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The streetcars that plied Oregon's small-town streets were every bit as diverse as those in Portland and their history even more fascinating. Learn of the devastating 1922 fire that scorched Astoria's plank road railways and put a halt to its once-thriving streetcar network. Muse over the tale of a beloved white horse named Old Charlie that proved more efficient at powering Albany's streetcars than the alternative steam locomotive. Laugh at the spectacle of university students being carted back to their dormitories on the Eleventh Street Line's special midnight "drunk express" trains. Take pride in the tiny town of Cherry Grove, which became the first in the West to embrace new battery technology. Local historian Richard Thompson celebrates the lost trolley lines that transported Oregon's people across the state for decades.
Willamette Valley Railways tells the story of the electric interurban railways that ran through Oregon's Willamette Valley and of the streetcars that operated in the towns they served. Long before modern light rail vehicles, electric trains were providing Portland and the Willamette Valley with reliable, elegant transportation that was second to none. Between 1908 and 1915, two large systems, the Oregon Electric Railway and the Southern Pacific Red Electrics, joined smaller competitors constructing railways throughout the region. Portland became the hub of an impressive interurban network in a frenzy of electric railway building. Yet all too soon, this brief but glorious interurban era was over. Highway improvement and the growth of automobile ownership made electric passenger trains unprofitable in the sparsely populated valley. By the early 1930s, the company that had launched the nation's first true interurban was the only one still offering passenger service here.
Ever since the first streetcars rumbled through the streets of Seattle in 1884, public transportation in the Puget Sound region has been a wild roller-coaster ride, replete with scandals, triumphs, and momentous turning points. A complete rail transit system crisscrossed the region during the trolley days, only to be dismantled by 1941. After seventy years of turmoil--and traffic congestion--a new system, Sound Transit, arose in its place. The story is not just about trolleys, trains, and buses--it is also about the making and breaking of mayors and the way that Seattle, Tacoma, and Everett developed from the 1880s to today.
"Beyond Mobility" also seeks to rethink how projects are planned and designed in cities and suburbs at multiple geographic scales, from micro-designs such as parklets to corridors and city-regions. The book closes with a reflection on the opportunities and challenges in moving beyond mobility, with attention to emerging technologies such as self-driving cars and ride-hailing services and social equity topics such as accessibility, livability, and affordability.
The spread of urbanization has transformed the concept of the city, but the way urban planners, urban scientists and, above all, urban dwellers address it has also changed, probably even more so. The city is thus a new topic for geography, a discipline that has experienced an ambiguous relationship to cities in the past. What kind of geography is required in order to bring fresh insight to this renewed field? Drawing together a wide range of texts from philosophers, sociologists and economist as well as geographers and urban planners, this volume provides a theoretical framework within which this question can begin to be explored.
The fight for the future of the city street between pedestrians, street railways, and promoters of the automobile between 1915 and 1930. Before the advent of the automobile, users of city streets were diverse and included children at play and pedestrians at large. By 1930, most streets were primarily a motor thoroughfares where children did not belong and where pedestrians were condemned as “jaywalkers.” In Fighting Traffic, Peter Norton argues that to accommodate automobiles, the American city required not only a physical change but also a social one: before the city could be reconstructed for the sake of motorists, its streets had to be socially reconstructed as places where motorists belonged. It was not an evolution, he writes, but a bloody and sometimes violent revolution. Norton describes how street users struggled to define and redefine what streets were for. He examines developments in the crucial transitional years from the 1910s to the 1930s, uncovering a broad anti-automobile campaign that reviled motorists as “road hogs” or “speed demons” and cars as “juggernauts” or “death cars.” He considers the perspectives of all users—pedestrians, police (who had to become “traffic cops”), street railways, downtown businesses, traffic engineers (who often saw cars as the problem, not the solution), and automobile promoters. He finds that pedestrians and parents campaigned in moral terms, fighting for “justice.” Cities and downtown businesses tried to regulate traffic in the name of “efficiency.” Automotive interest groups, meanwhile, legitimized their claim to the streets by invoking “freedom”—a rhetorical stance of particular power in the United States. Fighting Traffic offers a new look at both the origins of the automotive city in America and how social groups shape technological change.
Portland neighborhoods owe their location, alignment, and growth to a splendid, 19th-century innovation: the streetcar. This city still bears the imprint of the carlines that once wove their way out to suburbs in every direction, including Fulton, Portland Heights, Goose Hollow, Nob Hill, Slabtown, Willamette Heights, Albina, Saint Johns, Irvington, Rose City, Mount Tabor, Montavilla, Mount Scott, and Sellwood. As routes developed, people used them for more than just getting to work; they also discovered the recreational function of street railways while visiting friends, parks, and shopping areas farther from the center of town. The time of the trolley peaked during the 1910s. In 1927, the local street railway system entered a period of slow decline that ended in 1950, when Portland's last city streetcars gave way to buses. This is the history of those classic lines.
One of Portland's oldest neighborhoods, Goose Hollow is steps from downtown and beloved for its quirky character, historic homes, spectacular views, and walkability. Over a century ago, the actual "hollow" was dramatically altered when the meandering Tanner Creek, in a deep gulch with several trestle bridge crossings, was diverted underground and infilled. The creek's presence is still felt in the ravine carved through the Tualatin Mountains (spanned by the Vista Bridge) and in the neighborhood's identity. This book provides definitive answers to how Goose Hollow got its name and how Tanner Creek Gulch was filled. Stories are also told of the Great Plank Road, City Park's slow-moving landslide, and famous residents such as Daniel Lownsdale, C. E. S. Wood, Dr. Marie Equi, John Reed, and Bud Clark. Historic institutions such as Civic Stadium, Multnomah Athletic Club, Lincoln High School, and Washington Park are also featured.
Asphalt Nation is a major work of urban studies that examines how the automobile has ravaged America’s cities and landscape, and how we can fight back. The automobile was once seen as a boon to American life, eradicating the pollution caused by horses and granting citizens new levels of personal freedom and mobility. But it was not long before the servant became the master—public spaces were designed to accommodate the automobile at the expense of the pedestrian, mass transportation was neglected, and the poor, unable to afford cars, saw their access to jobs and amenities worsen. Now even drivers themselves suffer, as cars choke the highways and pollution and congestion have replaced the fresh air of the open road. Today our world revolves around the car—as a nation, we spend eight billion hours a year stuck in traffic. In Asphalt Nation, Jane Holtz Kay effectively calls for a revolution to reverse our automobile-dependency. Citing successful efforts in places from Portland, Maine, to Portland, Oregon, Kay shows us that radical change is not impossible by any means. She demonstrates that there are economic, political, architectural, and personal solutions that can steer us out of the mess. Asphalt Nation is essential reading for everyone interested in the history of our relationship with the car, and in the prospect of returning to a world of human mobility.