When Joe Gray retired early this year, he listed to reporters as one of his accomplishments early on the purchase of land for and construction of the Reiche School in the West End. The school sits in the middle of what were multiple historic housing units between Brackett and Clark streets.
At the time, back in the late '60s, cities across the nation were going through the process of “Urban Renewal,” which sought to level entire neighborhoods viewed as run-down, and in their place build the 1970 version of a mini-urban oasis. To the 1970 eye, the Reiche School may have been viewed as a building of great architectural accomplishment. To the modern eye, the building is a prime example of the blight it was supposed to replace.
Not only was the Reiche School an architectural failure, but Portland suffered at the hand of federal thinking in many areas during this short-sighted time. Bayside was split in half when its heart was sliced in two by the Franklin Arterial, Union Station was bulldozed in favor of a strip mall and horrible looking and out of place buildings like the Maine School of Law on Deering Avenue were constructed without regard to their surroundings.
But the absolute worst thing to happen to the city during Urban Renewal was the severing of the city in half by Interstate 295. In the late 1960s, the only highway available to the supercharged 440-cubic-inched, four barrel carb-ed public was the Maine Turnpike, which only grazed the city at its outer reaches. These folks, obviously inconvenienced by the mere thought of having to see our scenic neighborhoods and frightened at the prospect of having to travel only 35 miles per hour down Brighton Avenue to get to the heart of the city, were part of the driving force behind the federal government’s push, and the state’s backing, to construct a highway that would get you to Porteous five minutes faster.
The ironic thing that happened as a result of the interstate is that instead of bringing people into the city, it enabled Portlanders a quicker escape. The road sprouted large-scale, development on the city’s outskirts that were more attractive to the 1970 shopaholic and shuttered our downtown department stores.
Even without the acknowledgment of state and federal leadership that we are facing an energy crisis coming at us like a semi nearly side-swiping you as you attempt to merge on to 295 at exit 6, Portlanders on their own are coming to terms with the problem and realizing that better pedestrian access, safer biking right of ways, more green space and efficient public transportation are our generations version of Urban Renewal.
Thankfully there is an effort underway to take a quantum leap and “make right what once went wrong.” In case you missed it, last night a discussion was held at USM’s Abramson Center to discuss the Forest Avenue corridor and the effects the last 50 years of motoring has had on the neighborhoods that border it. Courtesy of a generous grant, a study is being conducted to determine how to best reconnect Forest Avenue not only with the rest of the city, but back to nature to better blend in with its surroundings.
These types of discussions are going to become more commonplace as the everyday motoring we have taken for granted comes to an abrupt end when the cost of energy makes it unattainable to you and me. It’s time for Portland to reinvent itself from a time of misguided thinking to a modern era that will be largely self-sufficient. A discussion to cut back the twenty acres of cloverleaf highway ramps that connect 295 to Forest Avenue at exit 6 to two small intersections that enable the expansion of Deering Oaks Park and provides for better pedestrian and bicyclist access is a great start.
As a nod to the past, maybe the plans could include an oil shrine.
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