Over the weekend I had the misfortune of driving to Easton Town Center, nestled in the corporate prairie lands of suburban Columbus. “Misfortune” might be overstating it, as I admit Easton is unsurpassed in Central Ohio for shopping pleasure and convenience, and Banana Republic’s 15 percent off deal certainly didn’t afflict any wounds.
But Easton represents, to me, a low point in America’s addiction to theme parks that attempt to capture another place’s reality. Much like Disneyland, Easton imitates the essence of a town, complete with public fountains, park benches, narrow streets and outdoor restaurant seating. In actuality, Easton is nothing more than a freshly painted, suburban shopping mall that went to extravagant lengths to make you feel as if you were someplace meaningful.
Easton asks us the question, why should we bother building and conserving real town centers when it’s more pleasant and cost effective to build fake ones? I was most conscious of this dilemma when I rode my bike to Easton over the summer, only to find out that the “town” doesn’t have a bike rack. I was gawked at by confused shoppers as I circled the “town,” looking for something to lock my bike to without risk of confiscation.
My worldview has been overhauled the past few years. Before coming to OSU, I lived in the German city of Darmstadt (about the size of Akron) for two years. There, the biases of my suburban childhood were confronted by what I viewed as a much more sustainable urban environment, built around a functional town center. I’ve since come to believe that the sprawling of America’s suburbs is our nation’s most pressing problem.
For all its fraudulence, Easton reminds us of the necessity of public space. Historically we’ve had a good understanding of the importance of public space in both the vitality of the urban environment and its crucial role in our human need to connect with each other. From the public markets of ancient Greece and Rome, to the pedestrian centers of modern-European cities, public spaces serve as places to interact with people of all colors and economic backgrounds, as well as serve as starting points for carrying out our daily errands.
The suburban shopping mall accomplishes part of this by streamlining our shopping, but it preselects with whom we come into contact. This is also a trait of the suburban subdivision, which often serves as a fenced-in enclave for the advantaged, who rarely need to see the less fortunate. The homeless aren’t welcome in the “town” of Easton.
When did we stop caring about our real town centers and streets, and when did it become permissible to separate ourselves socio-economically in every aspect of our lifestyles?
In many ways, we didn’t have much of a choice. Home-building companies realized long ago the efficiency and profit of producing hundreds of wood-framed houses on old farmland in massive development projects. Suburban city councils recognized the potential tax revenue of such developments, as well as revenue from neighboring business parks and shopping malls looking to be closer to the subdivisions and to escape rising rents in city centers.
As a result, these same suburbs have more money to build better schools. Parents want their kids in those school districts, and the sprawl continues unabated. Cities struggle to pay for widened roads and other infrastructure, and revenue from further commercial development covers the cost. The cycle seems unstoppable.
Near OSU, the South Campus Gateway project on High St. will contain a vibrant mix of apartments, shops, restaurants, and open public space, all accessible by foot and bike from other neighborhoods. Though it’s geared toward students, I believe Gateway can demonstrate the effectiveness of turning failed developments of the past into vibrant, economically viable centers of the future. I hope this serves as a model for suburbs and city centers alike.
So next time you’re visiting the “town” of Easton, take a look at the decorative windows adorning the fake second floors above the shops and restaurants, and ask yourself, where do we go from here? For those of you whose idea of the American Dream includes the cul-de-sac driveway, I beg you to study abroad for a year. Maybe your worldview will be overhauled as well, maybe your American Dream can be revised, and maybe our nation’s cities and suburbs can still be salvaged.
Dan Magestro is a postdoctoral researcher in the physics department. He can be reached at [email protected]. Drop a line for a couple pictures of his bike trip to Easton.
