My Beloved Bronx

In Casablanca (1942), there's an exchange between a Nazi officer and our hero, Rick:

Major Strasser: Are you one of those people who cannot imagine the Germans in their beloved Paris?
Rick: It's not particularly my beloved Paris.
Major Strasser: How about New York?

Rick: Well, there are certain sections of New York, Major, that I wouldn't advise you to try to invade.

I don't think I'm the only one who always imagined Bogie was referring to the Bronx, which has a reputation for being our toughest and grittiest borough. It's a great line, because, well, wouldn't we all like to see Hitler get his ass kicked in the South Bronx? But it got me thinking that Paris oddly has something fundamentally in common with the Bronx: topography.

Paris' natural high point is Montmartre in the 18th arrondissement, crowned with the Sacre-Coeur Basilica. To reach the basilica, you can either be a tremendous dork and take this little white Disney-esque trolley up the hill, or you can climb hundreds of steps. But steps are something you see throughout Montmartre, because even in the residential areas the elevation change between parallel streets can be dramatic.

The Bronx's high point is in the western part of the borough in Van Cortlandt Park, and throughout the area you will also find steep staircases that traverse the terrain. As in Montmartre, these "step streets" actually extend mapped roadways and are endlessly frustrating to motorists unfamiliar with the area. It just goes to show that despite our prevailing perceptions of the Bronx, it has its own je ne sais quoi!

Left: Montmartre
Right: Bronx (photo courtesy of sixes & sevens)

A New Perspective

I'm about 30 pages into the seminal text The Granite Garden: Urban Nature and Human Design by Anne Whiston Spirn. Spirn argues that, contrary to prevailing notions, the city is part of nature. She writes, "The city is neither wholly natural nor wholly contrived. It is not 'unnatural' but, rather, a transformation of 'wild' nature by humankind to serve its own needs." To Spirn, nature is a continuum, and its influence on how cities are designed is undeniable. One of her most striking examples of this so far is the Manhattan skyline. I have always thought it was strange how Manhattan's financial districts and their skyscrapers were located so far apart -- one at the tip of the island and the other in midtown. It seemed arbitrary, and I assumed money and influence gave rise to these two forests of steel 60 blocks apart. Not so! According to Spirn, these locations are particularly suited for building high because of the proximity of the underlying bedrock to the surface. There's something comforting about nature's power and endurance. As Spirn puts it, "Civilizations and governments rise and fall; traditions, values, and policies change; but the natural environment of each city remains an enduring framework within which the human community builds." Wise words.