twentieth century. The equipment was
modernized in 1930 but a more serious threat arose in the 1950s with the growth of
refrigeration allowing livestock to be killed where they were reared. Nevertheless, a
decision was made in 1959 to demolish the dilapidated abattoir and build a new national
meat market – the 270 by 110 metre by 40-metre-high Grande Salle – on the site to the
north of the Canal de l’Ourcq. High-rise public housing was erected to the south of the
canal in the 1960s and the adjacent Grande Halle lay empty. Technical and financial
problems delayed completion of the new abattoir. It eventually opened in 1969 but only
operated until 1974.

Folie Ateliers Villette and Folie Canal (September 2013)

Designation and development of the park

Meanwhile, under a convention made with the national government in August 1970, the
City of Paris gave up all rights and obligations over la Villette and ceded the land and its
management to the state. The national government announced in October 1973 that the
slaughterhouses would cease operation in March 1974, and that the land would be
allocated for low-income housing, economic activities and a considerable area for social
and public facilities. Between 1974 and 1979 – under the presidency of Valéry Giscard
d’Estaing (b. 1926 – President 1974–81) – a design competition was staged and
abandoned, largely because of disagreement over the allocation of land between park and
housing. Investigations were made into the feasibility of converting the slaughterhouse
into a museum of science and industry, and into the development of an auditorium.
Finally, in October 1978, Giscard announced the decision to establish the Museum of
Science, an auditorium and a park.
In July 1979 the Établissement Public du Parc de la Villette (EPPV) was created.
During 1980 the design competition between twenty-seven French architects for
development of the science museum was staged and won by Adrien Fainsilber (b. 1933).
But little progress was made with the park until after the election in May 1981 of François
Mitterand. He visited the site in July that year and reaffirmed the mission of the EPPV. In
March 1982 he announced a programme of Grands Projets – major development
proposals for his (first) seven-year period in office. La Villette was sponsored under that
programme. The Museum of Science and the park were augmented by a greatly expanded
scope for the auditorium to become a Cité de la Musique including the Conservatoire
National Supérieur de la Musique. In May 1982 Minister of Culture Jacques Lang
announced the competition for the park. In August French architects Reichen and Robert
were appointed for restoration of the Grande Halle. In December the nine winners of the
park competition were announced. In March 1983 Bernard Tschumi was declared winner
of the second stage of the competition.
In January 1985 Mitterand opened the restored Grande Halle and in May that year he
opened the Géode – the 36-metre-diameter stainless steel-faced sphere directly south of
the Science Museum containing an IMAX cinema. In November 1985 Philippe Starck
won an international competition for the design of street furniture for the park. In March
1986 Mitterand returned to open the Science Museum itself and in October 1987 he was
back again to open the first section of the park. He made his final official visit in January
1995 to open the Cité de la Musique. Mean while, in 1993, the EPPV became the
Établissement Public du Parc et de la Grande Halle de la Villette (EPPGHV) and the
Établissement Public de la Cité de la Musique was created; setting them alongside the
Établissement Public de la Cité des Sciences, created in January 1985, as the bodies
responsible for running the three principal components at la Villette. Construction of the
park was completed in 1995.
Condition of site at time of designation
The 55-hectare site is more than one kilometre from north to south and more than 700
metres at its widest point. The site had been ‘completely built on or paved’ and ‘after the
demolition of various buildings, a surface layer of asphalt, concrete, sand, rubble and
fragments of foundations remained’ (Baljon 1992: 32). Baljon also noted that at greater
depths ‘there are layers of deposits, chiefly marl, between the hills of Montmartre and
Buttes-Chaumont. The uppermost layer consists of clay deposits and is seven metres thick.
This layer is scarcely porous’ and ‘can be dug to a depth of ten metres without
encountering groundwater’. Baljon noted the impact of the two existing buildings – but
not their micro-climatic effects – that the slopes of Buttes-Chaumont were visible to the
south, and that noise from the Péripherique was ‘constant and penetra ting’. The site was
‘defined by its waterways: the Ourcq Canal cuts the site horizontally in two … St Denis
Canal runs down the west side’ (Harding ham and Rattenbury 2012: 34). As Tschumi saw
it, ‘there was nothing to grab onto in order to start the project’ (ibid: 53).
Key figures in the establishment of the park
The two principal figures in the establishment of the park were President François
Mitterand and architect Bernard Tschumi. Comparisons with the endeavours of Napoléon
III and Baron Haussmann are inevitable. The fundamental difference, however, is that
whereas Haussmann was charged with changing the infrastructure of the whole city, the
Grands Projets were individual building projects that treated their sites as passive
recipients of monuments to ‘culture’. La Villette was the largest of these sites. And
Tschumi was very much the kind of designer whose theory-driven, acontextual, approach
suited Mitterand’s cultural programme. Tschumi has a culturally diverse background –
studying in Zurich and Paris, teaching in London and the United States. He came to the
project with relatively little practical experience and the competition provided him with an
excellent vehicle to project his theories of ‘disjunction’. Those theories revolved around
the disaggregation of architecture, architectural programming and the meaning of
architecture. Tschumi’s specific aim was ‘to prove that it was possible to construct a
complex architectural organization without resorting to traditional rules of composition,
hierarchy and order’ (Tschumi 1987: vii).
Tschumi’s investigations did not directly address issues in landscape architecture –
other than to make some broad generalizations about urban parks. This is a pity. There is,
for instance, a remarkable congruity between his ‘theoretical argument … those arrows of
movement, those movement vectors and those points of intensities’ (Hardingham and
Rattenbury 2012: 53) and Lawrence Halprin’s RSVP Cycles (1969) – also founded on
arguments about design for movement in space. Tschumi is clearly a radical thinker who
might contribute more to the discipline of landscape architecture if he were to investigate
it more fully, rather than resorting to silly asides such as ‘I actually don’t like nature very
much’ and ‘I hate green’ (Hardingham and Rattenbury 2012: 63, 87). His comment that
‘this was not a park that was trying to recreate nature, but rather a piece of the city’ (ibid:
57) explains, in part, why landscape architects find his proclamations so vexing. This
simplistic view of ‘nature’ leads to what Peter Latz saw as a failure to create a turning
point in landscape architecture – ‘there was no exploration of nature and the project
thereby delayed the development of landscape architecture by simply glorifying technical
progress again’ (Latz 2012: 17 – author’s translation).
Canal de l’Ourcq (September 2010)

PLANNING AND DESIGN

Location within city
The park is located at the northeastern edge of the tightly defined central area of Paris. It is
essentially a ‘transitional zone between the old city districts, with their dense and ordered
fabric, and the neighbouring suburban municipalities, whose development has been more
open and less ordered’ (Baljon 1992: 30). This ‘transitional zone’ has traditionally been a
primarily working-class residential area with a significant ethnic component (Tiévant
1996: 48). It sits between the Portes (Gates) de Pantin and de la Villette on the Boulevard
Périphérique. There are Metro stations near each of these gates. The location of the Cité
des Sciences to the north of the Canal de l’Ourcq and of the Cité de la Musique,
Conservatoire and Phil harmonie at the southern end of the site casts the park in the role
of a mall between two major anchors.
The competition brief
The briefing documents for the design competition were extraordinarily detailed. They
were driven by an overwhelming desire that the competition should generate a new model
for the urban park – an urban park for the twenty-first century. Arguments included that
whereas ‘in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries Parisian parks played a part in the
social life of the city … during the last thirty years urban open space had become green
space demonstrating impoverished social function and diminished creative considerations
… the Parisian park was dying and, since Haussmann, nothing new had been created …
the park had to combine urban planning and cultural innovation; it was to serve as a new
cultural instrument – it was to be part of an urban planning policy that completed the city
and opened it up to the suburbs … the cultural and symbolic reference for the park was
pluralism … it was to be an open air cultural facility’ (Baljon 1992: 37–9). The
programme paid particular attention to the need to address the relationship of the disparate
structures and activities proposed for the site and to integrate the development with its
neighbourhood.
Design concept
Tschumi’s design is based on the (extensively documented) structure of three
superimposed systems:
• Points – a grid of (now twenty-six) bright red metalfaced folies derived from a 10.8-
metre cubic module on a regular 120-metre grid across (and beyond) the site. The folies
– representing ‘disjunctions and dissociations between use, form and social values’ are
arranged in a point grid that ‘inherently suggests the bars of the asylum or prison’, that
‘articulates space and activates it’ and that ‘plays a political role, rejecting the
ideological a priori of the master plans of the past’ (Tschumi 1996: 174, 179). The folies
accommodate many of the programmatic requirements of the brief.
• Lines of pedestrian movement comprising two perpendicular galeries parallel with the
two canals; the sinuous ‘cinematic’ circuit of sequential views on a promenade through
(now twelve) individual theme gardens – each garden representing the cinematic frames,
and the walkway representing the sound track (Tschumi 1987: 12); and direct allées of
trees between the principal activity areas on the site.
• Surfaces – the largely flat, open-air activity areas of the site, largely surfaced with well-
maintained grass with residual spaces finished in traditional Parisian sealed gravel.
Tschumi’s team ‘chose the point grid because it gave us an enormous amount of
flexibility’ (in Hardingham and Rattenbury 2012: 55). In the event the grid of folies and
the perpendicular galeries line up very tidily with the orthogonal grid already established
by the massive nineteenth- and twentieth-century abattoir buildings and by the alignment
of the canals. Given the substantial presence of these artifacts, subservient geometric
manoeuvres were one of the main devices through which the park could engage with the
wider site. Tschumi’s first stage entry – without the galeries – was more adventurous than
the second-stage entry which was dominated by a regular, almost classical, axiality. The
galeries became the dominant element in the layout and reinforced the rigidity of the grid
of folies. Indeed, a publicity document on the ‘architecture’ of the park produced by the
EPPGHV in 1995 stated that the folies ‘punctuate the entire surface of the park and confer
a homogeneity and a tidy rhythm on it’. Not exactly what Tschumi seemed to be saying.
They are, however, its most iconic feature.
Thirty years after construction commenced, a number of the folies are obscured by the
maturing plane trees lining the allées. Ironically, the trees for which Tschumi cared so
little are helping to create the disjunction about which he wrote so much. There is also a
sense that as the (nearly 3,000) trees have grown, so has the collection of seats, signs and
showpieces – particularly along the north–south Galerie de la Villette. And Tschumi’s
cherished red on the folies has faded differentially as the EPPGHV struggles to maintain
and to find uses for them. Treib commented that the cinematographic circuit differed from
precedents such as Gordon Cullen’s serial vision in Townscape in that it dealt with
impressions of reality rather than with reality itself (Treib 1999).
Parc de la Villette, Paris
1 Porte de la Villette
2 Boulevard Macdonald
3 Cité des Sciences et de l’Industrie
4 Canal Saint Denis
5 Géode
6 Equestrian Centre
7 Cabaret Sauvage
8 Boulevard Périphérique
9 Prairie du Cercle
10 Canal de l’Ourcq
11 Folie Ateliers du Parc
12 Zénith Concert and Sports Hall
13 Trellised Garden
14 Bamboo and Sound Gardens
15 Seasonal Gardens
16 Grande Halle
17 Prairie du Triangle
18 Philarmonie de Paris
19 Place de la Fontaine aux Lions de Nube
20 Conservatoire de Paris
21 Cité de la Musique
22 Avenue Jean Jaurès
23 Halle aux cuirs

But the most intriguing places in the park are some of the ‘theme’ gardens that
punctuate this circuit – particularly Alexander Chemetoff’s Bamboo Garden – the largest
at 3,000 square metres, Bernard Leitner’s adjacent Sound Garden, and Gilles Vexlard’s
Trellised Garden. They are set below Tschumi’s Prairies. Well conceived but needing
relatively high levels of maintenance, the gardens provide a welcome change of level, and
a sense of escape; they play to the senses and create their own micro-climate, and then
exploit it. They reveal ‘what the park chooses to ignore: climate, earth, cycles of water,
and the networks of complexity that characterize the urban landscape’ (Berrizbeitia and
Pollak 1999: 62). Starck’s also iconic revolving aluminium seats are a welcome individual
feature; as are Claes Oldenburg’s gigantic bits of buried bicycle that appear through the
otherwise uneventful Prairie du Cercle. Elsewhere metal – Géode, galeries, folies, litter
bins, Starck’s seats – predominates.
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Managing organization
L’Établissement Public du Parc et de la Grande Halle de la Villette (EPPGHV) is a public
industrial and commercial establishment created in January 1993 and answering to the
Ministry of Culture and Communications. ‘The EPPGHV is responsible for the buildings
and land-scape areas of the park and their day-to-day management’, and for cultural
programming in the Grande Halle and smaller venues (www.villette.com). Actor /
Director Jacques Martial (b. 1955) was appointed president of the EPPGHV in 2006 and
reappointed in 2010. The Director General of the EPPGHV – in 2013, Florence Berthout –
is in charge of the park on a day-to-day basis. The responsibilities of the Établissement fall
into three main categories:
• programming (indoors and outdoors) seeking, in particular, to provide access to cultural
events (‘to feed the imagination’) for people with less money;
• co-property trustee – managing infrastructure (including power, security and signage)
for all operators within the park area;
• operator of the bookshop and a restaurant.2
There are two other public bodies directing activities at la Villette – la Cité des Science
et de l’Industrie (CSI), which comes under the remit of the Ministry of Industry, Post and
Telecommunications, and la Cité de la Musique (including the Conservancy), which falls
under the remit of the Ministry of Culture. Cooperation between the three public bodies is
dependent on a Council of Presidents that convenes bi-monthly on matters of a ‘supra-
institutional’ nature, including items such as promotion as a tourist destination, operation
of visitor season ticket initiatives, coordination of special events and major festivals.
There are also a number of autonomous cultural organizations operating smaller facilities
in the park.
Funding
Funding for the EPPGHV comes from a combination of government subvention,
concessions and events. In 1998 their running costs were FF 195.8 million (€29.9 million)
– of which FF 122.2 million (€18.7 million – 62.5 per cent) was state subvention and the
remaining FF 73.6 million (€11.2 million – 37.5 per cent) was mainly received from
charges to concessions and from events. The subvention was reduced from €22 million in
2006 to €20 million in 2013 – a significant reduction despite the need for intensive
renovation of the folies. The cuts have led to an increase in deferred maintenance and
pressure to raise more income.
Usage
It is estimated that the overall site of la Villette receives around ten million visits per year.
Figures for 1996 – the year after completion of the park construction – showed a total of
nine million with 3.6 million and 0.9 million respectively for the use of open spaces and
attendance at events (Cadoret and Lagrange 1996: 8). The park is regarded as being most
important to people living in the relatively densely developed nearby neighbourhoods,
‘who have grown up with it as their only garden’. Crime levels in the park are low and
there is more call for security measures on Avenue Jean Jaurès along the south side. The
openness of the park – having no boundary fence and always being open – is thought to
discourage crime whereas fencing might increase the sense of insecurity.3
PLANS
There is a continuing broad acceptance of Tschumi’s design which, under French droit
d’auteur legislation, can only be changed with the consent of the ‘artist’. But there is also
recognition of the need, after thirty years, to ‘change the face without changing the
character of the park’.4 Nevertheless, certain ambitions – such as constructing another
permanent bridge across the Canal de l’Ourcq – have been resisted by Tschumi. The main
issues confronting the park in 2013 were seen as ‘la crise’ (leading to severe reduction in
the government subvention); development of the Philharmonie (due to be completed in
2014); the Tramway 3B extension northeast of the park and the opportunities that this
offers.
The policies and proposals for the latter part of the 2010s were recorded in Agenda 21
du Parc de la Villette (Édition 2013). This was structured on the basis of United Nations
Agenda 21 (for the twenty-first century) with respect to sustainable development.
Principal changes within the park included:
• making sustainable development a pillar of the cultural project, including construction
 of eighteen lodgings for artists to the west of the Cité des Sciences. Cultural
programming cost €9.2 million in 2011;
• action to improve public information, visitor reception and accessibility – including
reviewing the role of the folies as poles of attraction. This is counter to Tschumi’s
intention that people should be able to get lost in the park – but he ‘recognized the need
to renovate … without compromising the overall design’. This will lead to a folie at the
northeast corner being taken back from the Cité des Sciences and converted into an
entry gate;5
• building a sustainable real estate strategy – particularly with respect to development at
the northeast of the park; construction of an energy-efficient administration building
plus a strong architectural gesture on the site of the Halle aux Cuirs and a new access to
the park from the poorer neigh bourhoods near the Halle;
• doing exemplary biodiversity and water management projects, including efficient
irrigation of the prairies; developing a new orchard of local fruit varieties near the site of
the Halle aux Cuirs, increasing the ecological dimension of the cinematic walk,
developing a wetland in the basin where the two canals meet, and creating – in the
Jardins Passagers, west of the Grande Halle – the largest ecological garden in Paris.

Trellis garden (September 2011)

CONCLUSIONS
Parc de la Villette was intended to be a model for the urban park of the twenty-first
century. The competition for its design attracted a huge number of entries. The winning
design by architect Bernard Tschumi has been widely documented – not least by him. His
theories were exciting, radical and iconoclastic (which is why it is covered in this
collection). The results on the ground do not justify the fanfare that preceded them.
‘Ultimately, there is precious little of genuine, that is to say experiential, interest as
landscape architecture … the ideas used to conceive the park are rich and evocative; the
experience on site is limited and spatially uninteresting’ (Treib 1995: 52). Meyer drew
attention to Tschumi’s ignorance of landscape history in the design of the park. She
suggested that his systems of points, lines and surfaces might benefit from a fourth system
– the landscape (Meyer 1991: 26). This ignorance of landscape architectural history is
manifest in Tschumi’s suggestion that parks are hortus conclusus and ‘the replica of
Nature’ (Tschumi 1996: 201). Tschumi missed and dismissed the role of the park as
interpreter of time and place. This denied him the opportunity to explore the relationship
of the (Parisian) urban dweller and nature in the twenty-first century. Instead, he produced
an ultimately unsatisfying exploration of non-place-specific architectural theories – a flat
open space between government cultural institutions.
Baljon did note, however, that Tschumi’s design is ‘exceptionally suited to involving
various designers (artists, architects, garden designers, industrial designers) in realizing
the plan’, including the work of Chemetoff, Leitner and Vexlard, ‘and that this is possibly
a true characteristic of the park of the twenty-first century’ (Baljon 1992: 212). And
current Agenda 21-based management proposals present the opportunity to add similar
gardens. Equally, the allées of plane trees are subsuming Tschumi’s sea of metal, the lawns
flood with people and the gardens complete the contrast with the city. ‘Hell’ is becoming
more relaxed. Overall, however, Parc de la Villette is not so much a new form of urban
park as a culturally programmed, architectural theory-driven, state-financed setting for
cultural facilities. Architects see the project as ‘seminal’ (Hardingham and Rattenbury
2012: 109). Others might see it as being another case of the emperor’s new clothes. It has
contributed a great deal of debate – but, as Latz noted, not much progress – on the
development of park design (Latz 2012: 17). Tschumi stated that ‘the difference between
the theorist and the practitioner … is that the theorist’s only responsibility is to his [sic]
theory’ (Barzilay et al. 1984: 19). Other park designers tend to recognize that they are
responsible for creating places for users rather than for themselves.
NOTES
1 This account largely drawn from Barzilay et al. (1984); Baljon (1992); Cadoret and Lagrange (1996); EPPGHV’s
Le Site de la Villette.
2 Noted at meeting with Florence Berthout at EPPGHV on 5 September 2013.
3 Noted at meeting with Florence Berthout at EPPGHV on 5 September 2013.
4 Noted at meeting with Florence Berthout at EPPGHV on 5 September 2013.
5 Noted at meeting with Florence Berthout at EPPGHV on 5 September 2013.
16 Birkenhead Park, Merseyside
(58 hectares / 143 acres)
INTRODUCTION
Birkenhead Park was the first publicly funded urban park in the world.1 Designated in
1843; designed in 1844 and built during 1845 and 1846, it was officially opened on 5
April 1847. Birkenhead is on the Wirral peninsula to the west of the River Mersey and
Liverpool. The park was financed by the sale of adjacent residential building lots. At the
end of the twentieth century it reflected the decline and deterioration of many of Britain’s
older and larger, locally financed public parks. But, in recognition of its landmark position
in the history of public parks, it underwent an exemplary renaissance in the 2000s largely
funded by Britain’s National Lottery. Nevertheless Birkenhead remains one of the poorest
parts of the European Community and, unlike most other local authority services in
Britain, public parks are a non-statutory service and therefore constantly under threat.
The park was designed by horticulturist, engineer, politician and railway enthusiast
Joseph Paxton (1803–65) – best known for designing the Crystal Palace, centrepiece of
the Great Exhibition of 1851. The layout is effectively in three parts – the inner and outer
park, and within the inner park, the Upper and Lower Park. The division into inner and
outer park is described by a curvaceous carriage drive separating the residential plots from
the pedestrian-only, inner parkland. Access was not allowed to the plots from the carriage
drive. Ashville Road separates the Upper and Lower Park making the carriage drive into a
figure-of-eight. The Upper and Lower Park each contain a lake on their northeast side fed
by water drained from the grass areas. Frederick Law Olmsted (1822–1903) visited the
park in 1850 and in 1859. It is generally accepted that Paxton’s circulation system
influenced the design of Central Park (Goode and Lancaster 1986: 56; Steenbergen and
Reh 2011: 188). Equally, Regent’s Park was a strong precedent for Birkenhead Park, being
based on significant urban parkland at the heart of commercial residential development. It
too was also planned as ‘a self-financing venture employing the simple device of
surrounding the park with plots for single houses and terraces, and selling them at an
enhanced value because of their relationship with the park’ (Smith 1983: 50).
HISTORY
Date and reason for designation as a park
Birkenhead was an agricultural area until 1820, the year that a steam-powered ferry link
was established with the burgeoning port and industrial city of Liverpool on the east bank
of the Mersey. The first shipyard was installed on the west bank in 1825, a street system
was laid out by 1826, and by 1831 Birken head had a population over 2,500. In 1833
Parliament passed the Birkenhead Improvement Act establishing a Commission to run the
town. Many of the Commissioners were local merchants with businesses in Liverpool.
The Select Committee on Public Walks also published its report in 1833. That committee
had been charged with recommending ‘the best means of securing open spaces in the
vicinity of populous towns’ in response to the rapid expansion of cities and increasing
distance to open land. The population of Birkenhead in 1841 was 8,529 and, following a
suggestion by Isaac Holmes, a Liverpool councillor and Birkenhead improvement
commissioner, Birkenhead was the first town to react to the new mood for the provision of
public open space.2 The Third Birkenhead Improvement Act was passed in April 1843,
providing for the Commissioners to purchase land and set aside not less than 70 acres for a
park.

Cricket in the park (August 2013)

Size and condition of site at time of designation

The Commissioners purchased 91 hectares of ‘swampy, low-lying land which fell 20
metres in a fairly uniform slope’ (Goode and Lancaster 1986: 55). Of this land, 51 hectares
was to be for public use. The land ‘contained a small farmhouse which was known as a
beer den where illegal gambling and dog fighting took place. The land was purchased
cheaply because of its poor quality’ (Wirral 1991: 7). Parklands Consortium noted that on
maps from 1824 there are references to ‘Seven Acres Marsh’ and from 1842 to ‘Low
Fields Lane’ (Parklands 1999a: 8). Numerous sources quote Paxton’s letter to his wife in
1843. ‘I think I must have lost a [pound] of perspiration for I walked at least thirty miles
about to make myself master of the locality and it is not a very good position for a park …
[t]he land is generally poor … but of course it will be more to my credit and honour to
make something handsome and good out of bad materials’ (Colquhoun 2006: 14). Olmsted
noted that the site had been ‘a flat sterile, clay farm’ (Olmsted 1852: 80) and ‘the drainage
problems facing Paxton at the very beginning of this venture were never completely
vanquished’ (Parklands 1999a: 29, 14).
Key figures in the establishment of the park
Key figures in the establishment of Birkenhead Park included Sir William Jackson (1805–
76) – Chair of the Commission set up following the 1843 Improvement Act – designer
Joseph Paxton (1803–65) and Park Superintendent Edward Kemp (1818–91). Jackson was
the son of a Warrington doctor who died in 1811.3 The family moved to Merseyside and
Jackson was eventually apprenticed to an ironmonger in Birken head, took over that store
and went on to make his first fortune in shipping and the palm oil trade, and then in
Britain’s growing railway system. Fellow Commissioners included shipbuilder MacGregor
Laird (1808–61) and railway builder Thomas Brassey (1805–70). In 1846 Jackson moved
to the new Manor House in Claughton – with grounds designed by Paxton – near the park,
resigning his position as commissioner to avoid mixing his public duties with his personal
dealings. That same year he became Member of Parliament for Newcastle-under-Lyme – a
position he held for the next nineteen years – and, from 1865, for North Derbyshire.
Paxton’s life ran parallel to Jackson’s. He was born into a Bedfordshire farming family, he
shared Jackson’s interests in new technologies – such as railway construction (in which he
invested heavily, although railways were ‘a popular activity, not an elitist one’ – Smith
1983: 50) – and went on to become a Member of Parliament – for Coventry from 1854
until shortly before his death in 1865 – and he was knighted.
Paxton’s most noted skills, however, were as a horti culturist and building designer.
Chadwick described him as ‘singularly successful in applying new techniques in the fields
of horticulture and engineering … including not only his increasingly ingenious essays in
wood and glass and iron, but also his waterworks … but he may not have been a very
original artist in other spheres. In his gardens and parks he seems quite content to work in
an accepted stylistic system … rather than to try to create a new aesthetic’ (Chadwick
1966: 90). He also noted that Paxton was ‘one of the greatest gardeners of the nineteenth
century … a great organiser’ and a horticultural publisher as well as ‘something of a
showman’ (ibid: 66, 91). He is best known as designer of the 550-metre-long Crystal
Palace for the Great Exhibition – ‘the first ever example of … large-scale industrialised
building’ (Fleming et al. 1999: 427). Paxton’s experimental, investigative and
entrepreneurial character was also demonstrated when, in 1849, he became the ‘first in
Britain to flower the giant water-lily, Victoria amazonica’ (Goode and Lancaster 1986:
426).
Paxton ‘had no professional education of any kind and everything he did was outside
the formal structure of a professional institute’ (Smith 1983: 50). He was an apprentice
gardener with the Royal Horticultural Society from 1823 to 1826 when he was invited by
George Spencer Cavendish, 6th Duke of Devonshire (1790–1858) to become head
gardener at the Chatsworth estate, where he worked alongside architect Sir Jeffry
Wyatville (1766–1840). He went on the ‘Grand Tour’ to Switzerland, Italy, Greece, Asia
Minor and Spain with the Duke. The Duke and Paxton became close friends and they
continued to develop the Chatsworth estate while Paxton undertook other projects
(Colquhoun 2006: 28–9, 66–93).
Swiss Bridge over Lower Lake (August 2013)
Mosaic floor of boathouse (August 2013)

Paxton’s first involvement with urban parks was on Prince’s Park in Liverpool, a
speculative housing development for industrialist Richard Vaughan Yates (1785–1856) on
a 39-hectare site with a central 20-hectare park for residents (ibid: 108–12). Construction
of Prince’s Park was completed in 1843, the year that Paxton started work at Birkenhead.
Paxton worked there with architectural draftsman John Robertson – who went on to work
with him at Birkenhead – and a senior gardener from Chatsworth, Edward Milner (1819–
84). Paxton’s direct involvement at Birkenhead ran from his visit in 1843 to his final
payment in 1846. In 1845 he recommended the appointment of Edward Kemp, another
gardener from Chatsworth, to oversee initial construction of the park.
Kemp moved to Birkenhead in 1843, eventually became Park Superintendent and held
that post and lived beside the park until his death in 1891. Kemp clearly had a major role
in the detailed design of the park to the extent that, according to Olmsted, the public
credited him with its design. Kemp did go on to become a park designer in his own right,
undertaking a number of design projects including cemeteries in Birkenhead and
Liverpool; Hesketh Park, Southport; Stanley Park, Liverpool and Saltwell Park,
Gateshead. Much of the building work in Birkenhead Park – including the boathouse,
bridges, railings, gates and the grandiose Grand Entrance – was designed by Liverpool
architect Lewis Hornblower (1823–79) working with John Robertson. Hornblower had
been appointed on Paxton’s recommendation to supervise the building of the park lodges,
fencing and mechanical works. Hornblower went on to work with Edouard André (1840–
1911) on the competition-winning design in 1866 for Sefton Park, Liverpool.
Development of the park
Construction work on the park was largely completed by the middle of 1845 and most of
the detailed work was completed by the end of 1846 – well ahead of the official opening
in April 1847. Recurrent themes in the subsequent development of the park were the
prolonged difficulty in selling the surrounding residential plots and the gradual increase in
the number of sporting activities that were allowed.4 The area of the park was increased to
58 hectares in 1903 through the purchase of the 7.6 hectare Boothby Ground, the land
described by the bifurcation of the northern end of Ashville Road, which had failed to sell
for residential development. Although the park remained relatively unchanged from the
original design, various minor additions left residual marks. The park also became far
more run-down. Its decline in the second half of the twentieth century was attributed to
use of the Upper Park for allotments and removal of railings during World War II,
significant reduction in maintenance staff in the 1940s and 1950s, vandalism and
malicious damage to buildings in the 1960s and 1970s, apparently random tree planting in
the 1960s followed by Dutch elm disease in the 1970s, restrictions on local government
spending, and implementation of Compulsory Competitive Tendering in the 1980s and
1990s (Beckett and Dempster 1989: 25).5

Mounds and meadows (July 2013)

This pattern began to be countered after the Friends of Birkenhead Park was formed in
1976. A Management Plan from 1991 noted that the park would continue to deteriorate
without major capital investment. Investment eventually came as a direct result of
establishment in 1996 of an Urban Parks Programme under Britain’s Heritage Lottery
Fund (HLF). A Stage One Submission prepared for Wirral Council in 1999 by landscape
historian Hilary Taylor was ‘accepted in principle’ by the HLF in August 2000 for works
estimated to cost £10.2 million. The subsequent Stage Two Submission was approved in
2002 along with funding from other national, European and regional agencies. One of the
principal criteria for funding under the Urban Parks Programme was a guarantee of
adequate financial commitment to long-term maintenance. The Visitor Centre, designed
by architects Ainsley Gommon, cost a further £1.2 million. The works were commenced
in August 2004 and completed in 2008 (Wirral 2013: 53–5; www.ainsleygommon).
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location within city
Creation of the park was based on the ideals of the 1833 Parliamentary Select Committee
on Public Walks that ‘the working classes … be able to walk out in decent comfort with
their families’. Located 1.5 kilometres west of Birkenhead docks, the park was the focal
point of a ‘model’ urban development on the west shore of the Mersey. By 1989 it was ‘an
inner city park surrounded by a population … suffering high unemployment, drug abuse
and general levels of deprivation’ (Beckett and Dempster 1989: 24). Continuing social
deprivation is reflected in life expectancy figures in 2010–12 for Wirral of 77.9 years for
men and 81.9 years for women compared with averages in England overall of 79.2 years
for men and 83.0 years for women. Also, figures within Wirral show an overall life
expectancy of 77.0 years in Birkenhead compared with 81.2 years in Wirral West
(Kinsella 2014). Before its restoration the park validated Jane Jacobs’s observation that a
park is ‘the creature of its surroundings’ (Jacobs 1961: 98). Current management measures
are more cognizant of local health and social issues, and more proactive in having the park
help to address them.
Shape of site and natural landform
The park is broadly rectangular in shape with its longer side oriented roughly northwest to
southeast. The area within the carriage drive is roughly 1,000 metres long by up to 400
metres wide. It is shaped like an hourglass with the carriage drive squeezing together
where it meets Ashville Road. The smaller part of the park – the Upper Park – terminates
in a point at the western end with an elevation of 23 metres. This is the highest location in
the park and provides views across to Liverpool. The Lower Park has a squarer shape. Its
elevation also falls from 23 metres at the west to 6 metres at the eastern corner. The upper
lake has an area of 1.07 hectares and a water level of +10.57 metres. The lower lake has an
area of 1.47 hectares and a water level of +6.55 metres. The lakes were designed as
collection points for the drainage of the respective parts of the park. Earth derived from
excavation of the lakes was used to create berms around them and to provide soil for tree
planting.
Rockery near Lower Lake (July 2013)

Original design concept

Chadwick noted similarities with Regent’s Park except that at Birkenhead ‘single villas
were intended alongside the terraces instead of in the interior of the park’ and he saw
Birkenhead as ‘an exceedingly competent essay in a style in which Repton and Nash had
already pioneered: an informal, gently picturesque landscape … its greatness lying in its
utility, in its combination of suburb and public recreation area, ahead of anything else
anywhere at its time’ (Chadwick 1966: 91). Another difference from Regent’s Park is that
Paxton arranged for access to the houses to be from the public roads outside the park and
not from the carriage drive inside the park – he ‘was determined that the park should not
be, nor appear to be, the property of the houses which surrounded it’ (Smith 1983: 50). It
was conceived very much as a People’s Park and ‘Paxton was clearly aware that he was
designing for a new kind of client, demanding a new kind of use’ (Parklands 1999a: 10).
There was no central focus; no areas were allocated to any individual interest group and
the visibility of the properties reflected ‘a deliberate mixing of classes’ (ibid: 11).
Spatial structure, circulation system, landform, structures and planting
Although it was designed from the outset as a public park, it was composed of the same
scenographic elements as earlier country estates – woodland, water and meadow described
by dramatic landforms – that were to become the basic components of American pastoral
parks. Newton described the design, somewhat dismissively, as ‘fairly typical of its times,
with the overcurvaceous quality bequeathed by the landscape gardening school’ and
suggested that the lakes are ‘so narrowed and twisted to almost river-like proportions that
they lose something in outdoor scale’ (Newton 1971: 229–30). Olmsted made a similar
observation, describing one of the lakes as ‘the pond, or lake as they call it’ (Olmsted
1852: 80). Chadwick, by contrast, described them as ‘most successful’ and suggested that
they show ‘Paxton’s landscape style at its best’ (Chadwick 1966: 69). And Olmsted did
admire ‘the manner in which art had been employed to obtain from nature so much
beauty’ (Olmsted 1852: 79).
The original circulation system for the park was radical in the extent to which it
separated carriages and pedestrians. It reflected the democratic principles behind the park.
Although the grandiose Grand Entrance was intended to be the main access from
Birkenhead, the park has broad and straight entrances at every junction with surrounding
roads. The original pedestrian paths across the centre of the park were slightly recessed
below the level of adjacent lawns – in much the way that Alphand accommodated paths at
Buttes-Chaumont – and remain relatively unobtrusive. The path system was lightly curved
but direct and logical. Along with the contrastingly straight additions – like the north–
south path through the Lower Park, and Coronation Walk – the original path system
defines the areas of the park that are now allocated to different sporting activities. The
natural slope of the land facilitated the creation of rolling meadow-like parkland. This was
changed around the lakes where the irregular berms and mounds were created. These
landforms served three purposes. First, they avoided the need to remove excavate from
site. Second, they created enclosure around the lakes – although this sometimes feels
confining, particularly in association with the deeply indented shoreline of the lakes.
Third, they increased the early impact of the trees that were planted on them – ‘there was
great pressure on Paxton and Kemp to achieve a mature layout in the park very quickly’
(Parklands 1999a: 33).
Birkenhead Park, Merseyside
1 Park Road North
2 Boothby Ground
3 Visitor Centre
4 Bowling Greens
5 Grand Entrance
6 Carriage Drive
7 Ashville Road
8 Upper Lake
9 Balaclava Field
10 Boathouse
11 Lower Lake
12 Swiss Bridge
13 Rockery
14 Upper Park
15 Lower Park
16 Birkenhead Park Cricket Club
17 Park Road West
18 Park Road South
19 Park Road East
+6.55 = elevation in metres above sea level

Paxton was responsible for the design of many of the lodges and of the railings in the
park. The lodges display a controlled eclecticism and make a major contribution to the
character of the park. By contrast, Hornblower’s elephantine Grand Entrance – which
Paxton insisted be scaled down and which the normally enthusiastic Olmsted called
‘heavy and awkward’ (Olmsted 1852: 78) – remains bizarrely out of scale, particularly
against the diminutive obelisk at the end of the entrance road. Other (now restored)
structures include the decorously painted, covered ‘Swiss’ Bridge. The boathouse,
completed before the opening of the park in 1847, was restored with funds from Mobil Oil
in 1989 – and has a delightful pebble mosaic floor by Margaret Howarth. Two other,
‘rustic’, bridges over the lower lake were also restored in the 2000s.
The essence of Paxton’s design was to create picturesque pastoral meadows fringed by
clumps of exotic trees. Both he and Kemp were consummate gardeners. They had a wide
range of newly imported plant species at their disposal and were clearly keen to use them.
In 1999, variegated holly, purple-leafed beech, pale green swamp cypress, lime green
weeping willow and silver pear were still growing in the park (Parklands 1999a: 16).
Colour and experimentation were integral to the design. It has been suggested that Paxton
and Kemp’s aim ‘would probably have been to create an arboretum rather than a native
woodland … but that from the 1950s onwards, substantial new planting was put in with
little regard to the original Paxton design’ (Wirral 1991: 51–2). One of the virtues of the
restoration has been the re-establishment of subtle glimpses through landform and/or
vegetation such as the boathouse from the Grand Entrance road or the Swiss Bridge from
Balaclava Field. This has been accompanied by restoration of the rockery – making its
replication in Central Park self-evident, repair of site infrastructure – including Paxton’s
extensive tile land drains, and replacement of most of the site furniture and of many miles
of estate railing.
Boathouse and Swiss Bridge (July 2013)

MANAGEMENT AND USAGE

Management and funding
More than 150 years after its establishment as the first publicly funded urban park in the
world, Birkenhead Park remains the responsibility of the local authority – currently the
Metropolitan Borough of Wirral (Wirral Council). Provision and management of urban
parks in Britain is a non-statutory local government function. For the last half of the
twentieth century ‘like many other parks’ it was ‘maintained to a minimum level rather
than managed’ (Beckett and Dempster 1989: 27). And, to all intents and purposes, it was
treated as ‘just another local park’ until the Friends were established in 1976 and a
Management Plan was commenced in 1986 – the year the park was included on the
English Heritage Register of Parks and Gardens as a Grade I site. This marked the start of
efforts to address its historic significance. Nevertheless, it continued to languish during the
1990s, until it was rescued through the HLF. The challenge now is to sustain the
momentum achieved in the restoration and to provide the maintenance that the park
merits. A ten-year Management Plan was prepared in 2007 and is updated each year.
To its credit – given the other calls on its resources – Wirral Council has continued to
provide the support that was a condition of the restoration. A baseline revenue budget of
£531,000 was set for this purpose in 2007 and there has been some additional funding
from the HLF to the Friends for a Park Heritage project (Wirral 2013: 94). Establishment
of an independent endowment fund was being considered in 2013 and in that respect
lessons could be learned from Central Park in order for Birkenhead Park to survive
competition with more than 200 other properties owned by Wirral Council.6 The longer-
term need for external funding is demonstrated by the ‘Graph of Doom’ for local
authorities in Britain, whereby the rising cost of providing only statutorily required
services for an aging population will far exceed anticipated income within the next few
years (Brindle 2012). Currently the park has two managers, five rangers, seven gardeners
and two security staff on site – compared with Olmsted’s record of ‘ten gardeners and
labourers in summer’ (Olmsted 1852: 82).7 Vandalism, which was relatively frequent
before the restoration, has declined dramatically. But public perception of high crime
levels persists, particularly in light of the area having ‘significant social problems’ (Wirral
2013: 65). The managers are trying to discourage littering in order to maintain a cared-for
appearance without diverting horticultural staff.8
User characteristics
A survey conducted in 1992 suggested around 450,000 visits per year to the park, with
over 80 per cent of visitors living within three kilometres, 66 per cent arriving by foot and
less than two per cent being new visitors (North West Tourist Board 1992). A similar
survey conducted in 2012 estimated around 1,650,000 visits per year with a high
proportion still living locally, 36 per cent arriving by foot and 57 per cent by car, and only
five per cent being new visitors (Lyons 2012). While the overall rise in visits indicates that
the park is serving more people, it remains very much a local park despite its iconic status.
Clearly, further development of the events programme and wider publicity would broaden
the appeal of the park.

Upper Park (July 2013)

Railings round Lower Lake (July 2013)

PLANS FOR THE PARK

Plans and policies for the park have snowballed since preparation of the 1991
Management Plan and restoration on account of its heritage value. The park is also valued
‘as a place to take leisure and exercise, as a site for social exchange, as a learning tool, as
a place of beauty, and a potential contributor to economic regeneration’ (Wirral 2013: 18).
And it is seen as a contributor to local health strategies through schemes such as Natural
England’s ‘Walking the Way to Health’ project, and as a ‘Key Biodiversity Area’ under the
Wirral Biodiversity Strategy (ibid: 19).9 It also aims to continue achieving Green Flag
status in terms of being welcoming, well maintained, safe and sustainable.
CONCLUSIONS
Chadwick argued that ‘it is most desirable that this park, perhaps above all others in this
country, should be maintained in sympathy with its designer’s original aims’ (Chadwick
1966: 70). Newton believed, however, that ‘the technical quality of the design is obviously
of far less importance than the simple fact of the park’s having come into being’ (Newton
1971: 232). In the event, Chadwick’s perspective prevailed. Taylor et al. did an excellent
job with the restoration and the park now is a magnificent example of the experiential
qualities inherent in one of Britain’s finest picturesque public landscapes. And the
challenge of maintaining it seems to be clearly understood.
NOTES
1 Conway 1996: 15 noted that Birkenhead was the first town in Britain ‘to apply to Parliament … to use public funds
to create a municipal park’.
2 Liverpool, by all accounts, had already rejected the idea of a park there on the grounds that the city had expanded
rapidly and even marginal land had become too expensive.
3 Largely drawn from Colquhoun 2006: 113–14.
4 Parklands Consortium 1999a: 6 noted that land sales were held in 1845, 1859 and 1861 – and that by 1861 less than
forty houses had been built.
5 Also noted at meeting with Jim Lester, Wirral Council Department of Leisure Services and Tourism on 30 July
1999.
6 Noted at meeting with Wirral Council Parks and Countryside Officer Mary Bagley, Park Ranger Anne Litherland
and Robert Lee from Friends of Birkenhead Park on 15 July 2013.
7 Noted at meeting on 15 July 2013.
8 Noted at meeting on 15 July 2013.
9 Noted at meeting on 15 July 2013.
17 Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park, London
(102 hectares / 252 acres)
INTRODUCTION
Commemorating the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II (b. 1926 – crowned 1952),
the Olympic Park was the setting for the 2012 Summer Olympic and Paralympic Games.
Located on relatively flat, former industrial land towards the bottom end of the River Lea,
an easterly tributary of the River Thames, it has been converted from backland to
parkland; from a dumping ground with a part-canalized river to the waterside setting for
new commercial and residential development in one of the poorest parts of Britain’s
biggest city. Widely touted as ‘a new type of park for the twenty-first century’
(www.hargreaves.com) and the ‘largest new public park’ in Britain ‘for the past 150 years’
(Hitchmough and Dunnett 2013: 74), the parkland held the Olympic venues together and
kept them apart. It helped to accommodate up to 250,000 visitors each day during the
Games. It is the principal material legacy from the Games and, since its conception in
2003, it was ‘always the central ecological superstructure for the entire project’ (Prior and
Hanway 2013: 49). And, in turn, it is now widely accepted that legacy – the lasting, long-
term benefits – from staging an Olympic Games is ‘a key criterion for a winning city’
(ibid: 47).
David Higgins (b. 1954), chief executive of the Olympic Delivery Authority (ODA)
from 2005 to 2011, noted that the park ‘was always at the heart of the London 2012
vision’ (Higgins 2013: 66). He also noted that ‘sustainability was key’ to the Games (ibid:
66). It permeated the design of the Park and led to it becoming an exemplary version of
what Galen Cranz termed the ‘Fifth Model’ for public parks – the sustainability model
(Cranz and Boland 2004). It was conceived, particularly after 2009, as a ‘working
landscape’ designed in accordance with One Planet principles. This meant that the park
was designed to play a significant part in ‘managing and and ameliorating flooding, the
urban heat island effect and pollution; sequestering carbon; enhancing wildlife; and
collecting, cleansing and utilising water’ (Hopkins and Neal 2013: 138). It was also
designed – and redesigned after the Games – to provide recreation and education
opportunities for an under-provided part of the city.
The Olympic Park divides naturally into two sections – the South Park, the harder-
edged area occupied by the Stadium and Aquatics Centre, and the North Park, comprising
more naturalistic riparian wetland and sculpted meadowland. This distinction reflects both
the pre-designation density of development on the site, and the intensity of site use during
and after the Games. George Hargreaves (b. 1952), principal designer of the park,
conceived the southern part, including the focal South Plaza, as ‘an urban festival site, a
pleasure ground … continuing the tradition of British models such as … Vauxhall Gardens
and the … Festival of Britain Gardens’ (ibid: 149). It was the main gathering and entrance
area for events in the Stadium and the Aquatics Centre. By contrast, Hargreaves saw the
North Park as a form of post-industrial English picturesque landscape for the twenty-first
century (Hargreaves 2013: 116). In each part the structural landform – and its drainage –
was critical to its effectiveness. And the planting – wilder meadows in the north, more
highly cultivated perennial planting in the south, all punctuated with large-growing trees –
reinforces their respective characteristics.
The singular circumstances of developing a globally significant facility on an
immovable programme, albeit with an ample budget, and including parkland comparable
to London’s Royal Parks, was a peculiar predicament. There are, nevertheless, many
important lessons from the QEOP. In terms of administration, chains of command were
very clear from the outset and the programme was paramount. This led to recognition that
costs would escalate and schedules be further disrupted if the ODA were to ‘nickel and
dime all elements to minimise cost’ (Hone 2013: 236). Speedier construction was seen as a
route to cost savings. And the project was constructed without a single fatality. In terms of
landscape architecture, the park is remarkable for its rehabilitation of the site within strict
parameters for sustainable practice, for its accomplished manipulation of landform as the
basic platform for all other development, for its accessibility, and for the extent of its
perennial and meadowland planting – and for the fact that, unlike the poorly planned
British Garden Festivals of 1984–92, the entire development was predicated on the
principle of long-term investment in public landscape. Two weeks of global attention
provided the perfect opportunity to recover from two hundred years of neglect.
HISTORY
Designation as a park
A significant section of the Lea Valley was proposed as a regional park in Patrick
Abercrombie’s Greater London Plan of 1944.1 This was eventually effected through
establishment in 1966 of the Lee Valley Regional Park Authority to oversee a 42-
kilometre-long, 4,000-hectare recreational area. Its domain extends as far as the northern
end of the Olympic Park, about five kilometres from the Thames. The section between the
Regional Park and the Thames is divided into the Lee Navigation to the west of the park
and the River Lea itself. The Lea, in turn, splits into three sections – the Old River Lea,
the City Mill River and the Waterworks River – before reuniting to form Bow Creek. By
the 1980s these waterways were barely used commercially. The river and associated
canals were the backside of a declining industrial area at the edges of some of London’s
poorest boroughs, crossed – but not easily accessed – by highways and public transport.
The last, short, meandering section of the Lea before entering the Thames was included in
the area of London Docklands Development Corporation, a Thatcher-era quango
responsible from 1981 to 1998 for redevelopment of vast areas of abandoned docks and
adjacent land in the wake of containerized shipping.
Wetland bowl and ‘Park Live’ during Olympic Games (July 2012)

A renaissance of city-wide strategic planning followed establishment in 2000 of the

Greater London Authority, covering the 1,572 square kilometres of the thirty-two
boroughs as well as the original 2.9 square kilometre City of London. The first Mayor of
[Greater] London, Ken Livingstone (b. 1945 – Mayor 2000–08), was elected that year and,
through the London Development Agency (LDA), instituted a series of initiatives for
economic development in poorer parts of the city. This eventually led to commissioning of
EDAW (now AECOM) in August 2003 to prepare a framework plan for regeneration of
the Lower Lea Valley – with or without the Olympic Park. Following a central
government decision in early 2003, London was one of nine cities that submitted bids by
the July 2003 deadline for the 2012 Olympics. And Livingstone saw the possibility of
attracting the Games to this part of the city as a catalyst for its regeneration and as a ‘key
way to attract investment from central government’ (Prior and Hanway 2013: 46). An
initial planning application was approved in October 2004.
Against expectations, it was announced on 6 July 2005 that the London bid, led by
Olympian (Lord) Sebastian Coe (b. 1956), with seductive support from figures such as
locally born football icon David Beckham (b. 1975), Prime Minister Tony Blair (b. 1953 –
governed 1997–2007) and, of course, Mayor Livingstone, was successful. That was the
day that the Olympic Park was designated. The contract to remove electricity pylons from
the site was signed the next day. The London Organising Committee of the Olympic
Games and Paralympic Games (LOCOG) was established in October 2005. The LDA
submitted a Compulsory Purchase Order in November 2005 for the 2,000-plus lots that
would comprise the site; a Public Inquiry was held between May and August 2006, and
the Order was confirmed in December that year.
 Meanwhile, the project-specific Olympic Development Authority (ODA) was
established by Act of Parliament in April 2006. It was responsibile for provision of the
venues and infrastructure for the Games, and for their subsequent use. And in May 2006
EDAW’s draft Opportunity Area Planning Framework for the Lower Lea Valley,
promoting the linkage of the regional park to the Thames, was released. It was approved
by the Mayor in January 2007 (www.legacy.london.gov.uk). The site for the Olympic Park
was transferred from the LDA to the ODA in July 2007. Demolition works commenced
immediately. Detailed planning applications for the siteworks and the facilities were
approved in September 2007. That approval included a requirement for a Biodiversity
Action Plan (BAP), subsequently published in October 2008. The Olympic Park Legacy
Company (OPLC) was formed in 2009 to take over the park after the Games. It became
the London Legacy Development Corporation (LLDC) in April 2012, a mayoral
development corporation chaired by the (second) Mayor of London, Boris Johnson (b.
1964 – elected in 2008 and re-elected in 2012). The venues and park were completed in
2011, giving a full year to test and prepare them for the Games. Conversion of the park
began immediately after the Paralympic Games and the first section of the North Park was
opened in July 2013, following construction of the Tumbling Log playground and Timber
Lodge café. Most of the remaining sections of the park were opened to the public in April
2014.
Size and condition of site at time of designation
At the time of designation the overall site area was slightly less than 200 hectares. It was
dissected by waterways, transport infrastructure and power lines and occupied by more
than 200 buildings (Hartman 2012: 62). The amount of open space during the Games was
about 50 hectares increasing to its full size of 102 hectares over the following two years.
In accordance with the Biodiversity Action Plan, at least half had to remain as natural
habitat to match the 45 hectares of previously designated habitat on the site (Hopkins and
Neal 2013: 139).
The Lower Lea Valley has a long history of settlement and for much of the nineteenth
and twentieth centuries was a major manufacturing area. Skeletons thought to be from an
Iron Age settlement were found during excavations for the Aquatics Centre. Previous
industries in the area included paint production, petroleum processing, pioneering work on
synthetic plastics, pharmaceutical factories, lead processing, munitions plants, dyeing and
dry cleaning operations (www.blog.museuemoflondon) – far from perfect precursors for
urban parkland. The low-lying, relatively inaccessible site was also an attractive location
for urban infrastructure. In addition to the rail and power lines that cross it, the site is
traversed by three highways and the Northern Outfall Sewer, part of the London-wide
sewerage system designed by Joseph Bazalgette (1819–91) following the ‘Big Stink’ of
1858. Latterly it was used as a dump site, including fly-tipping and a ‘fridge mountain’ in
the wake of EC Regulations. Unsurprisingly the increasingly neglected site also hosted
numerous noxious plant species, including Japanese knotweed, Himalayan balsam, giant
hogweed and floating pennywort.
Initial site preparations involved removal of the 200-plus buildings (in just three
weeks), removing the fifty-two pylons following construction of two six-kilometre tunnels
to carry power to and through the site, eradication of noxious plants and investigation of
underlying site conditions. The investigation required excavation of 3,500 holes at 25
metre centres in order to determine the nature of the contamination (Hopkins and Neal
2013: 174). This led to the remediation of about 2.6 square kilometres of brown field land,
including excavation of around two million cubic metres of material, of which about 80
per cent, together with 200,000 cubic metres from the power cable tunnels, was re-used to
create construction platforms and the base for the parkland landforms (ibid: 65, 176).
Cleaning the material involved 24/7 operation of five soil-washing machines to soak, sieve
and shake out contaminants such as petrol, oil and tar, and heavy metals including arsenic
and lead (ibid: 175).

Benches in South Plaza (August 2013)

Key figures in establishment of park

Procurement of an Olympic Games and the facilities to stage them involves a very large
number of people performing a wide range of roles over a relatively short period. In less
than ten years from the decision to bid for the Olympics, the Games were over. It is one of
Blair’s more widely appreciated achievements. As he put it after the decision on 6 July
2005, ‘It’s not often in this job that you punch the air and do a little jig and embrace the
person next to you.’ Equally Queen Elizabeth II described London’s selection as an
‘outstanding achievement to beat such a highly competitive field’ (news.bbc.co.uk). Much
of the credit for that achievement can be attributed to former middle-distance runner,
Conservative politician and eventual chair of LOCOG, Lord Coe, and to his unlikely ally,
Labour-stalwart Mayor Ken Livingstone. Blair delegated substantial central government
responsibility to Tessa Jowell (b. 1947), Minister for the Olympics from 2005 to 2010.
Construction and delivery leaders of the project included David Higgins, chief
executive of the ODA from 2006 to 2011, and John Armitt (b. 1946), chair of ODA from
2007 to 2012 – both engineers by training; Dennis Hone, Director of Finance and
Corporate Services, then Chair of ODA from 2012 to 2013, then Chief Executive of
LLDC; and Alison Nimmo (b. 1964) Director of ODA responsible for Design and
Regeneration from 2006 to 2011. Key staff for procurement of the park were Jerome
Frost, Head of Design at ODA from 2006 to 2011; landscape architect John Hopkins
(1953–2013), Project Sponsor for Parklands and Public Realm from 2007 to 2011,
supported by Phil Askew from 2008 and succeeded by him at the ODA and LLDC.
Hopkins and Askew were responsible for developing briefs, appointing designers and
ensuring timely delivery of the park. Hopkins was probably the most zealous proponent of
the ‘One Planet’ principles that came to underpin design and development for the entire
Games.
Key figures in design of the park
Jason Prior (b. 1961) and Bill Hanway (b. 1961), London-based principals of EDAW
(latterly NYSE-listed engineering and design consultants AECOM) were responsible for
preparation first, from August 2003, of an infrastructure plan to accompany Arup’s cost-
benefit analysis for the London Olympic bid. Then, in January 2006, they were appointed
by the ODA to lead a consortium to prepare the site master plan. Their proposals,
published in October 2006 (with the inaccurate boast that this would see ‘creation of the
largest urban park in Europe for 200 years’ – www.building.co.uk) formed the basis for the
planning and distribution of facilities in the wider Olympic Park – but not for the design of
the parkland.
Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park, London
1 Lee Valley Hockey and Tennis Centre
2 A12/East Cross Route
3 Velodrome/Lee Valley Velopark
4 Here East/Offices
5 River Lea
6 Chobham Manor and East Village Housing
7 Hopkins Field
8 Alfred’s Meadow
9 Tumbling Bay Playground
10 River Lee Navigation
11 Copper Box Arena
12 Waterglades Wetlands
13 Carpenters Lock
14 South Plaza/Outdoor Rooms
15 Old River Lea
16 Olympic Stadium
17 City Mill River
18 Aquatics Centre
19 ArcelorMittal Orbit
20 Waterworks River
21 Northern Outfall Sewer

Hargreaves Associates, working with UK-based landscape architects LDA Design (not
to be confused with the London Development Agency) were appointed in March 2008 to
design the landform, drainage, circulation and planting for the public realm of the
Olympic Park – both for the Games themselves and for the subsequent legacy parkland.
Hargreaves had already designed the Sydney Olympic Park for the Games in 2000. The
selection of Hargreaves with his experience of major projects on disturbed sites – ‘I’ve
never had a greenfield site to work with and never been afraid to change the interface
between water and land’ (Hargreaves 2013: 116) – was a game-changer. It heralded re-
planning of the public concourses and design of the dramatic riparian landforms.
Hargreaves and LDA Design were subsequently joined by James Hitchmough and Nigel
Dunnett from the Department of Landscape at Sheffield University. Hitchmough and
Dunnett were engaged to ‘develop the overall planting concept for the Olympic Gardens
… to design planting mixes for the naturalistic components of two of the Olympic
Gardens … to design the native wildflower meadows in the North Park, and … the
drainage swale vegetation and the other native plant communities’ (www.hitchmough).
This included development of twelve perennial seed mixes for specific habitats throughout
the park using nine types of manufactured soil designed by soil scientist Tim O’Hare
(Hopkins and Neal 2013: 184). Hitchmough also developed the planting palette applied by
garden designer Sarah Price in two of the four ‘Olympic Gardens’ and the cutting and
irrigation regimes that encouraged the native wildflowers to bloom during the Games.
Alfred’s Meadow (September 2013)

Temporary surface to bridge over Carpenter’s Road Lock (June 2011)

PLANNING AND DESIGN

Location
The Olympic Park is approximately 10 kilometres east of Westminster, the centre of
British government. It occupies land at the edges of the London Boroughs of Tower
Hamlets, Newham, Hackney and Waltham Forest – some of the poorest areas in the entire
country, with some of the highest levels of workless households, lower than average
education levels, and poor access to parkland (Hopkins and Neal 2013: 33). ‘Life
expectancy for males decreases by more than a year for every two stops when travelling
east from Westminster on the [London Underground] Jubilee line’
(www.londonmedicine.ac.uk). The Olympic Park is ten stops east. And in 2013 the
average ‘healthy life expectancy’ for women in Tower Hamlets was 54.1 years – the
lowest anywhere in England (www.ons.gov.uk).
Accessibility of the Olympic site from central London and from Europe was improved
vastly by the completion of two rail links. First, in 1999, the Jubilee Line extension from
Westminster to Stratford was opened. Then, in 2009, the high-speed Channel Tunnel Rail
Link via Stratford International was opened. The 175,000 square metre (1.88 million
square feet) Westfield Stratford City, the third largest shopping mall in Britain, has easy
pedestrian access to the park. Otherwise, local accessibility is constricted by major road
and rail lines and by the waterways. This was one of the long-term challenges addressed in
the design of the park. It prompted eventual construction of thirty permanent new bridges
(LLDC 2012: 12) and the provision of widespread pedestrian links as part of post-Games
provisions.
Shape and natural landform of site
The contiguous area covered by the September 2007 planning consent comprised two
main parts – the roughly 2,500-metre-long by up to 1,000-metre-wide section of the Lea
River Valley, bounded by the canalized Lee Navigation to the west, and a roughly
rectangular extension of about 800 metres long by 600 metres wide to the northeast. The
site occupies an area that was naturally low-lying marshland towards the mouth of a
meandering river. Much of the existing landform was human-made resulting from
canalization of part of the river, building-up of river banks else where to reduce flooding
and create building plat forms, and construction of features such as the Northern Outfall
Sewer, and rail and road embankments. Development had turned its back on the river and
seriously damaged the natural morphology of its valley.
Original design concept
The Opportunity Area Planning Framework for the Lower Lea Valley expressed the aim of
transforming the area ‘to become a vibrant, high quality and sustainable mixed use city
district, that is fully integrated into the urban fabric of London and is set within an
unrivalled landscape that contains new high quality parkland and a unique network of
waterways’ (www.legacy.london.gov.uk). The Games were seen as a major catalyst for
this transformation and the Olympic Park was ‘the most powerful fix from day one’ and
‘locations for the Olympic Stadium and Aquatics Centre were quickly fixed’ (Prior and
Hanway 2013: 49). This was a consistent continuation of the principles embedded in the
original bid of ‘revitalising the river ecosystem, increasing biodiversity and enhancing the
quality of urban green space’ (Hopkins and Neal 2013: 52–3) and delivering a ‘One Planet
Olympics’ that would be ‘a blueprint for sustainable living’ (London 2012 2009).
Hopkins and Neal noted that, in effect, there were three master plans for the park – ‘one
for the Games … one for transformation immediately following the Games … one for
long-term legacy development beyond 2013’ (Hopkins and Neal: 106). The plan for the
Games ‘was essentially very simple: the parklands at the heart based along and around the
waterways; the “front of house” concourse and bridges accommodating spectators
entering the Park and moving to and from venues; the loop road providing access to “back
of house” service areas for each venue’ (ibid: 106–7). This was very much the ‘powerful
fix’ inherited from EDAW – a park of two halves: the ‘more open, ecological and
community focused’ northern part and the ‘more constrained, urban, vibrant’ southern part
(ibid: 138). They went on to note that the strategy for the parklands was based on four
major themes: ‘a strong green framework of … structured landforms … semi-mature trees
and spectator lawns’; ‘high-impact planting with strong visual interest’; ‘a mosaic of
connected ecological habitats’; ‘retaining the majority of the landscape in legacy’ (ibid:
178).

Wetlands, meadow and velodrome in northeast of park (September 2013)

It was only after the appointment of Hargreaves et al. in 2008 that the final form of the
park emerged. Two major factors influenced it. First, Hargreaves realized from his
experience on the Sydney Olympic Park that the pedestrian concourses in the South Park
could be reduced in size, allowing shallower planted slopes down to the Waterworks
River. Second, the substantial amounts of spoil material arising from the site would
facilitate creation of the dramatic, GPS-controlled elliptical landforms that define the
North Park (ibid: 139, 145). Collateral with this sculpting of the land was the need ‘to
manage water levels and flooding, limit bank erosion, create a series of connected
habitats, and ensure ease of management and maintenance’. As a consequence, ‘two
“wetland bowls” were sculpted and planted … during the remediation and restoration of
the river’ (ibid: 188).
 Hargreaves described the design as referencing ‘the heritage of the picturesque while
developing a strongly muscular approach that takes us beyond earth-art by weaving in
ecology and sustainability’ and projecting ‘the particularly British passion for collecting
plants throughout the world’ (Hargreaves 2013: 116). This passion is reflected in the
planting work by Price in the 800-metre-long 2012 Gardens in the South Park, and by
Hitchmough and Dunnett, including the extensive wildflower meadows in the North Park.
The 2012 Gardens presented plants from four climatic zones in what Price called
‘naturalistic planting’ that ‘takes us back to the work of William Robinson in the 1870s’
(Price 2013: 155).
Hitchmough suggested, however, that the brief for the planting was ‘to make a clear
statement about the future of parks and planting design’ and that the designed meadows
contribute to ‘a provocative dialogue between notions of nature and culture’ (Hitchmough
and Dunnett 2013: 74, 77). Hitchmough also noted that achievement (with colleague
Helen Hoyle) of the timely blooming of the native wildflowers was not, as some members
of the press suggested, ‘due to good luck and a wet cool summer’ (www.hitchmough). It
was a fine example of mediation between culture and nature! Their work was
subsequently supplemented by the Oudolf-designed perennial planting integral to the
redesign by James Corner Field Operations of the post-Games concourse as a ‘landscape
framework … for a theatrical event site’ (worldlandscapearchitect.com).
MANAGEMENT, FUNDING AND USAGE
Managing organization
The many organizations and personnel responsible for creation of the Park were relatively
rapidly consolidated in April 2012 under the single long-term manager and custodian, the
London Legacy Development Corporation (LLDC). Although the ODA retained some
post-Games responsibilities, LOCOG ‘largely handed back the Olympic Park directly to
LLDC in the period to January 2013’ (ODA 2013: 9). At the time of writing, the LLDC
was chaired by Mayor Boris Johnson, with Dennis Hone (former chief executive of the
ODA) as chief executive and Mark Camley (former Chief Executive of London’s Royal
Parks) as Director of Park Operations.
The initial ‘strategic aims’ of the Corporation, set out in its business plan in May 2012,
were to deliver social, economic and environmental benefits for east London, to deliver
financial returns to the public purse over the long term, and to optimize sustainability and
success of the Park and venues (LLDC 2012: 3). The plan for the period to March 2015
included reopening the Park and venues with a ‘programme of events’ that would establish
its ‘reputation as a compelling visitor destination’, getting the first phase of development
underway, and establishing ‘com munity programmes’ that would ‘promote regeneration
and convergence’ (ibid). Convergence in this context refers to reducing socio-economic
disparities between west and east London. It is understood that whereas the initial
intention was for a 25-year period of conversion of the park to its final form, in 2013 this
period was reduced to ten years – as we have seen, a relatively long time horizon for this
piece of land. Day-to-day maintenance of the park is under taken by outside contractors on
a similar model, unsurprisingly, to the one adopted by the Royal Parks.
Funding
Prime Minister Blair promoted what has been termed the ‘third way’ of public–private
financing for public realm developments in Britain. This followed, chronologically at
least, the pre-1945 and post-1980 Thatcherian models of market-led private provision, and
the post-1945 state-financed ‘second way’. The funding of the Olympic Park
demonstrated, however, that ‘“second way” provision for purely social purposes in a city
in which the public sector still owns and manages the vast majority of the public realm is
not entirely dead’ (Carmona 2012: 43). Indeed, despite much of the preliminary
promotional work on the Olympic bid having relied on commercial sponsorship, the
project itself seems to have been too significant and too time sensitive for Blair and his
government to risk reliance on major private sector support. It could be seen, therefore, as
the last and largest ‘Old Labour’ project – other than having been completed on time and
within budget. Post-Games projects such as the housing sites on the northeast side of the
park were sold on to private developers.
The estimated overall cost in the 2003 Olympic bid was around £2.4 billion. The
funding package announced to the British parliament in March 2007 was just over £9.3
billion – of which £8.1 billion was available to the ODA. In March 2013 the anticipated
final cost of work undertaken by the ODA was £6.7 billion, largely comprising £4.4
billion from Central Government; £1.6 billion from the National Lottery; £0.7 billion from
the GLA and LDA (ODA 2013: 6–7). In simple terms, this represented a saving of £1.4
billion on the March 2007 budget for the Games. Win–win! Furthermore, 75p in every
pound spent was invested in permanent infrastructure. Included within that expenditure of
£6.7 billion was the relatively minor sum of £250 million for development of the
parklands and public realm. A further £80 million was allocated for their post-Games
transition.
Usage
The LLDC estimate that the Olympic Park received five million visits during the Olympic
and Paralympic Games. Hopkins and Neal suggested that, in parallel with the nearest
major urban parks – Victoria Park with four million visits per year and Greenwich Park
with three million visits per year – ‘the vast majority of visits following the Games will be
to the parklands’ whereas ‘all the venues combined can expect up to [two] million visits’
(Hopkins and Neal 2013: 233). The LLDC claimed that the Park is ‘set to become
London’s leading destination for leisure, life and business; a model of modern, sustainable
urban generation, attracting an estimated 9.3 million visitors each year’
(www.londonlegacy.co.uk/the-park).
PLANS FOR THE PARK
At the time of writing, the prevailing plan for the parklands was to complete their
transition to a post-Games role of being the ‘web or tissue, reaching out and sending out
filaments in multiple directions to connect to and entangle both the existing and
subsequent built fabric of the city’ (Corner 2013: 263). But if the park was the star of the
Games and if the planting was the star of the park during the Games, Hargreaves’
landform is the star of the legacy. Meanwhile the post-Games works are as much about
connectivity to and through the park as they are about the re-formatting of the venues
within it.2 And, inevitably, as with any major city park, there will be demand to use larger
open spaces for crowd-pulling, income-earning events. For the Olympic Park in 2013 it
was Bruce Springsteen. But, once the party is over and the living room has been cleaned
up, the principal remaining challenge is to ensure the day-to-day integration of a formerly
isolated site with its disparate surroundings – what Hargreaves termed ‘stitching’ it into its
urban hinterland – including new housing developments like The Village, as well as pre-
existing residential and commercial areas.
Perennial planting in north of park (September 2013)

CONCLUSION
The Olympic Park was a reassuring demonstration, after the poorly planned Garden
Festivals from 1984 to 1992 and late completion of the new Wembley Stadium, that the
British – albeit with significant overseas input – could create a major park to exacting
standards on a tight schedule. Ample central government funding certainly helped. So did
the collaborative approach of the diverse landscape design team. And there is already a
basis for believing that the park will become the ‘British park for the twenty-first century’
that its designers have already proclaimed it to be – particularly in terms of its conception
on the basis of One Planet principles as a post-industrial ‘working landscape’.
The park has hidden virtues in terms of what has been removed from a severely
damaged site, or buried within it. And it has visible virtues in the sweeping ‘new
picturesque’ landform, in the re-naturalized river banks, in the range of perennial planting,
and in the retained buildings whose forms reflect and respond to the dramatic landform.
The greater challenge, though, is to guide the evolution of the park from being the focus of
the world’s biggest party to being an effective stimulant to long-term economic growth,
residential development, and recreational activities in the re-naturalized Lower Lea Valley
– and to extend its influence all the way to the River Thames.
NOTES
1 The spellings Lea / Lee are interchangeable – although Lea is generally used for the river and Lee for the canalized
section and for the Park Authority.
2 The Olympic Stadium was designed to be demountable and was originally intended to be temporary. It was
subsequently scheduled to be the home of West Ham United Football Club from 2016–17. The ArcelorMittal Orbit was
not contemplated until late 2009.
Location of Grant Park, Chicago
1 Administrative boundary of Chicago
2 North Chicago River
3 Humboldt, Garfield and Douglas Parks
4 Chicago Canal
5 Grant Park
6 Lake Michigan
7 Boulevard System
8 Washington and Jackson Parks
9 Lake Calumet
18 Grant Park, Chicago
(320 acres / 130 hectares)
INTRODUCTION
Grant Park is the Beaux-Arts centrepiece of Daniel H. Burnham and Edward H. Bennett’s
1909 Plan of Chicago. It sits on reclaimed land at the pivotal point where the third largest
city in the United States meets the western shore of Lake Michigan. Part of the site was
originally designated as a park – under the name Lake Park – in 1844 (Cremin 2013: 8). It
was extended as a result of railroad construction and through refuse disposal – particularly
after the ‘Great Fire’ of 1871 – but construction of the park to the current layout did not
commence until the last half of the 1920s and it remains ongoing with the opening of
Millennium Park in 2004 and of Maggie Daley Park in 2015. Grant Park is regarded as the
‘Front Yard’ of Chicago. It is where Queen Elizabeth II came ashore on an official visit in
1959, where Pope John Paul II held a Mass in 1979, where the Chicago Bulls celebrated
their six NBA championships in the 1990s, and where Barack Obama celebrated his
presidential election victory in 2008, making it ‘one of the earth’s most famous public
open spaces’ (Bachrach 2009: 11).
Its history is a tale of rail, road and car parks, of migrating music venues, of
philanthropic development and equally philanthropic resistance to development. The park
is dissected by a grid of railroads and highways dividing it up like compartments in a giant
toolbox – a form that lends itself to being retrofitted compartment-by-compartment. The
sides of that box are defined by the solid walls of high-rise buildings along its northern
and western sides. This abrupt break results from a decision made in 1836 that the land
between Michigan Avenue and the lake should be ‘Public Ground – A Common to remain
forever Open, Clear and free of any buildings, or other Obstructions Whatever’ (Wille
1991: 23). That decision was upheld in four law suits brought by businessman Aaron
Montgomery Ward (1844–1913) between 1890 and 1910 (Cremin 2013: 66). The park has
been run since 1934 by the Chicago Park District – a municipal corporation that owns and
manages around 8,100 acres (3,270 hectares) of park properties
(www.chicagoparkdistrict.com/about-us). The park seems destined to remain a work in
progress.
HISTORY
Designation as a park
Chicago is located where the Chicago River flows into the southwestern corner of Lake
Michigan.1 That river was linked by a shallow lake – Mud Lake – to the southwestward
flowing Des Plaines River, a tributary of the Mississippi. In 1816 the United States
government acquired a 20-mile-wide (32-kilometre) strip of land extending 100 miles
(160 kilometres) from the mouth of the Chicago River to the Illinois River, another
tributary of the Mississippi, for the construction of a canal. In 1830 the government
decided to build a harbour, completed in 1833, at Chicago. Also in 1833, the federal and
state governments agreed a formula to develop the Illinois and Michigan Canal – and in
August that year Chicago became incorporated.
By 1835 – the year when funding to construct the canal was actually procured – the
population of Chicago was 3,265. In November 1835 ‘concerned citizens’ resolved that a
square block of 20 acres (8 hectares) from the 6 square miles (1,550 hectares) of the
federal Fort Dearborn should be reserved as a public square. Although that piece of land
was eventually developed, the citizens’ resolution prompted the state commissioners in
charge of canal construction to make their inscription in 1836 on the land sales map
reserving the (then small amount of) land east of Michigan Avenue as ‘Public Ground’.
Owner ship of the lakefront land was transferred to the City of Chicago in 1844 and by
1847 it was formally dedicated as Lake Park (Bachrach 2012: 5). But no improvements
were made to it and the city could not afford to construct seawalls to prevent erosion of
the shoreline. The canal was eventually completed in 1848 – shortly before Chicago began
to develop as a railroad centre. The population reached 20,000 in 1848; 30,000 in 1850;
38,700 in 1852; 60,000 in 1854; and nearly 120,000 by 1857. In 1850 one rail line entered
the city; by 1856 there were ten rail lines with 3,000 miles of track. In six years the city
‘had become the world’s largest railroad center’ (Wille 1991: 30).

Park from Museum Campus (October 2013)

The City agreed in 1852 that the Illinois Central Railroad (IC) could build a train trestle
in the bed of the lake providing they also built a stone breakwater to protect the shoreline.
The IC also bought land to the north of the park and filled the area between the Chicago
River and Randolph Drive – the north side of the park. The State began drafting
legislation to allocate the whole lakefront to the IC. Citizens objected. Legislation was
passed in 1861 reconfirming the dedication of the land east of Michigan Avenue as open
space and in 1863 granting title to the ‘submerged lands east of the IC right-of-way to the
city of Chicago in trust for the public’ (Chicago Park District 1992a). That legislation
required that development east of Michigan Avenue could only proceed with the approval
of all adjacent landowners. In 1869 the State Legislature established three independent
park districts, each with their own tax-raising powers.
Condition of the site
By 1871 Chicago had a population of nearly 300,000 living in densely developed,
primarily wooden buildings. The ‘Great Fire’ in October 1871 killed more than 300
people; left 90,000 homeless and destroyed more than 17,000 buildings (Wille 1991: 52).
The fire led to rapid, lower-density redevelopment of the city including extensive parks
and boulevards. Wille noted that ‘in the first 20 years after the fire, the three park
commissions spent $24,000,000 … on a system of eight big parks, twenty-nine little ones
and 35 miles of broad boulevards’ (Wille 1991: 52–4). The fire also led to the area
between the shoreline and the IC trestle being filled with rubble from the fire. The site
continued to be used as a dumping ground during the 1870s and 1880s. The IC began to
fill areas east of the trestle in 1881. The City made minor improvements to the area
between Michigan Avenue and the IC line. But by 1890 relatively little had been done to
turn Lake Park into a public amenity, and for years the site remained ‘little more than a
dumping ground with heaps of garbage and squatters shacks’ (Bachrach 2012: 32).

Sculpture ‘Agora’ by Magdalena Abakanowicz in southwest corner of park (October 2013)

Key figures in establishment of the park

For nearly fifty years Lake Park was protected from development – largely because of
pressure from mail order entrepreneur Aaron Montgomery Ward.2 Ward’s business was
located on Michigan Avenue, giving him direct rights, under the Acts of 1861 and 1863, to
prevent building on the lakefront. In 1890, following the agreement that Chicago would
host the World’s Columbian Exposition, consent was given for the construction of the
World’s Congress Building – which subsequently became the Art Institute of Chicago.
Ward’s first law suit, filed in October 1890, was simply to ‘clear the lakefront … of
unsightly wooden shanties, structures, garbage … and other refuse’ (Wille 1991: 74). The
city responded in two ways. First by removing all the buildings in the park other than two
federal armouries; second, by proposing to build a city hall, police station, post office,
stables and power plant there.
Ward eventually won his first law suit in 1897. An injunction was issued requiring the
removal of all buildings except the Art Institute – to which Ward had already agreed. In
1893 the City and the Illinois National Guard announced plans to build new armouries on
the newly formed land east of the IC line. Ward filed suit again. An injunction was issued.
The authorities appealed to the State Supreme Court. The decision for Ward was upheld
on the basis of the provision in the Act of 1863 that the submerged lands were also held in
trust for the public. In 1896 responsibility for Lake Park was transferred from the City to
the South Park District. The commissioners embarked on a major landfill programme to
increase the area of the park. In 1901, following a petition from the Grand Army of the
Republic, the commissioners agreed to rename the park for Ulysses S. Grant (1822–85 –
President 1869–77).

Buckingham Fountain (October 2013)

 Ward’s legal battles to protect the park continued until shortly before his death. The
longest and most bitter dispute was over the proposal to build the Field Museum on the
Congress Drive axis. Ward filed his third law suit. The museum was to be a gift to the city
from Marshall Field (1834–1906) to contain collections that had been displayed at the
Exposition. He left $8 million for construction of the museum – on condition that the city
provide a site free of cost within six years of his death. Ward resisted immense public
pressure – particularly in the Chicago Tribune – to withdraw his case. He did not. His case
was upheld in 1909. He was pilloried in the press. He responded by commenting that he
‘fought for the poor people of Chicago, not the millionaires’ (Wille 1991: 81 – quoting
from Ward’s sole interview with the Chicago Tribune). A site for the museum – on land
then owned by the IC and now the anchor of the Museum Campus – was agreed one
month before Field’s deadline expired.
While Ward had been fighting to prevent buildings in the park, Daniel Hudson Burnham
(1846–1912) had been actively seeking to promote them. Burnham was chief architect
and, with landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted (1822–1903), co-designer of the
1893 Exposition in Jackson Park. Burnham’s family moved to Chicago from
Massachusetts in 1854. He went into partnership with John Welborn Root (1850–91) in
1873 (Fleming et al. 1999: 80, 489). Root died (of pneumonia) before the opening of the
Exposition. The firm was renamed D. H. Burnham and Company. Shortly after the end of
the Exposition, Burnham started exploring ways to link Jackson Park to the downtown and
to redesign the downtown lakefront – the kind of work that he did pro bono, but in the
expectation of gaining subsequent architectural commissions. His plans for Lake Park
showed ‘a neo-classical museum in the center … flanked by formal plazas, with long
rectangular buildings at each extreme end’ (Chicago Park District 1992a: 11).
In 1896 Burnham was invited to discuss his proposals at a meeting of the Commercial
Club – ‘an elite organization of the city’s sixty top businessmen’ (Wille 1991: 84). In 1903
he was appointed as architect for the Field Museum – then proposed to be in the centre of
Grant Park – and the Olmsted firm was appointed to design the park.3 They prepared a
number of schemes, all with the Field Museum at the centre. In 1904 D. H. Burnham and
Company and the Olmsted firm was appointed by the South Park District to design a
system of neighbourhood parks. Burnham hired Edward H. Bennett (1874–1954), an
École des Beaux-Arts-trained, English architect, to work on them. In 1906 the Merchants
Club commissioned Burnham to prepare a complete city plan. Later that year the
Merchants Club merged with the Commercial Club, in whose name the Plan of Chicago
was published in 1909 (Hasbrouk 1970: vi). The Plan reflected Burnham’s infamous call
to ‘Make no Little Plans’. It proposed extensive parks, parkways and forest reserves
including 23 miles (37 kilometres) of continuous open space along the lakefront, a
regional highway system, a consolidated railroad system, a gigantic civic centre with a
dome prescient of Speer’s Germania, and a cluster of institutional buildings in Grant Park
– the focal point of a massive Beaux-Arts blueprint for the city (ibid: 118). The precedent
of Haussmann’s plans for Paris is readily apparent.
The Plan of Chicago contained ‘routine solutions, cutting boulevards through
dilapidated housing and enforcing sanitation measures … it symbolized the maturation of
the City Beautiful’ while containing ‘elements looking forward to contemporary planning’
(Wilson 1989: 283, 281). The plan ‘was essentially an architect’s conception: an ordering
of the city to visual ends; but in it for the first time regional items were seen as an essential
basis’ (Chadwick 1966: 216). The Plan was adopted by the City in 1910. Meanwhile,
pending the outcome of Ward’s third law suit, the Olmsted firm continued to develop a
series of symmetrical layouts for Grant Park that incorporated the Field Museum. After
Ward’s victory and once an alternative site for the museum had been agreed in 1912,
filling of the southern area of the park was commenced. Also in 1912, the IC agreed to
depress its railroad through the park below grade – facilitating later construction above it.
Construction of the museum eventually began in 1915 – to Burnham’s design, three
years after his death. Also in 1915, the South Park Commissioners retained Bennett (rather
than the Olmsted firm) to prepare new plans for Grant Park. Minor park construction to
Bennett’s designs began in 1915. But it was not until 1922 that a presentation drawing
showing his firm’s full intentions for the park was produced (Chicago Park District 1992b:
36). That plan was adopted in 1924. And in 1925 the South Park Commission accepted
from Kate Sturges Buckingham (1858–1937), daughter of a grain elevator mogul, the
donation of a fountain in memory of her brother, Clarence Buckingham (1854–1913). No
ordinary fountain, the Buckingham Fountain was based on the Latona Fountain at
Versailles. It has a 280 feet (85 metre) diameter bottom pool with three concentric pools
above it and a central fountain spouting to 137 feet (42 metres) (Wolfe 1996: 102).
Planned by Bennett and designed by French sculptors and engineers, the Buckingham
Fountain sits at the pivotal point of the park and the city – the place where Burnham
would have put the Field Museum.
The intricate Beaux-Arts central section of the park – between Michigan Avenue,
Jackson, Balbo and Lake Shore Drives – is the only part to be fully developed to Bennett’s
design. It included the Court of Presidents and the arcing Congress Plaza – a gateway to
the city. Bennett ensured that the central section of the park was densely decorated with
neo-classical architectural ornaments and noble sculptures – including the seated Lincoln
by Augustus Saint-Gaudens, erected in 1926, and the Art Deco ‘Equestrian Indians’ by
Ivan Metrovic, erected in 1928, that flank Congress Plaza (Chicago Park District 1999).
This area, along with Hutchison Field and the gardens along Michigan Avenue, comprises
the Historic Template identified in the Park District’s Design Guidelines (1992).
Development of the park after 1930
In 1926 a State Bill was introduced for the bridging of the Chicago River to the north of
the park.4 This presaged the massive expansion of traffic on Lake Shore Drive. The 1930s,
however, was a period of economic crisis; the city went bankrupt; another World’s Fair –
celebrating Chicago’s centenary – was held in 1933 in Burnham Park, directly south of
Grant Park. Its main impact on Grant Park was the installation of Art Deco features such
as the bandshell in Hutchinson Field modelled on the Hollywood Bowl. In 1934 the (by
then twenty-two) separate park districts were amalgamated into the Chicago Park District.
The Park District received substantial funding from the Works Progress Administration
(WPA). This led to creation of the lakefront terrace and installation of significant amounts
of planting – strengthening Bennett’s allées of American elms and reinforcing them with
ornamental understorey trees and formal hedges.
Grant Park, like many other urban parks in the United States, fared badly in the decades
following World War II. Vehicular traffic mushroomed. Urban highways were widened.
New freeways were cut through inner urban areas and huge car parks were created as the
mobile classes decamped to the suburbs. Parks became underfunded ‘no-go’ areas. Surface
car parks had been created north of Monroe Drive as early as 1921. In 1953 an
underground garage was constructed between Monroe Drive, Randolph Drive and the IC
lines. This led to reconstruction as a roof garden of the Bennett design for the area. In
1955 Congress Drive was extended to the lake. Additional underground garages were built
between Jackson Drive and Van Buren Street in 1961, and below Richard J. Daley
Bicentennial Plaza in 1976. The park became infamous for a confrontation between anti-
Vietnam War protesters and the Chicago Police during the Democratic Party Convention
in August 1968, and four murders were committed in or around the park between 1970
and 1972 (Cremin 2013: 156, 158). The bandshell became a focus for the demonstrations
and ‘it became impossible to draw the large crowds necessary to support major concerts to
the southern end of the park’ (Chicago Park District 1992a: 18). The bandshell was
removed in 1975 and replaced by the $31 million Petrillo Bandshell at the southwest
corner of Butler Field.
Planting design by Piet Oudolf in Lurie Garden, Millennium Park (October 2013)

The renaissance of Grant Park since the 1980s can be attributed in large part to the
establishment by Mayor Jane Byrne (b. 1934 – Mayor 1979–83) of annual music festivals
following completion in June 1978 of the Petrillo Bandshell. During the 1990s the
recovery of the park was reflected in two major physical developments. First, removal of
the branch of Lake Shore Drive east of the Field Museum to create the Museum Campus –
planned since the 1960s and completed in 1995 to a design by Lawrence Halprin –
providing a broad pedestrian underpass between the museums and the park (Bachrach
2012: 46). This was complemented in 1996 by the 2.25 acre (0.9 hectare) Cancer
Survivors’ Garden, following realignment of Lake Shore Drive at the northeast corner of
the park (Kitt Chappell 2004: 88), restoration of the Buckingham Fountain and of the
Congress Plaza and flanking gardens, and replacement with disease-resistant cultivars of
diseased American elms.
But the second – and most significant – event in the 1990s was the move by Mayor
Richard M. Daley (b. 1942 – Mayor 1989–2011) to construct the 24.5-acre (10-hectare)
Millennium Park at the north-west corner of Grant Park. It eventually cost around $470
million – $270 million from the City for the deck and infrastructure and $200 million from
private donors for ‘everything above the surface of the park’ (Cremin 2013: 186; Kent
2011: 19). The development followed discovery by a Park District lawyer that the IC only
had an easement for rail use on the land between 11th Street and Randolph Drive, and was
not entitled to the air rights. As events unfolded, it benefited the IC to give the land back
to the City – which they did in December 1997 (Gilfoyle 2006: 81–3). Ed Uhlir, Director
of Research and Planning for the Park District and subsequently Daley’s Design Director
for the project, calculated that parking revenue would enable the City to fund the deck and
infrastructure (ibid: 83). That left the matter of funding the facilities themselves.
Grant Park, Chicago
1 Randolph Street
2 Michigan Avenue
3 Jay Pritzker Pavilion
4 Cloud Gate
5 Crown Fountain
6 Lurie Garden
7 Columbus Drive
8 B.P. Bridge
9 Maggie Daley Park
10 Cancer Survivors’ Garden
11 Monroe Street
12 Art Institute of Chicago
13 Butler Field
14 Lake Shore Drive
15 Petrillo Music Shell
16 Jackson Drive
17 Illinois Central Railroad
18 Van Buren Street
19 Congress Plaza and Drive
20 Buckingham Fountain
21 Queen’s Landing
22 Lake Michigan
23 Balbo Avenue
24 Hutchinson Athletic Field
25 11th Street Bridge
26 Agora Sculpture
27 Shedd Aquarium
28 Field Museum
29 Museum Campus
30 Adler Planetarium
Millennium Park (October 2013)

In March 1998 Daley announced the project and that John H. Bryan (b. 1936), CEO of
the Sara Lee Corporation from 1975 to 2000, agreed to lead the fund-raising (ibid: 90).
Bryan adopted a ‘make no small plans’ approach to seeking donations, securing enough
money to fund the 125-feet-high (38 metres) Jay Pritzker Pavilion (capacity 4,000) and
Great Lawn (capacity 7,000) and the 925-feet-long (280 metres) BP Bridge – designed by
Pritzker Prize-winning architect Frank Gehry (b. 1929), Cloud Gate – a 66-feet-wide (20
metres) by 33-feet-high (10 metres) bean-shaped, polished stainless steel sculpture by
Anish Kapoor (b. 1954), the Crown Fountain – a pair of 50-feet-high (15 metres)
gargoyle-like glass-block screens successively showing super-sized faces of individual
Chicagoans spouting water into a 230-feet-long (70 metre) one-inch deep plaza – designed
by Jaume Plensa (b. 1955), and the 2.5-acre (1 hectare) Lurie Garden designed by
Gustafson Guthrie Nichol with plantsman Piet Oudolf (Kent 2011: 51, 57, 69, 51, 81,
109). Other components of the Millennium Park development included the adjacent 1,525-
seat below-ground Harris Theater, the Exelon Pavilions, McDonald’s Cycle Center, AT&T
(originally SBC) Plaza, McCormick Tribune Plaza and Ice Rink, Boeing Galleries, and the
Millennium Monument at Wrigley Square – replicating Bennett’s peristyle from 1917,
demolished for car park construction in 1953 (Cremin 2013: 139–40).
Millennium Park occupies a gap in Bennett’s plan. Its layout follows the rectilinear,
Beaux-Arts-based pattern established in the 1997 Master Plan by Skidmore, Owings and
Merrill. But the individual installations – such as the gently sloping serpentine B. P.
Bridge – play against this geometry, producing what Chicago-based architecture critic
Blair Kamin called, shortly after its opening in July 2004, ‘a new kind of urban park … a
hybrid of the Beaux-Arts and the modern, with major pieces plugged into its room-like
outdoor spaces’ (Kamin 2004: 45). Kamin also argued that ‘Millennium park isn’t as
rigorously contemporary as … Parc de la Villette’ (ibid: 45). Maybe not. But it is more
seductive – and far more interactive.
Meanwhile a more sober addition to the south-western corner of Grant Park – Agora, an
installation by Polish sculptor Magdalena Abakanowicz (b. 1930) – was dedicated in
November 2006 (Huebner 2007: 126). It comprises 106 nine-feet-high (2.75 metres)
headless, armless, densely crowded, rusting cast-iron figures walking in different
directions – ‘a somber … counterweight to the crowd-pleasing extravaganza at the other
end of Grant Park’ (ibid: 131). Two years later new flower gardens funded by the Tiffany
and Co. Foundation were installed south of the Buckingham Fountain (Bachrach 2012: 47)
and latterly a more modest northern extravaganza – the 20-acre (8.1 hectare), $60 million
Maggie Daley Park was built between October 2012 and May 2015.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location
Conceived as the pivot of the Plan of Chicago, Grant Park remains at the physical heart of
the city, although the commercial centre has gradually moved northward along Michigan
Avenue towards the ‘Magnificent Mile’. Congress Drive is still the axis of the park and the
park is still the axis of the city. And it still sits at the centre of a chain of major lakefront
parks. Since the early 1990s there has been major residential development on all three
sides of the park and ‘real estate around the park, and Millennium Park in particular, has
become some of the most sought-after property in the city’ (Cremin 2013: 188).
Shape of site and landform
Grant Park is a north–south rectangle parallel to the shoreline of Lake Michigan. It is
approximately 5,750 feet (1,750 metres) long by 2,800 feet (850 metres) wide. The site
was reclaimed from the lake and by 1905 it had been filled to the target level of 29 feet
(8.8 metres) above the Chicago datum (ibid: 85). The terrain generally rises on the
landward side with a series of slopes and horizontal planes between them, such that
Columbus Drive is ‘several feet’ higher than Lake Shore Drive – and the lakefront walk is
significantly lower (Chicago Park District 1992b: 13). One other noticeable change of
level is at the northern edge of the park along Randolph Drive, where it rises to
accommodate parking structures – and the Harris Theater and the Jay Pritzker Pavilion.
Original design concept
The Plan of Chicago projected Grant Park as the Beaux-Arts centrepiece of twentieth-
century Chicago. Accordingly, Bennett’s plan proposed ‘a system of lawn panels, formal
flower beds, allées of elm trees, classical details, and a monumental fountain at the center
of the park’ (Chicago Park District 1992b: 36). This structure was subdivided into a series
of salles (rooms) and smaller spaces (cabinets). The older, smaller spaces along Michigan
Avenue are more garden-like in scale and design. The newer, larger spaces to the east of
the IC are designed for more communal use, for sporting activities and for musical events.
These principles were reinforced by the Design Guidelines (1992) and Framework Plan
(2002) and respected – but challenged – by Millennium Park and Maggie Daley Park.

Sculpture ‘Borders’ by Steinunn Thórarinsdóttir south of AIC (October 2013)

Crown Fountain by Jaume Plensa (October 2013)

Spatial structure, circulation system and planting

Bennett’s geometry is still clearly evident. Congress Drive remains a dominant east–west
axis and the Buckingham Fountain, sitting on that axis, remains the focal point of the
overall park. The Design Guidelines, termed this the Historic Template (Chicago Park
District 1992a: 31). The north–south axis through the fountain and through the less
elevated Butler and Hutchinson Fields is stronger on plan than on the ground. The Fields
feel subsidiary to the dyke-like promenades. Equally, the development of Millennium Park
and Maggie Daley Park as distinct salles with individual characters and purposes will
continue to draw attention away from the fountain. But it is the dissection of Grant Park
by highways that really undermines its unity. The layout looks beautifully balanced on
plan and stunningly sharp from surrounding skyscrapers. It works well from the Cancer
Survivors’ Garden or through a windscreen driving south on Lake Shore Drive towards the
Field Museum. But for pedestrians it is an ordeal. Most days of the year Columbus Drive
and Lake Shore Drive feel like uncrossable freeways.
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Managing organization
Chicago Park District is a municipal corporation established in 1934 through
amalgamation of the twenty-two park districts. The Superintendent and Commissioners
are directly appointed by the Mayor ‘with the advice and consent’ of the city council. In
practice the mayor has a relatively free hand over who s/he appoints. By all accounts,
there have been periods when political affiliations were more critical than abilities or
interest in parks (Wille 1991: 99–148). Despite the Mayor’s relative autonomy, a system
of Advisory Councils has been in place since the mid-1980s, following a federal inquiry
into discriminatory allocation of resources by the Park District (Bachrach 2012: 44).
Separation of the Park District from the rest of city government is emphasized by the
fact that it collects dedicated taxes – the Park Assessment. As a consequence, operational
budgets for Chicago’s parks are higher per unit area than for most other US cities. The
total operating budget for 2014 was $425.6 million – a 3.6 per cent rise from 2013 and a
21.6 per cent rise since 2004 (www.chicagoparkdistrict.com/assets). Millennium Park is
run on behalf of the City’s Department of Cultural Affairs by a separate non-profit
organization – Millennium Park Inc. (MPI). The Park District provides daily maintenance,
MPI manages everything else. In late 2013 MPI was funded by a $26 million endowment
with a further commitment of $9 million but it was becoming apparent that this figure
should be around $60 million for the park to operate to its full potential.5
Use
Although the Park District does not conduct regular user surveys, ‘more than 20 million
people visit Grant Park … annually, making it the second most visited park’ in the country
(www.chicagoparkdistrict.com/about-us). This follows steady growth during the 1980s
and 1990s, attributable to events such as the Chicago Marathon – which, since 1977, has
started and finished in Grant Park – and to recasting of the Grant Park Music Festival and
relocation of the Taste of Chicago into the park in 1979. By 2013 visits to Millennium
Park alone were estimated at around five million per year, well up on the quoted figure
from 2006 of 2.5 to three million (Lindke 2006: 32).
PLANS FOR THE PARK
Current thinking about Grant Park followed the election in 1989 of Mayor Richard M.
Daley with a strong parks agenda, including creation of the Park Board’s Office of
Research and Planning – directed by Ed Uhlir. Two significant documents were produced
in July 1992 – the nomination for the National Register of Historic Places and the Grant
Park Design Guidelines. The Guidelines established the principle of the Historic Template
as the basis for plan-making for Grant Park. This approach aimed to ‘preserve the park’s
historic character while accommodating the need for change’ (Chicago Park District
1992a: ii). The Guidelines were followed by the Grant Park Framework Plan, prepared by
Hargreaves Associates and presented in January 2002. The Framework Plan was also set
in the context of CitySpace: An Open Space Plan for Chicago (Chicago Park District
1998), jointly produced by the Park District, the City of Chicago and Cook County Forest
Preserve in January 1998. CitySpace ‘established ambitious new goals to provide parkland
to underserved neighborhoods’ throughout the city (Bachrach 2012: 45).
The Framework Plan, prepared when construction of Millennium Park was underway,
was intended to facilitate ‘transformation of Grant Park into a vibrant and rich fusion of
historic and contemporary elements’. Fundamental to this transformation were the
principles that Grant Park should ‘be green … be multi-use … [and should] progress
towards a greater sense of human scale’ (Chicago Park District 2002: 4). The favoured
‘Quadrants Scheme’ proposed a new amphitheatre on Hutchison Field and multi-purpose
sports on Butler Field – an effective swap (that would reduce current conflicts between
events at the Jay Pritzker Pavilion and Petrillo Bandshell), neighbourhood sports facilities
in the southwest of the park, redesign of North Grant Park – now Maggie Daley Park (over
another decaying parking garage), conversion of Columbus Drive into pedestrian-oriented
‘Columbus Plaza’, and construction of new pedestrian / cycle bridges over the rail lines as
extensions of 8th, 9th and 11th Streets – the last of which has been built. Maggie Daley
Park, designed by Michael Van Valkenburgh Associates, is the most significant follow-up
to the Framework Plan – a $60 million project to provide year-round play facilities for
children and adults (reflecting, again, rapidly rising numbers of residents in the
neighbourhood) and some very Olmstedian meadows – all on another roof garden.
CONCLUSIONS
Saved ‘for the poor people’ of Chicago by Montgomery Ward, Grant Park was shaped by
Burnham and by Bennett. The land for the park was created through incremental
reclamation of the Lake Michigan shoreline and construction over rail lines and car parks.
It was conceived as the pivotal point of one of the earliest and most radical adventures in
urban planning. It was developed through piecemeal additions around its Beaux-Arts
heart. It is still dissected by railways and highways. But, without Ward and without
Burnham, the lakefront opposite Grant Park might now be completely inaccessible.
Bandshells have been barometers of the health of Grant Park. Millennium Park inserted
in the northwest corner of the park – as near as possible to the downtown – is a remarkable
reassertion of confidence in the future of festivals in the park. But the bridge between
there and Maggie Daley Park is, in some ways, more significant. Together with the long-
mooted tunnels between the Buckingham Fountain and the lake edge and between the park
and the Museum Campus, the bridge symbolizes a concerted attempt to unite the disparate
parts of the park. Without such linkages Grant Park will remain magnificent in concept
and perfect in plan – but not for pedestrians. The challenge remains to promote the
Historic Template while developing a circulation strategy that improves movement
between the successive insertions into the compartments of the Beaux-Arts box.
NOTES
1 This account drawn from Wille 1991: 4–70 and listed Chicago Park District documents.
2 This account based on Wille 1991: 71–81; Chicago Park District 1992a: 10–12; Chicago Park District 1992b: 27–
30.
3 The term ‘Olmsted firm’ is used to describe Frederick Law Olmsted and his partners and their successors from 1878
onward.
4 This account based on Chicago Park District 1992a: 16 and 1992b: 39–42.
5 Noted at meeting with Ed Uhlir on 10 October 2013.
19 The Regent’s Park, London
(135 hectares / 334 acres)
INTRODUCTION
The Regent’s Park had a long and jumpy gestation. It was originally designed to promote
the sale of adjacent residential properties. Its protracted emergence as a public park
resulted from government proposals to exploit the Crown Estate at the time of the
Napoleonic Wars (Crook 2001: 4). The venture was initiated by the government on behalf
of the Prince Regent, the title from 1811 to 1820 of King George IV (reigned 1820–30),
for whom the park is named. He was a prolific developer, particularly of his own palaces
and estates, and the ‘patron and protector’ of architect John Nash (1752–1835).1 Nash was
a ‘self-confessed eclectic’ (ibid: 38). His landscape designs were strongly influenced by
his work with Humphry Repton (1752–1818) and arch-exponent of the picturesque,
Uvedale Price (1747–1829). Regent’s Park as a whole is the largest park in central
London.2
Nash had envisaged the park as ‘the final, splendid termination of a processional route
from Carlton House northwards, although the building of Regent Street and the
improvements to St James’s Park were still yet to come’ (Chadwick 1966: 31). Regent’s
Park was not the first Royal Park open to the public in London – Hyde Park had been
opened by King Charles I (reigned 1625–49) in about 1635. Indeed, Regent’s Park was not
initially conceived as a public park and was not fully open to the public until 1835. The
unity and character of the park derive as much from its unique setting at the centre of
Nash’s ‘Regency’ terraces as from the design of the park itself. Indeed, the layout of the
park still reflects its ambivalent origins. Three of the principal physical elements of the
layout – the Broad Walk, the Boating Lake and the Inner Circle – are somewhat tenuously
related, and the Inner Circle encloses an almost separate park within the park. The Zoo is
effectively another separate park. Whereas the park was originally conceived as a scenic
outlook for surrounding residences, the terraces now provide a stunning backdrop for
users of the park.
HISTORY
Designation as a park
The site of Regent’s Park was enclosed as a hunting park by King Henry VIII (reigned
1509–47) under the name Marylebone (or Marybone) Park. It remained as a royal hunting
park stocked with deer until Charles I mortgaged the Crown Estate to pay for arms during
the Civil War (1642–49). The site was sequestered during the Interregnum (1649–60)
when it was sold in lots to the highest bidders. The deer were moved to St James’s Park,
most of the trees on the site were felled for timber and the land was then let as tenanted
pasture and returned to the Crown when the monarchy was restored in 1660. It passed via
two of Charles II’s favoured noblemen to a group of speculators and was divided into two
leaseholds, one of which reverted to the Crown in 1803. The other leasehold had been
extended to 1811 by which time it was owned by the fourth Duke of Portland. His father,
the third Duke, had developed Portland Place. The Portlands also owned land to the
northwest of the park and the fourth Duke regarded control of the park as the key to
consolidating his estates.
A statutory commission had been established by Parliament in 1786 to review the
control and profitability of Crown land throughout the country. Marylebone Park was
reviewed in the commission’s first report. Rents were found to be low relative to the value
of the land and were raised. The final report of the commission, in 1793, recommended
that all Crown land should be retained by the Crown and controlled by a board of three
commissioners. This was accepted – but not implemented until 1810. Instead, the Scot
John Fordyce, one of the three members of the commission established in 1786, was
appointed Surveyor General of Land Revenue. The Duke of Portland immediately began
negotiations to try to extend his interest in the park. Fordyce, however, recommended to
the Treasury that before any part of the park was disposed of, ‘a general plan should be
formed for the Improvement of the whole of it’ (Summerson 1980: 60). He also sought
approval to appoint a surveyor to prepare an up-to-date plan of the park so that a
competition with a ‘considerable reward’ could be staged for its design.

Boating Lake and Sussex Place (March 2013)

In the event only three plans were submitted to Fordyce. And they were all from John
White, the Duke of Portland’s surveyor. White made it quite clear that he was not seeking
the ‘considerable reward’ but was simply demonstrating the Duke’s continuing interest in
the land. Fordyce’s final report in 1809 made little mention of the park itself but did
recommend the ‘cutting of a great thoroughfare between the park and Charing Cross’, in
order to improve access to the Law Courts and Houses of Parliament. Fordyce’s foresight
merits more credit. Meanwhile, in 1806, Nash, who was already working for the Prince
Regent in a private capacity, had accepted an appointment as architect to the Office of
Woods and Forests and brought in James Morgan as his partner. Fordyce died in August
1809. In 1810, in line with the recommendation made in 1793, the Office of Woods and
Forests was merged with the Office of Land Revenue.
One of the first issues confronting the new commission was that the Duke of Portland’s
lease on part of Marylebone Park was due to expire in January 1811. Instructions were
issued to a pair of surveyors and to a pair of architects to prepare designs for the park and
for the new street connecting it to West-minster. The surveyors were the Thomases
Leverton and Chawner, who had been appointed to the Office of Land Revenues in 1809.
The architects were Nash and Morgan. Whereas Morgan had done most of their work for
the Office of Woods and Forests, Nash, ever alert to opportunities for self-advancement,
treated this commission as his own. Leverton and Chawner’s proposals called for an
unadventurous extension northwards of the rectilinear pattern of the Portland estate
(Saunders 1969: 89). They made no allowance for the road link to Westminster and their
estimates of return on the investment were not encouraging. Nash’s report, by contrast,
was ‘thorough, shrewdly analytical and written with a sort of bravura which renders it
immediately convincing’ (Summerson 1980: 66). His estimates of returns on investment
were equally optimistic (ibid: 70).

Cumberland Terrace (June 2010)

Nash’s original plan, drawn up in March 1811, proposed a much higher density of
development than was eventually accepted. The graphic style that he adopted, using dots
to represent buildings, was highly deceptive. He showed terraces around three sides of the
park, a major double circus in the centre of a more or less square road system, and a series
of smaller circuses, squares and crescents all fringed with terraces – ‘a metropolitan annex
laid out on geometrical lines’ (Crook 2001: 6). Nash proposed a riverine network of lakes
in the lower parts of the site to the north and west of the major circus, loosely based on the
line of the River Tyburn which flowed through the site on its way southward to the
Thames. Nash also allocated a site for a guingette – a pleasure resort – for the Prince
Regent (Saunders 1969: 203). In 2000, Crook revealed a subsequent plan from mid-1811
showing far less housing and an even-more-riverine water body joining the Grand Union
Canal to the north of the park (Crook 2001: 10).

Gates to Queen Mary’s Gardens, Inner Circle (July 2013)

Avenue Gardens (August 2013)

Nash’s proposals finally reached Prime Minister Spencer Perceval in August 1811. He
was called for interview by the suburban-dwelling Perceval and instructed to reduce the
density of the development and to increase the amount of open space near the residences.
He rapidly produced a third plan. The double circus enveloped by the sinuous lake, the
southern circus and the site for the Prince Regent’s guingette remained, albeit in revised
forms. Saunders suggested that Nash adopted this from White’s proposals without giving
him any credit (Saunders 1969: 72). A scattering of villas within the open spaces was still
proposed, but the lines of terraces were pushed to the edges of the park, and the canal was
realigned to skirt rather than run through the site. In the event the double circus was not
built and only half the smaller southern circus, Park Crescent, was built. Nevertheless, by
1816 the roads, fences and excavation of the lake were completed and the canal was
opened in 1820 – but only three of the villa sites had been let before Regent Street was
opened in 1819. The building of the Regency terraces that remain the finest feature of the
park did not begin until the 1820s.
While completing his two designs for the park in 1811, John Nash had also been
instructed to draw up proposals for the new road from Portland Place to Charing Cross.
The proposed alignment followed a natural cleavage between the tangled streets of Soho
to the east and the ordered estates of the nobility to the west. Portland Place was made to
revolve around the landmark of All Souls Church and into Langham Place running
southward to Oxford Circus. From there the modishly broad Regent Street, nearly twice as
wide as the buildings enclosing it, ran southeast-ward into a smooth curve terminating at
Piccadilly Circus. The Circus enabled Nash to redirect the new road to align with Carlton
House. In 1825 the then King George IV decided to demolish Carlton House, which had
been his London home since reaching the age of majority in 1783, and to rebuild
Buckingham House as a royal palace. Carlton House had been the focal point at the
southern end of Nash’s scheme linking St James’s Park via Regent Street and Portland
Place to Regent’s Park. Its axis had even determined the position of Piccadilly Circus.
Nash was instructed to draw up proposals for a building to replace Carlton House and
construction of the current Carlton House Terrace began in 1827.

Park and London skyline from Primrose Hill (August 2013)

Key figures in planning and design of the park

John Nash is generally recognized as the author of the designs for Regent’s Park and St
James’s Park. However, the influence of Humphry Repton on Nash’s work cannot be
understated.3 Repton, seeking architectural assistance for his work on country houses,
went into partnership with Nash around 1795. Nash was drawn by the chance to meet
‘Repton’s wide circle of influential friends and clients’ (Goode and Lancaster 1986: 468).
They fell out after about six years, largely because Nash excluded Repton from projects
for the Prince Regent. There can be little question, however, that both Nash’s partnership
with Repton (Chadwick 1966: 29) and his earlier work with Uvedale Price (Crook 2001:
3) introduced him to the emerging principles of picturesque landscape design. Repton’s
approach is demonstrated as much in Regent’s and St James’s Parks as in his own work.
Hunt described it as ‘Pope’s “consult the genius of the place” rescued and brought up to
date’ (Hunt 1992: 152). Chadwick described Nash’s design for St James’s Park as being
‘laid out and planted just as Repton might have had it’ (Chadwick 1966: 33). This ties in
with Nash having been ‘a self-confessed eclectic’ and ‘not so much a designer as a
collector of designs’ (Crook 2001: 28). And it is important to note that at Regent’s Park,
‘Nash did not at first intend to design a public park’ – it was forced on him by politicians
and market conditions (ibid: 14).
Regent’s Park, London
1 Primrose Hill
2 Regent’s Canal
3 Outer Circle
4 London Zoo
5 The Broad Walk
6 Maintenance Yard
7 The Hub
8 Readymoney Fountain
9 Cumberland Terrace
10 Cumberland Green
11 Winfield House
12 London Central Mosque
13 Hanover Terrace
14 Boating Lake
15 The Holme
16 Inner Circle
17 Open Air Theatre
18 Queen Mary’s Garden
19 St. John’s College
20 Chester Terrace
21 Sussex Place
22 Regent’s College
23 Avenue Gardens
24 Clarence Gate
25 Cornwall Terrace
26 York Gate
27 Park Square
28 Park Crescent

The Broad Walk looking south (August 2013)

Development of the park
Park Crescent at the northern end of Portland Place was built in 1819–21. The first terrace
to be built around the Outer Circle of the park was Cornwall Terrace in 1821, designed by
Decimus Burton. This was followed in 1822 by the wildly exotic Sussex Place, designed
by Nash himself and in 1823 by the more sober Hanover Terrace, also by Nash. The long
blocks of York Terrace, either side of the York Gate, were also built in 1822 and 1823 to
designs by Nash. The relentlessly horizontal, 280-metre-long, Chester Terrace was
completed in 1825 and the crowning glory of the east side of the park, Nash’s palatial
Cumberland Terrace, was built in 1826. He intended that it should complement the
guingette on the other side of the Outer Circle. The Office of Woods, Forests and Land
Revenues terminated the development programme for the park in 1826.
The Gardens of the Zoological Society of London – ‘London Zoo’ – at the northern end
of the Broad Walk were laid out by Decimus Burton in 1827 and the Inner Circle was
taken over as the Royal Botanic Garden in 1840. Designed by Robert Marnock and with a
conservatory also by Decimus Burton, the Inner Circle began its life as a park within the
park. In the early 1830s public access was restricted to roadways. Only residents were
allowed to use the park itself. In 1832 Nash was asked to facilitate greater public use and
arranged for extension of (what became known as) the Broad Walk northward from
Chester Road to the Zoo. This runs along a gentle ridge running south–southeast from the
Zoo and offered views into the heart of the park. Nash also designed a serpentine path
through Cumberland Green to the east of the Broad Walk, offering views to the terraces
that he had designed a decade earlier. By 1835, therefore, reasonably large areas in the
south and east of the park were opened to the public. In 1841 the northern park area was
opened to the public and from then until 1883 little additional land was released for public
use.
By the 1860s the park had absorbed numerous Victorian trappings. The lower Broad
Walk was redesigned in 1863 by William Andrews Nesfield (1793–1881) in the ‘French-
Italian’ style. It was named ‘Avenue Gardens’. Between 1865 and 1874 Nesfield’s son,
Markham, designed the informal ‘English Gardens’ to the east, between his father’s
gardens and the park boundary. By 1870 the Broad Walk had, by all accounts, become a
veritable Victorian promenade littered with lodges, bandstands, shelters, drinking
fountains and seats. The boating (and skating) lake and northern parkland were used less
intensively. The grassland continued to be grazed and these areas retained a sense of
rurality. By the end of the nineteenth century, further land had been released for public use
and a new gate, Clarence Gate, had been created.
In the early twentieth century, grazing ceased and much of the ground was laid out for
sport. Institutions replaced private lessees. The scale of building was radically disrupted
when Bedford (now Regent’s) College was built on the grounds of South Villa; Queen
Mary’s Garden took over the remains of the Royal Botanic Society Garden in the 1930s
and now contains gardens with 30,000 roses of 400 varieties (Royal Parks Agency 2013).
The park was requisitioned during the World Wars. Surrounding terraces damaged by
wartime bombs were restored from 1957 onwards and the open-air theatre, established in
1932, was made into an amphitheatre in the 1970s and refurbished in 2000 (Slavid 1999:
8). During the 1980s the Zoo talked both of leaving the park altogether and of expanding.
Avenue Gardens were completely reconstructed between 1993 and 1966. The Hub, a new
sports changing, meeting and café facility was opened in 2005, reaffirming the park’s role
as a major venue for organized and casual sports. And the waterfowl collection remains
the largest publicly owned collection in the United Kingdom.
Natural condition of the site
Regent’s Park sits on deep deposits of London Clay which give way, more or less on the
east–west line of Marylebone Road, to gravel terraces between there and the River
Thames. The gravel terraces were relatively easy to clear and build on – the London Clay
less so. Primrose Hill, to the north of the park, rises relatively steeply to an elevation of 65
metres giving long views southward across the park and the city. The park itself is
relatively flat. Its northern edge has an elevation of around 38 metres; the low point is the
boating lake at 29 metres. The lake, with an area of about nine hectares, occupies part of
the original line of the River Tyburn, a minor tributary of the River Thames formed by two
brooks flowing south ward from Primrose Hill. It is fed from the park’s land drainage
system but, since it does not have an outlet, it is mechanically aerated.
The high point of the park, +41 metres, is beside Readymoney Fountain at the southeast
point of the Zoo. The general slope of the park from north to south is therefore about 10
metres with a noticeable westward slope from the Inner Circle and away from the Broad
Walk. Since tree cover on the site was stripped during the Interregnum, the park has
suffered from its shallow gradients and its poorly drained clay soils. Much of Nash’s early
planting was difficult to establish and slow to develop. These problems were exacerbated
by the dumping of building rubble from World War II on parkland areas, including the
former line of the River Tyburn to the north of the lake, and then covering it with
inadequate topsoil. Large sums have been spent over the last 150 years on subsoil drainage
throughout the park.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location
Fordyce and Nash, in turn, went to extraordinary lengths to create the processional route
between the park and Westminster. ‘Nobody, it seems … believed that the new street
would ever be built. Things like that did not happen in London’ (Summerson 1980: 116).
This reflects the sense of distance between the heart of the London and the park. Now, of
course, the park appears ridiculously central in any map of London. It is, however, located
on the north side of a major east–west road, the Marylebone Road, just outside London’s
Congestion Charging Zone. It therefore remains, in some ways, an edge-of-centre park
and is used as much by local residents as by visitors from outside Greater London. Just as
the park sits on the outside of the highway system, it also lies outside the Circle Line of
the underground rail system – the line outside of which business London tends to give way
to residential London. Beyond Nash’s Terraces to the northeast and east of the park
towards Camden Town are lower-lying relatively poorer residential areas. To the
northwest and west are inner suburbs of predominantly private, high-priced housing,
particularly St John’s Wood. So, just as Fordyce and Nash located Regent Street and
Langham Place along a line of social cleavage, Regent’s Park continues that line
northward. As far as the park itself is concerned, Nash stated that as it ‘increases in beauty
it will increase in value, and the occupiers will stamp the character of the neighbourhood’
(ibid: 116–17).
Original design
The principal physical elements of the park remain much as Nash designed them – even
though he did not conceive them as elements in a unified public park. They are the
remnant framework of an abandoned exercise in property development. The park does,
however, reflect the fact that Nash developed a great deal of understanding of the
relationship between buildings and their settings from his work with Price and Repton.
Equally, the lake reflects Repton’s thinking about the riverine qualities of ornamental
water bodies. The Nash terraces remain more or less continuous from Hanover Terrace in
the west to Gloucester Gate in the northeast. The only breaks are where the Colosseum
was replaced by the chateau-style terrace of Cambridge Gate in the 1870s and the scalpel-
sharp Royal College of Physicians – designed in the 1960s by Denis Lasdun, architect for
London’s National Theatre. St John’s Lodge and The Holme are leased as private
residences. The only footpath other than the Broad Walk that remains as Nash designed it
is the one through Cumberland Green installed in 1832.

Regent’s Canal at London Zoo (July 1996)

 Nash originally intended the Broad Walk as the continuation northward of Portland
Place into Regent’s Park – an idea revived by architect Terry Farell as part of the Royal
Parks Review of 1993–97. It takes advantage of the natural landform of the site and offers
a firmly directed walk with a sequence of views between blocks of trees – westward into
the major space in the park and eastward to the later Nash terraces. It appears, however,
that in establishing the Broad Walk Nash was simply following the line of field boundaries
along ‘Green Lane’ (Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 124–5). The Broad Walk was
complemented by the restoration of Avenue Gardens and (the somewhat stumpy)
Readymoney Fountain whose visibility results from its elevated location rather than its
intrinsic stature. Apart from the avenues of largely London plane trees along the Broad
Walk and the cherry avenue along Chester Road, the layout of tree planting in the park is
generally independent of the park circulation. Trees are generally located in a continuous
but relatively narrow fringe around the perimeter of the park. An often broader band of
trees wraps around the lake and adjacent residences. These fringes and bands comprise
deciduous forest trees infilled with smaller ornamental species. The floral flamboyance of
the Inner Circle suggests that maintenance is more intensive at the centre than at the
edges.
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
The Management and Usage section for St James’s Park (Chapter 11) is generally
applicable to Regent’s Park. The last figure for visits to Regent’s Park (from 2009) was in
the order of six million per year. The visitor profile showed a higher proportion of visitors
from London, visiting regularly, and arriving on foot than for any other than other Royal
Park. Nevertheless, like St James’s Park, some local residents felt that the park was ‘not
for us’. And even in the professional press it has been referred to as a ‘posh park’ (Such
2009: 20).
PLANS FOR THE PARK
The general aims for the future of Regent’s Park are similar to those for the other Royal
Parks in central London. The Landscape Management Plan adopted in 1998 called for
reinforcement of the identity of the park, protection of the historic integrity of the
circulation system, treatment of boundaries to reflect the principles intended by Nash,
appropriate density of tree cover in the park fringe, emphasizing the ‘picturesque’
character of the boating lake, integrating the sports fields with the wider park, managing
Avenue Gardens so that they develop towards planned maturity, rebuilding a conservatory
in the Inner Circle, restricting new monuments, standardizing seats, lights, bins and
barriers, continued soil improvement, softening edges of the boating lake, restoration of
area around Readymoney Fountain, ensuring healthy continuity of trees, creating
significant new areas of wildlife habitat and wildlife corridors, maintaining a healthy stock
of kept birds, controlling the Canada Goose population, and reducing the dominance of the
Zoo. The Zoo recovered from its period of uncertainty in the 1980s and has been
collaborating with the park management to reshape its boundaries to achieve better
integration with the park.
Plans were also drawn up in the late 1990s to improve the quality of sports facilities in
the park. The northern part of the park contains the largest grass-based group sports space
in central London, with facilities for football, rugby, lacrosse, cricket and softball. This
plan led to the construction of the Hub, with changing facilities for 300 people, and the
promotion of a number of park-based sports clubs.

The Hub (June 2010)

CONCLUSIONS
Regent’s Park was created as the private centrepiece of a real estate venture, initially based
on Regency precedents in Bath and Edinburgh but becoming an early example of the
‘urban picturesque’. It could be argued that the current layout arose as much by accident
as from conscious design decisions. Nevertheless it contains many set piece elements of
great individual value. The lake, for instance, is highly redolent of Repton’s work on
riverine water bodies and bridges. But it is difficult to deny that the finest qualities of the
park are a by-product of Nash’s architectural design rather than the direct result of his
landscape design. These qualities are, of course, the views of the crescents from the park.
These views are most powerful in winter when the mature trees create less of a screen.
Such powerful views challenge any notion that parks should exist in antithesis to their
urban settings. They compare with the dramatic contrast between Grant Park, Chicago and
adjacent commercial buildings or between Central Park, New York and adjacent
residential buildings. Park and building reinforce each other’s character and reaffirm each
other’s role in the city.
The stuttering start to the development of the park left it with a bitty layout and further
bits have been added over time. The Botanical Garden left the park in the 1930s. The
Zoological Gardens almost left in the 1980s – but stayed and is thriving. The parallel,
more current practice of promoting ‘natural’ areas has also continued. This has been a
significant change in direction for a previously horticulture-driven management that
appeared more attuned to nurturing exceptional floral displays – which it still does – than
to accommodating uncontrolled wildlife. The ongoing challenge for the management is to
maintain a historic landscape that is as robust and unified – not uniform – as the terraces
outside it, while catering for increasing passive use and sporting activity on a site that is
not naturally suited to such intensive use.
NOTES
1 Summerson 1980: 166 noted that Nash himself used this description of George IV in 1828. Crook 2001: 14 noted,
however, that he was also ‘held in universal abhorrence, except by his universal master and dupe’.
2 Colvin and Moggridge 1998: 17 noted that the publicly accessible park has an area of 107 hectares (265 acres),
excluding London Zoo (15 hectares), Regent’s College, The Holme and St John’s Lodge (8 hectares) and Winfield
House (5 hectares) and the adjacent Primrose Hill (26 hectares).
3 This account largely drawn from Chadwick 1966: 20–34 and Goode and Lancaster 1986: 467–9.
20 Stadtpark, Hamburg
(151 hectares / 375 acres)
INTRODUCTION
The Hamburg Stadtpark – ‘town park’ – was the prototypical Volkspark – ‘people’s park’.
Conceived and constructed between 1900 and 1914, it represented a new model of public
park for the rapidly growing urban population of a recently formed and increasingly
industrialized nation at the beginning of a new century. The Volkspark was intended for
active public recreation and as an expression of the spiritual unity and cultural identity of
the German nation. It represented a significant break from the pastoral park that had
become the norm in Europe and North America. The essence of Volksparks was that ‘they
must provide large spaces for games of all sorts, which must be available to all … tree-
lined avenues should enclose these sports grounds and lead to large areas of water …
people of every social class will be able to gather to enjoy the delights of a place designed
to compensate for the tracts of countryside eaten away by housing and industry, and to
provide an oasis of peace in which to escape the pressures of the working week’ (in De
Michelis 1991: 409).1 The Stadtpark remains, at 151 hectares, the largest and most heavily
used purpose-built public park in Hamburg, the second largest city in Germany.
The adopted design of the Stadtpark by Fritz Schumacher (1869–1947 – City Architect
1909–33) and City Engineer Fritz Sperber was completed in 1910. It synthesized the two
favoured entries to a design competition. The strong axial design is unsurprisingly
pragmatic and yet extraordinarily dramatic. The layout is characterized by an axis of more
than 1,500 metres on the longest diagonal in the park, running between the 38-metre-high
water tower – Wasserturm – and the main entrance at the southeast corner of the park.
This axis incorporates a 12-hectare open lawn (Festwiese) and an eight-hectare oval lake –
Stadtparksee – subtending a rectangle divided off for swimming. The lake originally
formed the focus for a major ‘people’s café’ located on the axis, above this rectangle. The
length of the axis and the level changes along it are comparable to the dimensions in Le
Nôtre’s seventeenth-century design for Vauxle-Vicomte (Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 346).
It is often suggested that the layout of the Stadtpark also expresses a (neo-Baroque) ‘world
view whose religious, philosophical and political content is outdated’ (Grout 1997: 17).
But, as modernist George Chadwick noted, the axis arose ‘from essentially practical,
rather than purely visual considerations’ (Chadwick 1966: 255–6). It reflected the call by
landscape architect Leberecht Migge (1861–1935) in a pamphlet published in 1909 for a
function-driven approach to design of the Stadtpark (Haney 2013: 4) – matching the
values of the Deutscher Werkbund on ‘standards of mass production and mass
consumption’ (ibid: 4, 14).
HISTORY
Designation as park
The population of Hamburg rose rapidly from about 300,000 in 1870 to about 700,000 in
1900 and over a million by 1910 (Jefferies 2011: 17). After 1870 suburbs were developed
to the north of the city along the banks of the Außenalster. Relatively small parks were
created in these suburbs. But by the 1890s City Engineer F. A. Meyer was clearly aware of
the need for additional open space for recreation and as a means of improving citizens’
health. Maass noted that ‘in their early phase of growth, the cities were hit every year by
epidemics of cholera and towards the end of the century high levels of TB and infantile
mortality’ (Maass 1981: 124). In 1896 Mayer drew up an expansion plan for the city –
confined as it then was to a wedge of land pointing northward up the valley of the River
Alster. His plan recognized that most of the existing open space was on the west bank of
the Alster, an area inhabited by wealthier citizens.2 It called for a large park to the east of
the river and to the north of the suburb of Winterhude, about five kilometres from the
centre of the city. Mayer’s plan was approved by the city council in 1896 – but funds were
not available until 1902 for purchase of land.

Sculpture ‘Bathing Woman’ by Georg Kolbe (July 2012)

Condition of the site

Hamburg sits close to the mouth of the Elbe. Initially developed at the confluence of the
Elbe and the Alster, it extended to occupy higher-lying sandy land deposited by melting
glaciers (Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 334). The initial purchase in 1903 included a small
wood (Sierichsches Gehölz – the name still given to the woodland surrounding the water
tower) and some adjacent agricultural land. The site fell by about 12 metres from the
north-northwest to the south and east. The Goldbekkanal, part of a network of natural and
human-made links to the River Alster, already extended from the Außenalster to the
southeast corner of the site.
Key figures in establishment and design of the park
Preliminary designs were prepared in 1903 but a firm decision to develop the park was not
made until 1904, when a nine-person commission was appointed by the Hamburg Senate
to oversee design and construction. This commission included vociferous public figures
such as Alfred Lichtwark (1852–1914), director of Hamburg Art Gallery (Kunsthalle) and
a strong proponent of the park, Justus Brinckmann (1843–1915), director of the Museum
for Art and Trade (Kunst und Gewerbe) and Wilhelm Cordes (1840–1917), director of the
huge Ohlsdorf Cemetery to the northeast of the park site, and city officials. Lichtwark had
written an essay, Makartbouquet und Blumen strauß, in 1892 that directed ‘attention to the
peasants’ gardens at Hamburg which he preferred to the English landscape parks’ (Gothein
1928: 357). Chadwick also noted that Lichtwark was ‘very much against the general
“landscape” style’ (Chadwick 1966: 255).
Initially the commission itself sought to draw up proposals for the park. One much
publicized example was a sketch by Lichtwark that showed an axial arrangement of trees,
buildings and water bodies running directly east–west through the length of the park. The
only firm decisions that were reached during this period were the location of the water
tower in the northwest of the site – determined by another commission of the Senate and
designed by architect Oskar Menzel (1873–1958) – and to call for designs by open
competition (Vernier 1981: 101). The call for entries was issued in 1908 and generated
widespread discussion about the appropriate style of a major city park for the twentieth
century, including Migge’s pamphlet. Sixty-six entries were received. Three
commendations, three third prizes and three second prizes were awarded – but no first
prize. The variation between the entries is characterized by the submissions from
landscape architect Röthe with architect Bungarten, awarded a second prize, and the
commended entry from architect Läuger. The former included an allée focused on the
water tower and an oval lake and restaurant at the southeast corner – but was otherwise
redolent of Alphand’s smoothly curved design for Buttes-Chaumont from the 1860s. The
latter looked like an elaborate version of Lichtwark’s axial sketch. Sperber was asked in
January 1909 to produce workable versions of these two schemes, but the commission
waited for input from Schumacher.
Schumacher was appointed city architect in November 1909. He had been an active
member since 1902 of the Bund Deutscher Heimatschutz – an alliance for German values
and the protection of its natural and historical heritage (Pogacnik 1991: 463). The alliance
was also involved with the Denkmal pflegetagungen (Congress for the Protection of
National Monuments). A monument in this context was ‘not necessarily simply a building
of architectural merit but may also be a wood, a lake, a traditional costume or building
technique’ (ibid: 464). Commission member Justus Brinckmann was responsible for crafts
on behalf of the Bund Deutscher Heimatschutz, and Brinckmann went ‘with Schumacher
into the countryside around Hamburg to grasp the “essence” of the peasant tradition’
(Vernier 1981: 103). Schumacher was also a founder member of the Deutscher Werkbund,
established in 1907 to promote German artists and craftspeople but becoming, after World
War I, more closely aligned with modernism. The metamorphosis of the Werkbund
parallels Scumacher’s own progression from promoter of vernacular design to early
modernist.
Main axis from Water Tower / Planetarium (March 2013)

In December 1909 Schumacher was asked by the commission to work with Sperber to
produce a common design. The architect preferred a more geometric layout. The engineer
preferred something more traditional. In his 1928 book Ein Volkspark, Schumacher
described the design as a geometric skeleton embedded in a free-form body – and there is
little question that of the two designers, he was the principal proponent of the axis. This
design was unanimously approved in April 1910. It carried a cost estimate of 7.7 million
(old) Marks and a proposed construction programme of seven years.
Vernier suggested that the (now demolished) dairy, the meadow, the lake, the cascade
(also now demolished) and the brick that Schumacher used throughout the park are all
symbols of the region, land, national character and origin – underpinning the essence of
the Stadtpark (and other Volksparks) as an expression of social equality and national
identity (Vernier 1981: 101). Umbach, identifying Schumacher as an agent of ‘bourgeois
modernism’, argued that, for him, ‘red brick was the vernacular material ideally suited to
the project of liberal bügerlich [bourgeois] reform … an antidote to the follies of
historicism … the concomitant of a new form of rational urban planning’ (Umbach 2009:
25). Jefferies noted that his extensive use of red brick has led to ‘the phrase
“Schumacher’s Hamburg” having the same currency as “Mackintosh’s Glasgow” or even
“Gaudí’s Barcelona”’ (Jefferies 2011: 140).
Paddling / Playpool (August 2013)

Development of the park

Construction of the park began in July 1910 with work on the ponds, canals, roads and
paths. The first completed areas were opened to the public in July 1914 – the same year
that Otto Linne (1869–1937) was appointed as Hamburg’s first Gartendirektor (Director
of Parks), a post he held until 1933. Schumacher retained control of all the buildings and
structures in the park – including a strong influence on Menzel’s design of the water tower
which, along with the dairy building, drinking hall, Landhaus ‘Walter’ and the café, was
completed by 1916 – while Linne had primary responsibility for the planting, primarily
using a palette of native species. The second construction phase began after World War I.
The stadium was completed in 1919, the paddling pool in 1921, the open-air theatre in
1924, and the special gardens by 1925. A planetarium was installed in the water tower in
1929 – the year that the park was deemed complete.3 Schumacher was elected an honorary
member of the Royal Institute of British Architects in 1927 (Reitsam 1996: 39). Both
Schumacher and Linne retired from their positions with the city in 1933.
Banks of Stadtparksee from northwest (August 2013)

The Stadtpark was used as a military base during World War II. Proposals were drawn
up in 1941 for a massive axial extension to the northeast, roughly doubling its area, in
order to create a new stadium and associated sports facilities. The extension did not
proceed. But the war did leave its mark on the park in the form of allied bombing raids.
These destroyed the main restaurant – the other focal point of the park, as well as the dairy
building, the café and the cascade – some of Schumacher’s strongest brick structures. The
park was used from 1945 until 1953 for the emergency accommodation of 2,000–3,000
people. Reconstruction began in 1948 and was completed, as far as it went, by 1953. The
main entrance, the rose garden, roads, paths and the banks of the lake were rebuilt. But the
main restaurant, the counterpoint to the undamaged water tower, has never been
reconstructed. It was replaced by a simple circular pool. Its absence leaves a sadly
depleted composition. Furthermore, management following the reconstruction allowed
gradual erosion of the original design without proposing a discernible programme in its
place. This approach continued after the passing of responsibility for maintenance to the
district of Hamburg-Nord, created under legislation passed in 1949.

Water Tower/Planetarium (July 2012)

Schumacher’s brick cascade on the west side of the lake was removed in the 1960s,
avenues of trees were allowed to be broken, the edges of the lake were allowed to
crumble, woodland was allowed to become overgrown and to block vistas, Rhododendron
was allowed to invade woodland and suppress regeneration, and sports facilities were
privatized and effectively cut off from the park. The drift away from the principles on
which the park was built continued until the mid-1990s. In 1995 the Hamburg government
established, with Hamburg-Nord, a programme of woodland management with advice
from the University of Göttingen and commissioned a Parkpflegewerk – Park
Management Plan – adopted in November 1997 and still being adhered to in the 2010s.4
Subsequent work has followed, as closely as possible, the original lines and allées of the
1914 design. This was seen to be particularly important ahead of the park’s centennial.
Projects have included replanting of the plane tree allée, which will eventually be
pleached, north of the lake; restoration of the circular pool, although a major (but unlikely)
new building would be preferred; planting of a single line of Ulmus ‘New Horizon’, now
used as a replacement elm throughout the city, to define the sides of the Festwiese;
refurbishment of the children’s play pool, at a cost of over €1 million; and refurbishment
as a meeting and information centre of an 1880s building beside Otto-Wels-Straße.5
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location within city
The park is located about five kilometres northeast of Hamburg city centre. When
developed, the park was abutted to the south and east by the dense inner suburbs of
Barmbek and Winterhude. It is now completely surrounded by development. The weal
thier parts of Winterhude occupy the higher land on the west side of the park and the
immediate fringe of housing on the south side. The denser and less wealthy area of
Barmbek-Nord lies on the lower land to the east of the park. The area north of the park,
Hamburg-Nord, was developed largely after 1945. It has a high business component. The
park is easily accessible by U-Bahn – subway, and by S-Bahn (surface rail) – with stations
on all sides and all within 400 metres of an entrance to the park. The more heavily used
parts and facilities within the park are located towards the more heavily populated south
and east edges.
Shape of site and natural landform
The overall site is roughly rectangular. It is aligned east–west. It is roughly 1.8 kilometres
long and 650 to 1,000 metres wide. The platform at the base of the water tower is 22.6
metres above sea level. Levels fall relatively steadily from there to the south and east. The
normal water level of the Stadtparksee is +2.9 metres. The elevation at the main entrance
is +8 metres. There are no steep natural changes of level on the site. The steepest and most
abrupt human-made slope is between the Festwiese and the lake. Equally, there is a
vertical drop from the terrace at the east side of the lake. Otherwise the visual effects of
the design are achieved with gentle changes of level over long distances – making further
comparisons with Le Nôtre’s work inevitable.
Stadtpark, Hamburg
1 The Jahn Arena
2 Water Tower/Planetarium
3 Neue Welt Play Area
4 Otto-Wels-Straße
5 Drinking Hall and Spa Garden
6 Bathing Women Sculptures
7 The ‘Landhaus Walter’
8 Borgweg Entrance
9 Festwiese
10 Paddling/Play Pool
11 Open Air Theatre
12 Plane Tree Allée
13 Sports Complex
14 Rose Garden
15 Penguin Fountain
16 Toronto Bridge Entrance
17 Stadtparksee
18 Swimming Area
19 Site of Restaurant
20 Main Entrance

Design concept
Lichtwark and Schumacher both intended that the park should be designed for active
recreation. This is expressed in Schumacher’s statement that it should be used ‘not in the
sense of a passive enjoyment of the scenery, but in an active participation … in the open
air: playing, taking part in sports, lying on the grass, paddling in the water, riding on
horseback, dancing; going far beyond the appreciation of music, of art, of flowers and of
physical pleasure’ (in Maass 1981: 125). Its development also coincided with recognition
of the healthier aspects of exposure to the sun. This all conforms with the ideologies of
Cranz’s ‘Reform Park’. ‘The Stadtpark was to be a transcendent Gesamtkunstwerk [total
work of art] … stripped of its historic content … [t]he structure reflected the ideal of
modern, industrial production; the park must be organized like a factory in order to
accommodate the large number of city-dwellers in an ordered pattern of activities’
(Steenbergen and Reh 2011: 330). The visual impact of the already long axis is
strengthened by the deliberate narrowing of the clearing towards the water tower between
the trees. The axis is the anchor for the rest of the park. All other spaces are secondary to,
but not dominated by it, and all main paths relate to it. ‘Straight and curved lines have
been placed close to each other. As a result, a simple direct connection between the
elements of the park is created’ it is ‘an efficient arrangement’ with ‘no residual spaces or
left over corners’ (Baljon 1992: 194). The main axis is supplemented by the shorter north–
south axis, also running through the centre of the Stadtparksee.
The gently falling landform and the layout of the planting reinforce the pre-eminence of
the main axis. The surface of Otto-Wels-Straße where it crosses the axis is easily
concealed by the landform. The abrupt slope between the lake and the Festwiese is also
well concealed. There is no vagueness. There is a predominance of horizontal elements
contrasting with the water tower and there are no statues ‘of whatever hero, but only some
contemplative statues’ (Pohl 1993: 72). Actually, a lot of contemplative statues. There is a
restricted palette of simple dark planting that creates a distinct contrast with the broad
open spaces. Despite the geometry, the Festwiese connotes freedom rather than
domination – the axis creates a legible structure and provides orientation without
suppression. Current activities within the park – family and ethnic group gatherings,
casual games, swimming, barbecuing, rowing, partying, sunbathing, hangingout – seem to
locate themselves without conflict as a result of the original design. The park is intended
to be ‘a simple utility and consequently the arrangement is unpretentious’ (Pohl 1993: 72).
The legibility is liberating rather than limiting.
New allée of plane trees north of Stadtparksee (July 2012)

MANAGEMENT AND USAGE

Managing organization
Hamburg, like Berlin and Bremen, is a city state – one of sixteen Länder making up the
Federal Republic of Germany. The park was designed and constructed by the City of
Hamburg. The city’s area was relatively limited at that time but the Land was extended in
1938 to include former Prussian cities such as Altona and Harburg, which already had
their own Volksparks. The Land was subdivided into seven subsidiary boroughs after
1949. The Stadtpark is in the borough of Hamburg-Nord, which has been responsible for
maintenance of the park since the early 1960s. The City retains responsibility for strategic
management and for funding, via the boroughs, of all parks in Hamburg. Although
Hamburg is a rich city, its leaders have a trading disposition and are not eager to spend
money on institutions that are not seen to make money. The relatively limited land area of
the city state has meant that a lot of development since the 1960s has occurred outside its
administrative – and tax collecting – boundaries.
An early Stadtparkverein – friends group – existed in the 1930s but became dormant. A
new Stadtparkverein was established in the early 2000s and by 2012 had 200–300
contributing members, including local employers, schools, churches and individuals. The
Verein led the centennial events in 2014 and maintains a watchful presence in the park. It
is seen in the longer term as a potential fund-raising agency for the park – much along the
lines of North American models.

View from south across Stadtparksee (July 2012)

Use
Few figures exist for use of the Stadtpark and regular surveys are not conducted. It was
estimated in 1999 that the park received three to four million visits per year, with visitor
levels remaining high year-round; around 100,000 visits over a summer weekend, and
significantly more visits than during the 1980s. Numbers have remained consistently high
– ‘the Stadtpark is still the main park in Hamburg … and there are so many visitors that it
is difficult to maintain the grass over the summer’.6
PLANS FOR THE PARK
The official attitude to the Stadtpark remains that it is ‘an old park and a historically
important park … but it is not a museum’ and that ‘the historic concept is as modern today
as it was one hundred years ago’. The buildings, the natural habitat and the park itself are
protected by federal laws. The ongoing management philosophy is still to ‘provide an old
park for the future’.7 The objectives established by the Management Plan adopted in 1997
therefore remain operative, including giving first priority in the planning of facilities and
in the programming of activities to recreation and to experiencing nature, continuing to
cater for people of all social classes and of all ages, restricting the exclusive use of
facilities and areas of the park by specific user groups, and adopting a long-term policy of
free public access to all parts of the park. Many of the more specific objectives have been
addressed by the recent projects listed earlier.
At a broader level, the Stadtpark remains integral to the ‘green rings’ that comprise the
Grünes Netz Hamburg – a metropolitan open space system established in 1925 by
Schumacher for Hamburg and by Gustav Oelsner for neighbouring Altona. This was
promoted further after World War II such that ‘open spaces now constitute about half of
the Hamburg territory’ (City of Hamburg 2010). Current aims of the
Freiraumverbundsystem (comprehensive open space system) include ‘promotion of the
biotope network … as well as improvement of climatic and air quality conditions’ (ibid).

Penguin Fountain (July 1987)

CONCLUSIONS
The Stadtpark was one of the first modernist parks in the world. The idea behind its
creation was that active recreation should be given priority over the passive enjoyment of
romantic, generally pastoral, scenery – a radical departure from precedents in Europe and
North America. It demonstrates emergence of the park in Germany as an urban utility, a
place where ‘the identification of physical and sporting activities with the spiritual rebirth
of the German Volk led to a heightening of the cathartic function of park amenities’ (De
Michelis 1981: 109). The Volkspark also acted as a precedent for another uniquely
German model for the public park – the Jugendpark (Youth Park) promoted by Leberecht
Migge and others during the period of the Weimar Republic (1918–33) – an approach
where ‘function now began to create form, instead of being accommodated within a form
that was preconceived’ (Chadwick 1966: 254).
The Stadtpark remains an immensely popular and heavily used facility. Maass noted
that ‘although the name and its origin have been forgotten by now, these parks are widely
used by the population, and usually form the greater part of public green space inherited’
by many German cities (Maass 1981: 123). She also noted that ‘the people’s parks
possessed two features that are still valid today – a broad conception of culture in the open
air and functional open spaces’ (ibid: 127). The axis around which the Stadtpark is
organized has immense visual power. It is the focus of a smooth-flowing circulation
system that unfussily unites the various activities within the park. Schumacher’s clean
horizontal lines create a series of efficient and unambiguous spaces reinforced by
significant restoration of Linne’s structure of native planting. Management is still based on
the principle of the Stadtpark as ‘the Volkspark of the future’, recognizing the historic
significance of the park but, rather than retaining the original form for its own sake,
seeking to continue the philosophy that function should be the principal determinant of the
character of the park. It remains an exemplary demonstration of the application of a
modernist approach to park design.
NOTES
1 From Ludwig Lesser (1912), founder of the Deutscher Volksparkbund (German Volkspark Alliance) in ‘Die
Volksparks der Zukunft’ in der Städtebau, 9, p. 60.
2 Material from internal account of the history of the park from Amt für Naturschutz und Landscahaftspflege (Office
for Nature Conservation and Landscape Management) of the Hamburg Umweltbehörde (Environmental Authority),
provided at meeting with Heino Grunert and Andrea Zörning of Umweltbehörde on 5 July 1999.
3 Noted at meeting with Heino Grunert on 17 July 2012 that Tilia spp. planted in 1930–32 were cut down during
World War II.
4 The Parkpflegewerk was prepared by Büros Müller-Glassl + Partner, Bremen and Schaper-Steffen-Runtsch,
Hamburg.
5 Noted at meeting with Heino Grunert on 17 July 2012.
6 Noted at meeting with Heino Grunert on 17 July 2012.
7 Noted at meetings with Heino Grunert and Andrea Zörning on 5 July 1999 and with Heino Grunert on 17 July
2012.
21 Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord
(180 hectares / 445 acres)
INTRODUCTION
If Parc de la Villette (Chapter 15) was the French prototype for the urban park of the
twenty-first century, then the Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord (Duisburg North Landscape
Park) can be seen as the German prototype (Weilacher 2008: 103) – even if conventional
criteria might suggest that it is neither landscape nor a park. Designed by (Peter) Latz +
Partner (Anneliese), the project retained and adapted the majority of the industrial
structures, landforms and naturalized vegetation on the former steelworks site. It was a
radical progression from Richard Haag’s design for the 7.7-hectare Gas Works Park in
Seattle, Washington – a project that retained much of the industrial plant but set it against
sculpted grassy landforms.1
Duisburg is one of seventeen separate cities along the River Emscher in the Ruhr
District of northwest Germany – once the largest industrial region in the world. The
principal industries were coal mining and steel making. The mines started to close in the
late 1950s. By the end of the 1970s many of the steel-works had also closed. The site of
the Landschaftspark included a coal mine and coking plant that ceased production in 1977,
and a pig iron works that ceased production in 1985. Development of the park was one of
numerous major projects undertaken as part of the Internationale Bauausstellung Emscher
Park (International Building Exhibition – IBA) that ran from 1989 to 1999. The name
Emscher Park was given to the 70-kilometre-long ‘green backbone with six pairs of ribs
leading off to the sides’ extending from Duisburg on the Rhine in the west to Bergkamen
in Westphalia to the east (Pehnt 1999: 20). The Emscher Park covered 800 square
kilometres, only 320 of which were not built-up. The IBA was intended to be a
demonstration of ‘social, cultural and ecological measures as the basis for economic
change in an old industrial region’ (Dahlheimer 1999).
The largest blast furnace and most of the associated infrastructure have been retained as
central, publicly accessible features of the Landschaftspark. And rather than removing
volunteer vegetation, it has been retained as an evolving reflection of the history of the
site. The Latzs’ design adapts and reinterprets the industrial features and natural processes
that were already occurring. Massive concrete-walled storage bunkers, a network of rail
beds, an immense gasometer, cadaverous blast furnaces and a cavernous power station
have been retained and adapted to be safe for public access. Bridges and walkways have
been built to enable visitors to experience the site, gathering spaces – such as the Piazza
Metallica – have been worked into the scheme, gardens composed of found materials have
been created in the bunker, naturalized vegetation has been encouraged, and a lighting
scheme that brings the rusting hulks glowing back to life has been added. It is a multi-
layered post-industrial project. Where the design of Parc de la Villette was based on
principles of deconstruction, the design of the Landschaftspark was based on
decomposition2 and recomposition of the remaining elements.
HISTORY
Designation of Emscher Park
Coal mining and iron production began in the Ruhr Valley in the Middle Ages.3
Availability of the Ruhr for transportation was instrumental in expansion of coal mining in
the late seventeenth century. By the middle of the eighteenth century the population had
reached 230,000. By 1871 it was 700,000. By 1895 it was 1.5 million, and by 1905 it was
2.6 million. Development involved rapid expansion of many small villages into relatively
large cities. It was uncoordinated and lacking in infrastructure – particularly water, sewer
age and transport. In 1905 a plan to unify the cities of the Ruhr Valley was discussed.
Newspapers carried stories about plans for the industrial area and for establishment of a
Zweckerband – ‘Special Purpose District’. The inspiration for integrated planning beyond
administrative borders came from the Inter national Planning Exhibition in Düsseldorf in
1910, focusing on establishment of a ‘Green Spaces Commission’ and of a system of
‘green ribbons’ to counteract the degradation of the area between the Ruhr and Emscher
rivers. In the event no such organization was established until the end of World War I.

Fans (September 2011)

The Siedlungsverband Ruhrkohlenbezirk (SVR) – ‘Ruhr Coal Mining District Housing

Association’ – was approved by the Prussian Assembly in 1920. Robert Schmidt, the first
director of the SVR, focused attention on open space planning, lines of regional
communication and direction of development northward within the area. The SVR was
subverted by the Third Reich but resumed its environmental planning role in the 1950s.
Plans made at that time acknowledged the decline of coal mining – 200,000 miners lost
their jobs in the 1960s – but did not recognize the beginnings of structural decline of
heavy industry in the area. Plans drawn up in 1966 continued to protect the network of
seven green wedges developed by Schmidt. This became the backbone of the IBA
Emscher Park established in 1989.4 The current regional authority – the RVR – covers
4,436 square kilometres containing fifty-three cities or municipalities and over five
million residents (www.metropoleruhr).
Rail harp from Blast Furnace #5 (July 2012)
Warming shed, works and planting from Blast Furnace #5 (July 2012)

The Emscher Park was established ‘as a ten year programme to identify new
perspectives for the future of an economically and socially weakened region’ (Zlonicky
1999: 44). Politicians and planners for the IBA concluded that ‘widespread ecological
renewal must precede any lasting economic revival’ (ibid). Great importance was attached
to the quality of landscape and watercourses – the Emscher in particular had become an
open sewer – to industrial monuments as cultural artifacts, to provision of new dwellings,
and to offering new forms of work. Following the reunification of Germany in 1989, the
former East Germany became the focus of federal economic investment. The IBA, by
contrast, was an institution owned by the Land of North Rhine-Westphalia. It had private
sector status. It had few direct employees. It was designed to encourage and coordinate
projects sponsored by municipal authorities and other agencies. The IBA had five main
landscape planning objectives – preserving the remaining leftover landscape, linking up
the isolated, separate areas in the agglomeration, re-zoning separate areas as parkland,
coming to agreements both regionally and locally on individual projects with a long-term
perspective, and maintaining and managing the new open spaces in a permanent regional
park association (Schwarze-Rodrian 1999: 57). Designation of the Meiderich site as a park
was entirely consistent with these objectives. And it was also promoted by two pressure
groups – the Deutsche Gesellschaft für Industriekutur (German Society for Industrial
Culture) and the Interessengemeinschaft Nordpark (Nordpark Syndicate) (Winkels and
Zieling 2010: 24).
Garden in sintering bunkers (July 2012)

Site conditions at Designation

The first development on the site was the sinking in 1899 of the first shaft of the Friedrich
Thyssen 4/8 mine. The first coking plant was started in 1905. The mine shafts were closed
in 1959 – the first to close in the Ruhr area. The coking plant was closed in 1977 and
demolished in 1980. The smelting works had produced 37 million tonnes of pig iron by
the time it ceased production in 1985 (ibid: 22). The cost of demolishing the works would
have been prohibitive. Furthermore, conservationists began to regard the hulk as an
industrial monument. Climbing clubs started to practise on the iron ore bunkers, and
diving clubs started to practise in the water-filled gasometers. Thyssen surrendered the site
to the City of Duisburg in 1989 for only one Deutschmark. Politicians and citizens argued
that the company had made money from the site for more than eighty years and that it
should be responsible for restoration of the land. The company responded to the effect that
‘if you don’t take the site, we will close it up and leave it exactly as it is’.5
Site contamination was a more significant issue than the remnant structures. There were
soils that contained arsenic and/or cyanide. These had to be completely removed from site
or buried. Extensive areas of the site comprised barren slag tips that were beginning to
support volunteer plant associations. But the biggest problem was the condition of the
River Emscher, which was effectively a canalized open sewer flowing through the site.
The sewage disposal strategy adopted around the end of the nineteenth century produced
in the order of ‘400 kilometres of open sewers’ and ‘only one central water treatment
works located where the Emscher flows into the Rhine’ (IBA 1990: 1). The river now runs
through a 3.5-metre-diameter underground main – ‘costing more than all the other
equipment’ (Latz 2001: 154) – and filtered rainwater, aerated by the on-site wind turbine,
flows through the Landschaftspark on the original line, directly above the pipe.
 The Landschaftspark was envisaged as a ‘stepping stone’ within the Emscher Park
system (Schmidt 1994: 39). Its establishment required the concerted action of four
organizations. First, the Landesentwicklungs gesellschaft Nordrhein-Westfalen –
Development Association of the Land of North Rhine-Westphalia – purchased large parts
of the site from Thyssen and the railway company. They were supported in this by the
Grundstücksfonds Ruhr (the Ruhr real estate fund). The third body was the City of
Duisburg, which re-zoned the land as open space. Finally, funds for the design and
construction of the park became available from economic restructuring aid for Reinhausen
miners. This money was directed by the IBA towards major projects such as the
Landschaftspark.
In 1990 expert opinions were sought on the value of the smelting works as an example
of industrial archaeology, and on the extent of ground and water pollution. Existing
vegetation was mapped and evaluated. A design competition involving five pre-selected
landscape architect-led teams was organized. Their proposals were presented in March
1991 after a protracted review. The competition has been characterized as highlighting the
contrast between Bernard Lassus’s entry, ‘a sophisticated French symbolic garden … with
three minutely designed garden zones to reflect the landscapes of specific eras’ – the pre-
industrial, the industrial and the post-industrial – and the Latz’s ‘pragmatic approach’
which ‘wanted to turn as little as possible inside out and leave as much as possible of what
had been formed, first by industry and then by decay and pioneering plants’ (Diedrich
1999: 69). The Latz entry explored ‘the value of everyday nature, claiming it has much to
offer our day-to-day life’, and addressed the question of ‘whether the remains of the
industrial mass production plant – vast buildings and sheds, gigantic ore dumps, chimneys,
blast furnaces, railway tracks, bridges, cranes and so on – could really serve as the basis
for a park’ (Weilacher 1996: 121–4). Latz + Partner were appointed to the project in 1991.
The park was officially opened in June 1994. Construction work was completed in 1999.
Works from the rail harp (September 2013)

key figures in design of the park

Peter Latz (b. 1939), working with Anneliese Latz (b. 1940) and their team at Latz +
Partner, is clearly the key figure in the design of the Landschaftspark.6 His upbringing
reveals the influences both of ‘landscape’ and of ‘architecture’. He grew up in post-World
War II Germany and financed his schooling by growing fruit and vegetables. His father
was an architect. This background led to an approach that ‘used available resources
efficiently and sustainably’ and in which ‘[r]educing the variety of materials plays a very
positive part in strengthening the structural framework’ (Weilacher 2008: 12, 18, 29). Latz
himself commented that ‘it is not possible to take up any kind of critical position without
the historical repertoire and a knowledge of garden art’ (ibid: 22). In this respect, he
likened Duisburg to the Duke of Bomarzo’s decaying Italian renaissance gardens at the
Villa Orsini and commented that he is not ‘of the opinion that Classicism, Romanticism
and other cultural movements are alternative functions, but believes that they can exist
synchronously’ (Latz 1998). Latz ‘defines design as the concrete influencing of the
intelligibility of information layers’ and ‘mistrusts the credo of spontaneous and intuitive
design’ (Weilacher 2008: 114). Adriaan Geuze, by contrast, described Latz, somewhat
harshly, as subscribing ‘to every theory, every concept, preferably a different one every
single day’ (Geuze 1993: 48). The raison d’être of Latz’s approach now speaks for itself.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location within city
The Landschaftspark is located between Meiderich to the south and Hamborn to the north.
The Thyssen works used to be a barrier between these two parts of the city. It is beginning
to create an effective link between them. The park benefits from the fact that it is located
on all the cultural / recreational routes that were established by IBA Emscher Park – the
Landmark Art Route; the Industrialized Nature Route; the Industrial Culture Route; and
the Architecture Route. The park is also located on cycleways that connect it to the larger
neighbouring cities of Düsseldorf and Dortmund, and it is on the Duisburg tramway.
Shape of site and natural landform
The site of the Landschaftspark is a roughly 3-kilometre-long strip aligned east–west
along the valley of the River Emscher. It varies in width between 500 metres and 1,000
metres. It is dissected by a number of highways and former rail lines. The north–south
Autobahn 59 divides the site into segments of roughly one-quarter to its west, including
the Schachtgëlande – former coal mine area – and three-quarters to the east – the smelting
works and associated structures and storage areas. The 20-hectare Kokergelände – coking
plant area – in the northwest of the site is now occupied by an IKEA store. The drone of
traffic on the Autobahn 42 running east–west along the northern edge of the park
complements the industrial aura.
The former rail line to the on-site power station runs northeast to southwest across the
eastern end of the park. It separates an area of farmland and allotment gardens from the
former industrial area. The farm used to produce food for the Thyssen canteens. It is now
run as a demonstration farm for local schools. The allotment gardens were formerly used
by immigrant Polish workers for vegetable growing. They are now used by local residents.
The natural landform of the site was relatively undramatic. The long period of mineral
extraction and importation to the site, its reshaping for industrial activity and the ongoing
disturbance by transport infrastructure – particularly the rail harp – have, however, created
significant level changes and physical barriers. The works themselves are also significant
vertical elements – Furnace No 5 is 70 metres high – protruding above the adapted land-
form and the maturing vegetation of the site.
Design concept
Latz’s pragmatic approach to his work generally and his decompositional, syntactic
approach to the Land schaftspark have already been mentioned. He des cribed the working
method for Duisburg-Nord as being ‘one of adaptation and new interpretation, a
metamorphosis of industrial structures without destroying them; the blast furnace is not
only an old furnace – it is a menacing dragon ahead of daunted men, and it is also a
mountain top climbed by alpinists and rising above its surroundings’ (Latz 1998). He
described the function of the urban park at the end of the twentieth century as being quite
different from the function of the Volkspark at its beginning. Like John Brinkerhoff
Jackson, Latz has stated that whereas the Volkspark had a programme derived from social
relations in the 1920s, ‘when park users were a collective … nowadays everyone goes
alone; the dog owner, the diver, the cyclist. There is no such thing as a park for all’ (in
Diedrich 1999: 74). This is seen as another justification for treating the many layers in the
park as independent of each other and realizable non-sequentially. The design comprises
‘four separate, individual park concepts’ layered over one another – the water park of
canals and settling basins; the rail park; roads and bridges creating the promenade park;
and the fields and gardens – without one being privileged over the others (Weilacher
2008: 115). And Latz was emphatic that he was ‘absolutely allergic to the idea that nature
should reconquer something for itself’ (ibid: 129). The design is an exercise in balance
between the natural and the artifactual.
Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord
1 Autobahn #42
2 Autobahn #59
3 IKEA Store (formerly Kokergelände)
4 Schachtgelände (now Meadow)
5 Delta Musik Park
6 Clear Water Canal
7 Wilderness
8 Rail Harp
9 Sinterplatz
10 Wasserpark
11 Bunkers
12 Piazza Metallica
13 Cowperplatz
14 Gasometer
15 Blast Furnace #5
16 Power Station
17 Emscherhalle and Casting Plant
18 Farm Area
Clear water canal over River Emscher (September 2013)
Collection of site water for recycling to canal (September 2013)

Nevertheless, George Hargreaves described the project as ‘a troubling celebration of the

industrial sublime’ – largely on the basis that no reference is made on site to the slave
labour used during the Third Reich – while admitting that it does have ‘a certain resonance
with our culture as the face of industry changes’ (Hargreaves 2007: 165). Equally, John
Dixon Hunt, in contrasting the Landschaftspark with Parc de la Villette, described it as ‘a
much acclaimed and much touted folly’ (Hunt 2012: 237). This is also somewhat harsh
given that many of the structures have been cleverly retrofitted for active purposes and the
vegetation has continued to mature to complement them. Fairer, perhaps, is the description
of the project as ‘a voyage of discovery into the beauty of the ugly, the utility of the
apparently useless and the recreational qualities of a heavily polluted industrial site’ (de
Jong et al. 2008: 140).
Spatial structure, circulation system and planting
In the original competition entry Latz + Partner sought to avoid showing the whole site
and to present different parts of the park as discrete entities (Latz 1993: 91). Their design
made very few changes to the spatial structure of the works or the spatial structure of the
site overall. They encouraged multi-level access wherever it was safe for humans to go –
and they concentrated on redefinition, redirection and reinterpretation of what they found
on site. While the park has major features that act as imageable focal points – Piazza
Metallica is a multi-purpose square stage comprising forty-nine steel plates that had lined
the foundry pits in the works; Cowperplatz has been planted with a grid of standard trees;
a series of gardens composed largely of elements found on site has been created in the
former sintering bunkers – it does not have a prescribed circulation system or ‘preferred
vantage points’ (Lubow 2004). It does, however, have a carefully inserted, bright-blue (to
signify safety) catwalk that gives ‘visual access’ to the slowly rusting remains. Latz also
stressed the importance to the park of the rail harp – a multi-level splay of rail tracks
whose beds have been retained or restored as closely as possible to their original layout
and levels so that their geometry can be re-experienced and reinterpreted. This area
presents some of the more dramatic views of the works.

Recycling of site water into canal (September 2013)

Latz + Partner determined that the line of the clean-water, surface-level Emscher Canal
– the Wasserpark – should exactly follow the direct line of the former open sewer. No
artifice. No pseudonaturalness. Pedestals for aquatic plants and platforms for that most
German of activities – sunbathing – were constructed along the new watercourse. The
works are the dominant vertical element on the site, but two horizontal elements – the
canal and the per petually present overhead pipeline – are the principal source of unity
from one end of the park to the other. The vegetation in the park largely comprises the
ruderal species that preceded designation of the park. Birch and willow have been allowed
to continue their colonization of large areas and species introduced with the iron ore have
been encouraged to continue to grow on areas close to the works. The vegetation of the
site overall is dominated by the emerging pattern of colonization by a blend of native and
exotic pioneer species. Specified planting close to the works comprises no more (or less)
than tight grids of standard trees that stand in stark counterpoint to the rusting hulks that
they confront. A BioBlitz conducted in June 2001 recorded 1,800 species in the park
(Winkels and Zieling 2010: 52).
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Managing Organization
The park is owned by the Land of North-Rhine-Westphalia (ibid: 129). It was managed by
the Landesentwicklungs gesellschaft (LEG) from 1989 until the City of Duisburg formed
the Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord GmbH in 1997 (ibid: 25). This was superseded by
Duisburg-Marketing GmbH – a wholly owned entity of the City Council, with a ten-
person advisory council (www.duisburg-marketing). Since 2013, ‘events’ have been
handled by FrischeKontor Duisburg GmbH – mainly public market managers – and
‘management’ has been handled by the Amt für Stadtenwicklung und Projektmanagement
– Office for Urban Development and Project Management (ibid). In 2014 the park had an
on-site administrative staff of twelve people.7 Much of the maintenance work – including
horticultural maintenance – has been privatized and let by competitive tender. At the end
of the 1990s there were between 250 and 300 persons working on regular maintenance
operations or new minor works projects.8 In the 2010s there were around fifty regular
maintenance staff on site (Winkels and Zieling 2010: 85). Maintenance of facilities which
are leased out – such as the gasometer used by the diving club and the climbing centre – is
undertaken by the lessees.

Gantry over bunkers (September 2013)

Funding
The total cost of constructing the park was DM 160 million – roughly €82 million.9 This
came from a combination of federal and regional government funding programmes –
partly to counteract unemployment in mining regions and partly as a result of the IBA
(Diedrich 1999: 73). Maintenance costs for the entire park in 2012 were in the order of
€4.5 million. This is funded equally by the Land of North-Rhine-West phalia, the City and
the Landschaftspark itself. Income from the park derives from indoor and outdoor events –
of which there were 280 in 2012, including every weekend from May to September – and
from the various leaseholders in the park. The tripartite funding arrangement was agreed
until 2016, when it is due to be renegotiated.10
User characteristics
The park remains open, free of charge, 24 hours per day, 365 days per year. The
management company estimated that in the order of 300,000 visits were made to the park
in 1998 and that numbers would increase year after year from then on.11 They did.
Records show around 640,000 visits in 2005 and around 1.06 million in 2011 – of which
over 630,000 (around 60 per cent) were for events.12 This reflects a comparable pattern of
visitation and funding to parks such as Bryant Park (Chapter 4) and the Westergasfabriek
(Chapter 7). Industrial Heritage Night – generally around 30 June – attracts 240,000
visitors to sites in the Ruhr Region, including 21,000 to the Landschaftspark.
PLANS FOR THE PARK
Development and management of the park were driven throughout the 1990s by Latz +
Partner’s original proposals. These can be characterized as minimal intervention in the
processes that were already occurring on the site. This philosophy called for naturalized
vegetation to be allowed to continue to develop. It also called for the works to be allowed
to continue to deteriorate – providing they presented no threat to human safety. The main
goal in the 2010s is to ‘protect and preserve the unique and unmistakeable character of the
Landschaftspark’ (Winkels and Zieling 2010: 131). Peter Latz continued to visit and
advise on the park long after its completion and, understandably, there is no perceived
need to change what have been adopted as underlying management principles.13
Following release of the (previously closed) Kokergëlande to IKEA, plans were
discussed for acquisition of an equivalent 20-hectare former industrial site (not part of the
Thyssen works) to the west of the park. New endeavours will include improvement of
park inventories to facilitate park management; allocating activities to unused structures –
such as climbing facilities on the ore bunkers, improvements to signage and car parking,
and retro-fitting of Jonathan Park’s remarkable lighting scheme with LED fixtures.
CONCLUSIONS
The Landschaftspark is an essay in retention and in evolution. It presents cultivated and
volunteer vegetation against the spectacular backdrop of a defunct but protected
steelworks. It is a prototypical post-industrial park with natural forces being reestablished
after the grip of industry has been released. It com bines a process-based, decomposition-
driven theoretical approach to landscape architecture with practical, place-derived
pragmatism. It is often compared to – and contrasted with – Parc de la Villette as a late
twentieth-century approach to urban parks for the twenty-first century. Whereas Tschumi
regarded ‘nature’ as antithetical to the city, the Landschaftspark put ‘nature’, its processes,
and humankind’s interventions in them, at the heart of the park. It carries a latent message
that time and ‘nature’ are more potent than humankind. It deserves to be recognized as a
pioneering project in the increasingly familiar field of post-industrial landscape
architecture, and it is probably the largest new urban park to be created in western Europe
since the Amsterdamse Bos. It pitches the sublime spectre of the redundant works against
the poetry – and visible impact – of natural processes. At present the immense power and
the associations of the machinery make the stronger impression. But it is to be hoped that
the conversation between the hulks and the vegetation – both cultivated and volunteer –
will continue to evolve.
NOTES
1 Peter Latz was apparently unaware of Gas Works Park ‘when he designed his first postindustrial park, in
Saarbrücken’ (Lubow 2004) in the early 1980s.
2 Curl described deconstruction as ‘breaking continuity, disturbing relationships between interior and exterior,
fracturing connections between exterior and context’ (Curl 2006: 228). By contrast, decomposition can be described as
the progressive breaking down and/or diffusion of a previously used site.
3 This account largely drawn from Reiß-Schmidt 1999: 32–43.
4 The SVR, deemed the oldest regional organization in the world, was superseded in 1979 by the Kommunalverbund
Ruhrgebiet (KVR). The KVR took over the role of the IBA after its completion in 1999, and was superseded, in turn, by
the Regionalverbund Ruhr (RVR) – Ruhr Regional Association in 2009 (www.metropoleruhr.de/en).
5 Noted at meeting with Ellen Hein, Dominique Neuhauss and Günter Zieling of Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord
GmbH and Claus Heimann and Philip Kühnel of the Duisburg office of Latz + Partner on 28 June 1999.
6 This account largely drawn from Weilacher 1996: 125–36 and Weilacher 2008: 11–32.
7 Noted in email from Claudia Kalinowski on 21 January 2014.
8 Noted at meeting with Ellen Hein et al. on 28 June 1999.
9 This account derived from meeting with Egbert Bodman, Claudia Kalinowski and Claus Heimann at
Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord on 6 July 2012.
10 Noted at meeting with Egbert Bodman et al. on 6 July 2012.
11 Noted at meeting with Ellen Hein et al. on 28 June 1999.
12 Numbers supplied at meeting with Egbert Bodman et al. on 6 July 2012.
13 Noted at meeting with Egbert Bodman et al. on 6 July 2012.
Location of the Großer Tiergarten, Berlin
1 Tiergarten and Tiergarten Administrative Area
2 Line of former Berlin Wall
22 Großer Tiergarten, Berlin
(220 hectares / 545 acres)
INTRODUCTION
The Tiergarten – literally ‘animal garden’ or ‘garden of beasts’ – sits at the physical and
political centre of Berlin. It is generally acknowledged to be the oldest, largest and most
important park in the city and often referred to as the ‘Central Park’ of Berlin. Originally a
private park owned by monarchy, the Tiergarten was enclosed for hunting and
subsequently made accessible to the public before being redesigned expressly for free
public use. It has a 500-year history whereas ‘very few of the city’s older buildings
predate 1850’ (Ladd 1997: 98). The history of Berlin, the history of Prussia and the history
of Germany have unfolded around it. The park was the scene of public protests during the
political unrest of 1848; the site for the Prussian Siegessäulle – ‘Victory Column’ – placed
in 1873 and relocated in 1938; the setting for the Reichstag (Federal Assembly building)
completed in 1894, destroyed by fire in 1933 and completely resurrected for the return of
the federal government of the reunited Germany in 1999. The neo-classical Brandenburg
Gate, at the eastern edge of the Tier garten, was completed in 1791. It was designed as a
gate in the customs wall on the west side of the city but attained the status of a triumphal
arch after Prussia’s defeat of Napoleon in 1814. It was retained when that wall was
removed in the 1860s and remained a military setting for the unification of Germany in
1871, and during World Wars I and II. The Gate is a German monument and the enduring
symbol of the city of Berlin (ibid: 74). From 1961 to 1989 it sat on the line of the Berlin
Wall that divided the occupied city. During that period the Tiergarten was no more (or
less) than a major recreation area at the eastern edge of the enclave of West Berlin.
Berlin is characterized by periods of rapid growth and sudden change. It has often been
occupied by troops from other countries and has a long history of hosting immigrants. And
the Tiergarten itself has been continuously redefined by the events that have occurred in
and around it. The park displays the baroque geometry of Georg Wenzeslaus von
Knobelsdorff (1699–1753) for King Friedrich II (1712–86); masterly hydraulic design and
scenography of landscape architect Peter Joseph Lenné (1789–1866); the bombast of
Hitler and his architect Albert Speer (1905–81) in the 1930s; the reparatory garden and
meadow-making of Willy Alverdes (1896–1980) in the 1950s; and a burst of post-
unification restoration. It is a palimpsest. Its physical features reflect its function first as a
hunting ground, then as public pleasure gardens; as a site for national monuments; as the
setting for the democratic functions of the Prussian and then the German nation; as part of
Hitler’s plans for Germania; as a major recreation area for an enclave, and, once again, as
the setting for national government functions. The Tiergarten now has a heavily wooded
appearance – which is remarkable given that it was virtually clear-felled for firewood in
the latter part of the 1940s. And, aside from the obvious east–west slash of the Strasse des
17. Juni, the park has a relatively mysterious character that only slowly reveals its full
complexity and intricacy.
HISTORY
Development of Berlin and of the Tiergarten
Berlin grew from the cities of Cölln, on the left bank of the River Spree and, on the right
bank, Berlin.1 In 1527 Prince Joachim – later Elector Joachim II (ruled 1535–71) –
acquired, for use as a game reserve, the land that now includes the Tiergarten. It was
woodland and wetland crossed only by footpaths. By the beginning of the seventeenth
century the population of Berlin-Cölln had doubled to 12,000. That century saw
aggressive, absolutist rulers in much of Germany seeking to extend their territories and
was characterized by the Thirty Years War (1618–48). By the end of that war the
population had reduced to 6,000. Nevertheless, Friedrich Willhelm (ruled 1640–88 –
subsequently termed the ‘Great Elector’) increased his territory and sponsored the
expansion of Berlin, including the axis of Unter den Linden running be tween the castle
and the eastern edge of the Tiergarten. The Great Elector also had the entire park re-fenced
and stocked with deer and grouse, and had new oak trees planted.

Bridge in southern section of park (July 2012)

Elector Friedrich III (ruled 1688–1713 – also known as King Friedrich I after having
himself crowned King of Prussia in 1701) founded Friedrichstadt on land south of Unter
den Linden. It included Friedrichstrasse – the north–south axis that was reestablished in
the 1990s following the reunification of Berlin. Construction of a new palace to the west
of the Tiergarten commenced in 1695. This was subsequently named the Charlottenburg
Palace, for Friedrich’s wife Sophie Charlotte. Unter den Linden was extended westward
through the park to the new palace. The Großer Stern, the Kurfürsten platz (‘Elector’s
Place’, later named Zelten platz – ‘Tent Place’ – after the refreshment tents that were
located there from 1745), and the six, now restored, avenues that radiate from it were
constructed. These developments marked the end of the use of the park for hunting.
In 1709 Friedrich officially created the single city of Berlin. The population had grown
from 20,000 in 1688 to 60,000 at the end of his reign in 1713. He was succeeded by King
Friedrich Willhelm I (reigned 1713–40) – a parsimonious bully obsessed with military
expansion. Berlin became a garrison city. The economy expanded. Skilled immigrants
arrived, particularly from Saxony. The population grew to 90,000 by 1740. Friedrich
Willhelm’s only contribution to the Tiergarten was to have a section removed from it for
the westward extension of Dorotheenstadt and Friedrichstadt. He also had a new wall
constructed around the extended city and created adjacent to it the Quarré – Pariser Platz
– the now-restored square directly east of the Brandenburg Gate.
Friedrich Willhelm’s son, King Friedrich II (reigned 1740–86), by contrast, saw himself
as an Enlightenment figure. He befriended French author-philosopher Voltaire and had
him move to Potsdam as court librarian. While Friedrich pursued legal and administrative
reforms – such as granting religious freedom and abolishing torture – he also used his
father’s full treasury and large army to wage wars against Austria (1740–42 and 1744–45)
and against Russia (1756–63). This led to Austrian troops occupying the city in 1757 and
Russian troops occupying it in 1760. His eventual victory over Russia earned him the
sobriquet ‘Friedrich the Great’. When he was not fighting, Friedrich devoted himself to
major construction projects – including conversion of Unter den Linden itself into an even
grander boulevard, and transformation of the Tiergarten into a pleasure park.
Most of these projects were designed for Friedrich by Knobelsdorff. Implementation of
his design for the Tiergarten began in 1740. This in cluded removal of the fence around
the park, creation of a double avenue around Großer Stern – ‘Large Star’, then something
of a party place – and adorning it with baroque statues, strengthening and lengthening of
the avenues radiating from there and from Zelten platz, and creation of the avenue from
Pots damer Platz northwest to create the Kleiner Stern – ‘Small Star’. The park had been
formally opened to the public in 1740 and by the time of Knobelsdorff’s death (in 1753)
he ‘had almost completed laying out sections of the park’ (Goode and Lancaster 1986:
555).2 When Friedrich II (Frederick the Great) died in 1786, Berlin had a population of
150,000 and Prussia was emerging as a European power. His successor, Friedrich Wilhelm
II (reigned 1787–97), was an extravagant ruler. He left his son, Friedrich Wilhelm III
(reigned 1797–1840), with huge debts and left Berlin with its most enduring monument –
the Bran den burg Gate. Changes in the park during the reign of Friedrich Wilhelm II
included building of the Bellevue Palace – now the federal President’s official residence –
and extension of Knobelsdorff’s avenue from Potsdamer Platz to Kleiner Stern.
Straße des 17. Juni and southern section of park from Siegessäulle (August 2013)

Between 1810 and 1840 Berlin’s population doubled making it, at 400,000, the fourth
most populous city in Europe. During this period both Karl Friedrich Schinkel (1781–
1841) – ‘Prussian architect, the greatest in Germany in the first half of the nineteenth
century’ (Curl 2006: 685) – and Lenné – ‘the greatest German landscape architect’
(Fleming et al. 1999: 511) – became involved with proposals for extension of the city and
redesign of the Tiergarten. Lenné shared royal and aristocratic patrons with Schinkel.
From 1816 Lenné was employed by Friedrich Wilhelm III at Sanssouci in Potsdam. In
1814 Schinkel prepared a plan for embellishment of the Tiergarten (Schmidt 1981: 81) and
in 1816 Lenné drew up his first plan for the park. This was based on a combination of ‘the
straight avenues of Knobelsdorff’s previous layout’ for horse-riders and curving paths that
revealed unfolding views for pedestrians (ibid: 81). Those proposals were not acted upon
and in 1818 Lenné was commissioned to redesign the Tiergarten in order to improve its
drainage and to enable it to function effectively as a public park (von Krosigk 1995).
Christian Cay Lorenz Hirschfeld (1742–92), Danish-born professor of philosophy and
aesthetics at Kiel University, in the fifth and final volume of his Theorie der Gartenkunst
(‘Theory of the Art of Gardens’) in 1785 wrote about ‘popular’ parks as ‘places of
recreation and moral improvement for all social classes’ (Schmidt 1981: 83). He
suggested, in an idea taken from Jean Jacques Rousseau and acted upon by Ehrenreich
Sello ‘the Younger’ (Court Gardener 1768–95) on the Rousseauinsel as early as 1792, the
use of ‘statues of national heroes rather than mythological deities, fauns etc’ (Fleming et
al. 1999: 262). Redesign of the Tiergarten as a ‘popular’ park re-emerged after the social
unrest and political protest of 1830 when Lenné’s revised proposals, presented in 1832,
called for thinning of substantial areas of forest and the creation of a major network of
water bodies to drain the site. Most of Knobelsdorff’s avenues were retained and
supplemented with winding paths through new clearings in the forest. Work began in
spring 1833 on the southwest sector and advanced year-by-year through the seven sectors
until the final sector, north of the Charlottenburg Chaussee, was completed in 1840.

Brandenburg Gate, US Embassy and Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe (July 2012)

Both Lenné, in 1834, and Schinkel, in 1835 – inspired, perhaps, by the example of
Regent’s Park – proposed residential development in the Tiergarten. But King Friedrich
Wilhelm III was opposed to any development in the park, and was not prepared to give up
the area allocated since 1742 to the breeding of pheasants. His successor, King Friedrich
Wilhelm IV (reigned 1840–61) commissioned Lenné in 1841 to design a zoo on part of the
royal pheasantry to the southwest of the Tiergarten. Lenné created the Neuer See – ‘New
Lake’ – opened in December 1846, in this area. The 34-hectare zoo, opened in 1844, now
boasts more animal species than any other in the world. The entrance was originally in the
park but is now on Budapester Straße.
Most of Lenné’s work was retained until World War II and changes in the late
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were largely limited to the erection of monuments
(von Krosigk 1995). Königsplatz – ‘King’s Place’, renamed Platz der Republik – ‘Place of
the Republic’, during the Weimar Republic (1918–33), was laid out in the 1870s and the
Siegessäulle celebrating Prussian victories over Den mark (1864), Austria (1866) and
France (1870–71) in the ‘wars of unification’ was unveiled there in 1873 as ‘the first
national monument of the newly-formed second German empire’ (Enke 1999: 237). The
Italian ate Reichstag designed by Frankfurt architect Paul Wallot (1841–1912) was
eventually constructed between 1884 and 1894. Meanwhile, the population of Berlin had
grown from 170,000 in 1800, to half a million by the early 1850s, to 820,000 at the
unification of Germany in 1871, and to two million by 1900. In 1920 its population
reached four million when it was the third largest city in the world after New York and
London. By 1910 it had the highest number of residents per building of any city in the
western world (Ladd 1997: 96–100).
 The park experienced relatively little further change in its layout until the
commencement of Hitler and Speer’s plans for the conversion of Berlin into the new city
of Germania, although the only part of Speer’s proposals in the Tiergarten actually to be
implemented were the widening of the (now) Strasse des 17. Juni, redesign of Platz der
Republik and the relocation of the Siegessäulle from there to the Großer Stern, reopened
in April 1939 to mark Hitler’s fiftieth birthday. The Strasse des 17. Juni was also widened
– from 27 metres to 53 metres – so that it could serve as a military parade ground and as
an auxiliary landing strip (Wörner and Wörner 1996: 63). The road remains
disproportionately wide – still functioning as a place for rallies and parties such as the
former Love Parades and the Fan Mile for the 2006 World Cup – but is being reduced in
scale to the east of the Großer Stern by the lines of lime trees planted on each side during
the 1990s.3
The park suffered badly in World War II and in the unusually cold winter of 1945–46
nearly all its remaining mature trees were cut down for firewood. Cleared areas were used
for growing vegetables until 1949 when restoration of the park began under
Tiergartendirektor Willy Alverdes. The restored park was intended to be peaceful,
spacious and natural. The design prepared by Alverdes in 1952 ignored Knobelsdorff’s
and Lenné’s avenues, apart from the Charlottenburg Chaussée and the three other
highways radiating from Großer Stern (Enke 1999: 237). Lenné’s water bodies – with
their function of draining the site – were retained. New garden areas such as the
Englischer Garten – named for the number of plants donated from Britain (the park was
located in the British occupied part of Berlin) and opened in May 1952 by then Foreign
Secretary Anthony Eden (inevitably dubbed the Garden of Eden) – typified the new
approach to the design of the Tiergarten. But Alverdes also sought ‘to restore features of
the alder swamp and the riparian forest’ that once covered the site (Lachmund 2013: 35).
This contributed to the park becoming, by the 1970s, the most biodiverse site in Berlin
(ibid: 70).
The Tiergarten grew up facing the Mitte area – the centre of Berlin. Suddenly, when the
Wall went up in August 1961, it found itself at the very edge of West Berlin – and the
eastern end of the park in particular, adjacent to the cordoned-off Brandenburg Gate and
the shored-up Reichstag, took on an air of eerie abandonment – mainly visited by
sightseers, graffitists leaving their messages on the Wall and by western politicians – such
as Ronald Reagan in June 1987 – using the Gate as a backdrop for their messages. A
preservation report for the park commissioned in 1984 ahead of the celebration of the
750th anniversary in 1987 of the establishment of Cölln-Berlin led to restoration works
costing DM 20 million. These included naturalizing the banks of Lenné’s water bodies, re-
establishment of Knobelsdorff’s avenues, including the Bellevueallee from Bellevue
Palace to Potsdamer Platz, the Fasanerieallee, southwest from Großer Stern, and the six
avenues radiating from Zeltenplatz. The Luiseninsel, Grossfürstenplatz with Triton
Fountain, Rousseauinsel and monument, and the Lortzing monument were also restored
for the anniversary.
Pond just north of Straße des 17. Juni (May 2008)

The Berlin Wall came down on 9 November 1989 presaging reunification of Berlin and
of Germany. In May 1991 the Tiergarten and its constituent elements were afforded legal
protection as historic monuments. In June 1991 the Bundestag voted to relocate the federal
capital from Bonn to Berlin. The Tiergarten, and particularly its eastern end, has
subsequently been embroiled in a public and private building bonanza. Developments
adjacent to the park included restoration of the Brandenburg Gate, Pariser Platz and the
Reichstag; construction of the 2.4-kilometre-long highway tunnel from south of Potsdamer
Platz (where major private development was undertaken) beneath the east end of the park
to the new Hauptbahnhof (formerly Lehrter railway station); construction of the
government quarter at Spreebogen, running east–west directly north of Platz der Republik
and spanning the river twice; and redesign of Platz der Republik. Construction of the
tunnel, completed in 2006, allowed removal from the park of Entlastungsstrasse (‘Relief
Street’) the north–south highway constructed as a substitute for routes through East Berlin
after the Wall was built. New offices for the federal president, adjacent to Bellevue Palace,
were completed in 1998.
Lenné’s Baumsaal (literally ‘Tree Hall’), lines of lime trees on the eastern edge of the
park directly south of the Brandenburg Gate, were replanted in 1991, reflecting Lenné’s
design as it stood in 1840. More recent works have included re-straightening of the Klein
Querallee to focus on the restored Reich stag, restoration of the Goethe, Lessing and
Königin Luise memorials, addition of memorials to various targeted victims of the Nazis,
and creation of a new rolled gravel path through the trees along Tier gartenstrasse on the
south side of the park.
Original condition of site
Berlin is located in a broad, sandy glacial valley. The name Berlin is believed to derive
from the Slav word Birl, meaning swamp. The site of the park was ‘originally a fenced-in
woodland, dotted with meadows, small water-pools and patches of marshland’ and in the
nineteenth century much of it was inaccessible and ‘extensive drainage of the swampy
Tiergarten woodland became necessary’ (von Krosigk 1995). Lenné exploited the natural
fall of the land northward towards the Spree to drain the site while creating its abundant
sinuous water bodies. The extraordinary system of groundwater control for the Tiergarten
Tunnel also illustrates the natural conditions of the site. Groundwater levels throughout
Berlin are relatively high. The normal way of controlling this around buildings is to
construct a waterproof cut-off trench. It was feared with the tunnel, however, that this
would endanger trees and buildings in the park area. A groundwater monitoring system
was therefore established for building sites at Potsdamer Platz and Spreebogen, allowing
water to be pumped back into the ground if depressed levels became a threat to trees
(Enke 1999: 36).
Key figures in the establishment of the park
Lenné is the most prominent contibutor to the current layout of the Tiergarten, making him
a forerunner in the design of public parks to Joseph Paxton, Calvert Vaux and Frederick
Law Olmsted. Lenné was also a remarkable urban planner and municipal engineer. His
work on the Tiergarten was the embodiment of the principles that Hirschfeld proposed for
the design of public parks. Lenné was the son and grandson of head gardeners at Bonn and
trained there and in Paris. He travelled extensively before starting work in Berlin in 1816
on designs for Sanssouci, the Neuer Garten at Potsdam and the Tiergarten. ‘Prior to
Lenné’s work, the leanings of the German gardens to the English landscape style had
lacked conviction: the great gardens of the eighteenth century were either unashamedly
formal and vast in scale, or else plunged equally heartily into an ostentatious blend of the
Rococo and the sublime … under Lenné’s guidance a more English style was to be seen’
(Chadwick 1966: 250). He was a master of picturesque landscape architecture.
Maturing trees in northwest of park (August 2013)

In addition to his substantial work at Potsdam, Lenné became increasingly involved,

after the accession of King Friedrich Wilhelm IV in 1840, with urban planning and canal
construction for Berlin. He regarded the redesign of the Tiergarten as an initial stage in
giving ‘a comprehensive shape to the entire urban structure, making use of landscape and
of gardens’ (Schmidt 1981: 83). After Schinkel’s death in 1841 Lenné became the closest
collaborator with King Friedrich Wilhelm IV – reigned 1840–61, but went quite literally
mad and was succeeded in 1857 by his brother, Kaiser Wilhelm I. Friedrich Wilhelm IV
had initially been relatively reform-minded and can be credited with the redesign for
public use of the Tiergarten. Nevertheless, he became more and more bitterly opposed to
constitutional reform and the combination of crop failures in 1844 and increasing urban
poverty led to riots in 1848, a year of revolt across Europe, including running battles in the
Tiergarten and in Unter den Linden. By the time Friedrich Wilhelm was removed from
power ‘the period of romantic planning in Berlin whose inspiration bore the stamp of
Lenné, drew to a close’ (von Krosigk 1995).
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location within city
The Tiergarten is again at the heart of Berlin after spending twenty-eight years at the
eastern edge of a West German enclave within Soviet-controlled East Germany. Similar to
the state functions of St James’s Park in London, the ‘Hohenzollerns’ funeral processions,
marriage corteges and military parades approached the city from the Tiergarten, entering
through the Brandenburg Gate’ (von Krosigk 1995). In the reunified city ‘its central
location and its size, as well as its design elements – for instance the avenues and plazas,
especially along its edges – create manifold links with its urban environment’ (ibid). The
return of government functions to Berlin in 1999 has completely changed perceptions and
expectations of the park. A series of Tiergartendialoges held in 2012–13 as part of
developing a new ‘Strategic Framework’ for the park provoked an observation (from the
Landesdenkmalamt) that although significant restoration work has been done, it continues
to experience an evolving symbiotic relationship with its surroundings as both of them
develop new identities following the period of isolation and the first few years of re
unification (www.stadtentwicklung.berlin.de).
Shape of site and natural landform
The site is the shape of an acorn squash lying with its tapering top to the west and with the
Strasse des 17. Juni forming a 3.2-kilometre axis through the park. The width of the park,
apart from the tapered western end, is between 800 metres and 1,200 metres. The natural
landform is relatively flat. The artificial water system is fed from the Landwehr Canal in
the south and drains into the river Spree in the north. The system suffers from slow flow
because the difference in water level between Landwehr Canal and Spree is only about 1.2
metres. To improve the flow, Lenné recommended keeping the water level of the
Landwehr Canal at a higher level of the upstream sluice at the river Spree while the
authorities preferred the level of the downstream sluice which was about 1.5 metres lower.
As a compromise, the Canal level was kept in between these two levels.4
Siegessäulle from Fasanerilallee (April 2013)

Original design concept

The original purpose of the Tiergarten as a royal hunting ground was perpetuated in
Knobelsdorff’s geometric design from the 1740s. Lenné’s first designs for the park in
1816 and 1819 envisaged it as a monument to the defeat of Napoleon. By the time his
third design was implemented, Lenné noted that ‘the more progress a people makes in the
fields of culture and of economic well-being, the more varied and articulate its material
and spiritual needs become. These include public walks, whose creation and variety
cannot be too strongly recommended in a big city, not just for the amusement of the
population, but also with a view to its health’.5 Von Krosigk noted that Lenné’s design
provided ‘sweeping curves of the paths … laid as close to water as possible, so that a
visitor strolling through could enjoy constantly changing vistas’ with ‘separate paths for
pedestrians, riders and carriages’ (von Krosigk 1995). But the park was principally ‘a
stage for the bourgeois performance, and it gave … the well-to-do classes yet another
chance to show off their social status’ (ibid).
Spatial structure, circulation system, landform and planting
First impressions of the Tiergarten are that it is solid deciduous woodland from edge to
edge and that the woodland is subdivided only by the slashes of major highways radiating
from the Grosser Stern. There are few immediately apparent clearings in the woodland
and the size and density of the trees is remarkable given that almost all of them were
planted in the second half of the twentieth century. However high the trees grow, Strasse
des 17. Juni will remain a laser-straight canyon running the length of the park, with
smaller subdivisions created by the roads radiating from the Grosser Stern. But once you
leave the highways, the allees with their low metal trip rails become better defined and
you discover extensive open areas and a network of sinuous water bodies – leading you
into and through the park. It also becomes apparent that the land is relatively flat – or
gently sloping towards the water bodies – and that this flatness contributes to the apparent
solidity of the woodland. The new and restored statuary that punctuates the park projects
Hirschfeld’s principles and the restored but statueless Zeltenplatz seems like a somewhat
arbitrary piece of residual geometry.
Certain parts of the park – particularly the southern and eastern edges – spent a long
time making the transition to being back at the heart of a renascent capital. With less
demand for development in this part of the city, the outer edges of the park became less
defined while Alverdes and his successors encouraged the adjacent inner parts of the park
to develop as woodland interspersed with low maintenance meadows. Once the Wall was
removed, the Berlin government moved quickly to re-establish Lenné’s Baumsaal along
the edge of the park south of the Brandenburg Gate. This made the statement that this land
is part of the park, that it is cared for, and that development must not cross it. Similarly,
after the tunnel replaced the north–south Entlastungsstraße in 2006, the realignment of
Kleine Querallee and restoration of the Floraplatz and Venusbassin could be completed.
Lennéstraße and Tiergarten straße, along the south side of the park, have also been
redesigned to express a clear distinction between the park and the commercial and former
diplomatic quarter to the south.

Großer Tiergarten, Berlin

1 River Spree
2 Berlin Zoo
3 Landwehrkanal
4 Neuer See
5 Straße des 17. Juni
6 Englischer Garten
7 Fasanerieallee
8 Grosser Stern / Siegessäulle
9 Office of Federal President
10 Bellevue Palace
11 Kleiner Stern
12 Rousseauinsel
13 Luiseninsel
14 Tiergartenstraße
15 Bellevueallée
16 Zeltenplatz
17 Congress Hall
18 Großer Querallée
19 Spreebogen
20 Government Offices
21 Platz der Republik
22 Reichstag
23 Soviet War Memorial
24 Brandenburg Gate
25 Floraplatz
26 Venusbassin
27 Floraallée
28 Baumsaal - Eberstraße
29 Kemperplatz / Entrance to Tunnel
30 Potsdamer Platz

Restoration of the Reichstag, designed by British architect Norman Foster (b. 1935),
another redesign of Platz der Republik, development of the Spreebogen and other new
government and diplomatic buildings have had a massive impact on the northeast end of
the park. But, as with its recovery after the devastations of the 1940s, this is another
example of the resilience of this park and its robustness in the face of dramatic changes.
The initial policy of the government of Berlin after reunification was to steer the park back
as far as practicable to the form that Lenné had achieved in 1840.
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Managing organization
Along with Hamburg and Bremen, Berlin is a city state and is one of the sixteen Länder
making up the Federal Republic of Germany. The city is governed by a Senate comprising
the Governing Mayor (elected by a 149-member House of Representatives) and up to
eight Senators, appointed by the Mayor. Since 2001 the city has been divided into twelve
boroughs, with the Großer Tiergarten being entirely within the Mitte borough
(www.berlin.de). The boroughs are respon sible, among other things, for the maintenance
of all public parks in their administrative areas. Strategic planning and management for
historic parks remains the responsibility of the Landesdenkmalamt (Office for the
Preservation of Historical Buildings, Gardens and Landscapes) of the Senatsverwaltung
für Stadtent wicklung, und Umweltschutz (Senate Department of City Planning and
Environmental Protection) and, since 1999, Berlin, like Hamburg, has had separation of
policy-making and executive functions for its major public park (Schäfer 1999: 107).
There has been relatively strong cooperation between the city and the borough – even
though the Landesdenkmalamt has tended to be restoration-driven while the borough has
been more recreation-driven.

Haydn-Mozart-Beethoven Monument at Venusbassin (July 2012)

Funds for maintenance are almost entirely derived from the general budget for the
borough and all income from the park goes into the borough’s general funds. The
borough’s budget for maintenance of ‘green areas’ has decreased by 60 per cent over the
last twenty years. Equally, in 1991 there were 100 workers and four managers solely
responsible for the Tiergarten, and in 2012 there were twenty workers and one manager.6
The east end of the park, again using the Brandenburg Gate as a backdrop, has become
particularly popular for films and for staging events such as the 2006 World Cup Fan
Mile.
Usage
It was stated in 1985 that, along with regional recreation areas on the fringes of West
Berlin, the Tiergarten was ‘completely overrun by all Berliners, weekend for weekend
[sic]’ (von Buttlar 1985: 49). No user surveys are currently conducted but ‘the Tiergarten
is very heavily used by various stakeholders. Above all, the road network is intensively
used for pedestrian and bicycle traffic. Tourism has also increased greatly’.7 In fact, by
2010 Berlin, with 20.8 million overnight stays, was attracting more visitors than Rome
with 20.4 million – but less than Paris with 35.8 million and London with 48.7 million
(Roland Berger 2011: 14).
PLANS FOR THE PARK
Landscape architects Rose and Gustav Wörner were appointed in 1984 to draw up
proposals for the Tiergarten ahead of the 750th anniversary of the city in 1987, and
subsequently appointed to prepare a full Management Plan (Wörner and Wörner 1996:
63–6). That plan was based on the principle that it is the central park for the whole city
and recognized its role as a recreation space for all citizens. The Wörners noted that it has
a centuries-long cultural history and significance in the development of garden design;
that it has developed significant ecological importance; and that it was traditionally
closely integrated with its surrounding areas by its avenues and its carefully located
entrance plazas. They also noted that return to a single previous historical state would not
be practicable. Significant peripheral replanting and the previously mentioned restoration
works within the park were undertaken in the wake of the Wörners’ plan.
By 2012 the Senate felt that it was appropriate to develop a new Strategic Framework
for the Tiergarten, particularly in response to the numerous changes occurring around it.
They commissioned city planners and landscape architects TOPOS and gruppe F to
prepare the Framework and, during 2012–13, staged a series of Tiergartendialoges to
identify issues that should be addressed. These included:
• the history of the Tiergarten remains highly significant to the city and to the history of
park- and garden-making but (as Klaus Lingenauber of the Landesdenkmalamt noted),
this should be balanced with the evolving identity of the park;
• biodiversity – a BioBlitz in 2011 recorded 1,410 species in the park, including 103 on
Berlin’s Red List (www.stadtenwicklung). This was a significant increase over the
numbers recorded by ecologist Herbert Sukopp and others in the 1970s (Lachmund
2013: 69–70);
• continued concern about the even-aged stands of trees planted after World War II;
• water management, particularly the long-running matter of site drainage;
• the recreational role of the Tiergarten relative to other major open spaces like the
Tempelhofer Freiheit;
• the Tiergarten has no Friends or supporters group and has limited visitor services (such
as refreshment places or information booths – although there is extensive signage), and
it does not have its own website promoting the park as a brand;
• the severe cut in maintenance funds over the last twenty years.
Rolled gravel pathway around trees near Tiergartenstraße (July 2012)

CONCLUSIONS
The decision in 1991 to relocate the federal government to Berlin intensified the massive
building boom that followed the fall of the Wall in November 1989. There was – and still
is – an inevitable concern about the city’s post-Cold War identity – an identity developed
with no small amount of angst. The Tiergarten, having resumed its role as an historic park
at the heart of the nation, has inevitably experienced pressure from numerous directions.
Whereas Alverdes sought to give the post-World War II Tiergarten a more casual, relaxed
and democratic character, the post-Cold War approach tended towards an eclectic
historicism that took Lenné’s finished design in 1840 as its basic model. While this
protected the park from immediate incursions, the proposed Strategic Framework provides
a timely opportunity to address the park’s ecological significance and recreational roles as
part of its evolving identity. Other underlying issues that merit careful consideration are
the reduced funding and the long-running division of responsibilities for the park.
NOTES
1 Account based on Ladd 1997; Balfour 1999; von Krosigk 1995, Wörner and Wörner 1996: 63–4; Wendland 1996,
and Goode and Lancaster 1986: 555–6.
2 This conflicts with the statement in Fleming et al. 1999: 322 that in 1746 Knobelsdorff ‘quarrelled with the king,
who dismissed him and thus ended his architectural career’.
3 Noted at meeting with Klaus von Krosigk, Klaus Lingenauber of the Landesdenkmalamt and Bettina Bergande of
TOPOS on 13 July 2012 that, around 1880, four lines of trees were removed on the north side to accommodate a tram
line and that a horse route was retained until 1918.
4 Noted at meeting with Klaus von Krosigk et al. on 13 July 2012.
5 Schmidt 1981: 83 quoted this from Hinz, G. (1937) Peter Josef Lenné und seine bedeutendsten Schöpfungen in
Berlin und Potsdam, p. 184 in which Lenné was explaining his proposal for the park in the north of Berlin, subsequently
designed by Gustav Meyer and named Friedrichshain. This is prescient of Olmsted’s views. Olmsted did not visit Berlin
but did correspond with Meyer.
6 From email of 12 July 2012 from Jurgen Götte, Mitte District to Klaus Lingenauber, Landesdenkmalamt in
response to author’s questionnaire.
7 Ibid.
23 Prospect Park, Brooklyn, New York
(585 acres / 237 hectares)
INTRODUCTION
Prospect Park is the less famous but more fabulous younger sibling of Central Park. Both
were designed by landscape architects Frederick Law Olmsted (1822–1903) and Calvert
Bowyer Vaux (1824–95) – pioneers of the profession in the United States. Prospect Park
was designed shortly after the American Civil War (1861–65) as a pastoral refuge from the
burgeoning city of Brooklyn, across the East River from New York. It is composed of
roughly even proportions of meadow, forest and water tied together by a sophisticated
circulation system. Prospect Park is one of the simplest but most subtle landscape
compositions in North America. Charles Sprague Sargent described the park in 1888 as
‘one of the great artistic creations of modern times’ (Schuyler 1986: 124) and Vaux-
biographer Francis Kowsky noted that it is ‘generally acknowledged as America’s finest
romantic park landscape’ (Kowsky 1998: 172). The Long Meadow in particular is the
apotheosis of Olmsted and Vaux’s ‘American Pastoral’ style. Kowsky called it an
‘incomparable masterpiece of pastoral scenery’ and Central Park historian Sara Cedar
Miller described it as ‘arguably the greatest example of their vision of a limitless
greensward’ (Miller 2003: 238).
Like Central Park, it reflects the segregated circulation system that Paxton designed for
Birkenhead Park. Nevertheless, both of Olmsted and Vaux’s major oeuvres were a
distinctly American response to the rapid rectilinear growth of its largest settlement. But
unlike Central Park, the gestation of Prospect Park was remarkably straightforward.
Indeed its whole history is a record of long-term service from a succession of committed
administrators, designers and politicians. And its development, management and use have
projected the ‘sense of enlarged freedom’ that Olmsted wrote about in the Park Report for
1866. It has a ‘looseness of form’ in the design that reflects the ‘complete liberty’ that
were granted to Vaux and Olmsted (Krauss 2013: 284). After a long period of neglect, it
has slowly returned since 1980 to being the ‘anything goes’ counterpart to its more
restrained older sibling.
HISTORY
Designation as a park
Brooklyn developed as a physically and administratively separate city from New York,
receiving its charter in 1834. The two cities were physically linked by completion of the
Brooklyn Bridge in 1883 and merged administratively in 1898. By 1860, with a
population of 266,661, it was the third largest city in the United States (Schuyler 1986:
115). Even without the bridge, Brooklyn was becoming a major suburb of Manhattan.
Whereas Manhattan is a long, thin fortress-like island, Brooklyn, on the far larger Long
Island, had space to expand – albeit in the same kind of gridiron that had been established
for New York by the ‘Commissioners’ Plan’ of 1811.
 Just as concerned citizens and journalists such as William Cullen Bryant had lobbied for
creation of Central Park, lobbyists for a comparable park in Brooklyn included Walt
Whitman (1819–92) – editor of the Brooklyn Times from 1857–59 – and Edwin Spooner
(1831–1901) – Editor of the Brooklyn Star. There were three main motives behind the call
for a park – concern for the health and well-being of Brooklynites, concern to maintain the
attractiveness of Brooklyn as a suburb of Manhattan, and concern to emulate the already
widely discussed Central Park (Graff 1985: 112). In April 1859 the New York State
Legislature appointed fifteen commissioners to select sites for public parks in Brooklyn. In
February 1860 the commissioners recommended seven sites. ‘The largest and by far the
most important’ was ‘Mount Prospect Park’ on Prospect Heights (Lancaster 1967: 21). In
April 1860, the legislature approved the creation of Prospect Park and authorized the issue
of bonds for land acquisition and for construction of the park. James Samuel Thomas
Stranahan (1808–98) was appointed president of the Park Commission later that year – a
position that he held for twenty-two years – and Egbert Viele (1825–1902), Chief
Engineer for Central Park, was commissioned to produce plans.

James Stranahan (May 2013)

Size and condition of site at time of designation

The originally designated site comprised around 170 acres (69 hectares) at the northern
end of the eventual park plus the ‘East Side Lands’ – around 125 acres (50 hectares) to the
east of Flatbush Avenue, already a major highway. The East Side Lands were included
because they covered Mount Prospect, at an elevation of 198 feet (60 metres) the second
highest point in Brooklyn, and the Mount Prospect Reservoir. The terrain was formed by
the Wisconsin Glacier. The Harbor Hill Moraine, a terminal moraine from that glacier,
runs the length of Long Island. It covered all the originally designated park area and
deposited ‘boulder-strewn stony loam’ across it. The outwash plain of the glacier to the
south was largely covered by remnant sandy and silty loams. Bedrock is about 350 feet
(105 metres) below ground level and ‘the rich soil … produced large vigorous trees and a
general luxuriance of vegetation that had not been possible in the thin rocky covering of
Central Park’ (Zaitzevsky 1982: 31).
The easternmost encounter of the Battle of Long Island in 1776 during the War of
American Independence occurred within the (proposed and final) site area. The occupying
British forces cleared much of the area for firewood and encouraged settlers to grow
vegetables on the cleared land. Viele noted, however, that by 1861 ‘nearly one half the
area is wooded with trees of large growth, many of them specimens of oak, maple,
hickory, dogwood, chestnut’ (Toth and Sauer 1994: 8). Much of the outwash plain to the
south was being used as farmland. Viele’s plan allowed for underpasses either end of
Flatbush Avenue and for one bridge over it. Viele, formerly an infantry colonel, left New
York to join the Union Army later in 1861 and no further work was undertaken during the
Civil War.
Stranahan, who had developed a ‘more comprehensive understanding of the role of
parks in creating a new urban landscape’ approached Vaux towards the end of 1864 to
advise on the design of the park (Schuyler 1986: 117). They visited the site together in
January 1865. Vaux recommended acquisition of more land to the west – now the western
end of the Long Meadow, and flatter land to the south – now Prospect Lake, and disposal
of the East Side Lands, excluding Flatbush Avenue from the park. The relatively short,
depressed transverse routes that were critical to the success of Central Park would not
have worked here. Also, being aware of the popularity of skating in Central Park, Vaux
wanted a suitable area for a larger lake. Stranahan accepted Vaux’s recommendation and
took it to the State Legislature. They approved it in May 1865 and Olmsted, Vaux and
Company Landscape Architects were appointed that month.
Key figures in establishment of the park
Vaux developed the design for Prospect Park on his own until Olmsted’s return from
California towards the end of 1865. As with Central Park, Vaux had to cajole Olmsted into
joining him on the project. And while ‘the question of the precise role of each man is the
subject of endless partisan argument’, it is widely recognized that Vaux made the principal
strategic recommendations for the design of Prospect Park – their ‘masterpiece’. It is also
reckoned that while ‘Olmsted had the important administrative ability to surround himself
with talented people and to employ them well’ and that ‘his brilliance as an administrator
… guaranteed the quality of his [sic] completed parks’, he was ‘hardly the creative artist
that Vaux was’ (Graff 1985: 29–30). It is Olmsted’s name, however, that has become the
generic term for their work.

Grand Army Plaza (May 2013)

Vaux was born in London in 1824. His father, a doctor, died when Vaux was only eight.
He and his younger brother obtained places at the ‘exclusive Merchant Taylors’ School’
(Colley 2013: 49). Vaux left school at the age of fifteen and was articled to London
architect Lewis Nockalls Cottingham (1787–1847), an exponent of Gothic Revival
architecture. His nascent architectural career changed radically when he was
recommended in 1850 by the Secretary of the Architectural Association of London to
Andrew Jackson Downing (1815–52). Downing – ‘America’s Repton or Loudon’
(Fleming et al. 1999: 158) – was a leading advocate for a major park in New York. He was
seeking an architect to work with him in the United States. Downing drowned, tragically,
two years later. By then, however, Vaux had assimilated many of his mentor’s
‘picturesque’ approaches to landscape design and went on to adapt and apply them, with
Olmsted, in their ‘American Pastoral’ style. Vaux’s pupil, H. Van Buren Magonigle,
described him as a romantic – but one who ‘had a real feeling for stonework’ (Kowsky
1998: 282).
Olmsted was born and brought up by strict churchmen in New England. In 1840 he was
sent to New York to work as a clerk after a severe case of sumac poisoning in 1836 had
prevented him from entering college. Olmsted returned to New England and, in 1843,
sailed to Canton (Guangzhou) in China as a ship’s boy. He then spent time as a special
student at Yale studying ‘scientific farming’ before running the farms that his father
bought for him – first in Connecticut during 1847 and then, from 1848 to 1855, on Staten
Island. During this period Olmsted made his first trip to Europe, visiting Birkenhead Park
and numerous country estates. He followed that trip by working as a peripatetic writer and
in 1855 moved to New York, where he began his forty-year career as a landscape
architect. He spent the first two years of the Civil War as Executive Director of the US
Sanitary Commission, a forerunner of the Red Cross. He was praised for his
organizational skills and energy but eventually resigned, as was his wont, because he
could not get his way. He spent the period from 1863 to 1865 running a gold mine at the
Mariposa Estate in California before Vaux persuaded him to return to New York
(Beveridge and Rocheleau 1995: 10–26; Kowsky 1998: 171–4).

Great City Park Girls (May 2013)

The opportunity for Vaux and Olmsted to turn Prospect Park into the ‘perfect’
expression of their ‘American Pastoral’ style owed a great deal to Stranahan’s patronage.
Stranahan was a millionaire property developer who had been raised on a farm and trained
as a civil engineer and land surveyor. He recognized the need and dealt equitably with the
replacement of Viele by Vaux and Olmsted; he supported Vaux’s proposal to alter radically
the location and extent of land for the park, and he stood between the designers and the
sometimes corrupt Brooklyn city government. Without Stranahan, Prospect Park might
have proved as vexing to Olmsted and Vaux as did Central Park (Rybczynski 1999: 259,
281; Graff 1985: 112–3; Lancaster 1967: 23). His reputation is enhanced by two particular
stories. First, that he supported construction of the Brooklyn Bridge despite his interests in
the competing ferry system. Second, that although he had served as president of the
commission without remuneration, when he retired he presented the city with a cheque for
$10,604.42 to cover a shortfall in the books during his administration. The park was
‘Stranahan’s greatest passion and personal triumph’ (Colley 2013: 43).
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location
The originally purchased site comprised 300 acres (120 hectares) of undeveloped land
about 2 miles southeast of the Manhattan ferry dock. Vaux recommended acquisition of
the ‘Rather Expensive Lots’ to the west of the originally designated site in order to
facilitate a unified design for the park. These lots were already owned by wealthy
Brooklyn families – but had not yet been developed. Graff speculated that the Brooklyn
city fathers saw a parallel between this area and the enhanced value of lots facing Central
Park (Graff 1985: 114). Sure enough, developers built single family homes in Flatbush
(south of the park), row houses in Park Slope (north and west of the park), and apartment
houses along Ocean and Eastern Parkways (south and east of the park). ‘By the 1890s
Park Slope had supplanted Brooklyn Heights as the location of choice for many of the
city’s wealthiest residents’, and ‘by the 1920s, its surroundings had become so popular
that developers tore down some of the houses facing the park and built the handful of
apartment towers that are now visible from the Long Meadow’ (Garvin 1996: 48–9). But
Prospect Park does not benefit from the ‘natural constituency of donors’ living near
Central Park, and the Ravine remains something of a racial divide between primarily
white residents to the north and west and others to the south and east (Fahim 2010).
Shape of site and natural landform
Vaux’s proposed revision of the park area was approved by the State Legislature in 1868.
It created a compact, six-sided site containing three distinct types of terrain – rolling,
steeply sloped and flat – that were ideally suited to the pastoral landscape of meadows,
forests and lakes that he and Olmsted sought to create. They supplemented the natural
landform with a densely planted 15 to 20 foot (4.5 to 6 metre) high berm around the edge
of the park, redolent of the shelter belts with which Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown encircled
country estates and prescient of the berms around Disney theme parks. Directly south of
Prospect Park West and on Lookout Hill are high points with elevations of over 180 feet
(55 metres). The Long Meadow falls gently from 150 feet (46 metres) at the Endale Arch
end to 120 feet (36 metres) at its southern edge adjacent to the Pools. The Pools
themselves fall from 135 feet (41 metres) at the Grotto Pool through the Ambergill and the
Ravine to the Nethermead and Prospect Lake, both with elevations of 62 feet (19 metres)
– a horizontal distance in the order of 2,000 feet (600 metres). Olmsted and Vaux arranged
for this water system to be fed from a deep well below Lookout Hill. It has been fed by
city water since about 1900 and all surface water is now retained on site.
Original design concept
Olmsted and Vaux’s concept for the park was clearly articulated in their Report to the
Commissioners of Prospect Park in 1866. They described it as being intended to provide
‘a feeling of relief’ for people escaping from the ‘cramped, confined and controlling
circumstances of the streets of the town … a sense of enlarged freedom’ (Schuyler 1986:
120: Rybczynski 1999: 271). They also stated that ‘supposing the more hilly land to be
covered by plantations, and a green-sward to be formed upon the open ground … and the
low plain to be mainly occupied by a lake, we have the three grand elements of pastoral
landscape that we were seeking’ (Kelly et al. 1981: 64). These three ‘grand elements’ were
the 90-acre (36 hectare) Long Meadow, the 200-acre (80 hectare) Forest – including the
Ravine, and the 60-acre (24 hectare) Prospect Lake. Each of these is larger than its
equivalent in Central Park – the Sheep Meadow or the 1930s Great Lawn, the Ramble, and
the Lake – but Prospect Park ‘began with natural advantages superior to Central Park,
advantages made the most of’ (Lynne and Morrone 2013: 25). The 40-acre (12 hectare)
Parade Ground to the south of the park was designated in 1868 following a
recommendation in the 1866 Report, and since 1998 has formed part of the park.

Prospect Park, Brooklyn

1 Grand Army Plaza
2 Prospect Park West
3 Meadowport Arch
4 Endale Arch
5 Long Meadow
 6 Flatbush Avenue
7 Vale of Cashmere
8 Brooklyn Botanic Garden
9 Picnic House
10 Prospect Park Zoo
11 Bandshell
12 Tennis House
13 Upper and Lower Pools
14 Fallkill Falls
15 Ravine
16 Willink Entrance
17 Ambergill
18 Prospect Park Southwest
19 Nethermead
20 Lookout Hill
21 Boathouse
22 Breeze Hill
23 Concert Grove
24 Ocean Avenue
25 Lakeside
26 Prospect Park Lake
27 Parkside Avenue
28 Parade Ground

Spatial structure, landscape character and circulation system

Endale Arch, completed in 1867, was paired with Meadowport Arch, completed in 1870,
west of the entrance from Grand Army Plaza, to create set piece pedestrian portals to the
park. The entry sequence through Endale Arch into the Long Meadow is one of the most
highly praised human-made visual experiences in the world. Simpson described the
‘darkening mystery of the path culminating in the tunnel of Endale Arch, and then, in as
dramatic a flash of light as the nineteenth century – lacking electricity – ever saw, the
golden white sun of the meadow. One has arrived in the countryside’ (Simpson 1981: 24).
Garvin likened it to ‘Dorothy opening the door of her black-and-white house to wander
into Technicolor Oz, enters into a gorgeous landscape devoid of any trace of the city’
(Garvin 1996: 48).The Long Meadow itself is probably the single most iconic element in
all of Vaux and Olmsted’s work. Beveridge described it as ‘the special triumph of Olmsted
and Vaux’s plan … there are few places where one can recapture more of the sense of
place that Olmsted [sic] intended’ (Beveridge and Rocheleau 1995: 66–7).Basic materials
are skilfully combined to create a seemingly endless space.
Where the Long Meadow was pastoral, the Ravine was a more picturesque contrivance
punctuated with rustic wooden bridges and shelters. The watercourse was artificial and
more characteristic of the Adirondack or Catskill Mountains than it was of Brooklyn –
which probably accounts for its rapid deterioration when undergrowth was cleared and
maintenance levels declined in the twentieth century. An isolated stand of remnant forest
was ‘enhanced to create a larger and more continuous expanse of woodland core … and a
woodland buffer at the Park’s edges’ (Toth and Sauer 1994: 11). New planting in the park
was a mix of native and exotic species. Many of the exotic species disappeared altogether,
while others – like the sycamore and Norway maple – regenerated at the expense of native
species (ibid: 16). The Lake, sealed with puddled clay from a peat bog within the site,
displays the same subtle complexity as the Long Meadow – promontories and islands
ensure that nowhere is it fully visible. It is the sump for the water system and originally
served as a skating venue in winter. The most architectural part of the park – the Concert
Grove – was located adjacent to the Carriage Concourse at the east end of the Lake. Like
the Mall in Central Park, this was intended as a major gathering space. Like the Greeting
in Franklin Park (and unlike the Mall) it was located on the periphery – and was the only
place where buildings, statues and similar items were to be allowed.
The circulation system in Central Park is widely recognized as being inspired by
Birkenhead Park. It is acknowledged for its separation of transverse roads, carriage drives
and pathways. The system in Prospect Park demonstrates further development of that
approach. First, Vaux ensured the exclusion of extraneous traffic by proposing the revised
site allocation. Then he and Olmsted developed a figure-of-eight circuit of carriage drives
on the enclosing berm and through the centre of the park, allowing access to Breeze Hill
and Lookout Hill. All but one of the entrances to the carriage circuit were located at the
junctions of the six roads surrounding the park. A separate system of bridle paths runs
largely alongside the carriage circuit. The berm is pierced by a series of pedestrian arches
– like the Endale and Meadowport Arches – allowing pedestrian access to the interior of
the park. The footpaths within the park were designed as a seemingly endless series of
rambles. The drives are open to cars for rush hours only and, since 2012, have been
subject to a lane-based configuration of pedestrians and child cyclists on the park interior,
then cyclists, then cars on the park exterior. The same system was subsequently adopted in
Central Park.
Development of the park after Olmsted and Vaux
Construction of the park was substantially complete by January 1871. The one area that
remained to be finished was the – already designed – additional land to the west. Vaux and
Olmsted dissolved their partnership in 1872 but continued to work together on
uncompleted commissions until 1874 and collaborated again in 1887 on Morningside
Park, New York. Olmsted was appointed Commissioner of the New York Department of
Public Parks and Vaux was appointed Consulting Landscape Architect. They were both
retained as consultants to Prospect Park. Development of Prospect Park continued for the
next twenty years or so in the direction established by Vaux, Olmsted and Stranahan.
The wave of neo-classicism promoted by the World’s Columbian Exposition hit the
park in the 1890s. This had already begun with the proposal in 1885 to erect a neo-
classical arch in Grand Army Plaza to commemorate the Civil War. The arch was
completed in 1892. It was followed by monumental designs from McKim, Mead and
White for the rest of the Plaza and the other entrances to the park. Their standard treatment
was to turn them into circles and to add a selection of columns, colonnades or oversized
statues. This was antithetical to Olmsted and Vaux’s proposals. But they were less
significant than the three neo-classical buildings added between 1905 and 1915 – the
Boathouse, the Tennis House, and the Willink Entrance Comfort Station. These were
followed by the Picnic House in 1927 – in the elbow of the Long Meadow – and the Zoo,
under the Works Progress Administration, in 1934. The Bandshell adjacent to Prospect
Park West was built in 1939 in the kind of peripheral location that Olmsted and Vaux
might have found more acceptable. In 1959 baseball diamonds were introduced at the
south end of the Long Meadow and in 1960 the Wollman Rink was clumsily implanted at
the edge of the Lake on the axis of the Concert Grove. The insertion of new entrances,
structures and sports facilities in and around the park during the 1960s and 1970s ran
parallel with the reduction of resources for management and maintenance of the park.

The Boathouse (May 2013)

MANAGEMENT AND USAGE

Managing organization
The Brooklyn Parks Department was relocated in 1892 to Litchfield Villa, completed in
1857, on Prospect Park West. The Boroughs of Brooklyn, Staten Island and Queens were
amalgamated with New York in 1898. Parks in Brooklyn and Queens continued to be
administered from Litchfield Villa until 1934 when Mayor Fiorello La Guardia (1882–
1947 – Mayor 1934–45) appointed Robert Moses (1888–1981) sole commissioner of a
unified Department of Parks for New York City – a position he held, for better and worse,
until 1960. The park celebrated its centenary in 1966 and ‘despite superficial sprucing up
… looked much the worst for wear’ (Lancaster 1967: 115). Real improvements did not
even begin until the late 1970s.
In October 1976 the statue of Columbia ‘fell from her chariot atop the … Memorial
Arch in Grand Army Plaza’ (Colley 2013: 159). Dangling from the Arch ‘she epitomized
the ills plaguing the city and Prospect Park’ (ibid: 162). This spurred a recovery led by
Howard Golden (b. 1925). Golden was elected President of the Borough of Brooklyn in
1977, a position that he occupied until 2001, and another example of the continuity that
has benefited the park. During twenty-four years in office, he garnered more than $110
million for park projects in Brooklyn (ibid: 162). The permanent workforce at the parks
department – which had fallen from over 5,200 in 1965 to less than 2,500 in 1980 – began
to be rebuilt (Carr 1988: 42) and in 1981 New York Mayor Edward Koch (1924–2013 –
Mayor 1978–89) issued his ‘first ten-year capital plan’, including $750 million for
rebuilding the city’s parks.
The first immediate change at Prospect Park was the appointment in 1980 of an
Administrator to act as manager and principal advocate for the park. The appointee,
Tupper Thomas (b. 1944), occupied the position until 2011 – yet another long-term
guardian of the park. Improvements in the condition of the park took a major step forward
at the end of that decade – following establishment in May 1987 of the Prospect Park
Alliance, a non-profit ‘partnership with the City of New York and the community’ that
‘restores, develops, and operates’ the park (Prospect Park Alliance 2011). The Alliance has
a full-time staff, allowing for seasonal variations, of between seventy and ninety together
with a well-established volunteer programme. The programme regularly contributes more
than 24,000 hours of work per year and is valued as a vehicle for community engagement
and education as well as for its industry.

Long Meadow through Endale Arch (May 2013)

Long Meadow from the east (May 2013)

Long Meadow from 35 Prospect Park West (October 1999)

Funding
Funding for Prospect Park comes from the Alliance, particularly through private
donations, and from public sources – principally the City of New York. Contributions for
capital works are also made on a discretionary basis by the Borough of Brooklyn. The
Alliance generated an income of nearly $400,000 in its first 18 months, $3.03 million in
1997 and currently generates between $10 and $12 million per year – of which around $1
million (+/– ten per cent) comes from government sources (Prospect Park Alliance 2011,
2012). Maintenance of the park to current standards is therefore highly dependent on
regular private contributions. Major new projects, such as the $74 million Lakeside, are
also highly dependent on private donations.
Usage
By the end of the 1970s the park was a dilapidated and dangerous place. In 1980 it
received an estimated 1.7 million visits. One of the first tasks for the newly appointed
Thomas was to restore the park sufficiently for people to feel safe visiting it. Regular user
surveys have been undertaken since that time. By 1988, there were over four million visits
– of which 70 per cent were by people living within ten minutes of the park; by 2000 the
figure was in excess of six million; by 2005 it was eight million, and it now stands at
around ten million per year, still with a primary constituency of local residents enjoying
frequent family activities such as barbecues. Crime levels have fallen correspondingly and
largely involve incidents such as ‘apple-picking’ – theft of unattended mobile phones.
Rising visitation increases the sense of safety – and maintenance requirements.
The restored Fallkill Falls (May 2013)

PLANS FOR THE PARK

Reports were commissioned in the 1980s to evaluate the park’s historical and natural
resources and to guide their rehabilitation and management. These adopted the Olmsted–
Vaux plan from 1874 as the ideal template – but with major new woodland management
practices. To this end, a Landscape Management Office was established in 1987 and an
on-site Design and Construction Office was established in 1991 to supervise physical
restoration work. The Landscape Management Plan completed in 1994 was designed to
‘sustain the natural, cultural, recreational and aesthetic resources of the park over time
while providing for a high level of public access and participation’ (Toth and Sauer 1994:
12). It identified six proposed land cover types – Forest Core, Perimeter Woodland,
Specimen Trees in mown grass, Tall Grass Meadow, Horticultural Zones and Water
Features – and established management regimes for each of them.
Woodland rehabilitation began in 1994 and was followed in 1996 by commencement of
the first of three phases of physical restoration of the Ravine. Work on the Ravine was
directed by the Alliance’s landscape architect (latterly Vice President Design and
Construction), Christian Zimmerman, appointed in 1990 and yet another figure whose
continuous service has benefited the park. That work was substantially based on historical
photographs (Schwartz 2003: 83). A programme for restoration of buildings and other
structures began in the mid-1990s, and in 1998 the Alliance agreed to take over
responsibility for the 40-acre (16 hectare) Parade Ground, completing its refurbishment as
a sports complex in 2004, with financial support from the Borough, followed by
reconstruction of the tennis centre in 2006. But the largest and most dramatic project to
date has been the 26-acre (10.5 hectare) $74 million reinstatement of the Concert Grove
and associated islands, and construction of the Lakeside development with new skating
rinks and community facilities, opened in December 2013. No small turnaround – but the
need for continual refurbishment remains, with the Vale of Cashmere being next in the
cycle.
CONCLUSIONS
Prospect Park is widely regarded as Olmsted and Vaux’s finest park design. The entry
sequence through Vaux’s delectable Endale Arch is a masterpiece of sensory
manipulation. The Long Meadow to which it leads has achieved iconic status among
human-made landscapes. But the qualities of Prospect Park could not have been achieved
without the lessons that they both learned from Central Park, without the quality of site
that Vaux persuaded the park commissioners to provide, or without the protection of
someone as sensible and sensitive to the project as James Stranahan. Even though
Prospect Park has been described as a ‘perpetually contemporary’ classic and a ‘great
American work of art’ it has also been perpetually vulnerable (Scott 1999: 101). Over
time, the integrity of its concept has been threatened by new structures, the stability of its
landform has been threatened by overuse, visitors’ safety has been threatened by underuse,
its ecological stability has been threatened by invasive plant species, and its survival has
been threatened by underfunding. Clearly, the durability of a good park design demands
the type of dedication that Prospect Park is currently enjoying.
24 Central Park, New York
(843 acres / 341 hectares)
INTRODUCTION
Central Park is a skinny streak of surrogate nature set in the rectilinear grid of Manhattan.
Commenced in 1856, it was the first purpose-built public park in North America. It
remains a paradigm. Central Park consolidated the concept of public land and gave birth to
‘American Pastoral’ landscape and to the profession of landscape architecture in North
America.1 The park was inspired by socially conscious advocates such as William Cullen
Bryant (1794–1878) and Andrew Jackson Downing (1815–52) and designed by architect
Calvert Bowyer Vaux (1824–95) and landscape architecture novice Frederick Law
Olmsted (1822–1903). Completed through the stringent management of Andrew Haswell
Green (1820–1903) and good husbandry of Samuel Browne Parsons (1844–1923), Central
Park was redefined between 1934 and 1960 by Robert Moses (1888–1981) as one of many
recreation facilities. Popularized, starved of funds and brought to the edge of destruction
in the 1960s and 1970s, it inflamed the idea that parks are dangerous places. It has
undergone rehabilitation as ‘a work of landscape art’ since 1980 in a programme directed
initially by Elizabeth Barlow Rogers (b. 1936) and largely funded by private money.
The site stretches two-and-a-half miles (4.1 kilometres) between 59th and 110th Streets
but covers only about half a mile (840 metres) between Fifth and Eighth Avenues. It has a
high ratio of edge to overall area – a boon to real estate agents and, latterly, to the funding
of the park. But its shape presented a challenge to the Olmsted–Vaux concept of the park
as a pastoral escape from the city. Furthermore, its largest single feature, the (Jacqueline
Kennedy Onassis) Reservoir occupying 107 acres (43 hectares) and almost filling the site
between 86th and 96th Streets, effectively divides the park into two distinct parts. These
challenges were addressed better by ‘Greensward’ – the Olmsted–Vaux entry to the 1857–
58 design competition – than by the other thirty-two entries. They proposed, still in the
days of horse-drawn transport, to direct all cross-town traffic onto four below-grade
transverse roads that were completely separate from the park. And although the internal
circulation system segregating carriage drives, bridle paths and footways was forced on
them after the competition, this allowed them to create a sequence of vistas through a
pastoral composition of meadows, lakes and woodland.
HISTORY
Designation as a park
The call for a major park in New York probably originated from Robert Brown Minturn
(1805–66), a merchant who had travelled widely in Europe. It was taken up and forcefully
articulated by Bryant and Downing (Rosenzweig and Blackmar 1992: 15–17). Bryant, a
relatively unsuccessful poet, was Editor of the New York Evening Post. The son and
grandson of doctors, he was a proponent of fresh air and exercise. In July 1844 he wrote
his first editorial urging the city to create a park. He suggested Jones Wood – a 160 acre
(65 hectare) parcel of land on the East River between 68th and 77th Streets and Third
Avenue (Graff 1985: 7). Downing, a nurseryman and landscape designer living in the
Hudson Valley, published his first book, A Treatise on the Theory and Practice of
Landscape Gardening, Adapted to North America, in 1841. In 1846 he was appointed
editor of The Horticulturist and Journal of Rural Art and Rural Taste and began to be
recognized as a leading figure in the development of landscape design in the United
States. Despite their age difference, Bryant and Downing were close friends and both used
their editorships to advance their views about parks – views that were strengthened by
their respective visits to London in 1844 and 1850.
Central Park, New York
1 Central Park North/110th Street
2 Harlem Meer
3 North Woods
4 Conservatory Gardens
5 Eighth Avenue
6 Fifth Avenue
7 97th Street Transverse
8 Tennis Courts
9 Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Resevoir
10 85th Street Transverse
11 The Great Lawn
12 Metropolitan Museum of Art
13 79th Street Transverse
14 The Belvadere/Vista Rock
15 The Ramble
16 The Lake
17 Bethseda Terrace
19 Strawberry Fields
20 The Mall
21 Sheep Meadow
22 Tavern on the Green
23 65th Street Transverse
24 Hecksher Ballfields
25 Central Park Zoo
26 Wollman Rink
27 The Pond
28 Central Park South/59th Street

By 1850 New York had a population over 650,000. Living conditions were truly
oppressive, insanitary and polluted (Garvin 1996: 31; Kelly 1982: 32). Both candidates in
the 1850 mayoral election pledged that they would create a large park. The electee,
Ambrose C. Kingsland (1804–78), recommended to the Common Council of New York in
April 1851 that they purchase and lay out a park ‘on a scale which will be worthy of the
city’ – but did not name a specific site (Stewart 1981: 92). A committee of the Council
considered alternative sites. Those for the park expressed their views in Bryant’s Evening
Post; those against it, in the Journal of Commerce. The Council agreed, still in 1851, to
apply to the State Legislature to purchase the Jones Wood site. Downing immediately
published a piece welcoming the decision but decrying the site as too small. Influenced by
the need for the park to accommodate a new reservoir, and by the fact that the Jones Wood
site would remove valuable shoreline from the real estate market, Kingsland appointed a
further committee to consider further sites.
 In January 1852, that committee recommended a central site between 59th and 106th
Streets and between Fifth and Eighth Avenues. They preferred the new site to Jones Wood
on the basis of ‘size, convenience of locality, availability and probable cost’ (Stewart
1981: 95). The Council dithered. The factions for and against continued to argue. The
faction in favour of a park argued which was the better site. In April 1853 the State
authorized the acquisition of Jones Wood. In May 1853 the Council reaffirmed its support
for the principle of a large park; in June it requested the State Legislature for authority to
acquire the central site. After further debate and public discussion, the Council started to
acquire the land in November 1853 and by July 1856 the purchase was complete. The
population of New York had more than doubled since 1845, but at that time the built-up
portion of Manhattan had only reached 38th Street (ibid: 87). Olmsted, in his address
Public Parks and the Enlargement of Towns to the Lowell Institute in February 1870,
suggested that the site was selected because it appeared ‘to be about the middle of the
island, and therefore … one which would least excite local prejudices’. He went on to note
that ‘it would have been difficult to find another body of land of six hundred acres upon
the island … which possessed less of … the most desirable characteristics of a park’
(Sutton 1971: 86).

Detail of carving on Bethesda Terrace (May 2013)

Size and condition of site at time of designation

The site designated in 1853 extended from 59th to 106th Street – an area of about 773
acres (313 hectares). It was extended northward to 110th Street in 1863 – an addition of
about 70 acres (28 hectares). The site included the rectangular 37-acre (15 hectare) Croton
Reservoir, built in 1842 – the site since 1934 of the Great Lawn. Allowance also had to be
made for construction of the 107-acre (43 hectare) reservoir. It comprised ‘two large
swamps, a portion of salt marsh, an upland bog and uneven, thin-soiled, boulder-strewn
tableland’ with outcrops of Manhattan mica schist, ribboned with granite intrusions from a
second epoch of geological unrest. The schists close to the surface precluded building
without major site formation works and the lack of soil precluded agriculture (Central
Park Conservancy 1985: 22). ‘While there was a section of gently rolling meadow above
98th Street, there was no such area in the lower park’ (Beveridge and Rocheleau 1998:
51). The site was already occupied when it was designated – ‘1600 people lived on the
“broken” scruffy landscape’ (Miller 2009: 12).
Key figures in design of the park
Bryant, Downing and Kingsland are widely acknowledged as the principal advocates of
the park (Stewart 1981: 97). Bryant’s role was recognized in the naming for him in 1900
of the park behind the New York Public Library (Chapter 4). It has been widely suggested
that, had Downing not drowned in July 1852 – trying to save victims of a steamboat
disaster – he would have been chosen to design Central Park (Tatum 1994: 11; Chad wick
1966: 181; Heckscher 2008: 20). He ‘provided the basis for the style in which … parks …
were to be designed’ and ‘saw the necessity, appreciated by devotees of the “Picturesque”,
and clearly enunciated by Repton, of mastering the natural character or prevailing
expression of the place’ (Chadwick 1966: 164). Although Downing died before his
designs for public works were implemented, he did convey many of his views to Vaux, the
architect he had recruited in London in 1850 to work with him in Newburgh, New York on
the building elements of his com missions. Vaux continued to work in Newburgh after
Downing’s death – but moved to New York in 1856 to work on commercial projects for
contacts he had made on those residential projects.

Rock outcrop near Sheep Meadow (May 2013)

Egbert Ludovicus Viele (1825–1902) was appointed Chief Engineer for Central Park in
1856 by the Democrat-led City Council’s commissioners. In early 1857 a layout plan
prepared by Viele was adopted. The plan was widely criticized in the press for its lack of
imagination. Vaux campaigned against it, declaring it ‘a disgrace to the city and to the
memory of Mr. Downing’ (Alex 1994: 107). The Republican-led State Legislature stepped
in that summer and appointed its own nine-person commission. Vaux petitioned them to
stage a design competition for the park. They retained Viele as Engineer; began an
immediate search for a Superintendent and announced a design competition in August
1857. Meanwhile, Olmsted had moved to New York in 1855, migrating from ‘scientific
farming’ on Staten Island to become part-owner of a publishing firm. The following year
he made his second trip to England and returned to find the firm on the verge of
bankruptcy. By summer 1857 he was looking for another job. In short, Olmsted’s ‘political
connections and a bit of résumé padding won him the post of Superintendent’ (Scott 1999:
103). He was appointed, under Viele, in September 1857.
Vaux and Olmsted had first met in 1851 at Downing’s nursery in Newburgh. Vaux
encouraged Olmsted to join him in the competition because he knew that Olmsted was in
favour with the Commissioners and because his post made him familiar with the large and
varied site. Olmsted was reticent about entering the competition because it might strain
already difficult relations with Viele. But Viele was indifferent. Still in debt from his
publishing venture and believing that victory would bring not only the prize money but
also more control of the project – and thus, a higher salary – Olmsted agreed to join Vaux.
They spent winter evenings and weekends working on the awkward-shaped drawings for
the awkward-shaped site.2 In April 1858 ‘Greensward’ was awarded first prize by a jury
comprised solely of the Commissioners. Their choice ‘reflected the preference of the
board’s Yankee Republican majority for the English naturalistic design tradition’
(Rosenzweig and Blackmar 1992: 120).
Olmsted was appointed ‘Architect-in-Chief’ and Vaux was named his ‘Assistant’. This
‘laid the foundation for the persistent but erroneous belief that Olmsted was principally, if
not solely, responsible for the design of Central Park’ (Tatum 1994: 12). Although
Olmsted sought to redress this in subsequent correspondence between the two of them, he
remained keen to ensure that public awareness of his work was maintained. Their team
included Austrian-born horticulturist Ignatz Pilat (1820–70), who worked on the park
from 1858 until his death, drainage engineer George Waring (1833–98), and, also English-
born architect Jacob Wrey Mould (1825–86). Mould has been acknowledged as an
innovative designer, songwriter and opera translator – and described as ‘ugly and uncouth’
and having ‘an unfortunate propensity for shady business dealings’ (Graff 1985: 33–7). He
also had the virtue of being able to work equally well in metal, brick and stone – which
accounts for the exotic carved stonework at the Bethesda Terrace and many of the bridges
that he designed with Vaux (Tatum 1994: 15). Mould, by all accounts, also helped with the
competition drawings – a skill that Olmsted had not acquired at that stage in his career
(Rybczynski 1999: 169). In fact, Vaux and this team of co-designers were ‘Architect-in-
Chief’ Olmsted’s first instructors in landscape architecture and Central Park was his very
first project.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Original design concept
Central Park was built largely in accordance with the principles and layout established in
the Olmsted–Vaux plan. That plan represented a continuation of the social attitudes
expressed by Downing (in his Rural Essays) that users of whatever social class, ‘would
enjoy together the same music; breathe the same atmosphere of art, enjoy the same
scenery, and grow into social freedom by the very influences of easy intercourse, space
and beauty that surround them’ (Stewart 1981: 94). In his 1870 address to the Lowell
Institute, Olmsted observed, even then, that ‘the Park is not planned for such use as is now
made of it, but with regard to future use, when it will be in the centre of a population of
two millions hemmed in by water at a short distance on all sides’ (Sutton 1971: 52–99).
Olmsted’s vision of the future of American cities – before the motorcar had even been
invented – was exceptional. His social views were more paternalistic. He saw ‘the beauty
of rural scenery’ as a restorative antidote to the artificiality and oppression of urban
conditions – stating that this view was ‘too well established to need argument’ (Beveridge
and Hoffman 1997: 474–7). Such statements support the argument that Olmsted never
abandoned his anti-urban sentiment.
Olmsted’s paternalism was already apparent in his description in 1858 of the purpose of
Central Park being ‘to supply to the hundreds of thousands of tired workers, who have no
opportunity to spend their summers in the country, a specimen of God’s handiwork’
(Rybczynski 1999: 177). Accordingly, the Greensward plan made minimal provision for
active recreation or for buildings that did not contribute directly to this primary purpose.
Beveridge noted, however, that ‘Olmsted always wished to satisfy the need of users of his
large parks for refreshments, and felt that by serving beer and wine he could forestall the
proliferation of bars nearby’ (Beveridge and Roche leau 1998: 52). The design was
essentially inward-looking. Miller described it as a tripartite ‘tapestry’ of pastoral,
picturesque and formal (rectilinear) landscape with ‘three distinct modes of transportation
– carriage drives, bridle paths, and pedestrian paths – threading their way through
constantly changing scenery’ (Miller 2009: 15). Apart from their far-sighted proposal to
sink the transverse roads, the circulation system resulted from pressure by commissioners
August Belmont (1813–90) and Robert Dillon to extend the bridle paths. Vaux and
Olmsted achieved this by significantly increasing the number of bridges in the park – in
much the manner of the (Belmont and Dillon-supported) second-placed competition entry
from Samuel Gustin (Miller 2009: 86).
View towards new residential towers around Columbus Circle (May 2013)
Detail of Bow Bridge (May 2013)

Development of the site required blasting and movement of vast amounts of rock,
installation of an extensive drainage system, and importation of huge volumes of topsoil
(Rosenzweig and Blackmar 1992: 150). The design, nevertheless, retained a strong
reflection of the natural conditions of the site. Water bodies such as the Lake and the
Reservoir (and later, the Harlem Meer) occupied the five natural drain age basins. Rockier
and higher ground was adapted to create areas like the Ramble and landmarks such as the
Belvedere on Vista Rock. Intermediate areas were filled to create meadows. The pastoral
elements – the rolling meadows, comparable to the Brownian ‘beautiful’ of the English
landscape movement – were Olmstedian. The more ‘picturesque’ rugged and rocky
woodland areas were Downingesque and the Gothic Revival structures were more Vaux’s
metier. Indeed, ‘Olmsted perceived the park as a work of art, injecting culture with the
salutary influence of nature. Vaux, on the other hand, saw the park as a designed space that
would find its character through democratic use’ (Lippard 1997: 250). Central Park was
the first translation into the public realm in America of the ‘western pastoral tradition’ – a
tradition that ‘has been compatible with the idea of nature as a resource to be manipulated
by human enterprise’ (Wilson 1991: 95).
Spatial structure and materials
The Olmsted–Vaux plan proposed thick boundary planting to block views of the buildings
that would eventually surround it. At the heart of the southern section they created one of
their more orthogonal compositions – the Mall (called the Promenade in the ‘Greensward’
plan), the Bethesda Terrace (originally called the Water Terrace) and the Belvedere. The
Promenade was aligned inward to direct views towards the centre of the park. At the end
of the quarter-mile-long tree-lined allée, Vaux and Mould placed a combination of steps
down to a tiled arcade under the 72nd Street Transverse, broad stairways decorated with
Mould’s stone carvings and sweeping carriage ramps down to the Terrace and boat
landing. The view to the Belvedere has been obscured by the trees in the Ramble. The
original centrepiece of the Terrace was a simple water jet. This was replaced in 1873 by
the Angel of the Waters, a ‘life-size’ sculpture by Emma Stebbins (1815–82) that has
become a focal point of the park. Although the longer view to the Belvedere has been
obscured, the Angel is clearly visible at the end of the Mall, precisely positioned to float
above the parapet of the 72nd Street Transverse. Vaux considered the original Water
Terrace ‘the best thing he had ever done’ (Alex 1994: 111). The sequence of views in the
other direction is also highly rated – ‘the walk from the Belvedere through the Ramble
across Bow Bridge to the Bethesda Fountain is perhaps the most elaborate, intricate and
fascinating of any Olmsted [sic] park experience’ (Kelly et al. 1981: 28). The Bow Bridge
is an outstanding example of Vaux’s siting and design and of Mould’s detailing.
Key figures in development of the park
Olmsted and Vaux worked on Central Park from May 1858 until the outbreak of the Civil
War in April 1861.3 The Yankee Republican Olmsted was granted leave and became
Executive Director of the US Sanitary Commission. Vaux, who was under five feet tall,
was too short to enlist. He remained in New York. In April 1862 he and Olmsted were
jointly appointed landscape architects to the Board of Central Park Commissioners but
relatively little work was undertaken on the park during the war. In May 1863, Vaux
resigned on behalf of the two of them – mainly because of disputes with Andrew Green. In
September 1863 Olmsted left for California and only returned to New York in November
1865 at the urging of Vaux following their appointment on Prospect Park. In February
1866 they were also reappointed landscape architects to the Board of Central Park. They
were fired in November 1870 after the ‘Tweed Ring’ gained control of the City Council
and replaced the Board with a Department of Public Parks. They were rehired in
November 1871 following exposure of the Tweed Ring. They remained involved with the
park until 1873 – by when construction work was virtually complete and the economy was
in depression. Olmsted became briefly reinvolved with the park between spring 1875 and
his final dismissal in December 1877. Vaux served as landscape architect of the City of
New York between November 1881 and January 1883 and between January 1888 and his
death, like Downing, by drowning, in November 1895.
Bow Bridge (May 2013)

Green, a Protestant Yankee Democrat, was treasurer of the Board of Park

Commissioners when Olmsted was appointed Superintendent in September 1857. They
were friends. Green was appointed to the full-time salaried position of Comptroller of
Central Park in 1859 – effectively its first CEO – while Olmsted was on recuperative
study leave in England. Olmsted’s levels of expenditure had been far higher than
originally estimated. Green’s role was to rein him in. The friendship ended as they vied for
control of the park. Both had the interests of the park at heart. Olmsted, as ever, wanted to
do everything ‘properly’ – that is, his way. Green feared that completion of the park would
be jeopardized if expenditure was not controlled. Green generally won their clashes.
Olmsted often raged against him and offered his resignation in January 1861. It was not
accepted.
After Olmsted left for Washington in April 1861, Vaux had easier dealings with Green
and managed to get the Bethesda Terrace built largely as he and Mould had designed it.
Green was also responsible for the acquisition in 1863 of the land between 106th and
110th Streets. He was appointed head of the Central Park Commission in the late 1860s
and, in 1870–71, stood up to the corrupt ‘Democratic’ rule of William Tweed (1823–78)
and his park commissioner, Peter Sweeny. From that time, the position of Commissioner
of Parks became a political appointment. While Green endorsed the ‘vision of a pastoral
park, he also believed the park should be a center of educational, scientific and cultural
activity’ (Rosenzweig and Blackmar 1992: 350). Olmsted’s position as superintendent was
abolished in 1877. He took another trip to Europe and settled in Boston on his return.4 In
1880 Vaux, who had maintained a cordial relationship with Green, went into partnership
with Samuel Browne Parsons Jr, the son and grandson of Long Island nurserymen. In
1881, at Vaux’s request, Parsons was appointed unpaid Superintendent of Planting in the
park. He was appointed Superintendent of Parks in 1885 and parks landscape architect in
1898. He ‘retired’ in 1911 after a dispute with the new recreation-minded Com missioner
Charles Stover. Parsons was the last remaining link with the founders of the park and their
pastoral ideals.

Wollman Rink (October 1999)

‘In a city legendary for rapid change, Central Park was, and is, remarkably resistant to
visual alteration. And in no period, perhaps, did it change less than the three decades after
the death of its creators’ (Rosenzweig and Blackmar 1992: 375).5 Nevertheless, in 1912
the gravel carriage drives were asphalted; in 1926 the Heckscher Playground opened – the
first equipped playground in the park; and in 1929 Vaux’s Ladies Refreshment Pavilion
was reopened as a casino. By 1930, 70 per cent of Manhattan residents lived in upper
Manhattan and about a million people lived within one mile of the park. In April 1930
Parks Commissioner Walter Herrick adopted a proposal from the American Society of
Landscape Architects (ASLA) for converting the site of the by then redundant Croton
Reservoir into a ‘Great Lawn’ – an idea not implemented until 1934. Mayor Fiorello La
Guardia (1882–1947) took office in January 1934 and immediately appointed Robert
Moses as sole Commissioner of a unified Department of Parks for all of New York City –
a post Moses held until 1960.
Moses was a ‘genius urban impresario and civic fascist’ who wanted the park to be
‘neither English nor French, neither Romantic nor classical, but efficient, purposeful, and
unapologetically American’ (Buford 1999: 106). Primarily using federal money from the
New Deal, Moses ‘took the style of the moment and converted the details of the romantic
landscape into a heavily engineered hard edge International Style … the skeleton of
topography, lakes, and major architectural elements remained, but the rest changed’ (Kelly
1982: 32). Unlike the ‘genteel’ Olmsted, ‘progressive reformers like Moses claimed a new
kind of authority as professionally trained experts who would manage the public
according to abstract principles of efficiency and rationality’ (Rosenzweig and Blackmar
1992: 462). By 1966 the park had ‘twenty-one playgrounds, Wollman Rink, Lasker Rink
and Swimming Pool, the Tennis House and tennis courts’ (Miller 2009: 27).
In the late 1960s and 1970s the character of the park was affected by demographic
changes, liberal policies and financial crises. Between 1940 and 1970 the total population
of New York increased by only six per cent whereas its black population tripled and its
Puerto Rican population increased by ten times. More than a million white residents left
the city in the 1950s and 1960s. By 1979 family income levels in New York were 16 per
cent below national averages (Rosenzweig and Blackmar 1992: 476, 470). Park
Commissioner Thomas Hoving, appointed in 1966, and his successor August Heckscher,
appointed in 1967, set out to popularize the park. Hoving excluded cars at weekends and
promoted rallies, cultural events and ‘happenings’. Heckscher continued that trend,
allowing free rock concerts, anti-Vietnam War rallies and festivals in the park. But the
economy had been in recession from a post-war peak in 1969 and did not recover until
1977. By 1975 the City of New York was broke. First the capital budget for parks was
slashed, then the maintenance budget.
The Pond and city at southeast of park (May 2013)

In 1978 Edward Koch (1924–2013 – Mayor 1978–89) appointed Gordon Davis as park
commissioner. Davis began a programme of ‘load-shedding’. In 1979 he appointed
Elizabeth Barlow Rogers as Central Park Administrator and in 1980 Koch announced the
formation of the Central Park Conservancy – a board of trustees for the park. This was the
first major change of approach to the park since 1934 and, ironically, reflected the
politically independent governance model called for by Olmsted in The Spoils of the Park
(1882). Rogers, outraged by the demise of the park, had begun in the mid-1970s to raise
private funds and organize volunteer labour. Twenty years after her appointment, former
Commissioner Davis commented that when he appointed her as Administrator ‘she had no
money and no power’ (Harden 1999: B6). By the time Rogers stood down in 1996, the
Conservancy had raised more than $150 million – and spent most of it on rehabilitation of
the park. Rogers combined extraordinary fund-raising abilities with strong organizational
skills and a firm vision of what the park should be. She introduced an approach to
rehabilitation that sought a balance between restoration of the Olmsted–Vaux design as an
unprogrammed pastoral antidote to the city on the one hand, but acknowledged
contemporary demands on the other – such as the creation of Strawberry Fields in 1985,
and accommodation of Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s The Gates in February 2005.
MANAGEMENT, FUNDING AND USAGE
Managing organization
The Conservancy is a private, non-profit organization incorporated under the laws of New
York State. It manages Central Park under a contract with the City of New York and the
Department of Parks and Recreation on a similar basis to the model for botanical gardens,
zoos and museums. The Administrator is appointed by the Mayor and reports to the Park
Commissioner but is paid by the Conservancy. This was the first time that a single
individual had been made responsible for organizing capital works and day-to-day
management and maintenance of the park since Green’s appointment in 1859. In February
1998 the Conservancy signed an eight-year management agreement with Mayor Rudolph
Giuliani and Parks Commissioner Henry Stern that made the Conservancy the ‘Keeper of
the Park’. A repeat agreement for a further eight-year term was signed in 2006. In 1999
the Conservancy had approximately 230 employees – more than twice as many as in 1991.
By 2013 it had over 300 employees, including 175 staff in the park. It continues to operate
a system of ‘zone gardeners’ for regular maintenance operations.6
Funding
In 1988 the City provided $10.2 million (61 per cent) and the Conservancy provided $6.6
million (39 per cent) of the annual budget for the park. Operational costs for the park
doubled between 1995 and 1999 to nearly $7 million – largely as a result of the increased
maintenance requirements for rehabilitated areas. Since 1999, by which time 75 per cent
of the park had been rehabilitated, the Conservancy has provided 85 per cent of the annual
budget. In 2005 the Conservancy, by then under the direction of landscape architect Doug
Blonsky, began its third capital campaign, aimed at completing rehabilitation of the park
landscape. By 2009 capital and operational costs exceeded $40 million and in 2013 they
were $46 million. Most of the Conservancy’s contribution comes from endowments and
from continuing donations – like Hedge Fund Manager John A. Paulson’s $100 million
gift in October 2012 (www.nytimes) – and smaller sums. By that date the park had
‘received an infusion of $700 million over 33 years’ (ibid).7
User characteristics
As soon as it was opened, the park ‘was madly popular’ (Heckscher 2008: 69). It was
largely used in the 1860s ‘as a parade ground for the wealthy, although many of the areas
surrounding the Park were occupied by shanty settlements or farmland’ (Domosh 1996:
24). Records from 1861 show 1,863,263 pedestrians, 73,547 equestrians and 467,849
vehicles visited the (incomplete) park (Heckscher 2008: 70). A 1982 survey recorded three
million users – of whom 500,000 were not from New York – making 14 million visits. By
2000, the number of visits had reached 20 million per year. A survey conducted between
July 2008 and May 2009 estimated eight to nine million people making 37 to 38 million
visits (Central Park Conservancy 2011). About 15 per cent of visits were for active
recreation and 85 per cent for passive recreation. Nearly two-thirds came alone and
visitors ‘appeared to be’ equally male and female – which, by most measures are strong
indicators of a sense of safety. Seventy per cent of visits were by New York City residents;
three per cent were by greater New York residents; 12 per cent were from the rest of the
United States; and 16 per cent were from other countries. A significant change from earlier
surveys was the far higher proportion of total park visits by older users – a reflection,
perhaps, of older people returning to live more centrally and of their sense of safety in the
park. Current estimates suggest 40 million visits per year.
Crime
As Superintendent, Olmsted ‘organized a force of 24 park keepers – one of the first
uniformed and well-disciplined police forces in the nation’ (Rybczynski 1999: 179).
Although the first murder in the park was committed in October 1872, Olmsted’s force
was largely concerned with protecting quality of life rather than life itself. Overall, it
seems that the problems of crime in the park are as much about perception and fear as they
are about statistically proven threats. However, ‘every Park official, city administrator and
police officer tells us (correctly) that the Park is safe during the day, they all agree on this:
only a fool goes there at night’ (Buford 1999: 102). Nevertheless, in September 2012 a 74-
year-old bird-watcher was raped in the park ‘while she was photographing humming birds’
(www.nytimes.com). She survived to testify against her attacker. But rare and
unforgivable incidents such as this produce strong reactions and extensive press coverage
because they cut across the popular ideal of parks as paradisal retreats … and pander to
the idea of them as places of lingering danger.
PLANS FOR THE PARK
Rehabilitation of Central Park has been driven by the (not entirely accurate) mantra that ‘it
was designed as a single unified park and still functions as one’. Rebuilding Central Park
(1987) – the Conservancy’s fifteen-year Management and Restoration Plan – noted that
its condition ‘at the time of formation of the Conservancy was truly shocking’. The plan
was based on six guiding principles:
• Protection and Preservation – not allowing further portions to be dedicated to single
interest groups;
• Historic Character – use of the Greensward Plan, wherever possible, as a reference and
guide;
• Public Safety and Enjoyment – the park must appear to be safe and not vandalized;
• Maintaining Cleanliness and Structural Soundness – to build respect for the park;
• Horticultural Beauty and Ecological Health – good forestry and horticultural practices;
• Functional and Structural Integrity – unified administration of design, maintenance and
operations.
Gothic Bridge #28 at 94th Street (October 1999)

Work was undertaken throughout the park during the 1980s and 1990s. Focal built-
elements like the Mall and Bethesda Terrace and virtually every other building, bridge,
pathway, lake edge and piece of furniture in the park needed attention. So did the exotic-
species-infested woodland areas. The legacy of heavy use and low investment meant that
the works really were an exercise in rebuilding rather than simply rehabilitating the park.
It was noted in the Conservancy’s Annual Report for 2012 that, since its inception, it had
‘championed the park’s ingenious design and enduring role as one of New York City’s
most idyllic retreats’. Ongoing projects in support of that aim included a $40 million
programme to update all twenty-one playgrounds – further evidence, perhaps, of the
evolving demographic within the park’s catchment – and a ten-year programme of
woodland management – covering the Ramble (40 acres / 16 hectares), the North Woods
(55 acres / 22 hectares) and the Hallett Nature Sanctuary (4 acres / 1.6 hectares).
CONCLUSIONS
Central Park was ‘one of the most innovative and enduring responses to urbanization
undertaken in nineteenth century America’ (Schuyler 1986: 78) and ‘the beginning of a
whole movement can be traced directly to one example and to two designers working
almost as one’ (Chadwick 1966: 190). Paradoxically, the work of Olmsted and Vaux is
claimed to have been at the root of the City Beautiful Movement (Wilson 1989: 9) and to
be ‘strikingly modern’ (Legates and Stout 1996: 337). Their design for Central Park was
described in 1904 as an ‘amalgam of a Herefordshire sheepwalk and the location for a
movie version of Hiawatha’ (architect Ernest Flagg 1904 in Rosenzweig and Blackmar
1992: 415). It can also be construed as a precedent for Disneyland – with Main Street USA
equating to the Mall and Sleeping Beauty’s Castle representing the Belvedere on Vista
Rock. Latterly the park has ‘reinvented itself as an elite cultural charity’ (Harden 1999:
A1) and is currently enjoying the longest period of consistent management and funding
since its construction. Central Park is the prototypical American pastoral park and remains
one of the most powerful precedents in the entire history of landscape architecture.
Latterly it has also become a model for philanthropic private support for public parks.
The Pond in southeast of park (November 2011)

NOTES
1 It is difficult to accept Schama’s assertion that this was an ‘anti-pastoral, American solution’ (Schama 1995: 569).
2 Mann 1993: 357 noted that the requirements for the competition were ‘1. four transverse roads running east–west
through the park; 2. a parade ground for the militia; 3. a fountain; 4. three playgrounds; 5. a concert hall; 6. a flower
garden; 7. a site for ice skating; 8. plans to be in India ink or sepia ink at the scale of 1’ = 100’; 9. a written description of
the proposed park; 10. all work due on April 1, 1858’.
3 Paragraph largely based on Alex 1994: 234; Beveridge and Rocheleau 1998: 22–5; Carr 1988: 18.
4 Paragraph largely based on Rosenzweig and Blackmar 1992: 289, 294, 381; Graff 1985: 62–8; Carr 1988: 29, 31.
5 Paragraph largely based on Rosenzweig and Blackmar 1992: 410, 399, 400, 402, 435, 439; Carr 1988: 29.
6 Figures from Central Park Conservancy Annual Reports 1999 and 2012 and meetings with conservancy staff.
7 Figures from response to author’s questionnaire in August 1989; www.centralparknyc.org; Central Park
Conservancy Annual Reports 1999 and 2012, and www.nytimes.com/2012/10/24 and 2013/02/18.
Location of Stanley Park, Vancouver
1 Stanley Park
2 First Narrows/Lions Gate Bridge
3 North Vancouver
4 Burrard Inlet
5 Coal Harbour
6 West End
7 Downtown Vancouver
8 False Creek
9 Kitsilano
10 English Bay
11 University of British Columbia
25 Stanley Park, Vancouver
(405 hectares / 1,000 acres)
INTRODUCTION
Since its establishment, the city of Vancouver has had the benefit of Stanley Park. It is
even said that ‘Vancouver is Stanley Park and Stanley Park is Vancouver’ (Paterson 1995:
73).1 Stanley Park is closer than any park in this study to fulfilling the common perception
of urban parks being ‘trapped wilderness’. And although it occupies the end of the
downtown peninsula, its character derives more from its protection from development
than from a comprehensive design. Its designation as a public park was the first resolution
made by the first meeting of the newly formed Vancouver City Council in May 1886 – a
remarkable decision given that the population of Vancouver at that time was less than
3,000. It seems, however, that its designation had as much to do with real estate
speculation as with the desire to create a major public park.
Much of the southern part of the site was logged in the 1850s and 1860s and there have
been multiple subsequent human incursions. Nevertheless, the park remains, primarily,
mature coniferous forest, situated within the Coastal Western Hemlock biogeoclimatic
zone, characterized by western hemlock, western red cedar and Douglas fir (Parks Canada
2002: 49). Principal human incursions include the 8.8-kilometre encircling Seawall,
commenced in 1917 and officially opened in 1980, and the Stanley Park Causeway and
Lions Gate Bridge – linking downtown Vancouver to North and West Vancouver across
Burrard Inlet – completed in 1938. Other facilities have been added in a piecemeal fashion
over time and are largely located around the edges of the park, particularly on the southern
side, closest to the city. These additions have left the wilderness qualities of the park
relatively undisturbed and most of the trails through the forest follow the line of
nineteenth-century logging paths.
There has never been an overall design for the park and its management can be
characterized as a series of apparently unrelated decisions. Furthermore, the fact that the
park is essentially a large, heavily forested and locally steep-sloping, volcanic hill has
meant that visitors are attracted in large numbers to the Seawall and to the roads through
the park but in smaller numbers to its remoter parts. It is currently designated by its
managing body, the Vancouver Board of Parks and Recreation, as a ‘destination park’ –
meaning that it ‘caters for visitors from all over the world’.2 Major decisions about the
park have been made by plebiscite, and massive public support for it was demonstrated by
the response to damage caused by severe windstorms in December 2006 and January
2007.
HISTORY
Designation as a park
British naval officer George Vancouver (1757–98) – for whom the city is named – was, in
1792, the first Briton to visit this part of the Pacific coast. But the ‘opening-up’ of the
coast to European settlers was dependent on railways. The Canadian Pacific Railway
(CPR) decided in 1884 to locate its transcontinental terminus at Coal Harbour, directly
southeast of the future park. This led to rapid growth of the surrounding settlement and
land speculation was an inevitable part of this process of ‘opening-up’, and gave rise,
however indirectly, to the designation of Stanley Park. It was protected until then through
designation in 1859 as a government reserve – to protect its potential coal deposits – and,
in 1863, as a military reserve (Kheraj 2013: 37).

Lions Gate Bridge (September 2012)

The proposal at the City Council meeting in May 1886 to petition the federal
government to lease the peninsula for use as a park was put forward by Lauchlan A.
Hamilton (1852–1944) – an alderman and CPR surveyor. It seems that three separate
groups of landowners had a common interest in preventing the land from being released
for development (Steele 1993: 14–15). First there was a group of three pioneers who had
established land claims in 1862 for the land now covered by the West End of Vancouver. It
appeared, however, that the value of their land would be reduced by the CPR’s plans to
locate its Pacific railhead at Port Moody, 20 kilometres to the east. The pioneers therefore
sought support from businessman David Oppenheimer (1834–97 – Mayor 1888–91) to
lobby the CPR to extend the rail line to Vancouver. The price of Oppenheimer’s support
was a share in the land. The CPR may already have decided to extend the line.
Nevertheless, they became the third party to have an interest in the land adjacent to the
government reserve on the peninsula.
The idea of designating the reserve as a park is credited to Arthur Wellington Ross
(1846–1901), a federal MP from Manitoba and real estate developer. Ross is reported to
have taken William Van Horne, a Vice President of the CPR, around the reserve by boat
and to have sold him on the idea of designating the park – primarily as a scenic backdrop
to adjacent development. Van Horne agreed to talk to the ‘right’ people in Ottawa, and he
and Ross approached Hamilton to raise the matter at the inaugural council meeting
(Martin and Seagrave 1982: 105). Kheraj’s account of events suggests that Van Horne’s
interest in the peninsula reflected his wish to run the CPR line right through to English
Bay, obviating the need for boats to navigate the First Narrows (Kheraj 2013: 57–63).
One way or another, the decision to petition Ottawa for designation of the park was the
by-product of profit motives rather than social or environmental motives. In that respect it
sits with Regent’s and similar real estate-driven parks. It also played to the fashion for
public parks as essential components of burgeoning North American cities. The federal
government granted approval in June 1887 to the land being leased to the city as a park,
although this status was not formally agreed until 1908 (Parks Canada 2002: 2).
Nevertheless, in October 1887 a plebiscite agreed to spend $20,000 on basic works
including roads into and around the park. The park was opened in September 1888 and
officially dedicated in September 1889 by Lord Stanley, Governor General of Canada, for
whom it is named, as being for ‘the use and enjoyment of people of all colours, creeds and
customs for all time’.
Condition of site at the time of designation
The site has steep sandstone cliffs above the Seawall between Ferguson Point and
Prospect Point. A volcanic dyke crosses the northwest corner of the site from Siwash Point
to the basalt columns of Prospect Point creating, at 70 metres, the highest point of the
park. In the 1790s, when the site was first seen by Europeans – Spanish sailors also visited
Burrard Inlet – it would have been almost entirely covered by coniferous forest. It is
thought to have been occupied by Coast Salish Peoples ‘over thousands of years’ and
shells from a midden near Lumbermen’s Arch were used in construction of the first roads.
Vancouver’s charts showed the peninsula to be an island – a condition that might have
occurred at high tide before the building of the Georgia Street causeway in 1888 and
enclosure of the Lost Lagoon in 1916. In the early 1860s a Squamish village of four
homes and a lodge – called Whoi-Whoi (‘masks village’) – stood on the shore of Brockton
Point (Conn 1997: 52).
By the 1840s European squatters also occupied cabins near Brockton Point and Coal
Harbour. In 1858 a temporary camp was made at Second Beach for miners from California
en route to the Fraser River Gold Rush. Despite designation of the site in 1863 as a
military reserve – on account of its strategic coastal location in the event of an anticipated
war between Britain and the United States – records show that five small logging
companies were active in the peninsula between the 1860s and the 1880s, and that the (not
insubstantial) area between Beaver Lake and Lost Lagoon was clear-cut and burned during
this period (MacMillan Bloedel 1989: 2). The rest of the park was selectively logged –
‘high-graded’ – for the best Douglas fir, western red cedar and Sitka spruce. The majority
of the current trails through the park follow the line of ‘skid roads’ created during this
period for the removal of felled trees. When the park was designated, therefore, it included
a substantial amount of immature forest – covering about 15 per cent of the current forest
area – together with most of the now cleared areas of the park (ibid: 4).
Development of the park
Development of the park since its designation has been a story of reactive decision-
making. Apart from the gradual inclusion of various recreational facilities at the edges, the
single big addition for its use as a park was the construction of the Seawall. And the single
biggest cause of conflict has been the introduction of vehicular traffic to the park – a
conflict that began with the first proposal in 1909 to bridge the First Narrows and that has
continued since completion in 1938 of the Stanley Park Causeway and Lions Gate Bridge.
Numerous recreational facilities – including artificial beaches and horticultural features
that are not particularly compatible with the forest character of the park – have been added
and/or removed over time. More major issues have been determined by plebiscite,
including the original funding for the park (approved in 1887), the Lions Gate Bridge
(rejected in 1927 but accepted on account of high unemployment during the depression in
the 1930s), and closure of the Zoo in 1993.
Park and downtown from Lions Gate Bridge (September 2012)
Stanley Park, Vancouver
1 Lions Gate Bridge
2 Prospect Point
3 Mature Forest
4 Stanley Park Causeway
5 Highest elevation in Park (+70 metres above sea level)
6 Siwash Rock
7 Third Beach
8 Beaver Lake
9 Ferguson Point
10 Second Beach
11 Lost Lagoon
12 Georgia Street Causeway
13 Stanley Monument
14 Brockton Oval
15 Brockton Point
16 Hallelujah Point
17 English Bay
 Mayor David Oppenheimer, at the opening of the park in 1888, described it as a
‘forested oasis’ and there has been a range of different approaches to managing the forest,
most of which have pursued a romantic image of the park as virgin forest, separate and
distinct from the city (Kheraj 2013: 77). This has included legal measures to remove
‘squatters’; spraying with lead arsenic insecticide from 1914 until 1960 to kill hemlock
loopers; introducing squirrels and swans but hunting crows and cougars; while seeking to
reestablish forest cover after events such as Typhoon Freda in 1962 and the windstorms of
2006–07 (ibid: 117–26 and 132). The forest remains dynamic and dramatic – but it has
had far too much human interference to be deemed virgin.
Key figures in establishment of the park
The early advocates of the park had largely commercial motivations and the disjointed
approach to the planning and design of the park has meant that no particular individuals or
teams have left a strong mark on its development. The neo-classical British landscape
architect Thomas Mawson (1861–1933) was engaged in 1912 to design the Zoo, Prospect
Point, Brockton Point Lighthouse and the main entrance. He also prepared proposals for a
sports stadium on the north side of the Lost Lagoon – ‘a showpiece entrance to a
wilderness park’ – which caused immense controversy and was eventually rejected on cost
grounds (Johnson 1982: 51). Mawson’s proposal to study the whole of the park was also
turned down by the Park Board.
The only people who can truly be said to have had a long-running and visible
involvement with the shaping of the park are W. S. Rawlings, Superintendent of
Vancouver Parks from 1913 to 1936, and stonemason James Cunningham who was
involved with the construction of the Seawall from 1931 until his death in 1963. Rawlings
oversaw construction of the causeway that closed off Lost Lagoon from Burrard Inlet
(1915–17), insecticide programmes under the direction of entomologist James Swaine
(from 1914) and subsequent replanting programmes (primarily with Douglas fir),
commencement of the Seawall (in 1917), and development of ‘a modern park with a full
range of facilities including a swimming pool, tennis courts, and a golf course’ (Parks
Canada 2002: 4) – albeit largely on unforested sites. Cunningham, by all accounts,
continued to direct the work on the Seawall long after his official retirement – ‘even
visiting the site in pajamas and topcoat’ (Steele 1993: 21). The other major contributor to
the appearance of the park has been the climate.
Third Beach from Ferguson Point (September 2011)

PLANNING AND DESIGN

Location
The proximity of Stanley Park to downtown Vancouver has obviously been instrumental
in its importance. It has been described as ‘the sacred point that all parts of the city turn
around. Green during the day, contrasting with adjacent high-rise buildings. Dark at night,
contrasting with the lights of the downtown’.3 Two factors that have influenced the
relationship between the park and the city have been the construction of the Stanley Park
Causeway and Lions Gate Bridge in the 1930s, and the rapid growth of the resident
population of the West End – the area between the park and the downtown. Between
censuses in 1971 and 2011 the population of the West End rose from 37,515 to 44,543 –
an increase of 19 per cent (City of Vancouver 2012: 18). The 2011 census also showed
that the West End was the ‘fourth most densely populated neighbourhood’ in the city, with
a large group of 20- to 39-year-olds (48 per cent), with more than 66 per cent of the
population having relocated since the 2001 census, and 81 per cent of residents living in
rental property, compared with 52 per cent for the city overall (ibid: 19–20, 25, 31).
This paints a picture of an abnormally young (i.e. active), mobile, childless population,
mainly living in high-density rental accommodation – all of which points to local demands
on the park in addition to its role as a destination park. Local demand will also have been
affected by the rapid increase since 2001 in high-density residential development in other
downtown neighbourhoods, reflected in the rise from 27,990 downtown residents in 2001
to 54,690 in 2011 (www.data.vancouver.ca). At the same time, tourism – expressed in
terms of overnight visitor volume – ran at more than eight million per year in every year
except 2003 from 1999 to 2012 (www.tourismvancouver). Similarly, the population of the
Vancouver region rose from 1.99 million in 2001 to 2.31 million in 2011 and the location,
accessibility and increasing catchment area population of the park suggest that it will be
subject to increasing usage. The park has changed, in little over a century, from being
disproportionately large relative to the population of the city to being very heavily used,
particularly the Seawall. Equally, movement to (for recreation) and through (between
Vancouver and North and West Vancouver) the park by car has remained high.

Storm damage in northwest of park (May 2013)

Shape and landform

The site was a conical island with an almost circular base distended by the lower-lying
Brockton Point peninsula jutting eastward into Burrard Inlet and rising to an elevation of
over 70 metres (230 feet) towards Prospect Point at the north. The demands imposed by
increasing levels of park usage are felt primarily on the areas immediately adjacent to the
West End – around Lost Lagoon and Brockton Point, along the traffic routes through and
within the park, and on the Seawall. The steeper, forested interior of the park continues to
display the dramatic and mysterious wilderness characteristics for which the park is
cherished. This inherited backdrop of forested hillsides, the extensive views westward to
the ocean, northward to the hills above North and West Vancouver, and eastward to the
downtown are part of Stanley Park’s unique character. Creation of the Seawall, of Third
Beach and of the limited number of additional recreational trails through the forest are the
few human interventions that have added to the experience of the inherent physical form
of the park.
Design concept
There has never been a consistent design concept for the whole of the park – either when it
was established or at any time since. Mawson’s offer in 1912 was turned down. A Draft
Master Plan was commissioned in 1985 but was never adopted, and a ten-year Forest
Management Plan prepared by forestry company MacMillan Bloedel was approved in
1989 but scaled back and subsequently dropped in 1990 following public resistance
(Kheraj 2013: 197–8). This led to establishment of a Stanley Park Task Force to
‘determine the community’s values and goals’ for the park (MacLaren Plansearch 1991:
1). The Task Force did not include ecologists, foresters, landscape managers or any kind
of designers. The Final Report of the Task Force was ‘received by the Board’ but most of
its proposals were not pursued.
The Task Force quoted at length from a submission by landscape architect Douglas
Paterson, describing the park as ‘a sentinel at the harbour entrance’ and as an ‘urban
wilderness for Vancouver residents’ adjacent to the downtown. Paterson recognized it as a
‘classic Canadian park symbolising a nation living at the edge of wilderness’, and referred
to the ‘cathedral-like quality of the forest canopy’ suggesting that ‘anyplace activities’
should not be located in the park (Stanley Park Task Force 1992: 10). This statement
acknowledged the intrinsic qualities of the site and sought to establish a consistent basis
for planning and design of the park. Paterson also recognized that Stanley Park can no
longer continue to absorb all the demands placed on it without those intrinsic qualities
being threatened.
Recent policies and programmes have largely been developed in response to the storm
damage in 2006–07 and the continuing demand for use of the Seawall – which remains an
exceptional experience, provides an evolving sequence of views, presenting the park, the
city, the ocean and the surrounding mountains in relative context; each heightening the
understanding and appreciation of the other. And yet the Seawall is the type of
intervention that would probably not be made today – cutting across the ecotone between
the shoreline and the forest. Similarly, the cutting of a swath through the forest for the
Causeway has opened the centre of the park to daily public view. Its continuous curve,
recommended as far back as 1926 by park engineer Allen S. Wooton (Kheraj 2013: 149),
creates an unfolding cyclorama for road users and reduces the feeling of the Causeway
bisecting the park. And rapid immersion in the sublime stands of coastal forest is largely
made possible by the pedestrian trails along old skid roads.
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Managing organization
By 1890, two years after the opening of the park, the Board had become a directly elected
body with three commissioners. This was increased to seven plus a City Councillor in an
advisory role in 1928. The Councillor position was discontinued in 1966. The Board is
proud of the fact that it remains the only organization of its kind in Canada. It is
comparable in this respect to the Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board – but dissimilar
in that it does not have its own tax base. From the outset, formal and informal public
consultation has been ingrained in the management philosophy for the park. This has
given rise to the many plebiscites on park issues and led to the emergence of pressure
groups such as the Stanley Park Ecology Society (SPES) – successors to the Zoological
Society (www.stanleyparkecology). An internal reorganization of the Board was effected
in January 1999, dividing the city into three park regions, with Stanley Park and the
adjacent West End / Downtown areas including Coal Harbour and False Creek, forming
one of those regions. This was superseded in 2012 by a system of management by park
type with Stanley Park being designated a ‘destination park’.

Prospect Point (July 2013)

Park, Lions Gate Bridge and West Vancouver from the West End (May 2013)

Funding
The proposed budget for the ‘Park Board Total Program’ in 2014 was C$108.2 million
with roughly 55 per cent coming from taxes and the remainder being income from
activities (City of Vancouver 2013: 153). Approximately C$2.5 million is spent per year
on horticultural maintenance in the park, and part of the city-wide forestry section is based
there. More than 6,000 individual and institutional donors gave C$10.9 million for forest
restoration following the storms of 2006–07.
Usage
In the mid-1980s it was estimated that the park attracted ‘two million visitors a year –
mostly between May and August’.4 Figures for 1996 based on traffic and visitor counts
indicated 7.5 million visits per year. No recent surveys have been done although current
estimates suggest eight million visits per year (www.vancouver). This figure seems
relatively low for such a large park so close to a lively downtown with a growing resident
population. Anecdotal evidence suggests a significant increase in visits on foot, on
rollerblades and by bicycle – leading to adoption of a Cycling Plan in 2012.
Crime
Like large parks in other large cities, crimes against persons in Stanley Park have
generated excessive publicity. Serious crimes since 2000 have included the beating to
death of 42-year-old gay male (the park is known for its ‘gay cruising areas’), attacks on
female joggers in 2002 and 2004, the beating-up by police in 2003 of three suspected drug
dealers, and a sexual attack in 2008.5 The Vancouver Park Board now has a well-
developed park ranger programme with thirty rangers, some of whom cover Stanley Park.
PLANS FOR THE PARK
Vision
The Board remains reticent about developing a comprehensive master plan for Stanley
Park.6 Proposals and policies for the park tend to be guided by other city-wide initiatives
including the Greenways Plan (1995), the Bicycle Plan (1999) and the Greenest City
Action Plan (2009), which aims to make Vancouver the ‘World’s Greenest City’ by 2020.
More immediate to the park, the Board pursued forest restoration in response to severe
damage to 40 hectares of forest and light to moderate damage to another 40 hectares,
rebuilding 800 metres of damaged Seawall – at higher levels and with firmer foundations,
slope stabilization, and improvements at Prospect Point – including drainage, parking and
visitor facilities, following the windstorms in December 2006 and January 2007. That
work cost C$9.5 million between 2007 and 2009 and led to preparation of the Stanley
Park Forest Management Plan 2009, promoting a vision of the park as ‘a resilient coastal
forest with a diversity of … species and habitats that allows park visitors to experience
nature in the city’. This remains the ‘default setting’ for its future management.
Forest management
Forest clearance in the 1860s and 1870s, the windstorm in 1934, felling of dangerous trees
in the 1950s, Typhoon Freda in 1962 and the windstorms in 2006 and 2007 all contributed
to the loss of old-growth coniferous forest. Shorter-lived deciduous trees and dense shrubs
replaced many of the cleared areas over time. The Stanley Park Restoration Plan adopted
by the Board in April 2007 aimed to ‘repair the park’s infrastructure and create legacies’
for long-term support of ‘the whole of Stanley Park’s forest’ (Vancouver Board of Parks
and Recreation 2007: 5). This was reflected in the subsequent Forest Management Plan,
which identified different ‘Management Emphasis Areas’ based on prioritizing, as
appropriate to respective areas of the park, visitor safety, forest regeneration, wildlife,
forest resilience, and views and other special areas.
The Stanley Park Ecology Society noted that in 2010 the land cover in the park
comprised 65 per cent forest; 12.6 per cent roads, trails and parking lots; 12 per cent grass
/ lawns; 6 per cent wetlands, lakes and streams, and 4.4 per cent facilities (SPES 2010: 5);
and that in 2009, of the 256 hectares (633 acres) of forest cover, 79 per cent was
coniferous compared with 80 per cent in 1989; 6 per cent was deciduous compared with
11.7 per cent in 1989; and 15 per cent was mixed compared with 8.3 per cent in 1989
(ibid: 4). The increase in mixed forest at the expense of deciduous forest reflects recent
replanting with Douglas fir, Sitka spruce and western red cedar. The Society also called
for action ‘to benefit the ecological health and biodiversity of the Park’s ecosystems’
particularly aquatic species and habitats, environmentally sensitive areas, invasive species
management, species at risk and human-caused stressors (ibid: 15). A BioBlitz – a 24-hour
survey of all species within the park – conducted by the Society in 2013 revealed 337
species, 89 of them new to the park’s ‘life list’ (City of Vancouver 2013: 148).
English Bay Beach (May 2013)

Trails in north of park (May 2013)

Circulation
Circulation within Stanley Park by all modes has been a recurrent concern since
construction of the first roads in the 1880s. The Vancouver Greenways Plan (1995) treated
the Seawall as part of the ‘Seaside Route and Seawall Greenway’ – one of fourteen city-
wide Greenways. These are defined as ‘green paths’ for pedestrians and cyclists, following
rivers, streets, beaches, railways, ridges or ravines. They are intended to ‘expand
opportunities for urban recreation and to enhance the experience of nature and city life’
(City of Vancouver 1995). The Seaside Route and Seawall Greenway extends from Coal
Harbour (where it joins up with the Harbour Route to the east) around the park, along the
West End, around False Creek to Kitsilano and Jericho Beaches. During the latter part of
the 1990s, improvements were made to foot and cycle routes to and from the park along
Coal Harbour and English Bay.
The Stanley Park Transportation and Recreation Report (1996) noted that ‘many forms
of movement in the park are recreation rather than transportation’ and that cycling and
skating are ‘appropriate recreational activities on the Seawall’, and called for better
separation for pedestrians from cyclists and in-line skaters (Urban Systems 1996: 28).
Localized works to effect this recommendation were carried out between 1997 and 1999 at
areas of greatest conflict. These were augmented by the Stanley Park Cycling Plan (2012)
which aimed to create, inter alia, alternative routes to the Seawall including short cuts;
reduced conflicts with pedestrians; and improved connectivity, signage and bike parking
facilities. The Lions Gate Bridge and the Causeway are owned and run by the provincial
Ministry of Transport and Highways and are beyond the control of the Park Board. They
continue to convey vast numbers of vehicles through the park, but various proposals to
provide another Burrard Inlet crossing – particularly in the 1960s and 1970s – have been
resisted and the only recent changes to the Causeway were designed to increase safety
rather than traffic capacity.
CONCLUSIONS
Stanley Park has two great natural assets – its location and its forest cover. It is the
physical and symbolic meeting point of mainland Canada and the Pacific – the equivalent
of Point Pleasant Park on the Atlantic coast in Halifax, Nova Scotia. The park provides
views to the downtown, to coastal mountains and to the sea. Its location also makes it
highly accessible to the rapidly increasing population of the downtown peninsula. The
forest represents an idea of nature on the doorstep of the downtown. It creates a backdrop
for most activities within the park – particularly use of the Seawall – and its trails provide
an exceptional opportunity for experiencing sublime, awe-inspiring scenery within the
city.
Cranz noted that the first and most naive view of the origin of public parks regards them
as areas preserved in their original state (Cranz 1982: 253). The second, she suggested, is
that they are aesthetic objects that can be understood in terms of an evolution of artistic
styles, and the third that they are part of planners’ strategies for moral and social reform.
Stanley Park, while clearly displaying aspects of the second and third levels, is a rare
example of an urban park that is substantially preserved in its original state. This is partly
by conscious decision and partly a consequence of the primarily reactive, project-by-
project approach to its management. While the Park Board’s commitment to public
engagement is commendable, this approach to planning and design has become less
appropriate as recurrent issues have intensified. These issues include the natural
vulnerability of the forest, growth of population in the region generally and the adjacent
downtown peninsula in particular, increasing levels of travel through the park, and
conflicts between different modes of movement. Such issues have to be tackled outside the
park – with measures such as the Greenways – as well as inside it, and demand joined-up
thinking for it to continue to meet Lord Stanley’s call for the park to be for ‘the use and
enjoyment of people of all colours, creeds and customs for all time’.
NOTES
1 Attributed by Paterson, in telephone conversation with author on 17 November 1999, to Harlem Bartholomew –
author of the 1928 plan for Vancouver.
2 Noted at meeting with Bill Harding, Brian Quinn, Guy Pottinger and Joyce Courtney of Vancouver Park Board on 4
September 2012.
3 Noted from telephone conversation with Doug Paterson on 17 November 1999.
4 Response from Vancouver Park Board to author’s questionnaire, June 1987.
5 Globe and Mail: Robert Matas, 20 November 2001, p. A3; Paul Sullivan, 29 January 2003; Wendy Stueck, 20
December 2004, p. A6.
6 Noted at meeting with Bill Harding et al. on 4 September 2012.

Location of Golden Gate Park, San Francisco

1 Golden Gate Park
2 Downtown San Francisco
26 Golden Gate Park, San Francisco
(1,019 acres / 412 hectares)
INTRODUCTION
Golden Gate Park is a masterpiece of bio-engineering. The site was originally part of a
vast area of shifting sand dunes on the Pacific coast of California. Construction began in
1871 and it is probably the first example in the world of a large-scale ornamental
landscape created through human manipulation of land form and plant associations.
Pioneer plant species – grasses and legumes – were planted to stabilize the sand and
provide a sheltered micro-climate conducive to the establishment of woody plants. The
park is a three-and-a-half-mile (5.6 kilometre) long by a half mile (0.8 kilo metre)
rectangular strip of land aligned east–west at 90 degrees to the coast – comparable in
shape, at least, to Central Park, New York. The site is naturally divided by the higher land
of Strawberry Hill (rising to 400 feet – 122 metres – above sea level) into a roughly 600
acre (240 hectare) western section designed primarily as woodland and a roughly 400 acre
(160 hectare) eastern section intended as a more pastoral landscape. This division was
exaggerated by the construction in 1936 of the north–south Cross Over Drive. A three-
quarter-mile-long (1.2 kilometre) by one-block-wide (250 foot / 75 metre) ‘Panhandle’
extends eastward from the park towards the downtown a further three miles (4.8
kilometres) or so to the east.
Designation of the site as a park was derided in the press of the day and questioned by
Frederick Law Olmsted (Cranz 1982: 41). Politicians, the press and professionals have
continued to look askance at the park – particularly on the grounds of its size, its cost and
its peripheral location – and it has been forced to accept a role ‘as a dumping ground for
miscellaneous activities seeking a vacant, easily occupied site’ (Chadwick 1966: 350).
Golden Gate Park currently comprises 680 acres (275 hectares) of largely overgrown
forest; 130 acres (52 hectares) of fields and meadows; 33 acres (13 hectares) of lakes and
15 miles (24 kilometres) of drives (Royston et al. 1998: 1–12). The park also has around
30 acres (12 hectares) occupied by permanent buildings and contains a myriad of themed
gardens, sport and recreation facilities, statuary and other exhibits (Clary 1984: 25).
HISTORY
Date and reason for designation as a park
In 1846 the United States Navy took control of what became known as Golden Gate Bay
and the settlement of Yerba Buena, with a population of less than 500 – renamed San
Francisco in 1848.1 The Gold Rush began in 1849 with more than 90,000 ‘Forty Niners’
passing through the city. Its resident population grew from 1,000 in January 1848 to
25,000 by December 1849. In 1850 California became the 31st American state but was
pretty much a bystander in the Civil War (1860–65). By the end of the Civil War, San
Francisco was the chief entrepôt on the Pacific coast and when the transcontinental
railroad was completed in 1869, its population was over 150,000.
 During the 1850s and early 1860s the federal government and the City of San Francisco
disputed ownership of the ‘Outside Lands’ – nearly 14,000 acres (5,670 hectares) of
shifting, windswept sand dunes on the western part of the San Francisco peninsula
between Divisadero Street and the Pacific Ocean. While they disputed ownership, the land
began to be occupied by homesteading squatters. In 1864 a federal court handed down an
opinion confirming the City’s claim. This was approved by an Act of Congress in March
1865 that left the City to dispute possession with the squatters. It established an Outside
Lands Committee to deal with the matter.
Golden Gate Park, San Francisco
1 Ocean Beach
2 Fulton Street
3 Golden Gate Park Golf Course
4 John F. Kennedy Drive
5 Martin Luther King Jr. Drive
6 Lincoln Way
7 Bison Paddock
8 Spreckels Lake
9 Stadium/Polo Field
10 Speedway Meadow
11 Cross Over Drive
12 Stow Lake
13 Strawberry Hill
14 Mothers’ Meadow
15 Strybing Arboretum
16 de Young Museum
17 Music Concourse
18 California Academy of Sciences
19 Maintenance Yard
20 Conservatory of Flowers
21 Sharon Meadow
22 Kezar Stadium
23 McLaren Lodge
24 Stanyan Street
25 Panhandle

Meanwhile demand for a major public park had been growing and by 1865 a citizen’s
petition calling for parks or pleasure grounds was submitted to the city government. The
petition stated that ‘until some provision is made to meet this need, however successful
and impressive the business growth of San Francisco may be, it will not be an attractive
place for families and homes’ (Clary 1984: 2). It went on to point out the wisdom of
securing the required land before the suburbs of the city were more heavily developed.
That same year H. P. Coon (1822–84 – Mayor 1863–67) invited Frederick Law Olmsted,
then engaged as Superintendent of the Mariposa Mining estates in Bear Valley, to advise
on the subject of parks for San Francisco (Sutton 1971: 10).
Olmsted concurred that ‘the need for a public pleasure-ground for the use of the current
population is a very pressing one’ but he was sceptical about social, political and natural
conditions in San Francisco (ibid: 115–16). Olmsted believed that conditions in San
Francisco were not conducive to the creation of a ‘fine park’ comparable to Central Park
(Streatfield 1976: 120). He believed that ‘any pleasure ground for San Francisco … should
be compact; should be guarded from the direct action of the north-west wind … and
should extend in the direction in which the city is likely to advance’ (Sutton 1971: 119).
Olmsted therefore ignored the Outside Lands and proposed a series of linked open spaces
on the east side of the peninsula which ‘demonstrated his concept of a park system for the
first time’ (Young 2004: 52).
In the event, political and commercial interests overruled professional pragmatism.
Frank McCoppin (1834–97 – Mayor 1867–69), principal stockholder in the San Francisco
Grading Company, was a leading proponent for a park on the Outside Lands (Clary 1984:
5). McCoppin saw creation of the park as an opportunity to resolve land claims by the
squatters (legitimized by the Act of 1865 conveying the Outside Lands to the City),
designate the park, and obtain the contract for reshaping it (Young 2004: 61). He used the
proposed park as part of his mayoral platform. In the event, the Outside Lands Committee
reached a deal whereby all the landholders agreed to give up 10 per cent of their holding
in return for clear title to the other 90 per cent. The Committee’s report, produced in
December 1868 and adopted in May 1869, recommended one large park ‘shaped like
Central Park’s elongate rectangle’, rather than Olmsted’s suggested system, and that it
‘should extend to the ocean beach’ (Young 2004: 62).

Chinese Pavilion, Stow Lake (December 2013)

Condition of site at time of designation

The federal government was concerned in 1865 that the country was so enervated by the
Civil War that California might be vulnerable to attack by British armed forces.2 The War
Department therefore instructed General Barton S. Alexander (1819–78), a fortifications
expert and hero of the Civil War, to construct defences on the San Francisco peninsula.
Alexander discovered that his gun placements rapidly filled with wind-blown sand. He
was aware that extensive coastal areas in Europe had been reclaimed and artificially
stabilized with vegetation and instructed his engineers to obtain details of the techniques
used.
In April 1870 the state legislature passed ‘An Act to Provide for the Improvement of
Public Parks in the City of San Francisco’. It made the first official reference to the name
Golden Gate Park and provided for the establishment of a park commission with powers
to raise funds. Bonds to fund park improvements were advertised and bids were invited for
a topographical survey of the site of Golden Gate Park.
The park had an overall area of 1,019 acres, all of which was shifting sand dunes apart
from ‘about 270 acres at its east end’ (Young 2004: 68). At that time the site was virtually
inaccessible by horse and carriage and the ‘entire area was windswept nearly all the time’
and the eastern end of the park and most of the ridges running through it were ‘of good,
arable soil consisting mostly of decomposed rock and leaf mold’, and there was a large
deposit of clay at the western end of the Panhandle (Clary 1984: 12). This was used as a
base for the first roads in the park. There were also fourteen year-round lakes within the
park – and it has the natural advantage of being located over an immense underground
reservoir.
In August 1870 William Hammond Hall’s bid of $4,860 for surveying the site was
accepted. In May 1871 a contract was awarded for the levelling of the 22 acre (9 hectare)
Panhandle. This area was so uneven that over 100,000 cubic yards of material had to be
cut and placed on site. In August 1871 Hall was appointed engineer and first
Superintendent of Golden Gate Park. He was also its principal designer – by action if not
by designation.

Mature trees in Panhandle (December 2013)

Key figures in the establishment of the park

William Hammond Hall (1846–1934) was born in Hagerstown, Maryland. His parents
moved the family to Stockton, California in 1853. He was enrolled in an Episcopalian
academy from 1858 to 1865 with a view to him going to West Point. But, with the advent
of the Civil War, his mother decided that her son could not become an officer in an army
aligned against her own people. He therefore trained as a surveyor. In 1865 he was
employed by the Board of Military Engineers in San Francisco, working there for three
years and presumably becoming acquainted with Alexander’s research on techniques for
vegetative stabilization of coastal sand dunes.
In 1868 Hall worked for the City Surveyor on the survey of the Outside Lands and in
1869 he worked as a mining engineer near Ely, Nevada. Hall’s familiarity with the Outside
Lands evidently helped him in his bid for the surveying contract – just as his awareness of
Alexander’s research would have increased his eligibility as superintendent of the park.
He was appointed to that position in August 1871 and remained in it until he resigned in
early 1876. He resumed responsibility for the park on a consultancy basis from 1886 to
1889 – when he resigned again. Hall started work on the section of the park east of
Strawberry Hill. It was the easiest to work with and the most accessible to residents. Work
done in 1871 included grading, fencing, drainage and development of a plant nursery
(Babal 1993: 3). Establishment of the nursery angered local nurserymen who had
anticipated a ready market for their plants (Young 2004: 91–7), and criticism was made of
his having started work at the east end of the park before stabilizing the dunes at the west
end (Clary 1984: 13).
In 1872 roads were built, thousands of seedling trees were planted, and Hall reported
that ‘visitors began to arrive by the thousands’ (Babal 1993: 3). In 1873 work commenced
on stabilization of the sand at the west end of the park and, by all accounts, development
of the park progressed well until 1876 when Hall, along with the whole Park Commission,
resigned – for the first time. Clary attributed Hall’s resignation to an unjustified personal
vendetta by a former blacksmith in the park who had become a state legislator and
successfully conspired to squeeze public funds for the park (Clary 1984: 26–7). ‘An
investigation was held into his conduct of park affairs which was so grossly biased against
Hall that he resigned his position in protest, despite being fully acquitted of all the
charges’ (Streatfield 1976: 122). For the next decade progress was severely restricted by
lack of funds.
Hall became Chief Engineer of the West Side Irrigation District and, in 1879, Governor
William Irvin appointed him the first State Engineer of California. In 1886, still as State
Engineer and once funding for the park had been restored, Hall returned, at the request of
Governor Stoneman, to act as a consultant to the park. He remained involved until 1889
when he was appointed Supervising Engineer of the US Irrigation Investigation for the
area west of the Rocky Mountains. In 1895 Hall was awarded the Norman Medal, the
highest honour granted by the American Society of Civil Engineers. He was always an
engineer rather than a landscape architect. Young termed Hall an ‘autodidact’ (Young
2004: 71). Streatfield suggested, however, that his ‘attempt to create a new school of
landscape design was not appreciated or understood by many of his contemporaries’
(Streatfield 1976: 124) – particularly Olmsted with whom he had a long-running
correspondence in the 1870s. Hall’s greatest accomplishment was the efficiency and
economy with which he developed and applied dune stabilization techniques between
1872 and 1875.

Mothers’ Meadow and Playground (December 2013)

When Hall resigned in 1876, William Bond Prichard (1842–1915) became

superintendent. He was a Confederate survivor of the Battle of Gettysburg, hired in 1871
as assistant engineer to Hall. He persevered as superintendent until 1881 when he also
resigned in protest at the lack of funds. Prichard was succeeded by F. P. Hennessy, who
was let go in 1882 – officially because there were insufficient funds to pay his salary. John
J. McEwen, also commanding meagre funds, was superintendent until Hall’s return in
1886. One of Hall’s duties was to select the next superintendent. He chose John McLaren
(1846–1943) who had been assistant superintendent since 1887.
McLaren held the post of superintendent from 1890 until his death fifty-three years
later. Born in Scotland and trained at the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh before
emigrating to the United States in 1870, McLaren was doggedly devoted to the realization
of Hall’s pastoral and woodland concept for the park. His idiosyncrasy and determination
were probably exactly what was needed to nurture the maturing park – no detail was ‘too
small to escape his attention and no dream too visionary to be pursued’ (Heckscher and
Robinson 1977: 83). Streatfield argued, however, that ‘despite the very considerable
claims which have been made on behalf of John McLaren his contribution was limited to
the development of the park after 1893 and was almost entirely horticultural in nature’
(Streatfield 1976: 120). By contrast, Young credited McLaren with having overseen ‘the
rationalistic period of parks in San Francisco’ (Young 2004: 143) – rationalistic being
Young’s term for the recreation-driven era that followed the romantic ethos under Hall’s
direction.
Development of the park
The Master Plan for Golden Gate Park (Royston et al. 1998) identified six periods in the
development of the park:
• 1870–89 Initial development

• 1890–99 Midwinter International Exposition and related development

• 1900–09 Early impact of automobile and post-earthquake development

• 1910–29 Development of museums and recreation facilities

• 1930–39 Depression era public works projects

• 1940 onward Post-war development and modern period.

Rustic Bridge on Stow Lake (December 2013)

1890–99: Midwinter International Exposition. Shortly after initial development of the

park under Hall and subsequent superintendents, McLaren was faced with the challenge of
a major exposition based in the park. The proposal was inspired by the success of the
World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893 and was intended, among other things,
to showcase San Francisco’s salubrious winter climate and help pull the state out of a
nationwide economic recession (Young 2004: 147–58). The exposition occupied about
200 acres (80 hectares) to the east of the recently completed Stow Lake and Huntingdon
Falls. It included over 100 temporary buildings. It ran for six months from January 1894
and attracted over two million visitors. The Grand Court became the Music Concourse,
now the centrepiece of the Spreckels Temple of Music (1899) and the redeveloped de
Young Museum (opened in 2007) and California Academy of Sciences (opened in 2008),
following the Loma Prieta earthquake in 1989. The adjacent Japanese Tea Garden also
remains from the Midwinter Exposition. Although all the other structures were
demolished under McLaren’s direction, the event signalled the start of an open season for
the park as a ‘dumping ground’ for extraneous development. Responsibility for the park
was transferred from the State to the City of San Francisco in late 1899.
1900–09: Automobiles and the earthquake. Following the earthquake on 18 April 1906,
the park became a refuge for more than 200,000 homeless people. The main new works
during this decade were the addition of recreational facilities throughout the park and the
creation of new water bodies and planting in the western section. Structures damaged by
the earthquake were repaired and motor vehicles were allowed in the park, diluting the
principles that Hall had espoused.
1910–29: Museums and recreation facilities. The earthquake hastened residential
development of the Richmond and Sunset neighbourhoods to the north and south of the
park, and led to voter approval in 1910 for relocation of the California Academy of
Sciences from downtown – one of many new buildings and gardens to be constructed,
almost entirely in the east end of the park. The largest was the Kezar Stadium with its
associated Pavilion.
1930–39: Depression era public works. The 1930s were the beginning of the ‘leisure era’
a period when park administrators started to talk about ‘recreation facilities’ rather than
parks or playgrounds (Cranz 1982: 101). A combination of shorter working hours
prompted by technological innovation and high unemployment caused by the Great
Depression led, wittingly or not, to an era of increased leisure time. Franklin Delano
Roosevelt’s New Deal generated an epidemic of public works projects across the country.
The angler’s lodge and fly casting pools, the model yacht club, police stables, the Strybing
Arboretum, a water reclamation plant and a sewage treatment plant were added to the
park’s facilities. San Francisco’s largest Depression era project, the Golden Gate Bridge,
was scheduled for completion in 1937. This led to the construction in 1936 of the north–
south Cross Over Drive through the park and in 1939 of the Park Presidio Bypass along
the northern edge. The park was effectively divided in two.
1940 onward: Post-World War II and Modernism. This period saw development of more
facilities – a short-hole golf course and clubhouse, new gardens (Rose, Fuschia,
Rhododendron, and Victory), and numerous structures were extended, repaired or rebuilt.
But in terms of attitudes to the park, the period can be divided into two parts – 1940 to
1979 and post-1980. The first part saw little change from the pre-war era until, in the
1960s, parks across America – and nowhere more than San Francisco – became symbolic
common ground for ‘the counter-culture’ (Babal 1993: 5). Adoption of The Plan for
Golden Gate Park in 1979 marked the beginning of a concerted programme of protection,
restoration and rehabilitation of an aging landscape. This began with the Golden Gate
Park Reforestation Program which was rolled into the still current 1998 Master Plan.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location within city
The fact that Olmsted, concerned as he was about the long-term growth of cities, did not
consider the Outside Lands as the location for a park is a reflection of their relative
distance from downtown San Francisco. Hall, also concerned about the distance of the
park from major residential areas, concentrated popular facilities at the more accessible
east end and arranged for this part to be constructed first. Even Burnham’s radical
proposals in 1905 ‘for the improvement and adornment of San Francisco’ – thwarted by
the earthquake – would not have delivered a much different future for the peripheral park.
In the event the rectangular grid of the city, without Burnham’s network of diagonals,
eventually washed its way around the edges of the park. But it had been beyond the reach
of public transport until February 1880 (Young 2004: 102). The residential development in
the Richmond and Sunset neighbourhoods is relatively low density, primarily two-storey
private housing that is still regarded as a being a long way from the downtown. And
respected authorities have continued to question the appropriateness of preserving such
large and relatively remote parks (Laurie 1992: 21–2), reflecting the traction of Olmsted’s
argument for a series of smaller, more central parks (Young 2004: 47–8). The park
remains peripheral and gains much of its life from the many civic buildings that it
accommodates.
Woodland in northeast of park (December 2013)

Original design concept

The long, thin shape of the site reflects a deliberate attempt to mimic the form of Central
Park. And, thinking ‘he understood Olmsted and Vaux’s landscape ideas and could modify
them to fit Golden Gate Park’ (ibid: 73), Hall’s layout was an attempt also to mimic its
character. He established the layout without major alterations to the natural landform and
even exaggerated the terrain by planting taller-growing trees on higher ground, leaving
lower areas as meadow. The location and previous condition of the site essentially
contributed to the creation of a park of two parts – the more active, built-up, picturesque
eastern part and a wilder, more wooded western part on the stabilized dunes beyond Stow
Lake.
Despite the self-evident influence of Olmsted and Vaux’s work, Golden Gate Park has
also been seen as ‘a conscious attempt to fashion an appropriate California idiom’
(Streatfield 1976: 120). Streatfield suggested that Hall’s first scheme for the eastern
section of the park was a ‘rather poor adaptation of Central Park without the spatial
clarity’ whereas the revised scheme, produced in 1872, was based on the physical
characteristics of the site, different social qualities of life on the west coast, and
reclamation of the dunes – which showed ‘a greater awareness of plant succession than
Olmsted had shown’ (ibid: 120–4).
In this connection, Hall wrote in 1871 to the Consuls of Australia, Great Britain,
France, The Nether lands and Prussia to locate similar dunes. He found that dunes on the
Gascony coast of France were most similar and based his approach on practices there. A
timber windbreak fence was constructed along Ocean Beach. Deep-rooting, nitrogen-
fixing lupins planted into a fast-germinating protective matrix of barley were widely used
to stabilize the sand. Fibrous-rooted, mat-forming grasses imported from France were used
nearer the ocean where the sand accumulation was greatest. Topsoil from elsewhere on the
peninsula and horse manure were used to improve the sandy soils. Once the dunes had
been stabilized, they were planted with a nurse crop of imported species of Acacia
(latifolia and lophantha) and Pinus (maritima and pinaster). Further planting and seeding
followed establishment of the nurse crop (ibid: 122).
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Managing organization
Golden Gate Park has been the responsibility of the San Francisco Recreation and Parks
Commission since its transfer from the state in 1899. There are seven Commissioners, all
directly appointed by the Mayor of San Francisco for a four-year term. Since 2011 the
Commission has been divided into three committees – Capital, Operations and Joint Zoo
Committee (www.sfrecpark.org). The city is divided into seven park service areas, each
with their own manager. Golden Gate Park is one of those seven divisions. Management
of the park itself is operated by a director who oversees the work of the park’s three
section supervisors. All maintenance operations are undertaken by directly employed
labour. In 2013 there were fifty gardeners, seven supervisors, fourteen custodians and four
nursery specialists.3 This is a significant drop from the seventy gardeners in 1994 and 133
gardeners in 1977 (Royston et al. 1998: 11–1 to 11–6).
Funding
Like other San Francisco parks, Golden Gate Park is directly funded by the City’s General
Fund. This income is supplemented by revenue generated from facilities within the park.
The Master Plan noted that funding for the park had declined in real terms. Other sources
of finance have been pursued since the 1990s, including formation of a non-profit
conservancy; establishment of a dedicated special tax or assessment district, and the
establishment of a new bond programme – the traditional way of financing new initiatives
in the park. Nevertheless, the underfunding is reflected in an estimated deferred
maintenance figure of $300 million.4
User characteristics
The Recreation and Parks Department does not undertake surveys of park usage. The
Master Plan estimated between 11 and 15 million visits per year in the mid-1990s, with
one-half coming from San Francisco residents, one-quarter from Bay Area residents and
the remaining quarter from outside the Bay Area. Current estimates suggest a stable figure
of around 18 million visits per year. Recent crimes have been limited to occasional break-
ins.5
PLANS FOR THE PARK
The Master Plan was formally adopted by the Recreation and Parks Commission in
October 1998. It was a remarkably thorough and comprehensive document and remains
the basis for management of the park. The plan incorporated the Reforestation Program
commenced in 1980 and the Transportation Management Plan completed in 1985. The
Master Plan recognized that the park ‘is both an historic “pleasure ground” and a modern
urban park’ (Royston et al. 1998: 1–1) – and that an appropriate balance has to be struck
between these two roles. The Objectives and Policies / Statement of Purpose were
recorded as being ‘to preserve Golden Gate Park’s contribution to the diversity of cultural,
natural and recreational resources available to park visitors from San Francisco, the Bay
Region and elsewhere. Golden Gate Park should be recognized as an important American
cultural resource’ (ibid: 3–2). The Statement of Purpose concluded that the Master Plan
sought to ‘retain the integrity of the original design, yet have sufficient flexibility to
address society’s evolving needs’ (ibid).
The Reforestation Program recognized that nearly all the trees in the forested sections
of the park had been planted within a thirty-year period and were aging uniformly. By
1885 around 156,000 trees and shrubs had been planted. They comprised an eclectic mix
of species from other parts of California, from around the Pacific and from the
Mediterranean – species that would survive the harsh site conditions. An inventory
prepared in 1980 identified that 33,000 trees in the park were either dead or dying and that
87 per cent of the trees in immediate distress were in the western section of the park. The
Forest Management Plan was aimed at establishing a multi-age forest with a replacement
cycle of twenty-five to thirty years. By March 1983, 3,000 new trees had been planted and
new irrigation lines had been installed. The programme continues city wide to plant
around 1,000 trees per year in the park. Principal species planted are Monterey cypress
and Monterey pine – both native to the Monterey peninsula. Blue gums (Eucalyptus
globulus) are no longer planted. They grow very successfully, but are highly invasive, and
susceptible to fire and to splitting.6
The park is essentially a ‘unique artificial forest’. The principal issues that have to be
addressed by the managers are water-related – particularly after 2013, the driest year on
record in San Francisco – including irrigation and lakes. Irrigation water continues to be
drawn from the underlying aquifer. But this source is due, in around 2021, to be used for
municipal water supply while reverse osmosis treated wastewater will be provided for
irrigation.7

Sharon Meadow (December 2013)

CONCLUSIONS
Golden Gate Park is and has always been physically and politically on the edge of town –
effectively ‘Central Park by the Sea’. Larger than its New York forerunner, it shares many
of its characteristics. It has a similar long, thin shape. It was built on an extraordinarily
challenging site. It was laid out by Hall with its eastern section having a pastoral,
Olmstedian character and its western section being an artificial forest with pastoral
clearings. It has been subject to recurrent budget cuts and funding shortfalls. It is crossed
by a major highway – which, unlike the transverse roads in Central Park, has been allowed
to stay at ground level. And it has been plagued by calls to insert buildings and other
facilities through most of its existence – calls that it has often failed to resist. Nevertheless,
Hall’s pragmatic approach to the exceptionally difficult site produced quite remark able
results – it is ‘unquestionably the most important park design in the 19th century which
exemplifies the application of ecological concepts to design, although its subsequent
development probably warrants the criticism that it has received’ (Streatfield 1976: 124).
The park remains very popular – leading to sometimes excessive vehicular traffic. It
remains under funded – leading to high levels of deferred maintenance. And it remains a
remarkable example of bio-engineering as a basis for park production. Some
commentators have continued to question the need for such a large, relatively peripheral
park. It is certainly unlikely that anything similar would be created today. And without
significant funding from sources other than the city government, it will continue be
difficult to maintain the park. But its importance to the history of San Francisco and its
continued popularity makes it well worth it.
NOTES
1 This account largely drawn from Clary 1984, Babal 1993, and Young 2004.
2 This account largely drawn from Clary 1984 and Young 2004.
3 Noted at meeting with Eric Anderson, director of Golden Gate Park on 23 December 2013.
4 Noted at meeting with Eric Anderson on 23 December 2013.
5 Noted at meeting with Eric Anderson on 23 December 2013.
6 Noted at meeting with Eric Anderson on 23 December 2013.
7 Noted at meeting with Eric Anderson on 23 December 2013.
27 Emerald Necklace, Boston
(1,100 acres / 445 hectares)
INTRODUCTION
The Emerald Necklace is a linear system comprising nine ‘parks’ of greatly differing
character. They extend, like beads on a roughly U-shaped string, for 7 miles (11
kilometres) from the downtown Boston Common to Franklin Park in the inner suburbs.
The three inner parks were created between 1643 and 1856; the six outer parks were
designed by Frederick Law Olmsted (1822–1903) and/or the Olmsted firm between 1878
and 1895 – the year in which Frederick Law Olmsted retired.1 Olmsted’s six parks were
either physically contiguous or linked by ‘parkways’ of the type that he had advocated in
New York and Brooklyn. Marine Park, an oceanfront park southeast of the downtown,
intended as the other end of the Necklace, was not opened until 1891 and the causeway
from there to Castle Island was not built until 1932 (Marcus 2002: 141–2). The nine parks
include land both in the city of Boston and in the adjacent town of Brookline – so named
because much of its boundary with Boston is the centreline of the Muddy River.
Olmsted’s work in Boston has been described as his ‘most sophisticated design’
wherein ‘the boundaries have been stretched taut, and the park system has been conceived
as a series of parkway links and park joints in the city skeleton’ (Sutton 1971: 18).
Regrettably, the system suffered from the social and economic cycles that afflicted
virtually all urban parks in the United States during the twentieth century, including major
periods of neglect and underfunding in the 1930s, post-war flight to the suburbs, racial
tensions and social unrest in the 1960s, construction of major highways into the heart of
urban areas in the 1960s and 1970s, impoverishment of city governments in the 1980s,
attraction of residents back to ‘post-industrial’ cities over the last thirty years, and further
cuts in public funding in the twenty-first century.
Olmsted scholar Charles Beveridge recalled that when he ‘started working on Olmsted
in the 1960s, the neglect [of the Emerald Necklace] was remarkable’ (Bennett 1999: 105).
Architectural historian S. B. Sutton stated that ‘subtle attacks on its integrity – an overpass
here, wider highway there, vandalism, mismanagement – have been effective in breaking
the continuity and the resulting sense of generosity that figured so prominently in his
design’ (Sutton 1971: 103). In the 1980s, Zaitzevsky wrote of Franklin Park that ‘dramatic
decline in maintenance in recent decades … has left most of the Olmsted structures in
ruins and has destroyed all but the hardiest of the original plantings’ (Zaitzevsky 1982:
79). One redeeming factor has been the formation in 1970 of the Friends of the Public
Garden – advocates for the three inner parks – and in 1998 of the Emerald Necklace
Conservancy – advocates for the outer six parks.
HISTORY
Development of the Emerald Necklace
European settlement on the site of Boston began in 1630 with the establishment of the
Massachusetts Bay Colony on a defensible peninsula with a protected harbour.2 The
peninsula lies at the centre of a basin ringed by hills on the landward side and bounded by
the Atlantic Ocean to the east. The harbour itself is a drowned landscape and much of
what is now Boston, Brookline and Cambridge was then water and salt meadow. By 1645
every marsh within the town boundary had been altered in some way and by 1777 the
marshes around the peninsula had been extensively filled. By 1850 the population of
Boston had grown to nearly 137,000. Filling of the South Cove area – east of the original
peninsula – was done in the first half of the nineteenth century. Filling of the 200-acre (80-
hectare) Back Bay area was started in 1857 and completed in 1894, by which time the
population was around 500,000.

Back Bay Fens (November 2013)

The 48-acre (19-hectare) Boston Common was established in 1634 as pasture land
owned in common by the people of Boston. It is widely cited as the oldest public urban
park in North America. The first walkway on the Common was created in 1675 and the
first tree-lined pedestrian mall, the Tremont Street edge, was planted in 1728. By 1795
there were malls around all five sides. Significant levelling works were undertaken after
cows were banned in 1830. This allowed the growth of trees. The Frog Pond, originally
used for skating, was constructed in 1848. The Common, together with the adjacent Public
Garden, was dug up in 1895 for construction of what was the country’s first subway, with
much of the excavate being used as fill in the Back Bay Fens (Zaitzevsky 1982: 57).
Restoration work was done between 1910 and 1913 under the direction of the Olmsted
firm. But by the time that the current Management Plan was commenced in 1989 the
pattern of tree-lined malls around and across the Common was becoming diluted.
 The 25-acre (10-hectare) Public Garden was originally salt marsh and mud flats. Once
Charles Street – which now runs between the Common and the Garden – was constructed
in 1804, filling the site became viable. In 1839 a group of amateur horticulturists was
allowed to use it as a public botanical garden. They appointed John Cadness, an English
gardener, to ‘take charge of the project’ but their activities had come to a standstill by
1847 and in 1856 the city acquired the site and, following the example of Central Park,
held an anonymous design competition for the Garden (ibid: 33). The winning design –
‘Arlington’ – prepared by architect George F. Meacham (1856–1927) remains the basis of
the current layout. Commonwealth Avenue continues the formal axis of the Public Garden
westward for nine blocks. It is over a mile (1.6 kilometres) long and 200 feet (60 metres)
wide. The central drive is now entirely a pedestrian way. Like the Public Garden, it is built
on reclaimed land. It took from 1856 to the 1880s to implement. Designed by Arthur
Gilman (1821–82) to be redolent of Haussmann’s boulevards, it remained a fashionable
residential district until the Great Depression and still provides a remarkable display of
late nineteenth-century domestic architecture – particularly along Commonwealth Avenue.

Boston Common including Parkman Bandstand (November 2013)

Continued growth and the examples of major park developments in other east coast
cities, particularly Central and Prospect Parks, led to calls for a public park in Boston. A
Park Act was eventually passed in 1875. There were to be three commissioners, all
appointed by the mayor of Boston. They were empowered only to acquire land within the
city limits (Zaitzevsky 1982: 43). The new law also empowered adjoining towns and cities
to establish park commissions. In the event, only Brookline took advantage of this
provision. While the political wrangling that led to the Park Act of 1875 continued, a
range of opinions was expressed on the best form of parks for Boston. The most far-
reaching proposals to emerge in the run-up to the 1875 Act were prepared by engineer
Ernest W. Bowditch (1850–1918). His proposals, first presented in 1874 and refined in
1875, were an amplification and development of ideas from his former associate, Robert
Morris Copeland (1830–74) – an entrant in the Central Park competition. Bowditch called
for a 5,350-acre (2,160-hectare) linked system extending from ‘Rural Parks’ protecting
metropolitan water sources to a thoroughly integrated series of inner city parks (ibid: 41).
Meanwhile, Olmsted accepted an invitation in 1870 to address the nearby Lowell
Institute on Public Parks and the Enlargement of Towns. Although that address was well
received by the influential audience and although Olmsted continued to be consulted on a
casual basis about various park proposals for Boston, it was not until 1878 that he was
formally engaged to work on the Back Bay Fens. He had been invited by Charles H.
Dalton, one of the three initial park commissioners, to visit Boston in April 1876 and
review possible sites for parks (Zaitzevsky 1982: 44). Dalton was the author of the
commission’s plan and report published shortly after Olmsted’s visit. The plan called both
for inner city and for suburban parks and a series of parkways linking them together. The
commissioners’ recommendations were approved at a public meeting in June 1876 and,
after a year-long hiatus over funding, land purchases for parks began in 1878. Zaitzevsky
noted that ‘between 1878 and 1895 the plan of the Boston park system … was gradually
altered and elaborated until it showed only a general resemblance to the … 1876 plan’
(ibid: 44).
Emerald Necklace, Boston
1 Boston Common
2 Public Garden
3 Commonwealth Avenue
4 Charles River
5 Charlesgate
6 Back Bay Fens
7 Riverway
8 Olmsted Park/Leverett Pond
9 Ward’s Pond
10 Jamaica Pond
11 Arborway
12 Arnold Arboretum
13 Peters Hill
14 Franklin Park
15 Franklin Park Zoo
16 Scarboro Pond
17 Shattuck Hospital

The Back Bay Fens, roughly 100 acres (40 hectares) of land either side of the bottom
end of the Muddy River, were acquired by the city by March 1878. They were heavily
polluted from the dumping of raw sewage upstream and were prevented from draining
efficiently by the tightness of the basin left after the filling of the Back Bay. There was
frequent flooding upstream and there were stinking, lifeless mud flats downstream (ibid:
54). In Olmsted’s words ‘if the state of Massachusetts had been hunted over, a space
combining more disadvantages for a park could not have been found’ (Beveridge and
Hoffman 1997: 441). The park commissioners decided to select a designer through an
open competition. Olmsted did not submit a design. Twenty-three others did. The winning
entry, by florist Hermann Grundel, was widely derided as ‘childish’ and ineffectual
(Zaitzevsky 1982: 47, 54). The commissioners decided not to use it. In December 1878
they formally commissioned Olmsted to prepare designs. His principal objective was
sanitary improvement, and to produce an area that appeared ‘to be a natural salt marsh
around which a city had happened to grow’ (Zaitzevsky 1982: 57) – in effect, a holding
basin to retain water until the tide went out.
In 1910, following the damming of the Charles River, and again in 1921 and 1925,
landscape architect Arthur Shurtleff (1870–1957), with the Olmsted firm, drew up
proposals for the redesign of the Fens (Zaitzevsky 1982: 57). It seems that not much of
that work was implemented and that not much of Olmsted’s original design remains.
Sports facilities, the Victory Gardens – allotment gardens – the Kelleher Rose Garden and
war memorials have subsequently appeared on the site. But the harshest superimposition
on the Back Bay Fens was construction during the 1960s of the Charlesgate interchange
on Interstate Highway 90 – the Massachusetts Turnpike. At a stroke this severed
Olmsted’s carefully crafted connection between Commonwealth Avenue and the Fens.
The Riverway is the 28-acre (11-hectare) lower section of Olmsted’s Muddy River
Improvement. The river was originally a narrow, winding tidal creek that formed part of
the Back Bay salt marsh. The filling of the Back Bay made the waters increasingly
brackish, swampy, mosquito-ridden and overgrown. The Muddy River was the primary
concern of the Brookline Park Commission, formed in 1880 on the basis of the Park Act
of 1875. One of the first three commissioners was Charles Sprague Sargent (1842–1927)
who was already involved with Olmsted on the establishment of the Arnold Arboretum.
Olmsted prepared his first plan for the Brookline section in late 1880, calling for the
conversion of the wiggly river into a winding stream. Brookline, which had voted against
annexation to Boston in the 1870s, made swifter progress than Boston in land acquisition,
and work on their side started ahead of the works on the Boston side.
Olmsted Park, the 180-acre (72-hectare) upper section of the Muddy River
Improvement, was originally known as Leverett Park after the pond at its northern end. It
was renamed in 1930. Leverett Pond was a cattail-ridden swamp before the Improvement
whereas relatively little work was needed in the upper section around Ward’s Pond and
Willow Pond kettleholes. In the 1890s the width of the park on the Brookline side of
Leverett Pond was increased and the meadow was added on the Boston side of the Pond.
Jamaica Pond sits at the top of the four contiguous parks of the Necklace. It is the largest
and deepest kettlehole in the city. With its relatively narrow fringe of parkways, pathways
and tracks it has an area of 130 acres (52 hectares) – 70 acres (28 hectares) of water and
60 acres (24 hectares) of land. The freshwater pond was a major source of water for the
city until 1848. It was already used as a recreational resource – particularly for skating and
sailing – before being reshaped as a park in 1894. Olmsted’s proposals were limited both
by the small amount of land available and by the natural suitability of the site as a park.
Arnold Arboretum, created between 1878 and 1893, has a history of collaboration in its
establishment, its design, its construction and its operation. The main part of the land –
210 acres (85 hectares) – was willed by Benjamin Bussey to Harvard University in 1842
for use as a school of agriculture. In 1868 park advocate and amateur horticulturist James
Arnold left $100,000 for agricultural or horticultural purposes at the discretion of his
trustees. By 1872 they had reached an agreement with Harvard that the money should go
towards an arboretum on the Bussey Farm site. Sargent was appointed Director of the
Botanic Garden in 1872 – a position he held until his death in 1927. In 1874 Sargent wrote
to Olmsted suggesting that the ongoing demand for parks in Boston might be met by
handing over the land for the arboretum to the city in exchange for them laying out the
grounds and allowing Harvard to plant and manage it. Zaitzevsky noted that ‘despite the
didactic purpose, both Sargent and Olmsted wanted a naturalistic effect that fitted in with
the topography and the existing stands of trees’ (Zaitzevsky 1982: 62). In 1882 an
agreement was signed between the City and Harvard whereby the City bought the land
from the university for a dollar a year (Marcus 2002: 98). They also bought several
adjacent tracts, agreed to lay out the site and to lease all the land back to the university for
999 years. Grading began in 1883. By 1885 Sargent’s meticulous planting proposals were
finalized. Tree planting began in 1886 and construction works were completed in 1893.
The arboretum now has an area of 265 acres (107 hectares) and Olmsted’s road system has
remained virtually unchanged.
Franklin Park, the massive medallion at the end of the Emerald Necklace, is often
ranked with Central Park and Prospect Park as one of Olmsted’s three finest park designs.
Olmsted suggested that the design represents the culmination of his ideas about the
purpose of parks, stating that ‘the purpose of the plan of Franklin Park to be that of
placing within the easy reach of the people of the city the enjoyment of such a measure as
is practicable of rural scenery’ (Beveridge and Hoffman 1997: 474–9). The site was
purchased in 1881. Its name was changed from West Roxbury to Franklin Park in 1885 in
the hope of obtaining part of the fund that Benjamin Franklin, who died in 1791, had
established for expenditure by ‘the Town of Boston’ 100 years after his death (Newton
1971: 295). As these things go, the park got Franklin’s name but the City did not get any
of his money. The final design for the park, presented in January 1886, divided the site
into the 334-acre (135-hectare) ‘Country Park’ and the 166-acre (67-hectare) ‘Ante Park’ –
an area for more active recreation at the edge of the park. Olmsted described the site as
‘rugged and intractable’ and as little suited ‘to be worked to conditions harmonious with
urban elegance’. But, he wrote, ‘there is not within or near the city any other equal extent
of ground of as simple, and pleasingly simple, rural aspect’ (ibid: 473–4).
The depression of 1893 to 1897 imposed further financial strictures on the development
of the park. The Country Park was laid out much as Olmsted intended – with certain later
revisions such as the creation of Scarboro Pond to the Revised General Plan of 1891 by
the Olmsted firm – but few of the facilities intended for the more active ‘Ante Park’ were
constructed. By the 1890s the Country Park was being used informally as a golf course –
the first one in the city and only the second public course in the country. It remained busy
throughout the twentieth century and was renovated in 1988–89 at a cost of $1.3 million
and the clubhouse was subsequently rebuilt. The Shattuck Hospital was built in 1954 on a
17-acre (7-hectare) site at the western point of the park.3 The Zoo, opened in 1911 and
now run as a state-wide rather than purely a city facility, expanded to take over much of
the area that Olmsted had intended as ‘The Greeting’ – a monumental, half-mile-long
meeting ground. The Wilderness, which occupies 65 acres (26 hectares) was significantly
altered between 1897 and 1912 with the removal of Olmsted’s non-native additions to the
woodland – ‘in his selection of plant material, as in his general cultural approach, he was
willing to draw from sources world-wide if he could turn them to good account’
(Beveridge and Rocheleau 1995: 30, 38).
The Public Garden (November 2013)

Chapel Street Bridge and Round House Shelter, The Riverway (November 2013)

Heckscher and Robinson described Franklin as ‘the park that got lost’ and attributed this
to the fact that ‘it got caught within a social context that made it the province of a single
community rather than a city-wide resource’. They noted that ‘in 1975 a $900,000
appropriation was withdrawn by the city council’ on the basis that ‘city-wide tax money
ought not to be spent on a park so exclusively the domain of a minority’ (Heckscher and
Robinson 1977: 182–5). Thinly veiled racism. Zaitzevsky noted, however, that formation
of the Franklin Park Coalition in 1975 represented the start of efforts to turn the park
around – but that whereas funds were becoming available for capital works, they were still
woefully inadequate for routine maintenance (Zaitzevsky 1982: 80).
Key figures in establishment of the Emerald Necklace
Olmsted is clearly the outstanding figure in the establishment from 1878 to 1895 of the
Emerald Necklace. It is also important to recognize the role of John Charles Olmsted
(1852–1920), Frederick Law Olmsted’s nephew and stepson. By 1877 Olmsted’s health
was poor and at the end of that year he was granted leave to visit Europe to rest. Before he
left, however, the commissioners decided to abolish the position of Superintendent of
Central Park. On his return Olmsted spent the summer of 1878 in Boston and started
working with Sargent on the layout of the Arnold Arboretum. He eventually accepted an
appointment as ‘Advisory Landscape Architect’ for a three-year term from 1878
(Beveridge and Hoffman 1997: 442). Olmsted and the Olmsted firm relocated to
Brookline in 1883. Sargent made immense contributions to the Emerald Necklace as
Director of the Arnold Arboretum (1872–1927) and a park commissioner for Brookline
(1880–1927). In due course he came to share many of Olmsted’s views about the purpose
of parks – if not the details of their planting (Schuyler 1986: 144). Charles H. Dalton, the
Boston park commissioner who drew up the 1876 plan and who attracted Olmsted to work
on the system, was also a significant contributor, as were successive engineers for the City
of Boston and for Brookline.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
The Emerald Necklace is a relatively long and generally thin system of tenuously
connected parks. It takes on a wide range of functions and characters throughout its
length. The Common and Public Garden are now very much part of historic, ceremonial,
democratic, commercial, downtown Boston. Kevin Lynch noted in 1960 as part of his
cognitive mapping exercises that the Common ‘is for many subjects the core of their
image of the city … a large, planted open space bordering the most intensive district in
Boston, a place full of associations, accessible to all … quite unmistakable … a nucleus
from which anyone can expand his [sic] knowledge of the environment’ (Lynch 1960: 21).
It has long been the site for major public events such as addresses by George Washing ton,
Franklin Roosevelt and Martin Luther King, and it was the venue in 1979 of Pope John
Paul II’s first mass in the United States.
The form of the Common results from its landform and from its location with
surrounding streets continuing as paths across it. Plazas, playgrounds and meeting places
have developed where they cross. The rising landform and the simple, relatively open
grass-and-trees character of the Common create an appropriate counterbalance to the more
intricate form and character of the the Public Garden. The Garden has been described as
‘the grande dame of public open spaces in Boston – a quiet, elegant oasis in the middle of
the city’ (Carr et al. 1992: 182). It remains an eccentric combination of formal axes and
flower beds superimposed on a sinuous, and increasingly hard-edged, figure-of-eight
water body – a controlled contrast to the openly democratic Common. The elegant
Commonwealth Avenue remains the centrepiece of an exceptional architectural
composition. Lynch noted that the ‘regular Back Bay grid, a banal characteristic of most
American cities, takes on a special quality in Boston by virtue of its contrast with the
remainder of the pattern’ of streets in this part of the city (Lynch 1960: 22). But the way
that the Interstate 90 cut the Avenue off from the Fens is simply shocking.
Olmsted stressed that he saw his work on the Back Bay Fens as an exercise in sanitary
engineering rather than an essay in park design. Since the damming of the Charles River
in 1910 the water has been prone to heavy siltation, to being choked by giant reed
(Phragmites australis) and, in heavy rain, to severe flooding. The adjacent banks have
gradually been cleared of the reed and most of the river bank has been made accessible
again, and an ongoing $92 million programme will lead to the daylighting of the section
previously covered by the Sears car park – returned to the City in 1998.
The Riverway is relatively narrow and the pathways are significantly lower than the
adjacent, heavily trafficked, parkways. This makes it difficult to generate a sense of
removal from the city without also generating a sense of being trapped and vulnerable in a
relatively canyon-like enclosure. Where the banks do flatten out, and in wider sections
such as the areas around the Chapel Street Bridge and Round House Shelter, the Riverway
becomes more relaxing. Indeed, the bridges are a major part of the atmosphere of
Olmsted’s work. The transition from the Riverway to Olmsted Park is destroyed by a
major highway cutting across the Necklace. The park itself has clearly benefited from the
wider land-take that the Olmsted firm called for in the 1890s and recent widening of the
section in Brookline west of Leverett Pond. This means that, unlike the Riverway, there is
sufficient flexibility to generate a sense of distance between the water, the park and the
parkways. Reconstruction of original bridges, resurfacing of pathways, new benches and
new tree planting, particularly on the Brookline side of the park, suggest a reassuring level
of care.
The Ward’s and Willow Ponds section of the park exude a less human-made atmosphere
than the lower sections of the Necklace. Their feeder, Jamaica Pond, is a wonderful
resource. But it is another part of the Necklace that suffers from the land strip between the
water and the parkways being relatively narrow – although it has enough enclosure from
the surrounding landform to create a sense of escape from the city. And Arnold Arboretum
remains a well-maintained, albeit horticulturally manicured, part of the system. And the
tenuous connection between the Arboretum and Franklin Park reinforces the feeling that
the park is, literally as well as metaphorically, on the ‘other side of the tracks’.
Olmsted recognized the locational shortcomings of the Franklin Park site. But he was so
convinced of the importance of having a large park in every city that he was prepared to
overlook them. Indeed Franklin Park became Olmsted’s ultimate vehicle for expressing
his views on the purpose and appropriate nature of the urban park in nineteenth-century
North America. In his account of the plan for Franklin Park he noted that the ‘various evils
of town life’ had been ‘so well contended with’ that ‘much less time is now lost to
productive industry; the average length of life much advanced, and the value of life
augmented’ (Beveridge and Hoffman 1997: 474). Olmsted therefore suggested another
reason for establishing large urban parks – ‘the beauty of rural scenery’ as a restorative
antidote to the artificiality and oppression of urban conditions (ibid: 477). Such
dogmatism supports the view that Olmsted never abandoned his addiction to bucolic
landscapes or his anti-urban sentiment (Wilson 1984: 17). It is arguable that Olmsted
would have preferred to design all of Franklin Park as a smooth-flowing, ‘beautiful’,
pastoral, rural landscape – but found that the natural condition of the site militated against
this and that he was therefore obliged to embrace the ‘picturesque’ and even ‘sublime’
effects that were the genius loci – even though these did not suit his pastoral model.
It has been suggested that ‘Franklin Park was somehow Olmsted’s Boston response to
the popular pressures on Central Park’ (Kelly et al. 1981: 120) and that it was an attempt
to make it ‘possible, within the boundaries of the City of Boston, to experience a natural
reserve completely unmarked by signs of urban life’ (Zapatka 1995: 35). The design of the
‘Country Park’ skilfully achieves Olmsted’s objectives of creating smooth-flowing
grassland enclosed by dense woodland. The design of the ‘Ante Park’ accommodates the
barriers that the site presented to this type of landscape. But it is, nevertheless, difficult to
dispute the continued accuracy of Newton’s assertion that ‘Franklin Park, quite apart from
questions of upkeep, somehow impresses less positively than Prospect Park with its
magnificent Long Meadow’ (Newton 1971: 299).
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Managing organizations
Management of the Emerald Necklace, much like its original creation, is the responsibility
of three authorities – the City of Boston, the Town of Brookline and the Metropolitan
District Commission (MDC) of the State of Massachusetts. Boston manages most of the
system and Brookline manages those parts of the Riverway and Olmsted Park on the west
side of the Muddy River. Since 1955, the MDC has managed the parkways that abut the
parks – although they are actually owned by the City. The three authorities operate on a
collaborative project-by-project basis with Boston generally acting as the fund holder. The
ongoing $92 million restoration and daylighting of the Muddy River in the Fenway area is
also federally funded with engineering work by the US Army Corps of Engineers.
Leverett Pond in Olmsted Park (November 2013)

The Parks and Recreation Department remains very much under the direct control of the
Mayor, who appoints the Park Commissioner and (in 2012, four) Associate
Commissioners. There is no formal system for public representations but since 1970 the
Department has also worked with the private non-profit Friends of the Public Garden –
initially a pressure group, latterly an advocacy and fund-raising group, and since 1998
with the similarly structured Emerald Necklace Conservancy. Both groups tend to become
involved with, and fund-raise for, special projects while the public authorities address
most regular maintenance operations.
Funding
The Parks and Recreation Department has tightly restricted and often cut-back budgets.
The city-wide budget for Parks and Recreation in 1999 was $13 million, largely derived
from general revenues. The operating budget in 2012 was $15.56 million, of which 41 per
cent was allocated to maintenance and horticultural / arboricultural operations (Boston
Parks and Recreation Department 2013). The Emerald Necklace is not identified as a
separate budget item but within Boston has, however, been managed as a separate
maintenance district since 1987.
User characteristics
The Parks and Recreation Department does not conduct user surveys or count visitor
numbers. It uses a notional figure of one million-plus visits per year and, anecdotally at
least, numbers are rising because of the increasing number of events being staged in the
parks. Franklin Park in particular had many more summer events in 2013 – the Zoo, like
Forest Park Zoo, had its highest ever number of summertime visits – and many more
family visits indicating that it is a much safer place, even better than twenty years ago
when crime levels were ‘only a fraction of what occurred in the 1960s and 1970s’ (The
Halvorson Company 1991: 45).
PLANS FOR THE PARKS
The Common continues to be managed on the basis of a Management Plan prepared by
Walker Kluesing Design Group in 1990 and reissued in 1996. That plan recommended
capital improvements and maintenance operations that would reinforce the historic
structure and character of the Common – a National Historic Landmark, along with the
Public Garden, since 1987. It remains a pragmatic plan designed to protect the essential
qualities of a very heavily used downtown park.
A Master Plan for the Emerald Necklace Parks pre pared by the Walmsley / Pressley
joint venture in 1989 was formally adopted in 2001. It was a commendably thorough
document that recognized that the strongest characteristic of the system is its continuity
and that the basic premise of the Emerald Necklace as a refuge from the city remained as
valid as it was a hundred years earlier. The plan sought to reinforce Olmsted’s original
concept of a unified system of linked parks while identifying that water quality, including
the rampant invasion of exotic weeds, and disconnection by highways were two key
concerns. It was recognized that addressing the latter issue was beyond the scope of the
Master Plan but, following excessive rainfall for three days in October 1996 and again in
September 1998 (O’Connell 2001: 36), the Parks and Recreation Department
commissioned Jason M. Cortell and Associates and Pressley Associates in 1999 to prepare
an Environmental Improvement Master Plan for the Riverway and Fenway sections of the
Necklace. That plan included proposals for flood control, water quality and habitat
enhancement on the Muddy River. It remains the guiding document for the six-year $92
million project, commenced in 2013 for daylighting and dredging the top end of the
Fenway.
Franklin Park continues to be covered by a Master Plan presented by landscape
architects The Halvorson Company in 1991. The plan adopted a similar approach to the
Walmsley / Pressley plan, drawing on Olmsted’s original design concepts for the
establishment of its Guiding Principles. This led to goals of improving the park’s image
and safety, facilitating use, restoring horticultural beauty and ecological health,
maintaining and managing the park, restoring the historic design intent, and protecting the
park from non-park intrusions. The estimated cost for the Franklin Park Master Plan
proposals was $31.7 million at 1989 prices.
The Emerald Necklace Conservancy retains the original vision of linking the entire
Necklace from the Common to Marine Park but currently concentrates its resources on the
Olmsted parks, supporting specific projects of varying sizes from the repair of the fountain
in the Kelleher Rose Garden to sponsoring, with the Arnold Arboretum, an inventory of
the 7,000 trees and woodland areas in those parks, and continuing to support the work on
the Muddy River. The Conservancy also sponsors volunteer clean-up programmes,
maintenance assignments for pre-release prisoners, and youth leadership programmes.
CONCLUSIONS
Superlatives abound in praise of Olmsted’s planning and design of the Emerald Necklace.
It was a landscape architectural response to difficult drainage issues and to town planning
imperatives that produced an almost complete linear park system. But many of the
problems that confronted Olmsted in the late nineteenth century continued through most
of the twentieth and into the twenty-first century. Two of the apparently perennial issues
confronting the system have been lack of money and exponential growth in vehicular
traffic. Vehicular traffic threatens the essence of the Emerald Necklace in two principal
ways. First it has turned Olmsted’s system of parkways into noisy thoroughfares that are
hard to cross and often fringed with parked cars. Second it has led to the widening of
existing highways and the construction of major new highways on structures that carve
their way between the parks. These incursions were part of a downward spiral of neglect
that reached its nadir in the 1960s and 1970s. That neglect led to high levels of water
pollution, the rampant invasion of pernicious weed species – particularly Phragmites and
Japanese knotweed – over-maturity of woodland areas and, inevitably, a worsening image
for many of the parks.
Boston and Brookline benefited immensely from Olmsted’s pioneering skills and vast
experience as a landscape architect. Olmsted benefited greatly from the opportunities they
offered him. He was able to plan and design the most comprehensive park system of his
forty-year career as a landscape architect. He was able to use Franklin Park as the ultimate
vehicle for the refinement of his views on the role of parks as ‘the antithesis of the urban
environment’ (Schuyler 1986: 146). He was able to use the Back Bay Fens as an
outstanding demonstration of drainage and bio-engineering principles, and he was able to
use the Olmsted firm’s work in Boston as the basis for the establishment of a dynasty that
continued to work from Brookline until 1980. But want of resources – not want of a
sensible approach – continues to threaten the Emerald Necklace. Fortunately this has
begun to be addressed by private sector dedication and donations.
NOTES
1 The term ‘Olmsted firm’ is used to describe Frederick Law Olmsted and his partners and their successors from 1878
onward.
2 This section is largely derived from Zaitzevsky 1982 with specific references given where appropriate.
3 This seems to have occurred as a deal between government agencies rather than because of any recognition of the
restorative effect of landscapes on recovering patients.
28 Forest Park, St Louis
(1,371 acres / 555 hectares)
INTRODUCTION
The physical form of Forest Park reflects each of the three major eras in its design and
construction. It combines late nineteenth-century American Pastoral landscape with
Beaux-Arts / City Beautiful symmetry (from the Louisiana Purchase Exposition of 1904),
and the renaturalizing ethos of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. The park
also reflects the rise and fall and relatively recent recovery of its host city. In common
with most cities in the United States, St Louis suffered severe post-war population
shrinkage and accompanying symptoms of rising crime and unemployment. Its population
in 1970 was smaller than in 1920. The challenges confronting the park were exacerbated
by the relatively small land area of the city – 62 square miles (160 square kilometres) –
and the relatively large area of Forest Park – one of the ten largest urban parks in the
country. By comparison, the estimated population of St Louis in 2012 was 318,172,
making it the 58th most populated city and 19th most populated metropolitan area in the
country (www.census.gov).
Despite a history of disjointed design, ad hoc additions and difficult economic
conditions, the approach to revival of Forest Park is a commendable example of a well-
managed and well-reasoned process. It has produced practical proposals that have
garnered strong public support and major private investment, particularly through the non-
profit friends group Forest Park Forever. This revival is all the more remarkable for having
brought together numerous potentially disparate parties – Zoo, museums, sports people,
naturalists, gardeners, citizens and city authorities – that might in other places and under
other circumstances have retreated into their respective corners and regarded the park as
the place that kept them apart. In St Louis it seems to be a place that has tied them
together.
HISTORY
Designation as a park
Forest Park was officially opened in June 1876, coinciding with the centenary of the
United States Declaration of Independence. Its story probably began with the
establishment in 1859 by retired Sheffield-born merchant Henry Shaw (1800–89) of a
publicly accessible botanic garden at Tower Grove in St Louis (Loughlin and Anderson
1986: 4). Shaw was visited in April 1863 by Frederick Law Olmsted, then secretary of the
US Sanitary Commission (ibid: 5). They almost certainly discussed public parks. Shortly
thereafter, in February 1864, the Missouri legislature authorized establishment of a park
on ‘a site west of the city containing not more than 350 acres’ (ibid: 5). But that proposal
was voted down in April 1864, largely on the basis that it would benefit landowners in the
area but was too far away to benefit poorer citizens (ibid: 6). The idea was revived in 1870
by real estate developer Hiram W. Leffingwell (1800–94). He proposed, subject to
approval of the state legislature, establishment of a 3,000-acre (1,200-hectare) park to the
west of Kingshighway. This was eventually approved in March 1872, but with the size
reduced to 1,371 acres (553 hectares). It was to be financed through establishment of ‘a
special taxing district outside the city limits’ (ibid: 7–8). Objections continued – as they
still might – that the park was too large and too far away for poorer people living closer to
the centre of the city (ibid: 8).
Nevertheless, Leffingwell and fellow park commissioners began buying land for the
park until a court case was brought by other local landowners seeking ‘to have the 1872
bill declared unconstitutional’ (ibid: 8). The Missouri Supreme Court found for the
landowners in April 1873. But demand for a large park persisted. And in March 1874 ‘the
Missouri legislature passed three acts to establish three parks in St Louis County’ and the
‘Forest Park Act … established a public park “for the people of the county of St Louis”
(which included the city of St Louis) in exactly the same location as the 1872 park’ (ibid:
10). County surveyor Julius Pitzman (1837–1900), who had ‘a reputation for precise and
detailed survey work’ and had just returned from a ‘trip to study European parks and
gardens’ (Birnbaum and Foell 2009: 272, 273) was instructed to make a plat (scale plan)
of the site.

Forest Park, St Louis

1 Skinker Boulevard
2 Forest Park Parkway
3 Probstein Golf Course
4 Kennedy Forest
5 Government Drive
6 Oakland Expressway
7 St Louis Art Museum
8 Art Hill
9 Emerson Grand Basin
10 St Louis Zoo
11 Post Dispatch Lake
12 Missouri History Museum
13 World’s Fair Pavilion
14 Government Hill/Kerth Fountain
15 Boathouse
16 Visitor and Education Center
17 Nathan Frank Bandstand/Pagoda Circle
18 Municipal Theater (The Muny)
19 Deer Lake
20 McKinley Drive
21 Jewel Box
22 Central Fields
23 Clayton Road
24 Steinberg Rink
25 Jefferson Lake
26 Planetarium
27 Kingshighway Boulevard
28 Barnes-Jewish Christian Hospital

Size and condition of site at time of designation

Pitzman determined that the allocated land comprised 1371.75 acres (553.13 hectares) – of
which ‘more than 46 acres already belonged to the county in the form of public roads’
(Loughlin and Anderson 1986: 11). Pitzman’s measurement is still generally cited as the
area of the park although around 100 acres (40 hectares) is now occupied or cut off by
roads and/or light rail corridors (City of St Louis 1995: 5).
The site is described as having been ‘forests, commons, orchards, coal mines, cultivated
fields and the Cabanne Dairy Farm’ (Loughlin and Anderson 1986: 11) and ‘primarily the
site of farms and coal mines’ with the River des Peres wandering ‘through the northern
and eastern parts of the area and a major east–west thoroughfare, Clayton Road’ passing
through the property (City of St Louis 1995: 53). In general terms, land north and east of
the river was prairie while land south and west of it was wooded. In effect, then, it was a
relatively hospitable undeveloped site overlying potentially valuable coal deposits.
Nevertheless ‘detractors argued that the rugged site was ill-suited for use as parkland’
whereas Pitzman (who worked from 1867 on a series of private residential subdivisions in
the area) ‘asserted that its rough features would remain in place and contribute to the
design’s picturesque character’ (Birnbaum and Foell 2009: 273).
Key figures in establishment and initial design of the park
Shaw and, more than anybody, Leffingwell, were clearly key figures in establishment of
the park. Loughlin and Anderson noted that Leffingwell and Peter Gerhart had been
commissioners under the Act of 1872 and were nominated by the county, along with John
O’Fallon Farrar as commissioners under the Forest Park Act of 1874. They were joined by
city nominees Andrew McKinley, Ansyl Phillips and John J. Fitzwilliam, and by an
elected official, the presiding judge of the county court. Leffingwell, McKinley and
Gerhart were all in the real estate business; Phillips was a broker, Fitzwilliam was a
banker and Farrar had real estate and other business interests (Loughlin and Anderson
1986: 11–12). The implication, of course, is that they had a particular interest in the rising
value of their holdings near the park. But, we are told, ‘Leffingwell did not profit from his
idea and from his work’ (ibid: 14).

Jewel Box (October 2013)

The leading figure in the initial design of the park was the first Superintendent,
German-born and educated ‘landscape gardener’ Maximilian G. Kern (c. 1830–1915).
Kern had worked at the Tuileries in Paris before moving to the United States. He and
Commission President McKinley worked with (also German-born) engineers Pitzman and
Henry Flad (1823–98), and architect Theodore C. Link (1850–1923) on the design,
submitting it to the County Court on 1 January 1876. It was ‘designed as a driving park for
carriages, with winding roads disclosing a new view around each curve’ (ibid: 16). The
plan is redolent of the design by Édouard André (1840–1911) of the curvaceous Sefton
Park in Liverpool, completed in 1872. Kern’s plan included extensive sinuously shaped
water bodies along the course of the River des Peres, and numerous bridges and extensive
driving routes while the ‘eastern section of the park, nearest the city, was intended to be
“the congregating and rambling grounds of the masses”’ (ibid: 16).
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location
Forest Park is relatively remote from downtown St Louis. Its eastern edge is about four
miles (6.4 kilometres) from the Mississippi. Indeed, at the time of its selection and
designation, the site lay two miles west of the city limits. It was only after the City
seceded from the County in 1876, increasing its area from 18 to 62 square miles, that its
boundary was extended to include the park. That change also led to the City taking over
the park and to abolition of the dedicated Forest Park tax.
Loughlin and Anderson noted that by 1901 the park ‘had begun to live up to’ McKinley
and Kern’s plans, and ‘to influence its neighborhood, and … fashionable residences …
began to develop’ (ibid: 32) – particularly on the north and west sides. And by 1976 ‘land
around the park was expensive and almost all occupied’ (ibid: 235). As Heckscher and
Robinson put it, ‘the park remains aloof from the central business district and is tied in,
rather, with residential neighborhoods surrounding it to the west, north and south’
(Heckscher and Robinson 1977: 53). It would be more accurate to describe it now as being
bordered by private streets (of the type laid out by Pitzman) and highways to the north, by
high-end, high-rise residences – also on private streets – and Washington University to the
west; by high-rise hospitals and the Kingshighway Boulevard to the east, and by the high-
speed, multi-lane Oakland Avenue (I-64) to the south.
Shape and natural landform of site
The site is effectively an east–west aligned rectangle of roughly 10,700 feet (3,260 metres)
by 4,800 feet (1,465 metres) with a smaller more-or-less rectangular north–south
extension of roughly 2,700 feet (820 metres) by 1,600 feet (490 metres) at the southeast
corner. Much of this smaller rectangle is occupied by the interchange between
Kingshighway Boulevard and the I-64. The remainder is cut off from the park by the
Boulevard. The northeast corner of the park was also cut off by the incursion of the (now
euphemistically named) Forest Park Parkway – a late 1950s expressway – and by the
adjacent MetroLink light rail between Lambert Airport and downtown St Louis,
completed in 1993.
The natural landform of the site was dominated by the meandering River des Peres and
its tributaries. The river entered the site towards the west of the northern edge, flowing
southeast towards the centre of the park, then turning towards the northeast of the park
before turning again to exit at the southeast corner on its way towards the Mississippi.
Kern described it as a ‘wild and uncontrollable prairie stream, sufficiently strong to float a
stern-wheel steamer at certain times, at others almost devoid of water’ (Loughlin and
Anderson 1986: 18). The area north of the river was described in an ‘1874 Landscape’
map as ‘wooded bottomland interspersed with shrubby prairie’ and the area to the south,
interspersed with intermittent tributaries, was described as ‘wooded upland’ with ‘wooded
valleys which shape down to the bottomlands’ (City of St Louis 1995). The tributaries
became the routes for roads such as Government Drive and McKinley Drive; the uplands
between them became the sites for buildings such as the Art Museum, World’s Fair
Pavilion, Jewel Box and Planetarium.
Nathan Frank Bandstand, Pagoda Circle (October 2013)

Design and redesign of the park

The original design by Kern et al. intended the park to be ‘a great romantic landscape,
with winding trails and carriageways through deep woods and pastoral fields surrounded
by informal water bodies and naturalistic streams’ (ibid: 53). In short, an adaptation to the
site of Vaux and Olmsted’s American Pastoral precedents. This was followed by redesign
to accommodate the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in 1904; partial restoration following
the Exposition, and a series of planning exercises from 1976 culminating in a Master Plan
in 1995 for works that were largely completed by 2004 – the centenary of the Exposition.
David R. Francis (1850–1927 – Mayor 1885–9 and Governor of Missouri 1889–93) led
a delegation to Washington in 1890 seeking to have the Columbian Exposition awarded to
St Louis, with Forest Park as its site (Loughlin and Anderson 1986: 61). Francis persisted
and in January 1899 the Louisiana Purchase states selected St Louis as the location for a
World’s Fair originally intended to mark the centenary of the Purchase in 1803 but, like
the Chicago Fair in 1893, delayed by a year. The Louisiana Purchase Exposition Company
(LPEC) – funded by $5 million from each of Congress, the City and popular subscriptions
– was incorporated in April 1901, with Francis as President. Forest Park was formally
selected as the site for the Fair in June 1901 (ibid: 62, 66).
Kerth Fountain and World’s Fair Pavilion (October 2013)

The Fair actually occupied the western 657 acres (265 hectares) of the park and 615
acres (248 hectares) of leased private property west of Skinker Boulevard. George Edward
Kessler (1862–1923), another German-born landscape architect, best known for his design
of the Kansas City park system, was appointed to design the site for the Fair. Kessler was
heavily influenced by the picturesque work of (the Repton-inspired) Prince Pückler-
Muskau and his ‘image of the City Beautiful combined European influences with the
American landscape in a unique blend of Old and New World qualities’ (Culbertson 2000:
101, 99). The master plan for the Fair – ‘one of his greatest works’ (ibid: 114) – was
heavily influenced by City Beautiful precedents.
The Fair buildings were intended to be temporary and the park was supposed to be fully
restored within a year of the Fair closing. Nevertheless, changes to accommodate the Fair
included removal of most of the trees on the site; running the sewage-laden River des
Peres through an underground wooden channel; extensive earthworks to create building
platforms; and reshaping of the main lake to form a huge symmetrical basin on the axis of
the Cass Gilbert-designed Palace of Fine Arts (latterly the Art Museum). The Fair ran
from 30 April to 1 December 1904 and received some 20 million visits. In October the
LPEC established a ‘Restoration Committee’ chaired by Francis. Kessler wrote to the
Committee suggesting that all buildings, other than the Palace of Fine Arts, should be
removed; that the river (‘now nothing more that a great sewer’) throughout the park
should be permanently piped below ground; and that former woodland should be replaced
with sweeping lawns (Loughlin and Anderson 1986: 83–4). Kessler’s suggestions were
congruent with his view that the mission for parks ‘is to bring within the city the charms
of country scenes and clean fresh air’ (Culbertson 2000: 104). In January 1905 he was
appointed by the LPEC to plan the work.
The Art Museum, less its symmetrical wings, opened in August 1906 but construction
of the piped river did not begin until 1911 and was not finally completed until the end of
the 1920s. The LPEC sought to hand the park back to the City in November 1907. A spat
ensued between Francis and Park Commissioner Philip C. Scanlan – particularly about the
number of trees removed for the Fair. Eventually, in April 1909, the City agreed to take
back the park providing the company completed the World’s Fair Pavilion – a café
commissioned by the LPEC in 1908 at the City’s request – and agreed to ‘spend at least
$200,000 on a monument to Thomas Jefferson’ (Loughlin and Anderson 1986: 91). The
positioning of the monument effectively extended the central Beaux-Arts axis through the
park from the Art Museum.
Immediately after the park was handed over, Kessler was hired by Scanlan as landscape
architect for the parks department. He eventually moved from Kansas City to St Louis in
1912. Dwight F. Davis (1879–1945), tennis player and donor of the Davis Cup, succeeded
Scanlan as Park Commissioner in 1911 and began what became a twenty-year period of
installing recreational facilities – including tennis courts, golf courses, athletic fields and
bridle paths. This change of emphasis was reflected in his change of title – to
Commissioner of Parks and Recreation. Davis also requested Kessler in 1911 to prepare
planting proposals for the park, ranging from floral displays on Government Hill to
seedling trees and wildflowers in the southwest corner, supplementing the remaining
preserved woodland now known as Kennedy Forest (ibid: 106–55).
The Zoo seceded from the park in 1913. Donated statues and fountains were accepted in
the park. Motor vehicle usage in the city and the park grew dramatically but proposals in
1929 to build a stadium in the park – in addition to the existing sports facilities,
greenhouses and Municipal Theatre (‘Muny’) – prompted public resistance (ibid: 151).
The period from 1930 to 1945 saw ‘shortages of money, man power, and materials’ as a
result of the Great Depression and World War II (ibid: 156). The ‘Jewel Box’, an Art Deco
glasshouse named for its floral displays, partly financed by the Public Works
Administration (PWA), was completed in 1936 (and entered in the National Register of
Historic Places in 2000 ahead of its refurbishment in 2002). The Oakland Expressway
along the south side of the park also opened in 1936.
Post-war suburbanization left the city with a decreasing population and a shrinking tax
base. Bond issues were approved in 1944 and 1955 but proposed bond issues and tax
increases in the 1960s failed to gain sufficient voter support. The reconstituted Department
of Parks, Recreation and Forestry – reestablished in its own right in 1958 – faced a
downward spiral of declining visitor numbers, increasing vandalism, the perception of
high crime levels, and a growing backlog of deferred maintenance (ibid: 188). The Zoo-
Museum District (ZMD), established in 1971, however, began to benefit from a property
tax levy on the City and County of St Louis to fund the Zoo, Art Museum, Science Center,
and from 1983, (Henry Shaw’s) Missouri Botanical Garden (adjacent to Tower Grove
Park) and from 1988 the Missouri History Museum. A rare bright spot for the park itself
was a major private donation for construction in 1957 of the Steinberg Skating Rink – but
that soon ran into operational difficulties (ibid: 210). The principal growth activity seemed
to be commuters driving through the park.
Finally, in 1976 the St Louis Chapter of the AIA invited a Regional / Urban Design
Assistance Team (R / UDAT) to visit and review the park. They recommended removing
as many vehicles as possible and bringing the park under regional management (ibid:
237). That sparked political controversy. Eventually, in September 1978, Mayor James
Conway appointed a Master Plan Advisory Task Force comprising representatives from
‘groups that had recently been most vocal about the park’ (ibid: 239). By that time the
park was studded with roadways and sports facilities to the extent that there were golf
holes crossing the Grand Basin and Art Hill. The Task Force’s proposals were adopted in
1983 but the plan was barely implemented. The only significant changes were ‘road
removals, road resurfacing and in-fill of the lagoons around Post-Dispatch Lake’ (City of
St Louis 1995: 64). Significant change only came after the formation in 1986 of Forest
Park Forever, and preparation and adoption in 1995 of the (still current) Forest Park
Master Plan.
Forest Park Forever is a non-profit advocacy that continues to work in partnership with
the City to ‘restore, maintain and sustain Forest Park as one of America’s great urban
parks for the enjoyment of all – now and forever’ (FPF Mission Statement). Work on the
1995 Master Plan was commenced in 1993 as a revision to the plan from 1983 with the
aim of formulating ‘a sound and holistic approach to meeting the needs of all park users’
(City of St Louis 1995: 2). It was a highly inclusive process with a professional team
chaired by John Hoal, then Director of Urban Design in the St Louis Development
Corporation; a sixty-seven-member Master Plan Committee appointed by Mayor Freeman
Bosley Jr (which met approximately twenty times); a nineteen-member Executive
Committee (which met more than fifty times); twenty-five public meetings and another
100 meetings with particular interest groups.
Emerald Grand Basin and Art Hill (October 2013)

The goals for the Master Plan were relatively straightforward. Their overarching aim
was to achieve a ‘diverse, multi-purpose, environmentally sound future for the park and its
users’ that would be an attraction for visitors and citizens; a place where St Louis could
celebrate its pluralism; a home for special events; well maintained and safe for all users,
and environmentally safe (ibid: 5). The ‘Design Approach’ was based on ‘the human-
ecosystem design method’ (promoted by John Lyle [1934–98], professor of landscape
architecture at Cal Poly Pomona) so as to provide a ‘total park experience’; to achieve a
‘symbiosis of human and natural processes’; and to be ‘designed on sustainable principles’
(ibid: 9). Very much in tune with the Zeitgeist.
In terms of design intentions, the two main concepts were, first, to ‘provide an open
space spine … based on the park’s natural and man-made features’ essentially following
the original line of the River des Peres and the bluffs in the park, and second, to provide ‘a
major civic … gathering place … by restoring the heart of the park – the Grand Basin, Art
Hill and Post-Dispatch Lake area’. These were to be complemented by a ‘sequence of
landmarks, places, streets and paths’ (ibid: 11). And in terms of design interventions, the
flagship project is the re-creation of a simulacrum of the River des Peres over the top of
the piped underground river, uniting a series of disparate water bodies across the entire
park; maintaining constant water levels in the Grand Basin and Post-Dispatch Lake, while
halving the volume of city water entering the system (PPS 2000: 82; Hazelrigg 2004: 112–
13). The newly flowing, albeit artificial, system is categorized as a waterway protected by
the State on the grounds of its habitat value, and is now seen as an integral part of the
Great Rivers Greenway Trail System, providing recreational routes along the tributaries of
the Mississippi.

Naturalized stream in Deer Lake Natural Area (October 2013)

Other completed projects that demonstrate the concepts underlying the Master Plan
include restoration of the Grand Basin, Post-Dispatch Lake, Government Hill and Art Hill,
led by HOK Planning Group together with realization by SWT Associates of Dan Kiley’s
design from the 1980s for the area in front of the Art Museum; restoration of Pagoda
Circle in front of the Muny to a design by Oehme, Van Sweden and Associates; redesign
of the twenty-seven-hole Probstein Golf course by Hale Irwin Golf Services; and
restoration of the historic savanna of meadows, swamp white oaks, and riparian planting,
also by Oehme, Van Sweden with native planting expert Darrel Morrison and soil scientist
Mark Felton (Hazelrigg 2004: 114–16). Other ‘landmarks and places’ that have been
renovated as part of the programme include the World’s Fair Pavilion – at a cost of $1.1
million (PPS 2000: 83), the Jewel Box, the Boat House, and the Visitor and Education
Center. Additionally, the Missouri History Museum was extended in 2000 and the Art
Museum opened a major David Chipperfield-designed extension in June 2013.
Current form of the park
The impressive catalogue of recent work has generated an astonishingly pristine collection
of pieces and spaces that belie the generally decrepit condition of the park a quarter of a
century ago. Although these works make the Master Plan concepts clearly visible, the park
still presents an uncomfortable underlying hybrid – no longer entirely pastoral and not
entirely City Beautiful. More pick-and-mix than menu. And despite the removal of many
roads and the rationalization and extension of pedestrian and cycle trails, it remains a big
park with long distances between principal destinations. Since 2011 the ZMD institutions
in the park, the City and Forest Park Forever have subsidized a circular summertime
trolley (bus) service between these destinations.
The park is also becoming something of a wildlife sanctuary. The Mississippi is a
flyway for migratory birds and more than 200 species have been spotted in the park. Deer,
fox, turkey and quail are seen regularly. And BioBlitzes – twenty-four-hour surveys of all
species within the park – have shown remarkable diversity, with more than 600 plant
species, including the endangered Michigan lily (Lilium michiganese) and an endangered
Viburnum species.

Saint Louis Art Museum (October 2013)

MANAGEMENT, FUNDING AND USAGE

Managing organization
The park is still ‘owned and operated by the City of St Louis … under the jurisdiction of
the Department of Parks, Recreation and Forestry’ (www.stlouismo.gov). But the
Department willingly collaborates with Forest Park Forever and the ZMD institutions to
ensure that their so-far-very-successful relationship continues. The ZMD has the benefit of
support from both the City and County of St Louis. The park does not receive support
from the County. But, following adoption of the 1995 Master Plan, the City and Forest
Park Forever formed a partnership to raise $94 million for their ‘Restoring the Glory’
campaign. That may sound optimistic. But they actually raised over $100 million before
the end of 2003 (Hazelrigg 2004: 117).
 Forest Park Forever has 7,500 members and 1,100 volunteers. It currently maintains
more than 500 acres (over 200 hectares) of the park including 170 acres (69 hectares) of
rebuilt nature reserves. They operate on a Zone Management System – similar to the
systems adopted in Central Park and Missouri Botanical Garden – with Zone Gardeners
working alongside Parks Department staff and volunteers. The remaining 850-or-so acres
(344 hectares) are directly maintained by the City or by their operators (such as the golf
courses), and the estimated 14,000 trees across the park are managed by five Parks
Department arborists.
Funding
The successful practice of funding the park through public–private partnership seems set
to continue. Forest Park Forever began a five-year campaign in 2013 aimed at raising
$130 million – $30 million for capital works and $100 million for endowments. This
campaign includes the City selling $30 million in bonds to be bought by Forest Park
Forever, thereby improving the City’s liquidity to re-invest. This kind of creative financing
follows on from arrangements like that made with the Barnes-Jewish Christian Hospitals
(BJC) in 2007 whereby the City agreed to a long-term lease of land east of Kingshighway,
allowing BJC to build above ground (they already had an underground car park there) in
return for $2 million per year in rent paid by BJC into a trust for the park, complemented
by $1.8 million per year from Forest Park Forever. In effect Forest Park Forever has filled
the funding void left by the separation in 1876 of the City and County of St Louis over,
among other things, the decision to create the park. This has given the park more stability,
but less stability than the Zoo-Museum District which, since 1971, has been funded by
both authorities.
Usage
It is, of course, impossible to record accurately the number of visits made to such a large
unfenced urban park. Nevertheless traffic surveys are undertaken on a regular basis and
survey professionals are commissioned to provide estimates of overall visitor numbers. In
2013 Forest Park Forever adopted a figure of 13 million visits per year – of which six
million were visiting institutions within the park, including a record number of visits to the
Zoo.1 Before that they used a figure of 12 million visits per year. The 1995 Master Plan
suggested ten million visits per year at that time and 2.5 million visits in 1894 (City of St
Louis 1995: 2, 53). Loughlin and Anderson gave a figure of 4.5 million per year in the
1970s (Loughlin and Anderson 1986: 229). The one thing that is clearly suggested by
these figures is that the number of visits to the park is continuing to rise.
Crime and policing
Forest Park conforms to the emerging trend of well-maintained parks attracting less
criminal activity. The vast majority of crimes that are committed are crimes of opportunity
– such as thefts from vehicles – rather than crimes against persons. In 2013 there were two
horseback park rangers and four mounted police. This is regarded as a user-friendly
method of policing and one that Forest Park Forever hope will be increased.
PLANS FOR THE PARK
The $30 million for capital works from the current campaign will allow a number of
necessary but not-so-sexy improvements, including re-configuring the Muny Upper
Parking Lot – currently a sea of blacktop – and the Central Fields; improving restrooms
and drinking fountains – in response to increasing year-round use of the park, particularly
by joggers and cyclists; implementing a (much-needed) park-wide way-finding system;
ongoing refurbishment of roads, and improving water circulation in Jefferson Lake.
Meanwhile minority demands for facilities such as dog parks and frisbee golf occasionally
arise and remind managers that they are still working to a plan from the mid-1990s and
that, sooner or later, a longer-range review will be required.
CONCLUSIONS
The history of Forest Park displays the difficulties encountered over the last century and a
half by most large ‘American Pastoral’ urban parks. And, despite its recovery over the last
twenty years through public–private investment ‘of breathtaking proportions’ (PPS 2000:
81), Forest Park remains a fusion of two distinctly different design pedigrees – a cross-
breed, albeit a robust, much-loved and well groomed cross-breed. Unlike St Louis’s
second largest park, Tower Grove, it has insufficient design unity to be included in the
National Register of Historic Places. It has been described as a ‘physical and
programmatic pot-pourri’ that begs the question whether we can ‘see a way to bring
nineteenth-century parks into the twenty-first century – without looking backwards’
(Hohmann 2004: 115). But what it does have is immense popular affection and enviable
managerial unity. And freedom from historical credentials actually allows park planners
and managers to be more flexible in the way that they mediate between competing
interests. The opportunity certainly exists for such a large park to become a role model for
renaturalization without reducing its cultural or recreational roles.
NOTE
1 In 2013 the Zoo bought land on the south side of Oakland Avenue to replace its South Parking Lot and provide a
bridge over the Avenue. This will allow the Zoo to expand into the current parking lot.
29 Amsterdamse Bos
(1,000 hectares / 2,470 acres)
INTRODUCTION
Probably the largest urban park created anywhere in the twentieth century, the
Amsterdamse Bos – Amsterdam Forest – was conceived in the 1920s and formed an
integral part of the General Expansion Plan for Amsterdam, 1935. Like much of the
landscape of The Netherlands, it is completely human-made. Indeed, the fundamental
concept of an urban forest could be construed as an oxymoron. Construction commenced
in the 1930s under a work creation programme and was largely executed through manual
labour assisted only by horses. This has left ‘an emotional bond between the people of
Amsterdam and “their” wood … many Amsterdammers remember how their father or
grandfather – or even they themselves – dug with their own hands the regatta course’
(Daalder 1999: 19). The symbolic final tree was planted in 1970.
Latterly the site has expanded to around 1,000 hectares (from its original 935) through
inclusion of land north of the Nieuwe Meer and current planning proposals perpetuate the
principle of similar green wedges through the urban fabric. But they also promote
expansion of Schiphol Airport immediately to the west of the Bos and denser development
to the east and south. The General Expansion Plan, 1935 envisioned the ‘city opened up to
the surrounding landscape’ (Wagenaar 2011: 301). This provoked praise from W. G.
Witteveen, designer of the Expansion Plan for Rotterdam, for the attention it devoted to
‘man’s [sic] increasing desire for nature, sun, water. The citizen longs increasingly for
entertainment and sports’ (in ibid: 301). This demand continues to be addressed in current
planning proposals for the city and management policies for the Bos.
The area of the Bos is roughly the same as that enclosed by the ring of canals around
the centre of the city. Although its establishment was primarily based on practical criteria,
it has slowly developed a more bucolic atmosphere. The design was ‘the outcome of a
balanced team of professors, botanists, biologists, engineers, architects, sociologists and
town planners’ (Jellicoe and Jellicoe 1987: 302). Their plan – the Bosch plan – was
intended to achieve ‘rapid development of a forest for recreation’ (Stedelijk Beheer
Amsterdam 1994). It was based on the principle of the land cover being divided in equal
parts between forest, open space and water – redolent of Vaux and Olmsted’s ‘American
Pastoral’. The plan called for substantial earthworks and drainage operations to de-water
the site and for substantial planting operations to create a native forest landscape, with
substantial clearings to accommodate water bodies and recreational activities. The
eventual land cover was roughly 350 hectares of forest (39 per cent); 230 hectares of
grassland (26 per cent); 165 hectares of water (18 per cent); 70 hectares of riparian land (8
per cent) with the remaining 9 per cent allocated to sports areas, roads, paths and car parks
(ibid).
HISTORY
Date and reason for designation as a park
Chadwick noted that Amsterdam had developed in ‘an orderly manner since the celebrated
‘plan of three canals’ had been drawn up prior to 1665’ (Chadwick 1966: 302). But, by the
middle of the eighteenth century, building land inside the fortifications was in short
supply, and in 1866 City Engineer van Niftrik prepared an expansion plan that ‘showed for
the first time a definite pattern of city parks’ (ibid) – probably inspired by Haussmann’s
work in Paris. Van Niftrik’s plan called for ‘parks at either extremity of the town, formally
laid out suburbs to the south, and two other parks projecting to the south west’ (ibid: 302–
3). One of these became the Vondelpark. Concern about rapid urban growth and its impact
on health in the late nineteenth century led to the Woningwet Law of 1901, requiring
‘fundamental changes in the laws on house-building and land usage’ (Polano 1991: 507).
Amsterdamse Bos, Amsterdam
1 Nieuwe Meer
2 Tennis Centre
3 Bosbaan
4 Ringvaart
5 Grote Vijver
6 Grote Speelweide
7 Speelvijver
8 Central Hill
9 Sport Park
10 Kleine Vijver
11 Burgemeester-Colijnweg
12 Event Space
13 Schinkelbos
14 De Poel
15 Park Office

Wildflower meadow and Park Office (July 2012)

Concern about quality of life issues in The Netherlands inspired biologist and teacher
Jac P. Thijsse (1865–1945) to call in 1908 for ‘a system of walks and parks for
Amsterdam’ (Woudstra 1997: 162). One of Thijsse’s proposals – ‘for a landscape area of
parkland around Nieuwe Meer, the long, meandering stretch of water to the south of the
city – anticipated both the site and the character of the future Bos Park’ (Polano 1991:
507). Thijsse – whose ‘main concern was to offer everyone easy access to nature’
(Woudstra 1997: 162) – worked with architect / planner Hendrik Petrus Berlage (1856–
1934) to address the issue of parks and open-air recreation in Amsterdam during the
1910s. But it ‘was not until 1921 that two events essential to the control of urban growth
occurred’ (Polano 1991: 507). First, a series of changes to the Woningwet Law allowed
city planners to specify land uses rather than simply to design street layouts. Second, the
size of the city of Amsterdam was quadrupled by the annexation of neighbouring
Watergraafsmeer and Sloten. This meant that Berlage’s 1914–15 plan for the southern
extension of the city ‘which incorporated areas, such as the park, that had until then laid
outside the city – was now viable in its entirety’ (ibid).
 Fritz Schumacher, Oberbaudirektor of the City of Hamburg and principal designer of its
Stadtpark (Chapter 20), addressed an international planning congress on urban
development in Amsterdam in July 1924. He advocated landscapes designed to ‘penetrate
the body of the town as a net of open spaces and … establish a connection with outlying
points’ (Chadwick 1966: 256). From then until 1928 various plans were prepared for the
city and for the park, including the Schemaplan Groot Amsterdam drawn up between 1924
and 1926 by Director of Public Works A. W. Bos. That plan was largely derived from
Thijsse and Berlage’s proposals but was never approved. Bos’s proposals for a major park
south of the Nieuwe Meer did, however, prefigure the eventual Boschplan. In November
1928 Amsterdam City Council finally approved the proposal and agreed the extent of the
park. In January 1929, the year the Great Depression began, the Boschcommissie was
established to prepare proposals for the park.
Size and condition of site at time of designation
The designated area comprised 895 hectares of polders – reclaimed land lying below sea
level and protected from flooding by human-made dykes (Balk 1979: 59). The polders
were ‘reclaimed from the sea of Buitendijk, Buitenveld, Rietwijk, Schinkel and Kleine
Noord, including all the old peat lands and catchment areas beside the Nieuwe Meer and
the Poel’ (RIBA Journal 1938: 3). Summer water levels of the polders were 4.6 to 4.7
metres below the level of Amsterdam and 4 metres below sea level. Differences in level of
up to 4.5 metres already existed between dykes, the Burgemeester Colijnweg – running
east–west between Schiphol Airport and Amstelveen across the southern part of the site –
and the polder. The site was subdivided into hundreds of long, thin polders about 50
metres wide. The polders in the northeast of the site were aligned north to south; those
between the Nieuwe Meer and the Burgemeester Colijnweg were aligned west-northwest
to east-southeast, and those to the south of the Burgemeester Colijnweg were largely
aligned north east to southwest (Balk 1979: 29). This fine-grained arrangement of polders
was ‘formed and “de-peated” at different times between 1858 and 1925’ (Berrizbeita
1999: 188–9). The peat was dried as a major source of fuel. Its removal left uneven ridges
and piles of peat at the edges of fields. There was a rich variety of soils in the polders
including marine clay, sand, peat and sandy clay – although clay soils are rare in polders
(Gemeente Amsterdam 2011: 14). The water table in the polders was relatively constant –
which meant that the same water level could be maintained across most of the park. The
height of the water table, however, meant that it had to be lowered to between 1 and 1.5
metres below the surface to facilitate tree growth (Dienst Publieke Werken: 6).
Bosbaan (July 2012)

Key figures in the establishment of the park

The Boschcommissie presented its report of studies in May 1931. Changes that year in the
Woningwet Law facilitated the expropriation of the land for the Bos. Work on the design
was taken over by the Town Planning section of the Amsterdam Public Works Department
where detailed plans were prepared under the direction of Cornelis van Eesteren (1897–
1988). ‘A member of the De Stijl, the flagship of the Dutch avant-garde, van Eesteren
embodied the link between the modern movement in the arts … and urban planning as the
discipline that, ultimately, had to deal with practical issues’ (Wagenaar 2011: 296). The
Utility Works section was responsible for implementation of the scheme. They and the
Town Planning section were advised, in turn, by the Horticulture section. It was ‘a
municipal scheme in all respects’ (RIBA Journal 1938: 5). Van Eesteren and, in particular,
planner / landscape architect Jacopa Mulder (1900–88) were key figures behind the design
strategy.
Van Eesteren, Mulder, Thijsse and other members of the committee travelled variously
to examine English public parks, the Stadtpark in Hamburg, and to Vienna, Budapest and
Munich. The RIBA Journal also noted that van Eesteren was ‘chiefly responsible’ for the
‘landscape planning’; that he was ‘President of the last International Congress of Modern
Architecture (CIAM), and this design can be taken in part as the modernists’ challenge in
this difficult corner of design’ (RIBA Journal 1938: 8). Van Eesteren consulted landscape
architect J. T. P. Bijhouwer (1898–1974) about the plan. Bijhouwer’s slogan ‘back to
nature and native art’ as a basis for a distinctly Dutch approach to landscape design is
redolent of Schumacher and the Bund Deutscher Heimatschutz. Whereas Thijsse
recommended that ‘natural swampland should be left as it was and that additional planting
should be minimal’, others including ‘A. J. van Laren, Curator of the Amsterdam Hortus
Botanicus proposed woodland planting according to phytogeographical principles’
(Woudstra 1997: 164).
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location within city
The Boschplan was ratified in its entirety in 1935 and became the first officially accepted
initiative in the General Expansion Plan for Amsterdam. The Bos, whose northern
entrance is only 6 kilometres from the Central Station, became one of five green fingers
protected from development. It remains a significant place to experience ‘nature’. Its
success inspired creation in the 1970s of two comparable recreation areas – Spaarnwoude
to the west of the city, and the Twiske to the north. Spaarnwoude was designed as a
recreation area and as a buffer between residential areas and the western docks. The
Twiske, in the peat landscape of Waterland, was intended more as an area for the
enjoyment of ‘nature’. In the same way that Spaarnwoude acts as a buffer for the docks,
the Bos has become increasingly significant as a buffer between the ever-expanding
Schiphol Airport and, in particular, Amstelveen to the east. The continued presence of the
airport is used as an argument for protection of the park from demands for development.
Nevertheless, widening in the 2010s of the A9 Autoweg through the Bos and further
intensification of airport operations continue to affect the site.

Bridlepath (July 2012)

Meanwhile, the Bos bolsters above-average property prices in Amstelveen. During the
1990s, land in the northeastern corner of the park was released for (private) expansion of
the Tennis Centre. This was counterbalanced by expansion of the park to the southwest
into the Schinkelpolder. This 40-hectare expansion, the Schinkelbos, was the first stage in
a proposed 70-hectare extension of the park as an ‘ecological corridor’ into Randstad
Holland – a ring of cities, including Amsterdam, Rotterdam, The Hague and Utrecht –
supporting the principle of maintaining a ‘green heart’ at the centre of that ring. These
cities, which are distinct administrative entities, accommodate around six million
inhabitants – 40 per cent of the country’s population. The Randstad Holland concept has
been superseded by Structural Vision: Amsterdam 2040 and proposals are in hand for the
Bos to include around 150 hectares of parkland to the north of Nieuwe Meer.1
Development of the park
Work on the park began in 1934. The first operation involved the levelling of the site into
a single polder and installation of land drains to lower the subsoil water level in
preparation for tree planting. A total length of 300 kilometres of 60-millimetre-diameter
porous pipe was laid at 15 to 25 metre centres across the entire site. The land drainage was
designed to discharge into the artificial watercourses. These are all connected to a
pumping station that discharges into the Ringvaart from the west side of the site. The
extent to which levels had to be manipulated to make the drainage system operate is
reflected in the rapid change of water level at the sluices between the north side of the
Bosbaan (rowing course) at 4.5 metres below sea level and the Nieuwe Meer at 0.6 metres
below – a rise of 3.9 metres. The other watercourses through the site are a metre lower
than the Bosbaan at 5.5 metres below sea level.
Excavation for the Bosbaan also began in 1934 – at the same time as the building of a
covered grandstand, the sluices up to the Nieuwe Meer and the boathouses. The 2,200-
metre-long course was completed to its originally designed width of 72 metres in 1937
and officially opened by Queen Wilhelmina. In 1964 the course was widened to 92 metres
and, in 2001–02, it was widened to 118 metres. Excavate arising from the formation of the
course and from other water bodies in the Bos was moved, largely by manual labour, to
create a 16-metre-high central hill. Planting of the park – on the principle of establishing
substantial areas of woodland composed of native species – began in 1937 and was largely
completed in 1967 with the planting of trees around the hill.
Bosbaan (July 2012)

Original design concept

The Boschplan concluded that the Bos ‘should have a social character intended for passive
and active recreation’ (Woudstra 1997: 164). It also projected ideas about the importance
of nature and recreation (DRO 1994). The RIBA Journal noted that design of the site ‘was
not a problem to be solved merely by the adoption of any of the historical forms of park
design … the student of landscape architecture will perhaps be pleased to find so few
traces of many of the most firmly established features of park design’ (RIBA Journal 1938:
8). Chadwick commented that ‘the functional basis of the Bos is quite evident, and is the
starting point for any consideration of its aesthetic, as well as its social values’ (Chadwick
1966: 306). Equally, Berrizbeita argued that the design lacked ‘concern for the “genius of
the place”’ and that the Bos ‘is the first radical break from a pictorial conceptualization of
landscape’ (Berrizbeita 1999: 192). Polano, however, saw the park as ‘a picturesque
landscape in an urban context’ adapted ‘ingeniously to the sporting and recreational needs
of the people’ (Polano 1991: 508). So, is the Bos the product of a brave new functionalism
that turns its back on the picturesque? Or is it a characteristically Dutch response to a
typically difficult site?
It is worth noting here John Dixon Hunt’s comment that ‘Repton was too attentive to
the current needs and sites of his patrons to perpetuate aesthetics irrelevant to their
situations’ and that his work was ‘Pope’s “consult the genius of the place” rescued and
brought up to date for Repton’s clients’ (Hunt 1992: 140, 152). Equally, the unnamed critic
for the RIBA Journal went on to state that ‘the scale of the meadows and the beautiful use
made of variations in level’ is reminiscent of the work of Repton (RIBA Journal 1938: 8).
This issue provokes a number of thoughts:
• It is extremely challenging for designers to ‘consult the genius of the place’ in an almost
flat, completely human-made site below sea level. The application of phytogeography in
the planting design is, however, a place-based strategy, albeit a long-term, strategy.
• As Hargreaves noted, it seems, looking ‘at the hill as an iconographic element’ that ‘Van
Eesteren and Mulder hardly relinquished control’ and that this is a ‘design-formed
landscape that exposes its operations and harnesses the process of sustainable forestry’
(Hargreaves 2007: 152).
• Or, as Dutch design critic Bart Lootsma put it ‘we have learned to see the landscape not
as a fait accompli, but as the result of countless forces and initiatives’ (Lootsma 1999:
260). And forces that followed the pragmatic beginnings of the Bos have produced
something much more stirring than simply an efficient landscape.
Layout, circulation, spatial structure, landform and planting
The slim, iconic rectangle of the Bosbaan dominates and dissects the northern part of the
park. The preferred east–west alignment of the course cuts across the natural line of
movement towards the Nieuwe Meer. Other active recreation areas, such as the Sport Park
and the Tennis Centre, are also located in the north and east of the park – where they can
be easily accessed and where they can act as a filter for the quieter and less active
recreational areas. The other major feature affecting the layout of the park is the
Burgemeester Colijnweg, running east–west across the site two-thirds of the way down its
length. This has been supplemented by the elevated A9 – Burgemeester Van Sonweg
Autoweg. The roads run side-by-side along the line of the pre-existing dyke between the
Rietwijk polder and the Schinkel polder and, in the same way that the rowing course
defines a bird sanctuary to its north, the highways initially defined a less active area
including sanctuaries and nature reserves to their south. Latterly, the widening of the
Autoweg has been more intrusive; a large rectangular meadow – formerly an emergency
landing strip – has been allocated for major events, particularly loud events; and
southward expansion of Amstelveen has led to heavier use of the southern section of the
Bos.2
The configuration of woodland and meadow in the area between the Bosbaan and the
Autoweg focuses on a central, wavy-edged clearing running in an arc from the northeast
corner of the park via the artificial hill to the Kleine Vijver (small pond). Two intervisible
clearings radiate to the west and to the south of this pond. A subsidiary clearing runs
northwest from the hill to the Grote Vijver (large pond). The circular Speelweide (grassed
play space) and kidney-shaped Groot Kinderbad – children’s pond – are axially aligned to
the southwest of the Grote Vijver. An open-air theatre is located to its west. South of the
Autoweg there are only minor clearings in the forest – other than the water bodies. The
marshy areas bordering the Nieuwe Meer, and the Poel and the Kleine Poel in the
southeast of the park are managed as nature reserves.
The circulation system is designed primarily for pedestrians, cyclists and horse riders –
in that order. This is reflected in the facilities that are provided for each of them. In 2009
the system comprised 137 kilometres of footpaths; 51 kilometres of cyclepaths; 23
kilometres of bridle paths – and only 14 kilometres of roadway. The main entrances for all
users arriving by whatever mode of transport are, quite logically, on the north and east
sides of the park. The roadways and car parks are largely confined to the edges of the
park. The footpaths, cyclepaths and bridle paths are subliminally threaded through the
fabric of the woodlands and ‘clearings’ in such a subtle way that, travelling at the
appropriate speed, the contrasts between them – between enclosure and openness; between
dark and light – can be quite dramatic.
Native forest was always intended to be the characteristic element of the Bos – hence
the devotion of resources to lower the water table. Planting was done into the clay-rich
indigenous soils mixed with peat. Initial planting comprised 95 per cent broadleaf species
and 5 per cent coniferous species. The natural climax vegetation on these soils would be
ash-elm forest but the planting of elm was restricted by the risk of Dutch elm disease. In
the northern part of the Bos, planting was based on the species mix of the northwest
European forest. It comprised 35 per cent oak, 20 per cent beech, 15 per cent ash, 10 per
cent maple and 20 per cent other species, including birch, hornbeam, lime and poplar. In
the southern part some exotic species were also included. In the establishment stages of
the forest, trees were planted at one-metre centres and included fast-growing species such
as alder and poplar to act as a nurse crop to protect the eventually dominant climax
species. After five years the nurse crop was pruned, and then cleared after fifteen years.
Subsequently four annual thinnings were carried out on the other trees and after forty to
fifty years long-term specimens were selected leaving a density of eighty to one-hundred
trees per hectare.
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Managing organization
The Bos is entirely owned and managed by the Amsterdam City Council – even though
less than 20 per cent of the land area lies within the city limits. The majority lies in the
municipalities of Amstelveen, to the east, and Aalsmeer, to the south. It is under the
direction of the Dienst Maatschappelijke Ont wikkeling (DMO) Department of Social
Development of the City Council – although this was due to change in 2014. There is a
permanent on-site staff of around fifty, mostly located in a purpose-built office building
and yard, completed in 2005, in the southwest of the northern section of the Bos. The on-
site organization is responsible for managing and maintaining the Bos and for facilitating
public use of the site. It has three divisions – forestry; visitor information and event
coordination; and strategy and development (Gemeente Amsterdam 2011: 56–7). A Term
Maintenance Plan adopted in 2009 noted that additional resources were needed to
improve the biological condition of water bodies; to repair about 12 per cent of trails; to
renovate play areas; and to ensure the safety of trees. There has been a gradual shift in
focus from being resource-driven to being demand-driven – an understandable evolution
for a now-established forest park.
Funding
The budget for recurrent maintenance in 1999 was equivalent to approximately €5 million
with 77 per cent coming from the City of Amsterdam, 10 per cent from the Sports
Commission – for running the Bosbaan and the Sport Park, and 13 per cent in revenue
from on-site activities and concessions. In 2014 the budget was €6.8 million of which €5.9
million (87 per cent) came from the City of Amsterdam and €0.9 million came in revenue.
Outgoings in 2011 were personnel – €2.7 million (41 per cent); materials including
outsourced maintenance – €1.9 million (28 per cent); and capital costs – €1.7 million (24
per cent) mainly on renovations. Two ongoing issues here are the shortfall in contributions
from the sports bodies using the facilities and, perhaps more critically, contributions from
the municipality of Amstelveen – given that 30 per cent of visitors reside there. The
municipality did, however, make a one-off contribution of €1 million in 2013 and may
agree to regular, smaller contributions.
Usage
Regular visitor surveys are undertaken, including estimates of visitor numbers, their
origins, activities and concerns. Estimates of numbers that would use the park were
prepared as part of the Boschplan. These included a capacity of 74,000; a maximum of
90,000–100,000 visitors in one day with a maximum of 70,000 at any one time. The
calculations also suggested that as many as 50,000 bicycles might be ridden to the park in
a day (RIBA Journal 1938: 7–8). By 1985 average weekday and weekend visits ranged
from 5,000 to 10,000 and from 10,000 to 20,000 per day respectively, depending on the
season. The maximum number of visits per day was estimated to be between 45,000 and
50,000.3
Cycles in the Grote Speelweide (July 2012)

By 1997 it was estimated that 4.5 million visits were made to the park – an increase of
500,000 since 1985. Sixty-five per cent of visitors lived in Amsterdam and 30 per cent in
Amstelveen. Nearly all visitors lived within ten kilometres of the Bos. Sixty per cent of
residents of Amsterdam claimed to use the park an average of seven times per year. Most
visits were for walking, biking and sunbathing, and for most visitors ‘nature’ was an
important reason to go to the Bos.4 Patterns of origin and behaviour have not changed
significantly since 1997 but numbers have continued to rise. In 2010 there were around six
million visits with up to 145,000 on a single day. These numbers are far fewer than the
numbers visiting the Vondelpark – they are different facilities catering to different markets
– but they do show a steady increase with all the attendant implications. Crime levels in
the Bos are negligible and the full-time staff include seven rangers, some of whom are
always on duty.5 In 2013 the four-yearly Groot Groen Onderzoek (Great Green Survey)
gave the Bos an overall rating of 7.9, making it ‘the most appreciated green space in
Amsterdam’.
PLANS FOR THE PARK
City planning
The Structural Vision Amsterdam 2040 ‘is exceptional in the way it does reach out to the
entire region, though obviously it presents the capital city as the main power’ (Wagenaar
2011: 531). It reverted to using wedges of open space as determinants of urban form. The
‘major thrusts’ of the Structural Vision are:
• rolling out the city centre to attract more businesses and visitors;
• interweaving metropolitan landscape and the city – retaining and improving ‘green
 wedges’ including the Bos;
• the rediscovery of the waterfront – promoting the experiential value of the IJ waterway
and IJmeer;
• internationalization of the southern flank – including expansion of Schiphol Airport and
intensification of development in the southeast of the city (www.amsterdam.nl/wonen-
leefomgeving).
In summary, the Vision 2040 will preserve the Bos but promote pressure from the airport
to the west and from new development to the south and east. However, addition of around
150 hectares to the north of the Nieuwe Meer will consolidate the wedge and bring the
Bos closer to the city centre.
Park management
In terms of the Bos itself, the City Council adopted a management plan in 1994 that
retained an overall philosophy of ‘ecological management for recreation and nature
conservation purposes’ but sought to create more differentiation between and within
different vegetation areas (Stedelijk Beheer Amsterdam 1994). That plan identified four
zones and management regimes:
• Recreation Zone – in the centre and to the north and eastern sides, where recreation and
other human activities were given highest priority;
• Nature-Recreation Zone – on the western side, where management was primarily for
‘nature leisure seekers’;
• Nature Zone – beside the Nieuwe Meer, de Poel and the Schinkelbos, where ‘nature’
was favoured over leisure seekers;
• Urban Fringe Zone – on the eastern edge, where human use, again, was important and
woodland was to be managed to create a dense and dramatic contrast with surrounding
built-up areas.
Towards Nieuwe Meer (July 2012)

Measures were introduced to increase the value of the park for nature through:
• transformation management of the forest to achieve a wider age distribution of trees;
• adaptation of water edges by removing hardwoods from canal banks to create more
diverse habitat;
• grazing of meadow areas by Highland cattle in about 100 hectares of the meadows in
order to create ‘roughland’ that could be invaded by a range of non-woody species.
A new Term Maintenance Plan was drawn up in 2009 and a Bosplan 2012–2016 was
approved by the City Council in April 2012. The Bosplan was primarily directed at
catering for social demands whereas previous plans and policies had tended to focus on
protection and development of the forest. This change of emphasis was reflected in the
recasting of management and visitor activities into three zones: Nature Zone – towards the
remoter, wetter edges; Activity Zone – on the east and north, where most of the sports
facilities are located; Rest Zone – for less intensive activities. Other changes of emphasis
included sustainability initiatives (the Bos already played a major role in carbon
sequestration); making better use of sports facilities and promoting more adventurous
recreation; hosting more events; promoting private sponsorship agreements, and –
commendably – promoting permanent art installations. Overall the Bosplan 2012–2016
recognized its role as an urban forest – physically part of the city – ‘close, yet far away’
(Gemeente Amsterdam 2011: 15)
CONCLUSIONS
The Amsterdamse Bos reflects the fact that in much of The Netherlands distinctions
between ‘urban’ and ‘natural’ environment are artificial. Entire landscapes are human-
made. They are engineered with great technical prowess and adapted for human use and
for the establishment of vegetation and wildlife. More than eighty years after its
commencement the Bos remains, even more than most parks, a work in progress – an
evolving product of design by management. It is becoming an increasingly romantic
landscape. It remains a strategic element in plans for expansion and densification of the
city.
The initial planning and design of the Bos established a strong basis from which the
park could evolve. Landform, water levels and water movement across the site were
manipulated with great subtlety. The hill, which by all accounts was a focal point in the
early days of the park, has become less significant as the forest has developed. Latterly,
greater impact has been created by the contrasts between the maturing forest and the large
‘clearings’ that appear to have been carved out of it. The circulation system successfully
confines vehicles to the edges of the park and gives the impression that the park really was
designed for 50,000 cyclists in one day. The layout and engineering of the cycle routes is
perfectly matched by the scale of the spaces that dynamically unfold as you cycle through
the park. The few avenues of trees stand in strong contrast to the increasingly naturalized
forest. They are a reminder of the fact that the park is an entirely human product. And
latterly, recognition of its social roles has returned to the forefront of management
policies. The Bos is a major recreation facility in a forest setting created on entirely
human-made land close to a major urban centre. It was largely created by manual labour
and is largely funded by public money. It is the definitive democratic major city park of
the twentieth century and it remains a remarkable model in the twenty-first century.
NOTES
1 Noted at meeting with Jan-Peter van der Zee, Astrid Kruisheer and Evert Middelbeek at Amsterdamse Bos on 4
July 2012.
2 Noted at meeting with Jan-Peter van der Zee et al. at Amsterdamse Bos on 4 July 2012.
3 From response to questionnaire in August 1987 by J. W. Butterman at Amsterdamse Bos.
4 Based on information provided at meeting with R. L. A. van Oosten at Amsterdamse Bos on 25 June 1999.
5 Figures provided at meeting with Jan-Peter van der Zee et al. at Amsterdamse Bos on 4 July 2012.
30 Minneapolis Park System
(6,744 acres / 2,729 hectares)
INTRODUCTION
It has been argued that Minneapolis has ‘the best located, best designed, best maintained
and best managed [park] system in the United States’ (Garvin 2011: 148). In 2013 the
Trust for Public Land ranked it first among park systems in the fifty largest cities in the
country with a score of 81.0 out of 100 (parkscore.tpl). Nevertheless the Minneapolis
system receives less recognition than the most comparable park network, Boston’s
‘Emerald Necklace’, and its initial designer, H. W. S. (Horace William Shaler) Cleveland
(1814–1900), also receives less recognition than he merits. The system divides into two
principal parts – the ‘Grand Rounds’ and other interconnected parkways, and an extensive
neighbourhood park system providing roughly one park within every six blocks of the
city. The Grand Rounds and parkways, like the Emerald Necklace, is a network of open
spaces that are thoroughly integrated with their physical and social settings. Both are
water-based systems that take advantage of the scenic and recreational value of water
while working with natural landform to facilitate surface drainage.
The Minneapolis parks have the benefit of being run by a directly elected and directly
financed body – the Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board (MPRB) – that is almost
independent of the rest of the city’s government. The Board has the financial benefit of
being able to issue bonds, levy taxes and acquire land. The park system is protected,
respected and projected to continue to grow. By 2013 it comprised 6,744 acres (2,729
hectares) of land and water including 197 park properties, incorporating the 51 miles (82
kilometres) of the Grand Rounds and 55 miles (88 kilometres) of parkways, and fifty
neighbourhood recreation centres – an essential component of the system in a city with
long, cold continental winters – seven golf courses, forty-seven outdoor ice rinks, and 396
multi-purpose sports fields (MPRB 2013: 21). It also included the 11 acre (4.4 hectare)
Minneapolis Sculpture Garden, jointly run with the Walker Art Center. In 1906 the system
comprised fifty-seven properties covering 1,810 acres (732 hectares); in 1936 it comprised
144 properties covering 5,241 acres (2,121 hectares) (Wirth 1945: 8).
HISTORY
Wirth noted that there was ‘no commercial development of any importance’ in the area of
Minneapolis on the arrival of Colonel Leavenworth of the United States Army in 1819 or
when Fort Snelling was established in 1820 (Wirth 1945: 15). When Minneapolis was
incorporated in 1856 it had a population of 1,555. By 1872 it was 21,014 and by 1887 it
was 143,423. With this increase in population came a demand, orchestrated by local
newspapers, for public parks. The Minneapolis Board of Park Commissioners was
founded by the City Council in April 1883. This followed a resolution that January by the
Minneapolis Board of Trade – but not directly following it. While the Board of Trade was
unanimous in its resolution, the City Council sought to retain all its powers over taxation
and expenditure – and has subsequently sought on a number of occasions to regain them.
 It was only after the Minnesota State Legislature overruled the City and authorized a
referendum – which supported the idea by 5,327 to 3,922 votes – that the Board of Park
Commissioners was established (Sachs 2013: 265). It retained that name until becoming
the Park and Recreation Board in 1967 (Smith 2008: 172). Charles M. Loring (1833–
1922), a Maine-born businessman and community benefactor, was the first president of
the Board of Park Commissioners. Indeed it was Loring, as leader of the city’s
Improvement Society, who had invited Cleveland to visit Minneapolis in 1876 to address
that Society. Cleveland’s next return was not until after the establishment of the Park
Commissioners when, in June 1883, he presented his Suggestions for a System of Parks
and Parkways for the City of Minneapolis – the proposals on which the original planning
and design of the system were based. And no other cities in the United States ‘had the
benefit of oversight by a landscape architect so near the beginning of their development’
(Sachs 2013: 263–4).

Canal link from Lake of the Isles to Lake Calhoun (October 2013)

The first resolution of the Board of Trade at its January 1883 meeting was intended to
‘give to Minneapolis not only the finest and most beautiful system of Public Parks and
Boulevards of any city in America’ but also one that will ‘add many millions to the real
estate value of our city’ (from Wirth 1945: 19). The Park Commissioners had the foresight
to agree, at their meeting on 24 April 1883, that Loring should engage Cleveland. And it
was Cleveland who suggested that the Commissioners should ‘lose no time in acquiring
properties far ahead of the time of their actual need’ (ibid: 26). This advice became a
cornerstone of their policies. It is important to bear in mind that the main method, other
than direct purchase, of acquiring land for the parks was by donation from landowners in
exchange for tax deductions and a parkland setting for the development of their retained
land.
It was not until Cleveland’s return to Minneapolis in 1883, then in his late sixties, and
the presentation of his Suggestions, that he began to have a major impact in Minneapolis
and St Paul. Cleveland’s Suggestions was a radical and visionary document. It was
probably inspired by the scope of Haussmann and Alphand’s work in Paris; by Olmsted’s
work on the Emerald Necklace in Boston (1878–95) and by the scale of redevelopment
following the ‘Great Fire’ in Chicago in October 1871 (Tishler 1989: 24). The Suggestions
were very much in tune with the aspirations of the New England-bred flour and lumber
mill owners who had established their businesses in the heart of the city near the St
Anthony Falls on the Mississippi River. Cleveland’s ideas for the parkway system were
endorsed and expanded by a Special Committee on Park Enlargement in March 1891. That
committee, chaired by William W. Folwell (1833–1929), stated that the city did not
possess ‘more than one-third of the park lands she ought now to own or to be in the way of
acquiring’ (Wirth 1945: 114). This kind of private advocacy, public support, political will
and professional endeavour have served Minneapolis well in the process of putting
together its outstanding – and still growing – park system.

Lake of the Isles (October 2013)

Key figures in establishment of the system

Clearly, the key figures in the promotion, establishment and design of the system were
Loring, Folwell and, of course, Cleveland. The other figure who played a major part in
development of the system was Parks Superintendent Theodore Wirth (1863–1949) –
superintendent from 1906 to 1935. As noted, Cleveland receives less recognition than he
merits – ‘it is unforgivable that so little attention has been accorded by the profession to
Cleveland, a completely dedicated early practitioner’ (Newton 1971: 315). Similarly,
Lewis Mumford was ‘one of the few scholars who have ever noticed’ Cleveland’s career
and writings (Sachs 2013: 354).
Born in Lancaster, Massachusetts in 1814, Cleveland was the third son of a merchant
navigator father and an active Unitarian mother with a keen interest in progressive
education. He spent a number of years in Cuba during the 1830s while his father was a
vice consul in Havana (Newton 1971: 309). Cleveland subsequently trained as a surveyor
and spent time with eastern intellectuals with a fascination for the ‘West’ and for ‘Native
Americans’ – a fascination epitomized by publication in 1855 of Henry Wadsworth
Longfellow’s epic poem, The Song of Hiawatha. Cleveland had made his first trips
westward to Illinois in the 1830s, probably as a railroad surveyor (Haglund 1976: 68).
This experience provoked his dislike of the rectilinear pattern of new urban development
in North America. As Neckar put it, he began ‘to sense his first irritation with the sheer
tyranny of this hard-edged organisation of a picturesque paradise’ (Neckar 1995: 72).
During the early 1840s, Cleveland, then in his late twenties, became a ‘scientific
farmer’ near Burlington, New Jersey. He contributed material to Andrew Jackson
Downing’s The Horticulturist (Newton 1971: 309) and, like contemporaries and fellow
farmers Olmsted and Robert Morris Copeland, he turned gradually to ‘landscape
gardening’ (Neckar 1995: 73). In 1854 Cleveland moved to Boston and went into practice
with Copeland, who had been a student of Longfellow’s at Harvard. In 1855 they were
commissioned to design Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Concord, Massachusetts – with
Ralph Waldo Emerson as a member of the Steering Committee. That project led to him
being considered ‘a cemetarian’ (Sachs 2013: 258) – possibly reducing his ability to obtain
other work. Cleveland left Massachusetts in 1867 and was eventually introduced to
Olmsted and Vaux, becoming a field employee on Prospect Park. In 1869 Cleveland
moved to Chicago to work, still with Olmsted and Vaux, on the South Park System
(Haglund 1976: 68). But by 1870 he had parted ways with them and decided to stay in the
Midwest although his ‘early association with Olmsted led to their deep mutual respect and
lasting friendship’ (Tishler 1989: 24).
Loring Park (October 2013)

During the 1870s, Cleveland went into business with civil engineer William French.
Following the ‘Great Fire’, they were appointed for a number of public reconstruction
projects including new boulevards comparable to those being built by Haussmann in Paris.
Cleveland and French also cultivated the latter’s contacts in Minneapolis and St Paul. By
1872 Cleveland had begun ‘urging the authorities of the two cities to be more aware of the
area’s unusually fine natural potentials for a system of public parks’ (Newton 1971: 314).
He gave public lectures in both cities and he and French obtained numerous projects there
in addition to their continuing workload in Chicago (Haglund 1976: 69). Among
Cleveland’s early projects in St Paul was the Oakland Cemetery, ‘a masterpiece of
topographic restraint intended, once again, to let nature’s engineering control the mood of
the landscape’ (Neckar 1995: 83).
Cleveland’s Landscape Architecture as Applied to the Wants of the West was published
in 1873 but the depression that year affected his business and precluded his return to
Minneapolis until an invitation from Loring in 1876. The book ‘stressed the landscape
architect’s role in a region bustling with speculators, railroad construction, booming
frontier towns and yeoman farmers stamping the relentless grid on the virgin prairies’
(Tishler 1989: 24). It was remarkable for the fact that ‘in so early a treatise the aims and
techniques of a new profession could be in such large part analysed and clearly
enunciated’ (Newton 1971: 312). Cleveland described landscape architecture as ‘the art of
arranging land so as to adapt it most conveniently, economically and gracefully, to any of
the varied wants of civilization’ (Cleveland 1873: 5). And he criticized the ‘laying out of
towns’ wherein ‘no regard is paid to the topography of the ground’ and ‘no effort is made
to secure the preservation of natural features which in time might be invaluable as a means
of giving to the place a distinct and unique character’ (ibid: 50). Cleveland identified the
Mississippi as ‘the grand natural feature which gives character to your city’ (Cleveland
1883 in Wirth 1945: 29).
Cleveland’s proposals clearly benefited from the support of Loring as the first President
of the Minneapolis Board of Park Commissioners. Loring took several years away from
his own business to oversee the construction of the first parks – so much so that from 1883
to 1885 Loring appears to have been the de facto Superintendent until appointment in
1884 of William Morse Berry, a construction superintendent for Cleveland on the South
Parks in Chicago (Neckar 1995: 89). In 1886 Cleveland himself moved his office and
family from Chicago to Minneapolis. Working on a design-build basis, he proceeded
swiftly with the creation of the parks. So swiftly that in 1886 the Board, possibly feeling
insecure about its work, invited Olmsted to visit Minneapolis and review its achievements.
Olmsted appears not to have made any adverse comments but did observe that the system
did not include ‘an individual large park’ (Neckar 1995: 90) – an interesting counterpoint
to Cleveland’s opinion, from 1869, that ‘Boston did not need a central park but should
instead have a system of improvements over the surrounding country’ (Zaitzevsky 1982:
35). Olmsted’s views notwithstanding, the momentum developed by the team of Loring,
Cleveland and Berry provided a firm basis for establishment of the park system.
Minneapolis Park System
1 Shingle Creek
2 Mississippi River
3 Webber Park
4 Memorial Parkway
5 St Anthony Parkway
6 Columbia Park
7 Theodore Wirth Park
8 Boom Island Park
9 Bryn Mawr Meadows
10 Cedar Lake Trail
11 Sculpture Garden
12 Loring Park
13 Peavey Plaza
14 Downtown Minneapolis
15 St Anthony Falls
16 Mill Ruins Park
17 Cedar Lake
18 Lake of the Isles
19 Lake Calhoun
20 Lake Harriet
21 Minnehaha Creek
22 Lake Hiawatha
23 Lake Nokomis
24 Minnehaha Park

Cleveland also benefited from the support of Folwell, who, as first President of the
University of Minnesota (from 1869 to 1884) had already commissioned Cleveland to
design the ‘nascent campus’ (Smith 2013: 9). Folwell was a Park Commissioner from
1889 to 1907, including eight years as President. He was ‘its visionary’ and author of the
title ‘Grand Rounds’ – a system that subsequent commissioners and superintendents
continue to strive towards, and it was he who noted in the Annual Report for 1898 that, in
hiring Cleveland it had been ‘the great good fortune of Minneapolis to secure the services
of one of the masters of American park designing’ (ibid: 47, 49, 71). Cleveland continued
to work on the parks until about five years before his death, aged 85, in December 1900.
But the full realization of his ideas and the consolidation of the system were very much
the work of Theodore Wirth.
Wirth oversaw the addition of a number of major new components of the system
including the extension of Glenwood Park (renamed Theodore Wirth Park in 1938) and
the Victory Memorial Parkway and Camden (now Webber) Park where Shingle Creek
joins the Mississippi. Wirth’s additions continued the Grand Rounds northward from
Cedar Lake and back to the Mississippi River, north of downtown Minneapolis. He noted
that ‘95 per cent of our park lake areas are located in the south half of the city – and 80 per
cent in the south west quarter’ (Wirth 1945: 79). Wirth also promoted conversion of sites
to parkland, the provision of playgrounds, and extensive horticultural planting. Other
superintendents who sponsored significant additions were Robert Ruhe (Superintendent
1966–78) and David L. Fisher (Superintendent 1981–99). Ruhe expanded the recreation
dimension of Parks and Recreation, developing thirty-seven recreation centres and
fourteen new parks (ibid: 175). The more collaborative Fisher worked with the Walker Art
Center to create the Sculpture Garden (opened in 1988) and sponsored recognition in 1998
of the Grand Rounds as a National Scenic Byway (ibid: 218).
PLANNING AND DESIGN
In his Suggestions Cleveland urged the ‘securing of the areas that are needed’ for the parks
‘before they become so occupied or acquire such value as to place them beyond reach’
(Cleveland 1883 in Wirth 1945: 28). He went on to suggest that the Board of Park
Commissioners ‘look forward for a century, to the time when the city has a population of a
million, and think what will be their wants. They will have wealth enough to purchase
everything that money can buy, but all their wealth cannot purchase a lost opportunity’
(ibid: 29). He may have developed this idea from his work on the South Park System in
Chicago where land was acquired and the park and boulevard system was planned beyond
that city’s then developed area (Cranz 1982: 30). Cleveland’s proposals for boulevards,
which he saw as barriers to the spread of fire, were also probably influenced by his
knowledge of Haussmann’s work in Paris and by his own time in Chicago.
Cleveland advocated a master plan for the entire park system. He proposed that ‘a broad
avenue be laid out on each side of the river’ and that this should be linked to the
Minnehaha Falls to the south and that a system of contiguous lakefront parks and
parkways should be created, incorporating many of the abundant existing water bodies
along Minnehaha Creek (Cleveland 1883 in Wirth 1945: 30). These included Lake Amelia
(now Lake Nokomis), Rice Lake (now Lake Hiawatha), Lake Harriet, Lake Calhoun and,
further north, Lake of the Isles and Cedar Lake. Its ‘scope is astounding … Cleveland’s
system clearly grew with the city’ (Sachs 2013: 264). This was the nucleus of the system
to which Wirth secured the addition of the northern Parkways in 1921 and final acquisition
of all of Minnehaha Creek in 1930. He then directed his planning and negotiation skills to
the northeastern sections of the system – an area that remains the subject of the ‘missing
link’ – and on adding riverfront and downtown links to the Grand Rounds – another
ongoing endeavour.
Cleveland also proposed the small Central Park (now called Loring Park) close to
downtown Minneapolis and a larger ‘Driving Park’ on the east bank of the river to the
north of the city – never built but not far from the later Columbia Park. He proposed that
these parks should be linked to one another and to the lakes by a system of boulevards
following the gridiron road pattern. He expressed a preference for ‘an extended system of
boulevards, or ornamental avenues, rather than a series of detached open areas or public
squares’ (Cleveland 1883 in Wirth 1945: 29). Cleveland described his proposed system as
comprising ‘more than 20 miles of parkways completely encircling the central portions of
the city’. More than three-quarters of his system was within two miles of the downtown
and none of it was more than four miles away – ‘the total amount of all the parks designed
is less than one thousand acres’ (ibid: 32).
Minnehaha Falls (October 2013)
Irene Hixon Whitney Bridge between Sculpture Garden and Loring Park (October 2013)

This may not sound like a particularly ambitious set of proposals – until you remember
that the population of Minneapolis in 1880 was less than 50,000 and that Cleveland was
calling for the acquisition of land that was at that time well outside the developed area of
Minneapolis. Its population has, in fact, never reached a million – in 2010 it was 382,578
– although nearly 3.5 million people now live in the Minneapolis-St Paul metropolitan
area (www.census.gov). Cleveland proposed significant works in the parks and parkways
in the initial system. Each of these elements retains a strongly individual character derived
from its natural attributes, from its location, from the works that have been done to it, and
from the way that the system has been managed. Most of the water bodies are fringed with
parkways laid out on the principle of the least intrusive activity being closest to the
amenity. This principle produces an arrangement which typically comprises – water –
marginal vegetation – sitting area – 8 foot (2.4 metre) wide walking / jogging path – 1 foot
(300 millimetre) wide buffer – 8 feet (2.4 metre) wide bike / skating path – buffer and 16
feet (4.8 metre) wide parkway (with or without 8 feet-wide [2.4 metre] parking bays).
Principal individual properties include Minnehaha Park, the Chain of Lakes, Theodore
Wirth Park and Loring Park with its links to downtown Minneapolis. Minnehaha Park
focused on the 53-foot (16 metre) Minnehaha Falls on the Minnehaha Creek which runs
from Lake Minnetonka, 22 miles (35 kilometres) to the west, into the nearby Mississippi
River. The Falls were celebrated by Longfellow in his Song of Hiawatha, although he
never visited them himself.1 They plunge into an impressive – but unstable – bowl at the
head of a wooded ravine. As they have eroded the ravine, they have exposed the layers of
sedimentary rock that underlie the rest of the city. Extensive work in the 1990s
rejuvenated facilities in the park and redirected pedestrian circulation to reduce its impact.
 Lake Harriet, Lake Calhoun, Lake of the Isles and Cedar Lake – collectively known as
the Chain of Lakes – lie on the previous line of the Mississippi River before it diverted to
its current course some 25,000 years ago. They have a largely built-up watershed of about
7,000 acres (2,835 hectares). They were the most substantial part of Cleveland’s proposals
and remain a significant part of the park system. The parkways with their biking / skating
and walking / jogging tracks winding between housing areas and the lakes is an abiding
image from Minneapolis – although each of these lakes is distinctive in its character and
usage. Between 1911 and 1925, 1.4 million cubic yards of material was dredged from
Lake Calhoun and used, among other things, to create its beaches (Wirth 1945: 84). Lake
Harriet is 7 feet (2.1 metres) lower than Lake Calhoun and has never been linked to it
(Hagen 1989: 23).2 This is supposed to have maintained the purity of Lake Harriet’s
waters and, together with the fact that the horse drawn trolley line was extended here in
1880, to have made it a popular picnic destination even by the time that Cleveland
prepared his Suggestions.
Lake of the Isles was the first major lake in the city to be reshaped by dredging and
filling. Before the works commenced in 1889 it had comprised 100 acres (40 hectares) of
water, 67 acres (27 hectares) of marsh and four islands. About half a million cubic yards
of material was removed, leaving a lake with 120 acres (49 hectares) of water, no marshes
and only two islands. These works created a groomed landscape that became a focus for
real estate development.3 Renaturalization works were undertaken in the late 1990s in
order to accommodate naturally fluctuating water levels – but the Lakes defy human
attempts to control completely their natural instincts.
Cedar Lake (190 acres / 77 hectares) is the only one of the city’s major lakes that is not
entirely surrounded by public land. Development between 1991 and 1997 of the link from
Cedar Lake westward to the suburb of St Louis Park and eastward to the Mississippi
riverfront along the Cedar Lake Trail has created a significant addition to the park system
(Harnik 2010: 100). This was a remarkable example of public / private partnership in the
acquisition and restoration of derelict land as a public park. The total area of the trail and
associated parkland is 48 acres (19 hectares). Much of the land had been rail yards and,
unlike many such trails, an active single track continues to carry freight trains between the
Twin Cities, the coalfields of the Dakotas and the Pacific ports of Portland and Seattle.
The MPRB did not have the funds to acquire and restore the land and did not regard the
project as one of its higher priorities. But neither did they wish to discourage a
determined, articulate and imaginative group of citizens who drove the project. Its
realization – in six years–was relatively rapid and testimony to collaboration between
determined citizens, a supportive corporation and an openminded public administration.
Peavey Plaza (September 2006)

Spoonbridge and Cherry by Claes Oldenberg and Coosje van Bruggen, Minneapolis Sculpture Garden (October 2013)

The 743-acre (300-hectare) Theodore Wirth Park is the largest individual property in
the system and, unsurprisingly, its most diverse. Its varied terrain, including steep slopes,
forms part of a golf course in summer and provides downhill ski and sledding venues in
winter. The park also contains a series of small lakes that form part of the Chain of Lakes.
Unlike the lakes and associated parks and parkways in most of the rest of the Grand
Rounds, Theodore Wirth Park is not a small-scale integral part of adjacent residential
areas. It is a relatively large urban park with relatively standard urban park facilities and
with the relatively familiar problems of highways and railways dissecting it. It is,
however, exceptionally well maintained and makes an important contribution to the
robustness of the park system in providing year-round outdoor facilities and landscape
types which are not found in other parts of the system.
Apart from breaks created by highways and railways, there are more or less direct links
from Theodore Wirth Park via Bryn Mawr Meadows, the Parade and Minneapolis
Sculpture Garden, and from Cedar Lake along the Cedar Lake Trail to Loring Park. The
36-acre (15-hectare) park was one of the first parts of the system to be designed by
Cleveland. Works commenced in November 1883 under the name Central Park and under
the direction of Loring – for whom it was renamed in 1890. By all accounts it was
originally designed as an ornamental park incorporating an artificial lake in a figure-of-
eight layout, a large central floral display area, gentle landform sloping towards the lake,
and a series of sinuous and circuitous paths. This approach was only modified once the
earthworks had begun, in order to include an island as a focus for the planting of native or
‘wild’ shrubs (Neckar 1995: 90). The park also included a central shelter – a small cottage
– built in 1889 and a recreation pavilion built in 1906.
In common with parks of its age, Loring Park suffered a barrage of additions and
amendments over time. It was severely disrupted in the 1960s by the construction of
Interstate Highway 94 along its western edge – an edge that had taken the Board a number
of years to purchase in small lots. This eventually led to installation of the iconic pastel-
painted, poetically inscribed steel Whitney Bridge (over the I-94) between the park and
the Sculpture Garden, designed by Siah Armajani (b. 1939). Loring Park itself was
(somewhat clunkily) remodelled in the 1990s to a design by landscape architect Diana
Balmori (b. 1932). The lake subsequently suffered from rampant growth of peripheral
reeds. Loring Greenway, the connection between the park and downtown, was designed in
the 1970s by landscape architect M. Paul Friedberg (b. 1931). It links with Friedberg’s far
more controversial Peavey Plaza – added in January 2013 to the National Register of
Historic Places after a long-running and acrimonious dispute (www.startribune.com). The
Plaza sits at the southwest end of Nicollet Mall. The City appointed James Corner Field
Operations in December 2013 to redesign the Mall. It leads almost directly to the
Warehouse District of the city and former industrial sites adjacent to the Mississippi River.
Border and pergola, Minneapolis Sculpture Garden (October 2013)

The park system is integrated both with residential and downtown areas but still serves
as a highly accessible everyday adjunct to inner suburban areas. It is primarily a resource-
based system with a predominantly linear form and a profusion of largely naturally
occurring, water bodies. Cleveland’s designs were based on ‘the conviction that it is the
original design and arrangement which confers upon any place its intrinsic expression of
character’ (in Newton 1971: 312). This conviction was allied to his disdain for grid iron
urban layouts; an appreciation of the real estate value of urban parks and parkways, and
recognition of the visual and recreational value of the water bodies in the region.
Cleveland’s abiding intention was that he ‘would have the City itself such a work of art as
may be the fitting abode of a race of men and women whose lives are devoted to a nobler
end than money-getting and whose efforts shall be inspired and sustained by the grandeur
and beauty of the scenes in which their lives are passed’ (in Neckar 1995: 93).
MANAGEMENT AND USAGE
Acclaim for the MPRB can be attributed to three principal factors – first, that its members
are directly elected rather than appointed; second, that its capital budget is largely derived
from dedicated property taxes; and third, that the Board maintains a strong policy of
engaging local residents in the planning process for its projects. The Board consists of
nine members who are elected for staggered four-year terms. Six are elected by district
and the other three are elected by the city as a whole. The Board, rather than the City,
owns the land and controls, maintains, polices and establishes the budget for the park
system. Indeed, other than the electorate, there are only two significant controls on the
normal activities of the Board – the Mayor who, since 1975, has been empowered to veto
its actions on issues where the Board does not have a two-thirds majority; and the State of
Minnesota, which provides 10 to 15 per cent of the Board’s revenues. The remainder
comes from fees, fines and other charges.
 The property tax directed to the MRPB in the budget for 2014 was $48,616,000 out of a
total city levy of $281,725,000 (17.3 per cent). Property taxes provided 72.1 per cent of
the Board’s funds for 2014; 13.6 per cent came from Local Government Aid, and 14.3 per
cent came from fees, fines and other charges, making a total of $66,051,956. For 2014
Minneapolis tax payers also voted for a $1,011,000 levy for tree protection and
reforestation – compared with expenditure of $6.1 million in 1998 when Dutch elm
disease was at its most virulent. The overall budget figure is for recurrent costs excluding
new project initiatives. Open space maintenance is based on the principle of the City
maintaining black surfaces, including roads, cycleways and pathways, and the MRPB
maintaining green surfaces, including street trees. The proposed allocation of the MRPB
budget for 2014 was: wages and fringe costs – $44,515,674; operating costs –
$18,015,931; and capital costs (on existing properties) – $3,510,351.
Usage
The Metropolitan Council was established in 1967 with strategic authority for concerted
planning and management of transport and infrastructure in the Minneapolis-St Paul
metropolitan area. It also oversees the ‘Regional Parks System’ comprising 59,000 acres
(23,800 hectares) of parks and 300 miles (480 kilometres) of trails operated by ten ‘partner
agencies’ – of which MPRB is the largest (www.metrocouncil.org). The Council conducts
annual surveys of park usage. The figures for 2012 showed a total of 15.22 million visits
to MPRB parks, including 5.36 million visits to the Chain of Lakes, the largest ‘park’ in
the system, from an overall figure of 45.8 million visits to the system – an increase of 4
per cent from 2011.
PLANS FOR THE SYSTEM
The Minneapolis Park Foundation, an independent non-profit organization was established
in 2004 with a mandate to ‘improve and sustain a legacy of world-class parks’
(www.mplsparksfoundation.org). From 2004 to 2008 the Foundation concentrated on
fund-raising for neighbourhood park improvements. Latterly it has become involved in
more strategic projects such as the Minneapolis Riverfront Development Initiative
(MRDI), promoting the creation of new parks in the Upper Riverfront north of downtown.
It sponsored a design competition in 2010–11 that led to selection of Tom Leader Studio
and team’s RiverFIRST proposals for renaturalizing the river and bringing people back to
it – essentially reviving (that part of) it as ‘the grand natural feature which gives character
to your city’.
This is a continuation and extension northward of riverfront / downtown projects that
have included the West River Parkway and Boom Island Park, both opened in 1987;
extension of the Sculpture Garden, designed by Michael Van Valkenburgh (b. 1951),
opened in 1992; pedestrianization of the – former railroad – Stone Arch Bridge, opened in
1993; the adjacent Mill Ruins Park, opened in 2001; and Water Power Park and the
privately funded Gold Medal Park, both opened in 2007. These projects reflect the demise
of traditional river-based industries and the continued rise since 1990 in the population of
Minneapolis as a whole and the downtown in particular (www.census.org). This is echoed
in the aim of Minneapolis Downtown Council’s 2025 Plan to attract 70,000 new
downtown residents (www.downtownmpls.com). Another ongoing strategic aim is
MPRB’s intention to complete the Grand Rounds – providing the ‘missing link’ between
the University of Minnesota and the Gross Golf Course in the northeast of the city (MPRB
2008). This exercise reflects a continuation of Cleveland’s view of parks as catalysts for
creating land value and as a structuring system for the city. It will also contribute to the
even distribution of park resources.
CONCLUSIONS
The Minneapolis park system remains a work in progress. Its robustness and effectiveness
cannot be attributed to any single factor. It is the product of city elders with the foresight
to establish an independent Board of Park Commissioners and to engage, trust, accept and
act on the proposals of H. W. S. Cleveland. Since its inception the Board has had the
fortune and fortitude to protect its finances from other city agencies. It has maintained a
strong sense of partnership with its employees and the citizens it serves, regularly working
with them on new proposals. Folwell’s assertion in the Annual Report of the Board’s
Annual Report for 1898 that ‘it was the great good fortune of Minneapolis to secure the
services of one of the masters of American park design’ remains valid. One hundred years
later, the Report for 1998 recorded that the Grand Rounds had been designated by the
Federal Highway Commission as a National Scenic Byway – the nation’s first totally
urban scenic byway. The next accolade should be its inclusion on the National Register of
Historic Places. The remarkable legacy of Cleveland, his visionary clients and
collaborators and their successors is an exceptional park system that continues to perform
an invaluable role as an integral and still growing part of the physical structure and daily
life of the city.
NOTES
1 The Song addressed ‘Ye who loved the haunts of Nature, Love the Sunshine of the meadow, Love the shadow of the
forest, Love the wind among the branches …’.
2 The levels of Lake Calhoun and Lake of the Isles were lowered in 1905 and they were connected by a canal opened
in July 1911. The water link between Cedar Lake and Lake of the Isles was completed in 1913, lowering the level of
Cedar Lake by about 5 feet.
3 Wirth 1945: 28 recorded Cleveland’s comment that ‘in the ten years succeeding the commencement of work on
Central Park in New York, the increased valuation of taxable property in the wards immediately surrounding it was no
less than $54,000,000, affording a surplus … sufficient to pay for the entire cost of the park in less time than was
required for its construction’.
Reflections
These reflections are set out in the same order as the chapters on the individual parks. This
allows an overview of their history, the principal figures responsible for their design and
establishment, the planning and design of the parks, people responsible for their
development, the organizations responsible for their current management, current sources
of funding, usage levels, crime levels, and plans for their futures.
HISTORY
Reasons for designation
Public parks were first created in response to demand for the use of royal parks. Hyde
Park in London is said to have been opened by King Charles I (reigned 1625–49) in about
1635, and King Charles II (reigned 1660–85) ‘seems to have’ opened St James’s Park to
the public at the Restoration in 1660. By 1818 Lenné had been instructed to redesign the
Tiergarten in Berlin for public use. This demand for parks was also reflected in the
writings of Christian Cay Lorenz Hirschfeld (1742–92), who wrote about them as ‘places
of recreation and moral improvement for all social classes’ (Schmidt 1981: 83). This kind
of romantic paternalism was intertwined with concern about civil unrest in Europe
following uprisings in 1830 and in 1848. It was also reflected in formation in Britain of
the Select Committee on Public Walks, reporting in 1833. It seems also to have influenced
Napoléon III’s plans for Paris, including redesign of royal hunting grounds for public use
and provision of new parks such as Buttes-Chaumont. Napoléon’s agenda also included
the display of French techno logical progress through a series of Expositions comparable
to Britain’s Great Exhibition of 1851.
European models had a strong influence on park development in the United States.
There was a similar strain of romantic paternalism underlying the designation of parks,
first in New York – promoted primarily by Andrew Jackson Downing and associates,
particularly with respect to their health benefits and ‘civilizing influences’ – and
subsequently in burgeoning cities across the country. It became apparent that park
developments prompted a rise in the value of adjacent real estate – a principle that
underlay the earlier development of both Regent’s Park and Birkenhead Park – thereby
providing further motivation for the creation of American Pastoral ‘Pleasure Grounds’.
They also became fashionable instruments of civic and national pride in the United States,
providing settings for events such as the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago in
1893, the California Mid-winter Exposition in Golden Gate Park in 1894 and the
Louisiana Purchase Exposition and Olympic Games in Forest Park in 1904.
In the twentieth century, in Europe and in North America, their purpose changed from
being predominantly places of genteel leisure to being places of active recreation. The
predominant physical form of parks such as the Hamburg Stadtpark, the Parque María
Luisa and Grant Park evolved from the picturesque pastoral model espoused by Downing,
Olmsted, Vaux et al., to adopting a distinctly rectilinear geometry. Parque María Luisa was
designed as the centrepiece for the Ibero-American Exposition that eventually took place
in 1929. Other pre-World War II projects addressed in the study include Bryant Park,
redesigned in 1934 under a make-work competition, and the Amsterdamse Bos
(designated in 1929), also created as a make-work project. Post-World War II parks
included some that were a result of personal philanthropy, particularly Paley Park (opened
in 1967); many that were created on former industrial sites, particularly the
Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord, including some that were created or redesigned as
catalysts for adjacent real estate developments such as Parc de Bercy and Parc André-
Citroën in Paris, and Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park in London, site of the 2012 Summer
Olympic Games. The re-use of damaged sites, such as the Westergasfabriek in
Amsterdam, and industrial remnants, such as the High Line, and the taking of
opportunities to create what are, in effect, roof gardens – such as Village of Yorkville
Park, Freeway Park, Bryant Park, and the northern sections of Grant Park – are becoming
increasingly common.
Just as common is their operation as centres of cultural activity – particularly Parc de la
Villette, Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord and Westergasfabriek. And many have become
(not always welcome) targets of the tourist industry – such as Park Güell, the High Line,
Central Park (primarily the southern end), the Tiergarten (primarily the eastern end), and
Stanley Park, Vancouver – now formally defined a ‘destination park’. Nevertheless, two of
the original justifications for large urban parks – improvement of mental and physical
health (promoted by Olmsted and upheld by the Rachel and Stephen Kaplan 1989 and
many others) and impact on real estate values (again, promoted by Olmsted and upheld by
Crompton 2007) – have retained their currency. They also remain available as refugee
sites – such as Golden Gate Park after the earthquake in 1906 and the Stadtpark after
World War II. And, as we have seen, they have been supplemented by growing demand to
convert de spoiled land and other relics of a profligate past into sites of recreational and
ecological value.
Condition of site at time of designation
Sutton noted that land allocated for urban parks has often been ‘some site undesirable for
commercial or residential buildings, and in no way integral to established patterns of city
life’ and that ‘officials adopted simplistic notions of a park, separating it in their minds
from the activities of the city’ (Sutton 1971: 11). This was particularly true of Central Park
– which was a major exercise in landscape fabrication, and a number of other parks
examined in this study. Many of the former royal parks, including St James’s Park and the
Tiergarten, suffered from drainage and/or geological conditions that precluded built
development. So did Birkenhead Park and the Luisenpark. Grant Park was created by
dumping waste, particularly from the ‘Great Fire’ of 1871, into Lake Michigan; the Parc
des Buttes-Chaumont was a gypsum quarry and then a knackers’ yard and garbage dump,
and Regent’s Park accommodated building rubble during World War II.
The Emscher River running through the Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord was so
polluted when the park was designated that it had to be diverted through an underground
conduit, and a clean surface water drainage stream now runs above it. Similarly, the
sewage-prone des Peres River now runs through Forest Park in a conduit while an open-
air simulacrum snakes along its former line. George Hargreaves, principal designer of the
Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park, noted that ‘parks in this century … almost to a project …
are located on distressed sites – abandoned, polluted, neglected, or all three … often flat,
devoid of any significant vegetation or other natural features, yet close to city centers’ (in
Landscape Architecture September 2009: 60, 62). Nevertheless, we live in an era that
fetishizes decaying relics and in which many people regard the conversion of places such
as the Landschaftspark, Parc de Bercy and the High Line into active public parks as
lamentable losses of something authentic. One of lessons from all of this is the wisdom of
Cleveland’s observations about ‘securing of the areas that are needed’ for the parks ‘before
they become so occupied or acquire such value as to place them beyond reach’ (Cleveland
1883 in Wirth 1945: 28).
Key figures in establishment of park
The history of city parks could be written as a history of largely altruistic advocacy for
little or no personal return. One or two advocates have stood to benefit from adjacent real
estate developments (or, in the case of Stanley Park, from keeping the site off the market)
but, by and large, advocates from Hirschfeld to the High Line, have been leading
contributors to a significant movement. Names that stand out include William Jackson at
Birkenhead; Downing, Bryant and Olmsted at Central Park; James Stranahan at Prospect
Park; Montgomery Ward refusing to let the site of Grant Park be taken over by buildings;
William S. Paley, who liked the idea of pocket parks so much that he paid for the
eponymous Paley Park; James Ellis, for whom Freeway Park is now named; Budd
Sugarman who badgered Toronto City Council to make good on their promise to build the
Village of Yorkville Park; and Joshua David and Robert Hammond at the High Line.
Some identifiable political figures have also made significant contributions. Paris, in
particular had, first, Napoléon III and his relentless agent Georges-Eugène Haussmann
producing an entire system of parks and open spaces. Then, towards the end of the
twentieth century, political adversaries Francois Mitterand – promoter of Parc de la
Villette – and Jacques Chirac – promoter of Parc André-Citroën and Parc de Bercy, vied to
produce the definitive Parisian park for the twenty-first century. Equally, Mayor Richard
M. Daley was a determined advocate for the addition of Millennium Park to Chicago’s
Grant Park. And Prime Minister Tony Blair, more readily remembered for his reckless
foreign policy, combined early in the twenty-first century with the first Mayor of (Greater)
London, Ken Livingstone, to bring the Summer Olympic Games to London and new life
to the Lower Lea Valley. Latterly, ‘cultural entrepreneurs’ Ton and Marya Meijer became
involved with the Westergasfabriek pointing, along with figures such as Daniel Biederman
at Bryant Park, to a new type of park advocacy and management.
Key figures in design of the park
The parks examined in this study are, by and large, the product of talented landscape
architects working with intelligent and highly supportive clients in accordance with a
well-developed brief. The brief for the Village of Yorkville Park, for instance, was a clear
and comprehensive document that contributed to the convincing winning design. And it is
worth noting that, in much the same way that persistence was a pre-requisite for
designation of the parks, continuity was critical for design integrity in their realization.
This was particularly evident at Prospect Park (which remains a more unified design than
Central Park), in Cleveland’s work in Minneapolis, in the Hamburg Stadtpark, in the
Luisenpark (where Horst Wagenfeld, author of the redesign for the 1975
Bundesgartenschau was still advising the managers in the 2010s) and latterly at the
Landschaftspark and Westergasfabriek, where the Latzs and Kathryn Gustafson,
respectively, maintained an overview long after construction was completed.
PLANNING AND DESIGN
Location
Parks are creatures of their surroundings and have symbiotic relationships with their
settings. They are inevitably an integral part of the city in which they are set – and yet they
can also be set apart from it – caught between being escapes from the city and extensions
to it. Central Park, for example, described by its Administrator Doug Blonsky as ‘a scenic
retreat from city life’ (in Blauner 2012: 213) was conceived as a complete contrast to the
surrounding city, whereas one of the principles that drove the design of the High Line was
the presentation of views outward to the surrounding city and the nearby Hudson River.
Although both parks have mutually beneficial relationships with their surroundings, there
is credible support for Jane Jacobs’s observation that ‘far from uplifting their
neighbourhoods, parks themselves are directly and drastically affected by the way the
neighbourhood acts upon them’ (Jacobs 1961: 95). Crompton, for instance, noted the
negative impact on the value of adjacent property from what he called ‘proximity to a
highly developed park with nuisance factors’ (Crompton 2000: 15). This effect was
illustrated by Bryant Park before its renovation and by Freeway Park before the demise of
a nearby hotel catering to displaced persons. It is also worth noting that – despite Bernard
Tschumi’s apparent disdain for the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont as an outdated hortus
conclusus – both that park and the nearby but distinctly different Parc de la Villette attract
massive influxes of visitors on warm summer evenings and weekends. Not because of
their designs but simply because of the dire shortage of available outdoor space in that part
of Paris.
Shape and natural landform of site
Crompton, in addressing the premise that parks have a positive impact on adjacent
property values, noted that ‘a determining factor of the magnitude of a park’s impact on
the property tax base is the extent of the park’s circumference or edge’ (ibid: 11). A similar
principle applies to maximizing ecotones in designs for wildlife. In terms of real estate, it
is demonstrated by Central Park, Golden Gate Park and the Vondelpark – each of which is
relatively long and relatively narrow, and each of which was designed as a focus for real
estate development. By contrast the roughly circular form of Regent’s Park – also the
focus of property development – has the least possible edge for the enclosed area. This is
perhaps because it was originally fenced-in as a deer park and a circle would require the
least amount of fencing. Other parks in North America, particularly the larger ones, were
defined by land plats and highway grids. Elsewhere, except in the specific case of
Prospect Park, they were generally determined by availability and lack of suitability for
building construction rather than by preferred shape or landform. As with site condition,
park designers often have to work with the leftover pieces of land.
Design concepts
Designs for nineteenth-century ‘Pleasure Grounds’ were strongly influenced by the
pastoral / picturesque precedents established by Repton / Nash and Paxton, Lenné,
Olmsted / Vaux, Cleveland, and Alphand. These designs were generally based on the
principle of excluding the surrounding city as far as possible and creating balanced
compositions of water, pasture and woodland, all arranged to provide sweeping views of
apparently natural scenery. Golden Gate Park and Forest Park were even larger versions of
this model; the Vondelpark was a smaller version. In the early twentieth century, parks
such as Hamburg’s Stadt park continued to comprise these three elements – albeit in
strictly geometric layouts. Similarly, the Amsterdamse Bos, designed in the 1930s, is
composed of water, pasture and woodland in a distinctly Dutch model. These elements
figure less in Grant Park – which, with its collection of Beaux-Arts ‘rooms’ – is a
permeable interface between Chicago and Lake Michigan. Similarly, Parque María Luisa,
with its grid of shaded glorietas, is prescient of later Parisian examples such as the serial
gardens at Parc André-Citroën or the parterres at Parc de Bercy.
One of the strongest points about the design of most of the parks in this study is the
extent to which they are a direct response to their context. They reflect an approach based
on comprehension, interpretation and expression of their unique and intrinsic natural and
cultural characteristics – what Greenbie described as thinking ‘first of what is there, rather
than what one can put there’ (Greenbie 1986: 56). Paxton ‘walked at least thirty miles’ at
Birkenhead to make himself ‘master the locality’ (Colquhoun 2006: 14), and Olmsted was
introduced by Vaux into the competition for Central Park because of his intimate
knowledge of the site. Provost commented in his approach to individual sites he sought to
‘distinguish between two types of site: those that have a body, have marrow, have a soul, a
certain character, in which case it’s better to be moderate, and those which have no special
interest and where strong intervention is a virtue and not a fault for me – hence my own
interventionism’ (Provost 2002: 208). Equally, the Latzs’ design for the Landschaftspark
‘was so pragmatic, Latz recalls, that during the workshop phase on site Lassus would look
over the shoulders of Latz’s co-workers and tease: “But you aren’t doing anything”’
(Diedrich 1999: 69).
Spatial structure, circulation systems and planting
It can be argued that there are only two generic types of layout for city parks – rectilinear,
whether gridded or axial, and the romantic / pastoral. The rectilinear layouts are often
building architect inspired – such as the Schumacher-led Hamburg Stadtpark, the
prototypical Volkspark, or the gridded Parc de Bercy or Parc de la Villette in Paris.
Equally, many Provost-designed parks – including Parc André-Citroën – are ‘directional
landscapes’, adapted to the surrounding urban grain. The romantic / pastoral type –
derived from the Repton / Nash prototypes at St James’s and Regent’s Parks in London
and picked up by Paxton at Birkenhead – became one source of inspiration for Olmsted /
Vaux. This is also reflected in examples such as Lenné’s redesign for the Tiergarten or the
layout of the Luisenpark for the 1975 Bundesgartenschau, with a figure-of-eight circuit
around a lake comparable to the layout of St James’s Park. In these examples, and in the
Vondelpark, the designs create an illusion of greater space by concealing the ends of water
bodies and giving them a riverine appearance.
Hunt argued that the ‘picturesque was above all about movement, movement through a
landscape, and the movement of the mind’ (Hunt 2013: 13). This is demonstrated in the
carriage routes around Birkenhead, Central and Prospect Park. And the pedestrian circuits
around the water bodies in St James’s Park and Regent’s Park, and in the Vondelpark and
Luisenpark, are direct and safe at the same time as presenting views that are revealed
slowly and with unfolding mystery. Olmsted suggested, in a letter to the Minneapolis Park
Commission in 1866, that ‘enjoyment of the best scenery of the park should be had from
its walks … to draw many who will come to it in carriages to leave them and take walking
exercise’ (in Wirth 1945: 38). Olmsted also sought – like Capability Brown and Walt
Disney – to screen views to and from his parks. Latterly, however, surrounding buildings
have become increasingly obvious around Central Park – to the extent that high-rise
residential blocks around Columbus Circus has aroused concern about long shadows
across the park (St John 2013).
Pedestrian circulation in gridded parks – such as Grant Park, which is strafed by
highways – can be extremely difficult for pedestrians to negotiate. The delightful BP
Bridge in that park, the Irene Hixon Whitney Bridge between the Sculpture Garden and
Loring Park in Minneapolis, the whole of Freeway Park and ‘the Big Dig’ in Boston are
all good examples of a fight-back for pedestrians in US parks. Other rectilinear examples,
such as the parterres in Parc de Bercy, the serial gardens in Parc André-Citroën and the
gardens in the Sinterplatz in the Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord, demonstrate increasing
use of subdivided layouts presenting smaller gardens. The former botanic garden in the
Inner Circle of Regent’s Park has long been an herbaceous extravaganza. The examples in
Paris and Duisburg – and the planting by Oudolf in the Lurie Garden in Grant Park, on the
High Line, in the Westergasfabriek and, with others, in the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park
– indicate a significant reversion to non-woody perennial planting since the mid-1990s.
At the same time that perennial planting has been revived, there have been recent park
designs, such as the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park, that have been predicated on One
Planet principles of sustainability. And recent BioBlitzes in Forest Park, in Stanley Park
and in the Tiergarten have all revealed far higher than expected species diversity,
suggesting that these larger park areas – originally conceived as ‘manufactured’ or
protected nature – are becoming biological resources in their own right. Similarly exotic
plant species introduced to the Landschaftspark with ore from South Africa have been left
to naturalize and allow the park to express its history.
Key figures in development of the parks
Michael Van Valkenburgh, designer of the Maggie Daley Park within Grant Park,
commented that ‘it’s actually incredibly inexpensive to build a park, and it’s incredibly
expensive to care for it in perpetuity’ (in Landscape Architecture September 2009: 64).
And that, perhaps, is where the real demands are made on clients and park managers.
Many of the parks examined in this study have been as reliant for their success on the
dedication and long service of their managers and superintendents as on the skill and
commitment of their designers. And, again, continuity has been a critical issue. Figures
who stand out include Edward Kemp – Superintendent of Birkenhead Park from 1843 to
1891; James Stranahan – Commissioner for Prospect Park from 1860 to 1882; John
McLaren – superintendent of Golden Gate Park from 1890 until 1943; Joachim Költzsch –
Manager of the Luisenpark between the 1990s and 2010s, under a contract of employment
that stipulates no alterations to the layout, function or character of the park; Tupper
Thomas – Prospect Park Administrator from 1980 to 2011; and Daniel Biederman – who
has been involved with Bryant Park since 1980.
MANAGEMENT, FUNDING AND USAGE
Managing organization
The creation of public–private management models began in New York. They have been
adopted for Central Park (Central Park Conservancy), Prospect Park (Prospect Park
Alliance), Bryant Park (Bryant Park Corporation) and by the Friends of the High Line. It
has been noted that the ‘restoration [of Bryant Park] marked the beginning of an era where
public / private partnerships became the financiers and guardians of the public realm – a
watershed moment in the history of park making’ (www.asla.org/2010awards). The City of
New York retains ownership of these parks and the non-profit managing organizations
have varying degrees of financial independence while applying private sector management
and fund-raising techniques. Similarly, Forest Park Forever in St Louis has played an
increasing role in the funding, management and maintenance of that huge park. Most of
the other US and Canadian parks examined in the study remain under more direct control
of their city councils – but with increasing levels of public engagement in decision-making
and in funding. Even cities such as Chicago and Minneapolis, where most of the regular
funding for parks is derived from dedicated taxes, have developed extensive participatory
systems and advisory councils.
In that connection, Martha Schwartz commented in 1999 that ‘designing for the public
realm is a matter less of art than of politics – not the politics of campaigns and soft money,
but the politics of public dialogue, consensus, and group action’ (Bennett 1999: 67). Or as
London-based landscape architect Johanna Gibbons put it ‘we don’t do consultation … we
do engagement’. Gibbons sees consultation as ‘a top down process’ that can ‘turn into PR
rather than an end point where people will offer some sweat equity. People need to see that
what they have bothered to say has been addressed’ (in LI Journal Spring 2013: 52–3).
The Westergasfabriek in Amsterdam – the facilities and events parts, at least – is leased
and run for public benefit by a private company under an arrangement termed ‘cultural
entrepreneurship’. This is comparable to the structure at Bryant Park and is probably the
most extreme example in western Europe of private involvement in management of (part
of) a public park. But even the once-remote Royal Parks Agency – responsible for St
James’s Park, Regent’s Park, London’s other Royal Parks and eventually, perhaps, the
Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park – has progressed beyond consultation when necessary (via
sometimes tetchy friends groups) to having a formally constituted board to give
Londoners a voice in management of the parks, and a series of far more amicable friends
groups. Management of parks in Paris – both the state-owned Parc de la Villette and the
properties owned and run by the Ville de Paris – remains relatively opaque. The city owns
and manages its parks; the Arrondissements maintain them. A similar, somewhat awkward,
arrangement prevails in Berlin and Hamburg where the respective Lands have strategic
responsibility for the Tiergarten and the Stadtpark but local boroughs are responsible for
day-to-day maintenance.
By contrast, both the Luisenpark and the Landschaftspark are run by gGmbHs – non-
profit, charitable limited liability companies owned by (but at arm’s length from) the
respective city councils. The two Spanish parks – Park Güell and Parque de María Luisa –
are still managed and maintained by their central city councils. Similarly, Birkenhead Park
is owned and managed by Wirral Council – but under the watchful eye of the agencies that
funded its restoration. The Amsterdamse Bos is the direct responsibility of Amsterdam
City Council whereas the Vondelpark was run by the Amsterdam Zuid district – at least
until reunification of the City Council in 2014.
Funding
Although the ‘notion of public interest … remains the most effective justification for true
public funding’ (Carr in Carr et al. 2013: 3), Hargreaves noted that ‘Public spaces paid for
by public dollars are becoming an endangered species in the United States’ (in Landscape
Architecture September 2009: 60). Minneapolis and Chicago have traditionally been the
two US cities with dependable dedicated tax streams for park construction and operation,
but even in those cities, the fund-raising Minneapolis Park Foundation has been formed
and development of the Millennium Park addition to Grant Park was largely privately
funded. The various New York parks are, of course, the principal example of the public–
private funding model – and ‘Republicans see in the Central Park success story further
confirmation of their belief that government is inept’ (Pearlstein 2008), while liberals tend
to see this as creeping privatization and/or gentrification. It will be interesting to see the
outcome of legislation proposed in 2013 in New York State to reallocate funds from ‘well-
financed conservancies’ to poorer parks.
The Royal Parks in London have long been, effectively, nationally funded urban parks.
There have been other examples of national or quasi-national funding for a number of
other parks in Europe, including development of Parc de la Villette in Paris and the Queen
Elizabeth Olympic Park in London, and contributions to projects such as the IBA Emscher
Park, the Tiergarten following reunification of Germany and the return of its government
to Berlin, treatment of contamination at the Westergasfabriek, and national lottery funding
for restoration of Birkenhead Park. But, since the ‘financial crisis’ of 2008 and subsequent
cuts in public expenditure, it has become increasingly clear that European parks, like US
parks, can no longer survive on public funds alone.
Indeed, apart from its historic status and intrinsic design qualities, Birkenhead Park was
included in the first edition of Great City Parks to illustrate the fate of locally funded
parks – particularly in financially poorer areas – that have to compete with legally
mandated local government services for day-to-day funding. Another issue in this
connection is political preferences for short-term high-impact projects – such as the
controversial Metropol Parasol in Seville – whereas cutting (or investing) funds in parks
such as María Luisa tends to manifest itself relatively slowly. So city parks in Europe as
well as the United States have been increasingly obliged to seek other sources of income –
particularly through staging of events, through concession franchises, through car parking
and other direct charges, as well as through charitable giving and volunteer programmes.
Usage and user characteristics
While there has been a clear pattern of falling public investment in public parks, there has
also been a clear pattern of rising park use. The majority of the parks examined in this
study do not conduct regular, extensive user surveys but those that do (and anecdotal
evidence from those that do not) suggest significant increases in visitor numbers over the
last fifteen years. In some cases, such as the Vondelpark, the figures are extraordinarily
high. This can be attributed to various factors, some of which probably have a cyclical
effect. Hypothetically, staging events raises funds that can be invested in park
improvements; investing in park improvements attracts more visitors; having more visitors
makes people feel safer; safer parks attract people to live near them; demand for housing
near attractive parks raises property values, and makes residents more likely to invest in
the maintenance and further improvement of their local park. The general rise in visitor
numbers can also be attributed to more people living centrally in major cities; to better
marketing of cities and/or their parks; to increased tourism; or simply to the fact that
‘urban parks are cool again’ – according to documentary film maker (including one on
Olmsted) Rebecca Messner (www.grist.org).
It is also significant that a number of parks recorded a rise in the proportion of female
visitors – long regarded as an indication of safety; that the majority of visitors to even the
largest parks still tend to live or work relatively close to them and travel to them on foot –
although there is some evidence of more visitors arriving by car; that parks continue to
perform a significant role as meeting and recreation places for members of ethnic
minorities (who often use them in relatively large groups). And then there are places such
as Park Güell, which has become so overrun by tourists that the city has imposed an €8
entry charge for non-residents to the original Gaudí-designed section. Another immediate
outcome of rising visitor numbers is the corresponding rise in all forms of refuse –
including, where permitted, barbecue cinders – causing a logistical challenge to park
managers.
Crime
The idea of parks as a ‘refuge or paradise seems to be so deeply embedded in our psyche
that crimes which take place in parks assume a shock value out of all proportion to the
incidence of such crimes in adjacent streets’ (Ward Thompson 1998: 21). Rosenzweig and
Blackmar noted that crime levels in Central Park in the 1960s and 1970s were certainly
higher than before or since – but that media reporting of them was disproportionate. In
1973 the New York Times – ‘not normally noted for crime reporting, covered 3 of the 4
murders’ in Central Park but only 20 per cent of ‘the 1,676 murders in the rest of the city’,
suggesting that the story of crime ‘is as much the story of perceptions as of realities’
(Rosenzweig and Blackmar 1992: 474, 480). The same was true of other New York parks
– particularly Bryant Park and Prospect Park – and of parks across North America,
including Grant Park and, latterly, Freeway Park and Stanley Park.1 A combination of
rapid-response policing, higher visitor numbers – on the principle that ‘a busy park is a
safe park’, and regular refuse collection – on the principle that ‘clean places are safe
places’, has helped to reduce the perception of danger in most of the parks covered in this
study. And, of course, the actual fall in the number of crimes against persons in parks has
had a major impact on perceptions – with ‘apple-picking’, the theft of unattended mobile
phones because people are now so relaxed about crime in parks, being more common.
PLANS FOR THE PARKS
There were clear indications in the 1990s that many parks, particularly large pastoral
parks, were using their historic status as a lever to generate funds for their physical
rehabilitation. This was reflected in Ward Thompson’s survey of seven parks in the
northeastern United States – including Prospect Park and Central Park. Each plan she
studied claimed ‘to maintain the original philosophy or design intent of the park, but to
adapt the detail’ (Ward Thompson 1998: 23). This was also promoted in the master plan
for Golden Gate Park from 1998 which sought to ‘retain the integrity of the original
design, yet have sufficient flexibility to address society’s evolving needs’. But as Prospect
Park Administrator Tupper Thomas noted, her role was actually ‘to mediate between
demands for historic preservation, for in creased active and passive recreation, and for
ecological integrity’.2 Nevertheless, at that time arguments were being made for
restoration of Birkenhead Park ‘as a major work of art’ (Parklands Consortium 1999a: 1);
historic allées of lime trees were being replanted in the Tiergarten, the Ville de Paris began
the twenty-first century by proposing restoration of the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, and a
programme was in hand to restore the glorietas in the Parque María Luisa.
Latterly park planning has become more strategic, and park management has become
more proactive and more market-oriented. ‘Landscape Urbanist’ James Corner noted that
‘the thrust today is clearly towards a more emphatic connection, assembly, and continuity
of large-scale sites in an effort to provide larger park systems where one can walk, cycle,
and run for miles and where ecosystems can thrive because of regional scale and
connectivity’ (in Landscape Architecture September 2009: 59). Meanwhile, in what might
be construed as an act of ‘Urban Land scapism’, the City of Amsterdam’s Structural
Vision: Amsterdam 2040 focuses on parks as key components of denser residential
development, and marketing of the city to attract new businesses and new citizens.
Whereas parks were previously seen as areas that contrasted with the surrounding city,
they are now regarded as ‘green squares’ that are critical to the future of the city. This is
seen as being compatible with continuing to treat sites such as the Vondelpark as ‘living
monuments’ or, as in the case of Park Güell and Parque María Luisa, as ‘living museums’.
Similarly, the Ville de Paris has been actively exploiting and considering extending the
recreational potential of the extensive Petite Ceinture rail line that runs close to Parc
André-Citroën and through the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont.
At the same time, there has been far greater emphasis on large fund-raising events
within parks – particularly concerts by performers categorized as ‘stadium rock bands’ and
wintertime events; and emphasis on ecological health, on human health, on the provision
of facilities for particular minorities, on the provision of artworks, and on the regulation of
tourists. Again, Amsterdam has been proactive in promoting events both through ‘cultural
entrepreneurship’ at the Westergasfabriek and through allocation of the former emergency
landing area in the Amsterdamse Bos as a venue for large noise-generating concerts. The
Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park and Prospect Park were also venues for major concerts in
2013 while the Westergasfabriek, Bryant Park and the Landschaftspark continued to run
substantial entertainment programmes.
But, perhaps in direct conflict with the staging of major events, many parks continue to
promote their ecological credentials – particularly larger parks such as Golden Gate Park,
Forest Park, Central Park and the Amsterdamse Bos. The Bos is still seen as being (from
1994) engaged in ‘ecological management for recreation and nature conservation
purposes’. More emphatic has been the design and management of the Queen Elizabeth
Olympic Park according to One Planet principles as a working landscape that will
‘manage water levels and flooding, limit bank erosion, create a series of connected
habitats, and ensure ease of management and maintenance’ (Hopkins and Neal 2013: 188).
That park also incorporated designed wildflower meadows that contribute to ‘a
provocative dialogue between notions of nature and culture’ (Hitchmough and Dunnett
2013: 74, 77). Perhaps more surprising – given Tschumi’s disdain for anything green – is
the planning and management of Parc de la Villette according to United Nations Agenda
21 principles for sustainable development.
The human health benefits of urban parks have been a consistent theme since the
eighteenth century – from the pronouncements of Olmsted onward. Latterly, and
particularly as a result of the demands on health services from increasing obesity and an
aging population in the western world, the role of parks as places for simple exercise and
for restful time outdoors has become increasingly important. This is reflected in the way
that Natural England’s ‘Walking the Way to Health’ project has been applied in
Birkenhead Park. The importance of parks as boons to physical and mental health is
expected to continue (see Kellert et al. 2008) – even if WiFi connection continues to
expand as it has done in Amsterdam and Paris. And that raises the question of facilities for
adolescents in parks. Peter Latz noted that at the Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord,
adolescents ‘who are usually neglected in park development programmes, meet in the
protection of the roofed magazine where manganese and iron ore was formerly stored’
(Latz 2013: 104). This corresponds with the fact that both the extension to Parc André-
Citroën and the Maggie Daley Park section of Grant Park will include facilities
specifically for adolescents.
Hirschfeld in his Theorie der Gartenkunst (1785) suggested, in an idea taken from Jean-
Jacques Rousseau, the use of ‘statues of national heroes rather than mythological deities,
fauns etc’ (Schmidt 1981: 83). This was followed by extensive use of statuary, particularly
in earlier parks in Germany and the United States. Latterly artworks in parks – such as the
Picasso sculpture in the Vondelpark – and sculpture parks – such as the Minneapolis
Sculpture Garden, have become more common and in 2013, the managers of Bryant Park
– having eschewed artworks in the park in the 1990s – were considering reversing that
position. Meanwhile Park Güell and the High Line are particular victims of their own
popularity. Entry charges for non-residents have already been implemented for Park Güell
and could be implemented for the High Line, where capacity limits can already require
temporary closure of entrances. This comes at a time when tourism authorities in Hamburg
still regard the Reeperbahn and the harbour as tourist sites but not the Stadtpark.3 By
contrast the far smaller German city of Mannheim, like Amsterdam, sees parks as
principal instruments of city-marketing.
Finale
City parks are likely to become increasingly important as the earth’s human population
becomes more urbanized. They were instituted as manufactured simulacra of natural
landscapes. They were intended to be complete contrasts to cities. But vegetated parks are
now more likely to be seen as integral components of both the ecology and the economy
of post-industrial cities. They will also continue to serve as places of solace, places of
congregation, places of relief from traumatic events, places for awe, places for seduction,
places for escape, places for play, places where people can sit and think, places that
remind us – as Schama suggested – of our mortality, places – in Jellicoe’s words – that
‘lift people out of their everyday lives’. They will continue to be integral parts of cities
and habitats for humans and for other species. Parks, like cities, are palimpsests – built,
rebuilt, growing, changing over time and always in demand. And, also like cities, they are
never finished …
NOTES
1 Colley 2013: 167 noted that in 1979 Prospect Park ‘seemed more threatening than the street because of misleading
news reports and blaring headlines such as “Woman Mugged Near Park” or “Man Shot Near Prospect Park”.
2 Noted at meeting with then Prospect Park Administrator Tupper Thomas on 25 April 2000.
3 Noted at meeting with Heino Grunert on 17 July 2012.
Appendix: List of parks by date construction to
current design commenced
Chapter
Date Park Size
Number

1811 The Regent’s Park, London 135 hectares / 334 acres 19

1827 St James’s Park, London 35 hectares / 86 acres 11

1833 Großer Tiergarten, Berlin 220 hectares / 544 acres 22

1845 Birkenhead Park, Merseyside 58 hectares / 143 acres 16

1858 Central Park, New York 843 acres / 341 hectares 24

1864 Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, Paris 24.7 hectares / 61 acres 10

1864 Vondelpark, Amsterdam 47 hectares / 116 acres 14

1866 Prospect Park, Brooklyn, New York 585 acres / 237 hectares 23

1871 Golden Gate Park, San Francisco 1,019 acres / 412 hectares 26

1876 Forest Park, St Louis 1,371 acres / 555 hectares 28

1878 Emerald Necklace, Boston 1,100 acres / 445 hectares 27

1883 Minneapolis Park System 6,744 acres / 2,729 hectares 30

1886 Stanley Park, Vancouver 405 hectares / 1,000 acres 25

1900 Park Güell, Barcelona 17 hectares / 42 acres 9

1910 Stadtpark, Hamburg 151 hectares / 373 acres 20

1911 Parque de Maria Luisa, Seville 39 hectares / 96 acres 12

1915 Grant Park, Chicago 320 acres / 130 hectares 18

1935 Amsterdamse Bos 1,000 hectares / 2,470 acres 29

1967 Paley Park, New York 4,200 sq. feet / 390 sq. metres 1

1970 Luisenpark, Mannheim 41 hectares / 101 acres 13

1972 Freeway Park, Seattle 5.2 acres / 2.1 hectares 3

1983 Parc de la Villette, Paris 55 hectares / 136 acres 15

1987 Parc André-Citroën. Paris 15 hectares / 37 acres 8

1988 Bryant Park, New York 6 acres / 2.4 hectares 4

1992 Yorkville Park, Toronto 0.36 hectares / 0.9 acres 2

1992 Parc de Bercy, Paris 13.5 hectares / 33 acres 6

1992 Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord 180 hectares / 445 acres 21

1998 Westergasfabriek, Amsterdam 14.5 hectares / 36 acres 7

2004 The High Line, New York 6.7 acres / 2.7 hectares 5

2009 Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park, London 102 hectares / 252 acres 17
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Hume, C. (2012) ‘Pieces of Canada’, Landscape Architecture, 102, 9 (September), pp. 164–73.
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3 FREEWAY PARK, SEATTLE

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4 BRYANT PARK, NEW YORK

Berens, G. (1997) ‘Bryant Park, New York City’, in Garvin, A. and Berens, G., op. cit. pp. 45–57.
Goldberger, P. (1992) ‘Bryant Park, An Out-of-Town Experience’, New York Times, 3 May, Section 2. p. 34.
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Kahn, E. (1992) ‘Panacea in Needle Park’, Landscape Architecture, 82, 12 (December), pp. 60–1.
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5 THE HIGH LINE, NEW YORK

Bowring, J. (2009) ‘Lament for a Lost Landscape’, Landscape Architecture, 99, 10 (October), pp. 128–7.
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6 PARC DE BERCY, PARIS

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7 WESTERGASFABRIEK, AMSTERDAM
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8 PARC ANDRÉ-CITROËN
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9 PARK GÜELL, BARCELONA

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10 PARC DES BUTTES-CHAUMONT, PARIS
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11 ST JAMES’S PARK, LONDON

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12 PARQUE DE MARÍA LUISA, SEVILLE

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13 LUISENPARK, MANNHEIM
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14 VONDELPARK, AMSTERDAM
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15 PARC DE LA VILLETTE, PARIS

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16 BIRKENHEAD PARK, MERSEYSIDE

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17 QUEEN ELIZABETH OLYMPIC PARK, LONDON

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18 GRANT PARK, CHICAGO

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19 THE REGENT’S PARK, LONDON

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Summerson, J. (1980) The Life and Work of John Nash. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

20 STADTPARK, HAMBURG
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21 LANDSCHAFTSPARK DUISBURG-NORD
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22 GROßER TIERGARTEN, BERLIN

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23 PROSPECT PARK, BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

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Alliance.

24 CENTRAL PARK, NEW YORK

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25 STANLEY PARK, VANCOUVER

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26 GOLDEN GATE PARK, SAN FRANCISCO

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27 EMERALD NECKLACE, BOSTON

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28 FOREST PARK, ST LOUIS

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29 AMSTERDAMSE BOS
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30 MINNEAPOLIS PARK SYSTEM

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www.startribune.com/local/blogs/217960131 (accessed 2013-12-03)
Image Credits
Photographs were taken by:
• Pauline Boldt – page 46.
• Belinda Chan – front cover, pages 7 (bottom), 30 (bottom), 31, 32, 34, 38 (top and
bottom), 39, 40, 41, 42, 223, 224 (top), 229 (bottom), 231, 233, 235, 247.
• Marcella Eaton – pages 7 (top), 13, 14, 17, 33, 44, 50, 52, 55, 56 (top and bottom), 63,
66, 67, 84, 85 (top and bottom), 89, 90, 91, 101, 103, 107 (bottom), 109, 110, 111, 117,
118, 119, 121, 131, 136, 140, 145, 146, 148, 149, 150, 158, 160, 177 (top), 184, 189,
191, 192, 196 (top), 202, 203, 215, 216, 224 (middle), 232, 238, 249, 250, 257, 260,
262, 264, 265, 268, 269, 271, 286, 287, 290 and 291.
• Patrick Hayes – page 94.
• Martin Jones – pages 6, 9, 92, 183, 193, 234, 237 and 241.
• Peter Neal – page 152.
• Alan Tate – pages 15, 16, 18, 19, 21, 22, 23 (top and bottom), 25, 29, 30 (top), 36, 37
(top and bottom), 38 (top), 38 (top and bottom), 53, 54, 60, 61, 62, 70, 72, 73, 74, 75,
78, 80, 81, 82 (top and bottom), 83, 93 (top and bottom), 98, 100, 102, 107 (top), 108,
112, 114, 124, 125, 127, 128, 130, 134, 135, 142, 143, 144, 154, 156, 157, 164, 165,
166, 168, 170, 171, 172, 176, 177 (bottom), 178, 179, 181, 186, 187, 188 (top and
bottom), 196 (bottom), 197, 198, 199, 201, 204, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212, 213, 218, 219,
220, 229 (top), 242, 243, 245, 246, 248, 255, 256, 258, 275, 276, 277, 279, 280, 281,
285, 294, 295, 296, 299, 300, 301, 302 and 303.
Plans were drawn by Peter Siry other than those by Shawn Stankewich on pages 42, 58,
64, 126, 155 and 274.
Index
Abakanowicz, Magdalena 165, 170
Ainsley Gommon 145
Alexander, General Barton S. 255, 256
Alphand, Jean-Charles Adolphe 2, 87–8, 91–95, 107, 129, 147, 186, 294, 307 (bio – 90)
Alphonso XII, King of Spain 78
Alphonso XIII, King of Spain 79, 107
Alschuler, John 41, 45
Alverdes, Willy 207, 210, 213, 216
American Civil War 217–18, 220, 227, 239, 273, 277, 282–3, 305
American Pastoral 2, 146, 217, 219–20, 227, 239, 273, 282–3, 305
American Society of Landscape Architects (ASLA) 11, 17, 29, 234
Amsterdam: Amstelveen 285, 287, 289–90; City Council 59–60, 289, 292, 309; Burgemeester Colijnweg 285, 289;
General Expansion Plans 59, 124, 283, 286; Nieuwe Meer 283–5, 287, 289, 291; Ooster Park 59, 126; Sarphatipark
59, 123; Schemaplan Groot Amsterdam 285; Schiphol Airport 63, 283, 285, 287, 291; Singelgracht Canal 123–4, 126;
Sloterdijk 63–4; Spaarnwoude 64, 286–7; Structural Vision: Amsterdam 2040 123, 132, 287, 291, 311; Twiske, The
286–7; van Vollenhoven, Mayor Jan Messchert 124; Westerpark 59, 68, 126; Willemspark 126–9, 131; see also
Amsterdamse Bos; Vondelpark; Westergasfabriek
Amsterdamse Bos 68, 205, 283–92, 305, 308–9, 311; Bosbaan 60, 66, 286, 287–9, 288, 288–90; Boschcommissie 285–6;
Boschplan 283, 285–6, 288, 290; de Poel 291; Schinkelbos 287, 291; Sport Park 289–90
André-Citroën, Parc 3, 49, 51, 55, 69–76, 306, 308, 311–12; balloons in 69, 75; Jardin en Mouvement 69, 72–3, 75;
Jardin d’Ombre 75; Jardin de Roches 72; serial gardens 69, 73–5, 75, 308
André, Édouard François 87, 90, 144, 275
Armajani, Siah 302
Armitt, John 154
Art Deco 167, 278
Art Nouveau 80, 129
art installations 12, 167, 190–2, 208–9, 222, 292, 312
Askew, Phil 154
Bacon, Edmund 42
Bacon, Kevin 42
Baljon, Lodewijk 135–6, 140
Balmori, Diana 43, 302
Bargman, Julie 41
Barillet-Dechamps, Jean-Pierre 87, 90, 92, 105
Barlow Rogers, Elizabeth 226, 235
Bath, England 184
Bazalgette, Joseph 153
‘Beautiful’, the ix–x, 232, 270
Beaux-Arts 2, 30, 127, 163, 167, 170–1, 174, 273, 278, 308
Beckham, David 153
Belmont, August 232
Benepe, Adrian 41
Bennett, Edward H. 163, 167–8, 170–1, 173–4
Bercy, Parc de – see Paris
Berger, Patrick 69–74
Berlage, Hendrik Petrus 275
Berlin: Berlin Zoo 210; Brandenburg Gate 207–8, 210, 210–12, 214–15; Berlin Wall 206–8, 210–11, 214, 216;
Charlottenburg Palace 208; Friedrichstadt 208; Germania 167, 207, 217; Land 214, 309; Landesdenkmalamt 212,
214–15; Landwehr Canal 212; Mitte, borough of 214–16; Pariser Platz 208, 201; Potsdam 208–9, 211–12; Potsdamer
Platz 211; Reichstag 207, 210–11, 214; Senatsverwaltung für Stadtentwicklung, und Umweltschutz 214; Spree, River /
Spreebogen 207, 211–14; Unter den Linden 208, 212; see also Tiergarten Berrizbeita, Anita 288
Berry, William Morse 298
Berthout, Florence 139
Beveridge, Charles E. 222, 232, 263
Beyer Blinder Belle 43
Biederman, Daniel 27–31, 34, 307, 309
Bijhouwer, J. T. P. 286
BioBlitzes / biodiversity 38–40, 103, 139, 150, 153, 157, 203, 215–16, 250, 281, 308
Birkenhead Park 93, 120, 140–50, 217, 220, 222, 305–6, 308–9, 310–11; Balaclava Field 148; Birkenhead Improvement
Acts 141–2, 143; Boothby Ground 144; Grand Entrance 144, 146–7; Swiss Bridge 147–8; Wirral Metropolitan
Borough Council 145, 148–9, 309
Birnbaum, Charles 34
Bizet’s Carmen 106
Blair, Prime Minister Tony 101, 153–4, 159, 307
Bomarzo 199
Blonsky, Doug 236, 307
Bordeaux, France x, 89–90
Bos, A. W. 285
Boston: Back Bay 264–7, 269; Boston City Council 270; Boston Parks and Recreation Department 271; Brookline 263,
265–7, 269–70, 272; ‘Big Dig’ 21, 308; Cambridge 263; Charles River 266–7, 270; Massachusetts Turnpike 267;
Shattuck Hospital 268; see also Emerald Necklace
Bowditch, Ernest W. 265
Breen, Harold 6
Brinckmann, Justus 186–7
Brown, Lancelot ‘Capability’ 97–9, 128, 220, 232, 308
Bryan, John H. 170
Bryant Park see New York
Bryant, William Cullen 27, 217, 227–9, 306
Bund Deutscher Heimatschutz 186–7, 286
Bundesgartenschauen 113–18, 120–1, 307–8
Burden, Amanda 41, 43–4, 46
Burke, Edmund ix, 95n1
Burnham, Daniel H. 163, 166–7, 174, 259
Burton, Decimus 181
Bussey, Benjamin 267
Buttes-Chaumont, Parc des see Paris
Cafés and restaurants 8, 11, 30, 33, 45, 52, 75, 82, 90, 120, 139, 153, 182, 185–6, 188, 190, 278
Camley, Mark 159
Canada Geese 183
Casa Valdés, Marquessa de 107
Caso, Don Rodriguez 107
Central Park 1–3, 10, 27–8, 35, 45, 115, 128–9, 132, 141, 148–9, 184, 207, 217–18, 220–2, 226–39, 253–4, 260, 262,
264–5, 268–70, 281, 306–11; Angel of the Waters 232; Belvedere 232, 239; Bethesda Terrace and Fountain 229, 230,
238; Bow Bridge / Vista Rock 232, 233, 239; Central Park Conservancy 3, 35, 235–6, 309; design competition 227,
230, 232, 239n2; Gates, the 235; Great Lawn, the 221, 229, 234; ‘Greensward’ 227, 230, 232, 236; Hallett Nature
Sanctuary 238; Harlem Meer 232; Lake, the 221, 232; Mall, the 222, 232, 238–9; North Woods 238; Ramble, the 221,
232, 238; Reservoir, the 228–9, 232; Sheep Meadow, the 221, 229; Strawberry Fields 235; Wollman Rink 234
Cerdà, Idelfonso 77, 82, 86
Chakrabarti, Vishaan 43
Chadwick, George F. 86, 89, 112, 142, 146, 150, 179, 185–6, 283, 288
Charles I, King 175, 305
Charles II, King 98, 100, 175, 305
Chatsworth Estate 144
Chawner, Thomas 176–7
Chemetoff, Alexander 138, 140
Chicago: Byrne, Mayor Jane 168; Chicago Park District 163, 173; Chicago River 162–4, 167; Commercial Club 167;
Daley, Mayor Richard M. 168, 170, 173, 307; Field Museum 166–8, 173; Great Fire of 1871 163–4, 294, 296, 306;
Illinois Central Railroad (IC) 164–6; Jackson Park 166; Lake Michigan 163, 171, 174, 306–8; Lake Park 163–7; Lake
Shore Drive; 167–8, 171, 173; Michigan Avenue 163–5, 167, 171, 173; Museum Campus 166, 168, 174; Plan of
Chicago (1909) 167, 171; South Park District 165, 167; World’s Columbian Exposition (1893) 165–6, 222, 259, 305;
see also Grant Park
Chipperfield, David 280
Citroën, André 69
City Beautiful 2, 107, 167, 238, 273, 277, 280
Cleij, Jan 60, 62
Clément, Gilles 69–76
Cleveland, Horace William Shaler 2, 293–6, 298–304, 306–7, (bio 295–6)
Coe, Sebastian 153–4
Colvin and Moggridge 104
Copeland, Robert Morris 265, 295–6
Corbusier, Le 86
Cordes, Wilhelm 186
Corner, James / JCFO x, 35, 43–5, 159, 302–3, 311
Cottingham, Lewis Nockalls 219
Cranz, Galen 2, 3, 151, 190, 251
Crime in parks 32, 46, 82, 103, 111, 132, 139, 149, 226, 236, 248, 261, 273, 278, 282, 290, 305, 310–11
Crompton, John 1, 306–7
Cromwell, Oliver 98
Crook, J. Morduant 178
Cullen, Gordon 101, 138
Culture, Media and Sport, Dept. of / Sec. of State for 99, 101, 103
Cunningham, James 245
Dalton, Charles H. 65, 269
Danadjieva, Angela 21, 23–6
David, Joshua 35–7, 40, 44, 46, 306
Davis, Dwight D. 278
Davis, Gordon 235
Davioud, Gabriel 87, 90
decomposition 195, 200, 205
deconstruction / disjunction 133, 136–7, 195, 205n2
de Jong, Erik 128
Denkmalpflegetagungen 186–7
design competitions 11–12, 35, 42, 52, 63, 69, 72, 116, 135, 137, 185, 198, 230
Deutscher Werkbund 185, 187
Diller Scofidio + Renfro 35, 43–4
Diller–von Fürstenberg Foundation 42, 44
Dillon, Robert 323
Disney / Disney theme parks 92, 220, 239, 308
Doctoroff, Dan 41
Downing, Andrew Jackson 219, 227–33, 295, 305–6
Dunnett, Nigel 156–8
EDAW 153–7
Eden, Anthony 210
Edinburgh 184, 257
Eiffel, Gustave 93, 95
Electors Palatine 113, 116
Elizabeth II, Queen 151, 154, 163
Ellis, James R. 21–3, 26, 306
Emerald Necklace x, 263–72, 293–4; Arnold Arboretum 2, 267, 269–70, 272; Back Bay Fens 264, 264–7, 270, 272;
Boston Common 263–5, 265, 269, 271–2; Commonwealth Avenue 264–7, 269; Emerald Necklace conservancy 263,
271–2; Fenway 270–2; Franklin Park and Coalition 222, 263, 268–72; Friends of the Public Garden 263, 271; Jamaica
Pond 267, 270; Leverett Park and Pond 267, 270–1, 271; Marine Park 263, 272; Muddy River, the 263, 267, 270, 272;
Olmsted Park 267, 270–1; Public Garden 263–4, 268, 269, 272; Riverway 267, 270, 272; Victory Gardens 267;
Ward’s Pond 267, 270; see also Boston
Emerson, Ralph Waldo 296
Engelhorn, Friedrich 116
Englischergarten, Munich x
English Heritage Register of Parks and Gardens 148
events in parks 102–3, 150, 204, 271, 311
Fainsilber, Adrien 135
Falcone, Lisa / Philip 35, 42
Farrell, Terry 183
Ferrand, Feugas, Le Roy (FFL) 51
Field, Marshall 166
Fisher, David L. 298
Folwell, William H. 294–5, 298, 304
Fontana, Domenico 87
Fordyce, John 176, 182
Forest Park x, 273–82, 305–9, 311; Art Hill 278–80; Boat House 280; des Peres, River 274–6, 278–9, 306; Forest Park
Forever 273, 278–82, 309; Grand Basin 278–80; Jewel Box 275, 278, 280; Kennedy Forest 278; Missouri History
Museum 278; Municipal Theater / ‘Muny’ 278, 280; Pagoda Circle 280; Post-Dispatch Lake 278–80; St. Louis Art
Museum 276, 278, 280, 281; St Louis Zoo 273, 278; Steinberg Skating Rink 278; World’s Fair Pavilion 276–8, 277,
280; see also St Louis
Forestier, Jean-Claude-Nicolas 105, 107–12 (bio 107–8)
Foster, Norman 214
Fox, Helen Morgenthau 109
Francis, Mark 3
Franklin, Benjamin 268
Freeway Park see Seattle
Frei, Otto 120
French, William 296
Friedburg, M. Paul 302
Friedman, Ned 2
Friedrich I, King (Elector Friedrich III) 208
Friedrich II (the Great), King 207–9
Friedrich Willhelm, Elector 208
Friedrich Willhelm I, King 208
Friedrich Willhelm II, King 209
Friedrich Willhelm III, King 209–10
Friedrich Willhelm IV, King 210, 212
Fuchs, Wilhelm Casimir 115–16
funding of parks: by bonds 21–2, 255, 278; by city authorities 149, 261, 310; by direct taxes 173, 303, 309–10; by
lottery 141, 145, 148, 310; by national governments 159, 310; by parking charges 22, 170, 310; by private funding 45,
236, 239, 310, see also events
Gadamer, H-G x
Garvin, Alexander ix, 222
Gaudí, Antonio 77–84, 188, 310
Gehry, Frank 52, 170
George III, King 98
George IV, King (Prince Regent) 97–8, 175–9
Geuze, Adriaan 63, 199
Gibbons, Johanna 309
Gilman, Arthur 264
Giscard d’Estaing, Valéry 135
Goldberger, Paul 34
Golden Gate Park x, 253–62, 305–9, 311; California Academy of Sciences 259; Cross Over Drive 253, 259; de Young
Museum 259; Golden Gate Reforestation Program 259, 261; Huntingdon Falls 259; Panhandle 254–5; Spreckels
Temple of Music 259; Stow Lake 255, 258, 259–60; Strawberry Hill 253, 256; Strybing Arboretum 259, see also San
 Francisco
Golden, Howard 223
golf courses in parks 116, 119, 245, 259, 268, 278, 280–1, 293, 302
Gonzaléz, Aníbal 105, 109
Gosschalk, Isaac 60–1, 65
Gothic Revival 90, 219, 232
Gough, Piers 133
Graff, M. M. 220
Grant Park 2, 3, 163–74, 184, 305–6, 308–12; bandshells 168, 174; BP Bridge 170, 308; Buckingham Fountain 166,
167–8, 171–4; Butler Field 168, 173–4; Cancer Survivors’ Garden 168, 173; Chicago Art Institute 165; Congress
Drive / Plaza 166–8, 171, 173; Court of Presidents 167; Crown Fountain 170, 172; Framework Plan 173–4; Harris
Theater 170–1; Historic Template 167, 173–4; Hutchinson Field 167, 173–4; Jay Pritzker Pavilion 170–1, 174; Lurie
Garden 3, 65, 170, 168, 308; Maggie Daley Park 163, 171–4, 309, 312; Millennium Park 163, 168–74, 170, 307, 310;
see also Chicago
Grant, Ulysses S, President 166
graph of doom 149
Great Depression 27, 259, 265, 278, 285
Great Exhibition of 1851 141, 305
Green, Andrew Haswell 227, 233–4, 236
Green Flag Awards 104, 150
Greenbie, Barry 308
Greenpark Foundation 5, 9
greenways 35, 249–51, 280, 302
Güell, Count Eusebi 77–81
Gustafson, Kathryn 59, 62–5, 68, 170, 307
Gustin, Samuel 232
Haag, Richard x, 195
Halifax, Nova Scotia 251
Hall, William Hammond 255–60, 262 (bio 256–7)
Halprin, Lawrence 21, 23–6, 136, 168
Hamburg: Alster, River 186; Altona 192–3; Außenalster 185–6; Elbe, River 186; Grünes Netz Hamburg 193; Hamburg-
Nord, district of 189, 192; Harburg 192; Land of 192, 309; Ohlsdorf Cemetery 186; Reeperbahn 312; Winterhude 186,
189, see also Stadtpark
Hamilton, Lauchlan A. 242
Hammond, Robert 35–7, 40–4, 306
Hanway, Bill 154
Hargreaves, George x, 43, 151, 156, 158, 161, 173, 202, 288, 306, 309–10
Haussmann, Baron Georges-Eugène 49, 51–2, 69–70, 87–9, 95, 134, 136, 265, 285, 294, 306, (bio 89–90)
Harvard University 7, 28, 267, 296
health, parks and 1–2, 105, 115, 124, 127, 145, 150, 185, 190, 213, 217, 285, 305–6, 311–12
Heckscher, August 235
Hedreen, R. C. 21–2, 24
Heiskell, Andrew 28
Henry VIII, King 97–8, 175
Herrick, Walter 234
Higgins, David 151, 154
High Line, The – see New York
Hirschfeld, Christian Cay Lorenz 2, 209, 211, 213, 305–6, 312
Hitchmough, James 156, 158–9
Hitler, Adolf 207, 210
Hoal, John 279
Holl, Steven 42
Holmes, Isaac 141
Hone, Dennis 154, 159
Hopkins, John 154, 157, 159
Hornblower, Lewis 144, 147
Houben, Francine / Mecanoo 63
Hoving, Thomas 5, 234–5
Howard, Ebenezer 77
Howarth, Margaret 147
Huet, Bernard 49, 51, 53, 55, 57
Hunt, John Dixon 133, 179, 202, 288, 308
hunting in parks 97–8, 175, 207–8, 213, 244, 305
Huxtable, Ada Louise 23
IBA Emscher Park 68, 195, 197–9, 204, 205n4, 310
Imbert, Dorothée 107–8
Indigenous peoples Coast Salish 242; Squamish 243
International Congress of Modern Architecture/CIAM 70, 286
Isabella II, Queen 105
Jackson, John Brinkerhoff 1, 200
Jackson, Sir William 142, 306
Jacobs, Jane 10n1, 46, 145, 307
Jellicoe, Geoffrey / Susan ix, 99, 133, 312
Jenkins, Dame Jennifer 102
John Paul II, Pope 163, 269
Jowell, Tessa 154
Jujol, Josep Maria 77, 79
Jugendpark 194
Kalff, J. 59, 124
Kahn, Eve 34
Kaplan, Rachel and Stephen 1–2, 306
Kapoor, Anish 170
Kemp, Edward 142–4, 147–8, 309
Kent, William 109
Kern, Maximilian G. 275–7
Kessler, George Edward 277–8
Kiley, Daniel Urban 280
Kingsland, Ambrose C. 228–9
Klönne, August 61, 65
Knobelsdorff, Georg Wenzeslaus von 207–11, 213
Koenig, Thomas 23
Költzsch, Joachim 309
Kowsky, Francis 217
Landschaftspark Duisburg-Nord 3, 46, 68, 195–205, 306–9, 311–12; City of Duisburg 198, 203; Cowperplatz 202;
Duisburg-Marketing GmbH 203–4; Emscher, River 195, 198–9, 201, 306; farm 200; Hamborn 199; Kokergelände
199, 205; lighting scheme 205; Meiderich 197, 199; Piazza Metallica 195, 202; rail harp 196, 199, 200, 203;
Sinterplatz 308; Thyssen works 198–200, 205; Wasserpark 203
Land Restoration Trust 1
Lang, Jacques 135
Lasdun, Denis 182
Lassus, Bernard et Associés 198, 308
Latz, Peter and Anneliese / Latz + Partner ix, 136–7, 140, 194, 198–200, 202–5, 307–8, 312, (bio 199)
Le Caisne, Ian 51
Le Nôtre, André 73, 98, 112, 185, 190
Lecolant 106, 109
Leffingwell, Hiram W. 273–5
Leitner, Bernard 138, 140
Lenné, Peter Joseph 2, 115, 207, 209–14, 216, 305, 307–8, (bio 211–12)
Leverton, Thomas 176–7
Lichtwark, Alfred 186, 190
Ligen, Pierre-Yves 50
Linne, Otto 188, 194
London Admiralty Arch 97, 100; Buckingham Palace 97–100; Camden Town 182; Carlton House / Carlton House
Terrace 98–9, 178–9; Charing Cross 176, 178; City of London 153; Congestion Charging Zone 182; Greater London
Authority (GLA) 153; Greater London Plan (1944) 152; Green Park 97, 103; Greenwich Park 97, 159; Houses of
Parliament 97, 176; Hyde Park 87, 97, 103, 175, 305; Johnson, Mayor Boris 153, 159; Livingstone, Mayor Ken
153–4, 307; London Development Agency (LDA) 153, 156; London Docklands Development Corporation (LDDC)
153; London Eye 99–100; Mall, The 97–9, 100, 104n2; Marylebone Road 182; Office of Woods, Forests and Land
Revenues 99, 176, 181; Oxford Circus 178; Piccadilly Circus 98, 178–9; Portland Place 97–8, 175, 178–9, 183;
Primrose Hill 97, 179, 182; Regent Street 99, 178, 182; Royal Parks / Royal Parks Agency 87, 97, 101–4, 151, 159,
182–3, 309–10; Thames, River 97, 151–3, 161, 177, 182; Tyburn, River 177, 182; Westminster Abbey 97; Whitehall
97–100; Victoria Park 159; see also Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park, Regent’s Park, St James’s Park
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth 295–6, 300
Lootsma, Bart 288
Loring, Charles M. 293–4, 296–8
Louis XIV, King of France 88, 98
Louis XVI, King of France 87
Lowell Institute 228, 230, 265
Loyer, François 89
Luise of Baden, Archduchess 115
Luisenpark see Mannheim
Lynch, Kevin 269–70
Maass, I. 185–6, 194
MAB (Meijer Aannemers Bedrijf) / Meijer, Ton / Marya 60, 61–3, 307
McKim, Mead and White 222
McKinley, Andrew 275–6
McLaren, John 257, 259, 309, (bio 257)
McLeod, Edward and Associates 23–4
Mannheim Freizeitwiese 119–20, 121; Heinrich-Vetter-Weg 116; Herzogenriedpark 113, 116, 118, 120; Kutzerweiher
114, 115–6, 119; Ludwig-Ratzel-Strasse 118–19; Luisenpark x, 3, 113–22, 306–9; Neckar, River 113, 115–16,
118–19; Oberer Luisenpark 113–16; Quadratestadt 118; Stadtparks Mannheim 113, 120–1; Unterer Luisenpark
113–16, 119; water tower 118
María Luisa, Parque de 86, 105–12, 122, 305, 308–11; Ayuntamiento de Sevilla 111; glorietas 105, 109, 308, 311;
Guadalquivir, River 105–6, 108; Jardin de Aclimatación 105; Jardin de Prado de San Sebastian 108; Jardines de las
Delicias 105, 108, 112; Moorish influences 105, 108–9, 112; Plaza de América 105–6, 108–9, 112; Plaza de España
105, 108–9; San Telmo 105–7; tobacco factory 106
María Luisa de Borbón y Borbón, Duchess of Montpensier 105
Mawson, Thomas 244, 246
Marceca, Maria Luisa 91, 93
Marnock, Robert 181
Martial, Jacques 138
Marx, Roberto Burle 80
Meacham, Geiorge F. 264
Meier, Richard 70
Menzel, Oskar 186, 188
Metrovic, Ivan 167
Meyer, Elizabeth K. 91, 93, 133, 140
Meyer, F. A. 185–6
Meyer, Gustav 2, 216n5
micro-climate 8, 10, 17, 120, 138. 253
Migge, Leberecht 185–6, 194
Miller, Gifford 41
Miller, Sara Cedar 217, 232
Minneapolis Park System 293–304; Cedar Lake and Trail 298, 300–2; Columbia Park 298; Gold Medal Park 304; Grand
Rounds 293, 298, 302, 304; Irene Hixon Whitney Bridge 300, 302, 308; Lake Calhoun 298–301; Lake Harriet
298–301; Lake Hiawatha 298; Lake Nokomis 298; Lake of the Isles 295, 298–301; Loring Park and Parkway 296,
298–300, 302, 308; Mill Ruins Park 304; Minneapolis City Council 293; Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board 247,
293, 301, 303–4; Minneapolis Park Foundation 304; Minneapolis Sculpture Garden 293, 298, 302, 304, 308, 312;
Minnehaha Falls and Park 299, 298–300; Peavey Plaza 301, 302; St Anthony Falls 294; Theodore Wirth Park
298–300, 302; Walker Art Center 293, 298; Water Power Park 304
Minturn, Robert Brown 227
Miroir d’Eau, Bordeaux x
Mississippi River 163, 275–6, 280, 294, 298, 300–1, 303
Mitterand, President François and Grands Projets 49–51, 69–70, 76, 133, 135–6, 306
modernism in park design 2, 21, 55, 80, 170, 187, 194, 238, 259, 286
Mollet, André and Gabriel 98
Moore, Henry 12
Morgan, James 176–7
Mos, Egbert 127–8
Moses, Robert 5, 27–8, 30, 223, 227, 234
Mould, Jacob Wrey 230–4
Mulder, Jacopa 286, 288
Mumford, Lewis 295
Munich x, 113, 286
Napoléon I, Emperor 127, 134, 207, 213
Napoléon III, Emperor 49, 69, 87–90, 95, 134, 136, 305–6
Naramore, Floyd A. 21
Nash, John 2, 97–100, 104, 113–4, 128–9, 146, 175–82, 207–8
National Historic Landmarks 272
National Register of Historic Places x, 173, 278, 282, 302, 304
Neal, Peter 157, 159
Neckar, Lance M. 295
Nesfield, William Andrews and Markham 181
Newton, Norman T. 146, 150, 270
New York Bloomberg, Mayor Michael 37, 41, 43; Brooklyn, borough of 224, 226; Brooklyn Bridge 217, 220; Brooklyn
Bridge Park x; Bryant Park 3, 27–34, 45–46, 68, 204, 305–7, 309, 312; Bryant Park (Restoration) Corporation 27–8,
32–4, 309; Business Improvement Districts 28, 32, 45; City of New York 41, 224, 228, 233, 309; Columbus Circle
231, 308; Commissioners’ Plan of 1811 217; Croton Reservoir 27, 229; Department of Parks and Recreation 45, 235;
Giuliani, Mayor Rudolph 36–7, 41, 43, 236; High Line, Friends of 35–7; High Line, the x, 3, 24, 32, 35–47, 306–9,
312; Hudson Yards 36, 38, 46; Jones Wood 227–8; Koch, Mayor Edward 41, 224, 235; La Guardia, Mayor Fiorello
223, 234; Lindsay, Mayor John 5; Morningside Park 222; New York Post 27, 45; Paley Park 5–10, 27–9, 305–6;
Public Library 27–9, 30, 31, 229; Stork Club 5; Stover, Charles 234; Times Square 32; Tweed, William / Tweed Ring
233–4; World Trade Center 37
noise in parks 7, 10, 21, 24, 54, 136, 311
North Rhine-Westphalia, Land 197–8, 203–4
Norton, Edward 41
Nottingham, England 65
Obama, President Barack 163
Obletz, Peter 40
Oehme, Van Sweden and Associates 280
Oldenburg, Claes 138, 302
Oleson Worland 11–13, 17
O’Hare, Tim 156
Olin, Laurie 28–9, 34
Olmsted, John Charles 269
Olmsted, Frederick Law 1, 2, 97, 115, 141–2, 146, 149, 166, 211, 217–22, 226–8, 230–6, 253–4, 257, 259–60, 263, 265,
267–70, 272–3, 295–8, 305–8, 311, (bio 219–20)
Oudolf, Piet 35, 43, 45, 65, 159, 168–70, 308
Paley Park see New York
Paley, William S. 5–6, 41, 306
Paris Atelier Parisien d’Urbanisme (APUR) 50, 52, 70–2; Bercy, Parc de 3, 49–58, 69, 72, 75, 88, 306, 308;
Bibliothèque Nationale 52; Bois de Boulogne 51, 76, 87, 90, 107; Bois de Vincennes 51, 76, 87, 90, 107; Buttes-
Chaumont, Parc des 49, 87–95, 129, 147, 186, 305–7, 311; Paris Champs-de-Mars 69, 87, 90, 107; Chirac, Mayor
Jacques 49, 51, 69, 70, 76, 306; Direction des Éspaces Verts et de l’Environnement 55, 75, 94; Esplanade des
Invalides 69; Jardin des Plantes 69; Jardin des Tuileries 69; Parc Monceau 90; Parc Montsouris 87, 90; Parc
Omnisports de Paris Bercy (POPB) 50–4; Passarelle Simone-de-Beauvoir 53; Petite Ceinture 72, 76, 95, 311; Plan
des Artistes 87; Promenade Plantée 46; Schéma Directeur d’Architecture et d’Urbanisme (SDAU) 49–51; Seine, River
49–52, 69, 72–4, 76, 87, 90, 94, 134; Universal Exposition of 1867 87, 90; Zones d’Aménagement Concerté (ZACs)
50–2, 69, 72; see also André-Citroën, Parc; Villette, Parc de la
Park Güell x, 77–86, 111, 306, 309–12; Carmel / les Menes Hill 80–2; Carrer d’Olot 78–9, 81–3; Catalan Renaixença
78; Colonia Güell 78; Eixample 77, 82, 86; Parc de la Crueta del Coll 84; Parc dels Tres Turons 77, 82, 84; Sagrada
Familia 78, 81, 84
Parklands Consortium 142
Parkways 167, 220, 263, 265, 267, 270, 272, 276, 293–4, 298–304
Parsons, Samuel Browne, Jr 227, 234
Paterson, Douglas 256–7
Paulson, John A. 236
Paxton, Sir Joseph 2, 93, 97, 141–4, 146–8, 211, 217, 307–8 (bio 142–4)
Peer, Edgar 62, 67
Perceval, Prime Minister Spencer 178
picturesque, the i, 2, 80, 87, 91. 99, 104, 106, 109, 133, 146–7, 150–1, 158, 161, 175, 179, 184, 212, 219, 222, 229, 232,
270, 274, 277, 288, 295, 305, 307–8
Pilat, Ignatz 230
Pitzman, Julius 274–6
Plensa, Jaume 170, 172
Polano, Sergio 288
population growth 77, 87–8, 124, 141, 163–4, 185, 208–10, 217, 234, 245, 253, 264, 285, 293
Portland, Dukes of 175–6
Portland, Oregon 21
Price, Sarah 156, 158
Price, Uvedale 99, 175, 179, 182
Prichard, William Bond 257
Prior, Jason 154
Project for Public Space (PPS) 26, 28, 34, 44, 76
Prospect Park 217–26, 233, 265, 268, 270, 296, 306–11; Ambergill, the 221; bandshell 223; boathouse 222, 223,;
Concert Grove, the 222–3, 226; East Side Lands 218; Endale Arch 221–2, 224, 226; Fallkill Falls 225; Grand Army
Plaza 219, 222–3; Lakeside 224, 226; Long Meadow, the 217–18, 220–6, 224, 224–6, 270; Lookout Hill 220–2;
Meadowport Arch 222; Nethermead, the 221; Parade Ground, the 226; Prospect Lake 218, 221–2; Prospect Park
Administrator 3, 224, 309, 311; Prospect Park Alliance 224, 226, 309; Prospect Park Zoo 223; ‘Rather Expensive
Lots’ 220; Ravine, the 220–2, 226; Wollman Rink 223; see also New York
Provost, Alain 69–73, 75–6, 308
Public Works Administration (PWA) 278
Pückler-Muskau, Prince 277
Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park x, 3, 151–61, 306, 308–11; Lee Navigation 152, 157; London Legacy Development
Corporation (LLDC) 153–4, 159; North Park 151, 153, 156, 158; Northern Outfall Sewer 153, 157; Olympic Delivery
Authority (ODA) 151–6, 159; River Lea 151–2, 161n1; South Park 151, 158; Tumbling Log playground 153; see also
London
railbanking / rails-to-trails 35–8, 41, 301
Randstad Holland 287
Rawlings, W. S. 245
Reagan, President Ronald 3, 210
real estate values, parks and 1, 13, 32, 35, 41, 68, 123, 132, 139, 171, 184, 227, 241–2, 294, 301, 303, 305–7
Regent’s Park 97–8, 128, 141, 146, 175–84, 305–9; Avenue Gardens 178, 181–3; Boating Lake 128, 175, 176, 181–4;
Broad Walk 175, 181, 181–3; Chester Terrace 181; Cumberland Terrace 177, 181; Guingette 177–8, 181; Hub, the
182–3, 184; Inner Circle 175, 177, 181–3, 308; London Zoo 175, 181–4; Mary(le)bone Park 175; Outer Circle 181;
Park Crescent 178, 181; Readymoney Fountain182–3; Regent’s Canal 183; Sussex Place 176, 181; see also London
Repton, Humphry 2, 97, 99–101, 104, 128–9, 146, 175, 179, 182, 184, 219, 229, 277, 288, 307–8
Restoration, The 98, 305
Robinson, William 93, 158
Roosevelt, F. D. and ‘New Deal’ 27, 234, 259
Root, John Welborn 166
Ross, Arthur Wellington 242
Rousseau, Jean Jacques 209, 211, 312
Royal Horticultural Society 142
Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA) 127, 188
Saint-Gaudens, Augustus 167
St Louis: Barnes-Jewish Christian Hospitals (BJC) 281–2; City of 275, 278–9, 281; Department of Parks, Recreation and
Forestry 281; Francis, Mayor David R. 277–8; Louisiana Purchase exposition (1904) 273, 277–8, 305; Missouri
Botanical Garden 273, 278, 281; Tower Grove Park 273, 278, 282; Washington University 276; Zoo-Museum District
(ZMD) 278, 280–2; see also Forest Park St Louis
Saint-Simonisme 89
San Francisco 2, 23, 252; California Midwinter Exposition (1894) 257–9, 305; City of 259; Coon, Mayor H. P. 254;
Crissy Fields x; Earthquake (1906) 253, 255, 259; Golden Gate Bay and Bridge 253, 259; McCoppin, Mayor Frank
254; Ocean Beach 254, 260; ‘Outside Lands’ 253–4, 256, 259; San Francisco Recreation and Parks 261; Yerba Buena
253; see also Golden Gate Park
Sanssouci, Potsdam 209, 211
Sargent, Charles Sprague 217, 267, 269
Sarphati, Samuel 123
Schama, Simon 2, 239n1, 312
Schinkel, Karl Friedrich 209–10, 212
Schmidt, Robert 196–7
Schumacher, Fritz 109, 185–90, 193, 285–6, 308
Schwartz, Martha 11, 12–13, 309
Schwartz / Smith / Meyer 11, 12–13
seating – mov(e)able 7–8, 16, 30, 32, 46, 118, 120, 122
Seattle Department of Parks and Recreation 24, 26; First Hill 22–4; Forward Thrust Program 21–3; Freeway Park 19–26,
306–8, 311; Freeway Park Association 26; Gas Works Park x, 23, 46, 68, 195; Jensonia Hotel 23–4, 26; Olympic
Sculpture Park x; Park Place 22, 24–6; Pigott Memorial Corridor 22–3; Washington State Convention Center 22, 22–6
Secretary of State for the Interior x, 34n1
Sefton Park, Liverpool 90, 144, 275
Select Committee on Public Walks 141, 145, 305
Sello, Ehenreich (‘the Younger’) 209
Sert, José Maria XXX
Shaw, Henry 273–4, 278
Shurtleff, Arthur 267
Siedlungsverband Ruhrkohlenbezirk (SVR) 196–7, 205n4
Simpson, Jeffrey 222
Simpson, Lusby and Clark, Gilmore 26–7, 30
Sixtus V, Pope 87
Smith, Ken 12, 14–15, 75
Speer, Albert 167, 207, 210
Sperber, Fritz 185–7
Spooner, Edwin 217
Springer, Leonard 59
Springsteen, Bruce 161
Stadtpark 2, 109, 185–94, 285–6, 305–9, 312; Festwiese 185, 189–90, 192; Landhaus ‘Walter’ 188; Otto-Wels Straße
189–90; Stadtparksee 185, 188, 189–90, 192; Stadtparkverein 192; water tower / planetarium 185–90, 189; see also
Hamburg
Stanley, Lord (Frederick Arthur) 242, 251
Stanley Park 240, 241–51, 306, 308, 311; Beaver Lake 243; Brockton Point 243–4, 246; Ferguson Point 242, 245; Forest
Management Plan (1989) 246; Lions Gate Bridge and Causeway 241, 242, 243, 245, 247–8, 251; Lost Lagoon 242–6;
Prospect Point 242, 244, 246, 247; Seawall 242–7, 249–51; Siwash Point 242; Stanley Park Cycling Plan (2012) 248,
251; Stanley Park Ecology Society 248–50; Stanley Park Forest Management Plan (2009) 249; Stanley Park
Restoration Plan 249; Stanley Park Task Force 246–7; Stanley Park Transportation and Recreation Report (1996)
250; Stanley Park Zoo 244; Third Beach 245, 246; see also Vancouver
Starck, Philippe 138
Starkman, Nathan 70
Stebbins, Emma 232
Stern, Henry 236
Sternfeld, Joel 37, 40–1, 45
Stranahan, James Samuel Thomas 218, 218, 220, 222, 226, 306, 309
sublime, the 86, 95n1, 202, 211, 270
Sugarman, Budd 12, 17, 306
Summerson, John 99
sunbathing 91, 192, 203, 290
sustainability 139, 151, 158, 292, 308
Sutton, S. B. 263, 306
Swaine, James 245
Switkin, Lisa 43, 46
Thatcher, Prime Minister Margaret 3, 101
Thijsse, Jacob P. 285–6
Third Reich 113, 197
Thirty Years War 208
Thomas, Tupper 224, 309, 311
Tiergarten, Großer 2, 115, 207–16, 305–6, 308–11; Baumsaal 211, 214; Bellevue Palace 209, 211; Englischer Gärten
210; Entlastungstrasse 211, 214; Fan Mile 210, 215; Fasanerieallee 211, 213; Großer Stern 208, 210–11, 213; Klein
 Querallee 211; Kleiner Stern 208–9; Kurfürstenplatz / Zeltenplatz 208, 211, 213; Lortzing monument 211; Love
Parades 210; Luiseninsel 211; Platz der Republik 210–11, 214; Rousseauinsel 209, 211; Siegessäulle (Victory
Column) 207, 209–10, 213; Strasse des 17. Juni 207, 209, 210, 212–13; Tiergartendialoges 212, 215; Venusbassin
214, 215; see also Berlin
TOPOS and gruppe F 215
Toronto Bloor-Yorkville Business Improvement Area 11–12, 16–17; Cumberland Street 11, 14–15; City Council 11–12,
16–17, 306; Givens, Mayor Phil 12; Yorkville Park, Village of 3, 11–19, 75, 306–7
Treib, Marc 137
Trust for Public Land 293
Tschumi, Bernard 24, 91, 109, 133, 135–40, 205, 307, 311
Typhoon Freda 244, 249
Uhlir, Ed 170, 173
United Nations Agenda 21 139–40, 311
UNESCO World Heritage List 77, 84
use of parks: by adolescents 75, 174, 312; by female visitors 30, 32–4, 103, 236, 310; by people alone 200, 236; by
tourists 3, 11, 36, 45–6, 84, 104, 108, 128, 139, 306, 310–12
Vancouver: Bicycle Plan (1999) 249; Burrard Inlet 241–2, 245–6, 251; City Council 241–2; Coal Harbour 241, 243, 248,
250; English Bay 242, 249, 250; False Creek 248, 250; First Narrows 242–3; Greenest City Action Plan (2009) 249;
Greenways Plan (1995) 249–50; Oppenheimer, Mayor David 242, 244; Port Moody 242; Vancouver Park Board 241,
244, 247–9, 251; West End / Downtown 245–6, 248, 250; see also Stanley Park
Vancouver, Captain George 241
van Eeghen, Christiaan Pieter 123, 126–7
van Eesteren, Cornelis 286, 288
van Gessel, Michael 63, 128
van Horne, William 242
van Laren, A. J. 286
van Niftrik, J. G. 59, 124, 283–5
Van Valkenburgh, Michael 43, 174, 304, 309
Vaux, Calvert Bowyer 1, 2, 211, 217–27, 230–5, 260, 277, 283, 296, 305, 307–8 (bio 219)
Verhagen, Evert 62, 67
Verhoog, Quirijn 128
Vernes, Michel 89–90
Vernier, Arnalda 187
Vexlard, Gilles 138, 140
Victoria amazonica 142
Victoria, Queen 99
Viele, Egbert Ludovicus 218, 220, 230
Viguier, Jean-Paul et Jodry, Jean-François 69–70, 73
Villette, Parc de la, 3, 24, 49–51, 69–73, 76, 109, 133–40, 195, 202, 205, 306–11; Paris Bamboo Garden 138; Canal de
l’Ourcq 94, 134, 134–7, 136, 139; Cité de la Musique 133, 135, 137, 139; Cité des Sciences 133, 135, 137, 139;
Conservatoire de Paris 133, 135, 137; Établissement Public du Parc et de la Grande Halle de la Villette (EPPGHV)
133–5, 137–9; Halle aux Cuirs 139; Philarmonie de Paris 133, 137; Prairie du Cercle 138; Sound Garden 138;
Trellised Garden 138, 140; see also Paris; Tschumi, Bernard
Viollet-le-Duc, Eugène-Emmanuel 49
Volkspark 2, 185, 187, 192, 194, 200, 308
Voltaire 208
Vondel, Joost van den 123, 129
von Krosigk, Klaus 213
Wagenfeld, Horst 113, 116, 120–1, 307
Walker, Peter 12; (and Simo, Melanie) 23–4
Wallot, Paul 210
Ward, Aaron Montgomery 163, 165–6, 174, 306
Ward Thompson, Catharine 2, 310–11
Waring, George 230
Warnau, Hans 62, 64
Webb, Aston 99
Weimar Republic 194, 210
Westergasfabriek x, 3, 59–68, 307–11; Broadway 65; Cultuurpark 60, 65–6, 68; Events Field 62, 64–6, 68;
Waternatuuruin 59, 63, 65, 68; Westergasfabriek BV 61–2, 66, 68; see also Amsterdam
White, John 176
Whitman, Walt 217
Whyte, William H. 8, 9, 27–30, 33–4
wi-fi in parks 68, 312
Wilhelm I, Kaiser 115, 212
Wilhelmina, Queen 287
Wirth, Theodore 295–6, 298–304
Wolsey, Cardinal 98
Woningwet Laws 285
Wooton, Allen S. 247
Works Progress Administration (WPA) 167
Wörner, Rose and Gustav 215
Wyatville, Sir Jeffry 144
Yorkville Park, Village of see Toronto
Young, Terence 2
Zaitzevsky, Cynthia 265–7, 269
Zimmerman, Christian 226
Zion, Robert 5, 6, 28–9
Zocher, David and Louis P. 127
zone gardeners 236, 281