What Could Have Been?

Imagine a world . . . 

A funny thing happened fifty years ago. More accurately, a thing FAILED to happen fifty years ago and that failure has had a huge impact on how Baton Rouge developed.

The early 1970s saw a number of transportation related effects. Many cities worldwide had spent the previous decade or two reconfiguring their fundamental structure. City centers emptied as suburban sprawl began its cancerous growth outward from the core. Unlike the first movement away from the city cores in the late-1890s and early-1900s, the single-user motor vehicle largely fueled this suburbanization rather than mass transit.

As the tidal forces of daily commuting into and out of the city cores grew, the need for storage space for all those privately owned motor vehicles began to eat into public space. Cities allowed, even encouraged, buildings in the emptying city cores to be demolished. Parking lots replaced the razed buildings.

Once the buildings were removed the tax rate on the properties dropped. Cities found their tax incomes dropping, which affected the city’s ability to pay for services. The more buildings removed the worse the problem became. As the number of parking lots grew, the reason to drive into town diminished as there were fewer living spaces and businesses to attract traffic. This, coupled with sprawl, new roads, changes in consumerism, and the post-World War Two housing boom, accelerated the destruction of city cores.

In Europe, cities began to convert ancient town squares – the center of human interaction for centuries – into parking lots. Cities that had evolved around and along canals and other waterways began to seal and drain those waterways converting them into streets and roads. National governments in the Americas constructed multilane highways between, and most importantly, through city cores destroying minority neighborhoods and business districts in the process.

The effects of those changes helped bring about another shift in the path of urban development for some cities in the late-1960s and early-1970s. Three cities in particular – Amsterdam (The Netherlands), Portland (OR), and Baton Rouge (LA) – initiated similar approaches to the problems. 

One of those cities did not follow through.

AMSTERDAM, THE NETHERLANDS

Nieuwmarkt, a square in the center of Amsterdam, Netherlands, used for passive storage of motor vehicles in the 1950s and 1960s, above, and the same square restored for use by humans, below. In the 1970s many buildings on and around the square were torn down to make way for a planned metro and highway which was to run right through the Nieuwmarkt neighborhood. This led to heavy rioting, known as the Nieuwmarkt Riots (Nieuwmarktrellen), in 1975 and, ultimately, abandonment of the highway plans. 

By the late-1960s, Amsterdam had recovered from World War Two and quickly adopted automobility as had the rest of The Netherlands. Urban policy makers came to view the car as the travel mode of the future. Neighborhoods were destroyed to construct roads for motorized traffic and car parking spaces replaced city squares.

In 1971, deaths by motor vehicles reached record levels, with 3,300 people dead, 500 of whom were children. Vic Langenhoff, journalist and father of one of those dead children, wrote a series of articles the first of which used the dramatic headline ‘Stop de Kindermoord’ (Stop the Child Murder). Others soon took up the challenge of calling for safer street designs rather than restricting children’s access to streets. “Stop the Child Murder” joined other organizations with aims to restrict motor vehicles in city centers, improve public transportation, protect heritage sites threatened by road construction plans, and other related interests.

Within a few years ‘Stop de Kindermoord’ became subsidized by and was integrated into the Dutch government. In the meantime, another group of activists founded the “First Only Real Dutch Cyclists’ Union” to demand more space for bicycles in the public realm. As the movement for safer streets grew, protesters created mass street rides (think Critical Mass), guerilla infrastructure actions, and other forms of protest large and small. Their approach focused largely on safety through redesigning streets to restrict motoring and prioritize people cycling and walking. The protests gained support by approaching planners and politicians with a message to protect children.

In 1978, Amsterdam changed directions and adopted an entirely new, safer, direction with the adoption of their Traffic Circulation Plan. Over time, the traffic death rate that was 20 percent higher in the Netherlands than in America in 1975 became 60 percent lower by 2008. Amsterdam, as of 2021, has over 475 miles of cycle paths and bike lanes within the 64 square land miles of the city (Baton Rouge covers 88.65 square miles).

PORTLAND, OREGON

Unlike most cities in the United States, Portland saw relatively slow growth in the post-World War Two era. That didn’t deter the state and city, bolstered by then-current federal redevelopment and highway programs, from creating plans that would eradicate older inner-city neighborhoods for redevelopment or highway expansion. One project in particular, the Mount Hood Freeway, itself part of a much larger plan designed by Robert Moses to add fourteen highways in the Portland metropolitan area, would have destroyed 1,750 older Portland homes, erasing one percent of the Portland housing stock. The plan initially appeared in 1955. As the project slowly advanced it led to a “highway revolt” within the community in the late-1960s and early-1970s that eventually stopped the project.

This “highway revolt” was part of a larger social phenomenon: the organization and growth of active and motivated neighborhood groups; a generational change in city government leaders, and; new federal requirements for community involvement in spending decisions. City planners proposed a formal district planning program in 1971 that integrated neighborhood organizations into the planning process. 

One of the results of this community involvement, particularly the “highway revolt,” was the 1973 Portland Bike Plan, Portland’s first. This plan included nearly 190 miles of bicycle infrastructure to be built in the city and created a citizen's Bicycle Advisory Committee along with a Bicycle Program within the city's Transportation Bureau. By the time the second bicycle plan was adopted in 1996 the city had built 185 miles of bicycle infrastructure. As of 2020, Portland reported a total of 403 miles of all categories of bicycle facilities with an additional 70 miles funded. Portland covers 133.42 square land miles (Baton Rouge covers 88.65 square miles).

BATON ROUGE

Like many other US cities, Baton Rouge grew rapidly during and after World War Two. In 1947 the city and the parish became a unified city-parish government, in part due to that rapid growth. Between 1964 and 1974 the state completed construction on Interstate 10 and a new bridge crossing the Mississippi River at Baton Rouge. This construction eradicated hundreds of homes, bifurcated historic neighborhoods, and wiped out successful African American business districts associated with those neighborhoods. Unlike Portland, no successful community organizations arose during the Interstate planning process to counter it.

In 1969, Keith Kingbay, “cycling manager of the League of American Wheelmen,” came to Baton Rouge on a speaking tour intending to build support for “marked and established bikeways, the backing of public officials, and intensive safety programs.” Kingbay appeared in the local newspaper in the context of a recreational ride with the Baton Rouge Cycle Club. The president of that club, Roy Odom, Sr, would become the driving force behind future efforts to establish a bicycle master plan.

In November 1969, Roy Odom led the Cycling Jambalaya Week intended to establish a statewide cycling network. Representatives from five other state cycling organizations attended the four-day cycle touring event. Governor McKeithen issued a Cycling Jambalaya Week proclamation. The tour also had the endorsement of the Tourist Commission, the State Parks and Recreation Commission, and the Department of Highways. 

Three months later, Keith Kingbay, returned to Baton Rouge for more public appearances touting a statewide bicycling network. “Almost every state in the union, except Louisiana, has such a system,“ Kingbay stated. “And, since they use mostly smaller existing roads and the smaller highways, there is no great public or private expense involved.” His statements were made as the Interstate system was under construction around the country, which Kingbay believed would divert motor vehicle traffic from the smaller roads thus making bicycle touring easier and safer.

Except for an attempt to institute a city-parish bicycle registration system, the state bicycle network and the Baton Rouge bikeways plan disappeared for nearly two years from the local media. In 1972, however, Roy Odom returned with a petition to add a bikeway down Highland Road declaring it the first link in a city-parish bicycle master plan. Further, he stated “they” were working with city-parish planning officials and “considering a master plan of bikeways to embrace power line, pipeline, and levee rights of way” as well as streets and roads.

In the middle of July 1972 the idea of a city-parish bikeway plan appears for the first time on the city-parish council agenda when Councilman Owen A. Gauthier introduced a resolution authorizing the City-Parish Traffic Engineer, the Planning Commission, and the Beautification Committee “to make the necessary surveys and to study the feasibility of implementing bikeways throughout the Parish of East Baton Rouge.” On September 13, the final reading of Gautier’s resolution was read and unanimously adopted by the Council. The path to the bikeway plan’s approval would prove tortuous. 

For the next two years, the comprehensive plan would be all but forgotten as the necessary committees failed to consider it. During this time, several individual paths were proposed with some finding funding and eventually being constructed. Among these disconnected paths were what became the Gus Kinchen Trail, a path along Nicholson Drive from LSU to Jennifer Jean, and one on Highland Road from LSU to Staring Lane. The Highland Road project has still not been built. 

Finally, at their August 14, 1974, meetings, the City and Parish Councils took up the bikeway plan. During discussion, Councilman W.T. Winfield added an amendment that added a bicycle trail across Monte Sano Park west of Plank Road.

It’s worth presenting the rationale for the plan in full:

The Comprehensive Bikeway Plan of Baton Rouge is a master plan for designating routes of various types. Its purposes are to insure continuity of routes through various parts of the city and parish and to avoid costly duplication of facilities. It also permits an orderly development process for determining priorities and for allocating funds for the development of bikeways. Finally it provides a framework from which other bikeways may emanate connecting still other parts of the City and Parish. 

That is to say, the plan not only provides a framework for creating a bikeway system throughout the City-Parish but also for expanding that system in the future.

The plan prioritized construction projects and split responsibility for the projects between the city and the parish. The bikeway plan also provided full lists of the city and parish recommended facility priorities by class, path listings by classification, and route descriptions. Two illustrations provided visual descriptions of the typical bikeway cross sections and a map of the parish showing all the recommended facilities.

Unfortunately, having a plan in hand and implementing that plan are two very different things. Within a month Roy Odom wrote a letter to the editor that began, “Just one question: How long? How long is Baton Rouge going to sit back and watch the flower of its youth being consumed by the voracious appetite of the traffic fatality? By the criminal neglect of our bureaucracy?” Odom adds he heard Public Works Director Ray Burgess on the radio saying he lacked money and a show of public support. Odom points out the state legislature designated five highway funds for bikeways and that the Federal authorities provide several categories of matching funds. He omits any mention of public support but finishes with a jab at how bikeways on the New Highland Road are being “fumbled.” At least five years had passed since Odom started working on a comprehensive bikeways plan.

Perhaps adding insult to Odom’s perceived injury, an article in the September 29th Sunday Advocate specifically mentions how Portland (OR) was using highway money to build more than sixty miles of bikeways. Some of those bikeways had initially been planned as scenic routes rather than transportation bikeways, that is, the route had been altered to connect residential and business districts rather than purely scenic areas. The item included a quote from a 17-year-old who used the bikeway to commute to work and back.

Now that the City-Parish had a bikeway plan and the Director of Public Works had stated he needed money for the plan, what did the local politicians do? They announced a new $61.5 million bond issue referendum, $5 million of which would be divided evenly between the twelve metropolitan districts with projects drawn from “citizens petition . . . paving projects . . . sidewalk and bicycle path construction.” 

The bikeway plan was less than two months old and already ignored.

Within days the Planning Commission adopted its own five-year capital improvements program adding an additional $30.46 million for drainage and road work but declined to add to the $5 million in the bond proposal. The bond proposal was defeated in the November election. 

Nearly one year after the bikeway plan had been adopted, Roy Odom wrote another letter to the editor. In it he describes riding on a bikeway in Shreveport and then asks where are the equivalent paths in the state capitol? As he noted in answering his own question, “They exist on paper and in red tape . . . The fabulous sums that have been spent on evaluations, analyses, reviews, investigations and plans would . . . efficiently pave Baton Rouge’s bikeways with gold.” He goes on to demonstrate the desire for bicycle infrastructure around the world, the bikeways in other Louisiana cities and towns, the presence of bicycles in most garages, and the lack of bicycle infrastructure in Baton Rouge. In his view it is the lack of unity between the many different interests who want to see forward movement on the bikeway plan that leaves the plans unfulfilled.

Three months later, Odom writes another letter to the editor. This time, after painting a picture of a cyclist riding in the road with motor traffic in the rain and invoking the energy crunch and the need for physical fitness, he offers a solution. That solution is a petition circulating that urges implementation of phase one of the bikeway plan. There is no evidence that the petition was ever presented to any governing body.

The bikeway plan effectively disappears from the public record at the end of 1975. It reappears briefly in 1977 in an article on legislation before Congress, House Resolution 955, the Bikeway Transportation Act of 1977, that would add $45 million for bicycle paths. House Resolution 955 never made it out to committee.

By January 1976 only two bikeway projects had been completed – the “Gus Kinchen path” and the path atop the University Lakes levee along the Corporation Canal. Neither of them was part of the bikeway plan. During a bus strike in 1976, LSU and the city entered discussions on adding bicycle facilities to connect the campus with residential districts south of campus. The City-Parish did eventually apply for funds from the Federal Highway Administration under the Bikeway Administration Act to construct bicycle paths along Nicholson Drive from the LSU campus to Jennifer Jean and along Highland Road from the LSU campus to Lee Drive. The path along Nicholson Drive was eventually constructed. The Highland Road path never came to fruition. 

CONCLUSION

Creating lasting change in a culture requires a mix of economic, political, and social elements combined with a willingness to effect change. In the early 1970s these elements came together in Amsterdam and Portland resulting in a shift toward a more robust, accessible, and diverse transportation system for those urban areas. During that same era in Baton Rouge those elements did not coalesce to create long-term, lasting change. 

The key ingredient lacking in Baton Rouge was a desire for change not only within the political realm but within the social as well. There were no organic, local, resistance organizations that arose to fight the destruction wrought by Interstate construction. No systemic changes in the local planning leaders, transportation officials, and politicians leading to a call for change. Even the repeated blows of oil shortages, transit strikes, and increasing traffic deaths did not affect a change in the world view of residents.

Roy Odom, with the assistance of the Baton Rouge Bicycle Club, seems to have been the driving force behind creation of the bikeways plan. Once the idea of the bikeways plan was accepted by the city and parish authorities other agencies had to be involved. Those other agencies grew beyond those strictly necessary to create a plan and build the infrastructure. Unfortunately, this mix did not provide the necessary energy to take the plan from document to implementation of on-the-ground facilities.

The facilities that were eventually built were created as ad hoc projects, some that were in the plan and some that were not. Most of the facilities created in the late 1970s and early 1980s were not connected to any other bicycle facility. All the facilities created in this era simply began and ended, seemingly randomly. As a result, the facilities were built in a scattershot manner with no connected system resulting. 

Given the ad hoc nature of these construction projects there was no context for building an efficient, effective, and equitable system for all citizens of East Baton Rouge Parish and the region. It also meant there was no impetus to maintain the facilities that were constructed, much less to continue expanding the plan over time.

At the moment (October 2021), there are a number of s programs to increase road capacity in the city-parish that are funded and underway. Most of  these road construction plans  are intended to widen roadways for higher motor vehicle capacity. A few will add connecting routes intended to syphon traffic away from overburdened existing roadways. Each of these plans includes a Complete Streets component intended to create pedestrian and bicycle infrastructure along the individual projects IF the context of those individual projects, in the opinion of the project managers, warrants such additions and IF adding such infrastructure does not exceed a set percentage of the total cost of the project.

The recently approved Pedestrian-Bicycle Master Plan (accepted and approved, June 2020) is neither funded nor underway, except for BREC trails projects that have been active before the Master Plan existed. Using many of the same tactics employed in the 1970s, the current administration has not funded the Master Plan while simultaneously bemoaning the lack of funds.

No percentage of monies available via the MOVE BR program for community enhancements – sidewalks, bicycle infrastructure, landscaping, etc. – have been dedicated to the Master Plan. Instead, much as in the 1974 bond proposal, it is proposed that a percentage of the community enhancement monies be evenly distributed to the twelve metro council districts each of which will propose their own plan for their own district. There is no mention of the Master Plan in this proposal.

It appears Baton Rouge is poised to once again pass on the opportunity to create a robust, diverse, integrated transportation system. 

Can we change that? We won’t know if we don’t try. Will the citizens of Baton Rouge join together to insist the Master Plan be implemented in a timely manner? Will YOU?