So I was sitting in a ULI professional conference on “Developing Green” several months ago and made a small note to myself. “What a good idea it might be to consider the adaptive re-use of shuttered automobile dealerships.” Well, imagine my ironic delight as I read in Globe St. this morning about a new arm of a well-known brokerage firm that had been set up to deal in “work-outs” for closing car lots. Hmmm. Should have registered my idea somewhere, I guess.

Anyway, I still find the notion quite compelling. Naturally, there are as many variants in the location of car dealers as there are option packages, but some of these sites might really work if re-purposed. The ones that spring to mind are those located right on the fringe of residential neighborhoods. Now, I’m aware that today is not the most propitious moment in history to be considering the development of new ground-up housing, but every now and then something comes along that’s just too good to pass up, at least as far as land values are concerned. So a dealership that has been family-run for three generations in the same spot—what’s the land value there? Wouldn’t re-zoning for multifamily or mixed-use development on some of these properties make sense?

On the other hand, what if some portion of the vertical improvements (especially some of those bombastic, palatial homages to the muscle cars and mini-vans of yore with the soaring volumes and granite floors) could be saved and given new life with some minor tweaking? Adaptive re-use is such a wonderful exercise in resource sensitivity; it just requires the proper brilliant design team and a fearless developer. But what uses might work?

I’m thinking a school might be a good fit (at least for a dealership close to residential areas—for those located under freeway off-ramps, maybe not so much). There’s one major assembly area, then lots of support spaces around it to be used for classrooms. Actually, when I hear myself describe it that way, it sounds like a church might also be a good use, especially with all that convenient surface parking scattered around. (The really frustrating thing about a church, of course, is how much surface parking is really required. Talk about designing for the Easter crowd.)

But perhaps there’s a creative hybrid (note the subtle car reference) to be generated with one of these properties, in a mixed-use vein. I could see an enhanced neighborhood center/transit hub where the local (alternate fuel) shuttle stops to pick up people bound for the train station or other public transportation. It could be a small school, library and recreation facility with a tiny amount of retail and maybe a handful of executive suites. Then, build as much multifamily housing around this highly recognizable central element as could possibly fit, generating lots of residents to interact with this new multi-use facility.

The shuttle-to-transit provision could possibly help reduce the amount of parking required for the new residential units, as well as bring interest and activity to the re-purposed dealership building, not to mention reduce overall vehicle trips and greenhouse gas emissions. One might anticipate some municipalities shrieking at the specter of having a huge tax-generating facility re-purposed as something that makes a more modest contribution, but this is a case where the greater good—say the holistic health of the community—needs to be considered over the mere means of income.

Besides, as everyone already knows, this is not your father’s Oldsmobile.

(Daniel Gehman is principal at Thomas Cox Architects. He can be reached at DanielG@tca-arch.com)

Some time ago I wrote about a new senior housing community that was being proposed in my neighborhood. Since this is a product type that my company also designs, I was quite interested in who was proposing just what, so I followed the process. I can’t recall exactly how it happened, but I ended up on the mailing list of the association that represents my neighborhood, and is called upon to review proposed projects for design consistency.

(As a curious aside, when I first moved here about fifteen years ago, I attended a couple of meetings in an attempt to gain familiarity and perhaps even make some connections. At that time the majority of projects being reviewed were cell phone tower installations, and this committee was tough, tough, tough! I believe it was partly due to the great hurdles they put in front of the companies proposing these installations that the coverage at my house is abominable. Seriously, there’s one place I can stand in my driveway to take calls on my work phone. But I digress.)

It quickly became clear to me that the association was, shall we say, vehemently opposed to the project. I took the bait and looked up the drawings myself, and, frankly, saw what I believed to be a sensitively designed community that proposed a modest 150-some units on just over seven acres, which is quite a bit less dense even than the three-story walk-up communities we’ve been doing forever—around 20 DU/AC. I wondered how they made it pencil at such a low number then learned the land had been donated to a religious organization so they could develop retirement homes for their maturing clergy, which I thought was a marvelous gesture.

Because of my inclusion on the mailing list, I got to witness the battle over the proposal, which, due mostly I think to its proposed zone change, engendered so much ire you would have thought it was the President’s new health care proposal. This to me would all have been fine and well, except when the discussion started to distort the facts. The project was called “extremely dense”, “commercial”, “enormous”, and worse. I didn’t think it was any of those things, so, because the connections were provided to me, I contacted the county planner, and even my county Supervisor (who had already been drawn into the fray) to express my support for the project and go on record as such. Finally, I contacted the developer to deliver the same message.

I heard nothing for several months, then received a Notice of Preparation for the required Environmental Impact Report. This involves a public meeting (not a hearing—it is just intended to collect resident concerns about what should be included in the study.) I figured that to be consistent to my position I should show up and see what might unfold.

Well, the meeting was last Tuesday. I got tied up in a client meeting and arrived 45 minutes late, so I missed the presentation by the developer. The room was filled to literally overflowing, with a few brave souls standing outside with their heads stuck through the door, hoping to catch the gist of things. A speaker, who I learned to be an attorney, was pontificating against the development. “Hmmm,” I thought, “I guess I better follow through fully and register to speak.” When I handed in my speaker card, there was a pile nearly an inch thick. How merciful that each speaker was limited to three minutes.

OK, before I get to the punch line here, I must say that in fairness, I heard several issues that evening that had not occurred to me, which I believed were reasonable, and which should be considered in the EIR. This is the essence of a scoping meeting—to uncover the salient issues for analysis, and I look forward to seeing what answers are conveyed in the draft.

I’m not sure how many of the other 150 plus citizens understood that process. Speaker after speaker railed against the project, some reasonably, and some more viscerally. Often the remarks were prefaced with “I’ve lived in this neighborhood for 40 years,” or something along that line. I felt inferior for only having resided here for fourteen. I believe I listened to 20 or more residents before my turn came.

Now, I speak in public all the time, so I’m a pretty good manager of my own nerves. However, I’m usually speaking in the role of the developer’s consultant, and I precede the outpouring of public opinion. I took a breath, and attempted to present my thoughts, about design, precedent and process. I congratulated my neighbors for their willingness to engage in public discourse, observing that the NOP process was precisely for that purpose. I opined that this single zone change would not necessarily topple the first domino in an unstoppable juggernaut, and that this process was accomplishing exactly what it was supposed to do. Perhaps if had more sense, I would not have added that I believe it is important to separate the dry, rational facts of the case from the loaded, visceral reactions.

I concluded in just under the allotted three minutes. A millisecond after uttering my “thank you,” and somewhat to my surprise, the crowd erupted in booing. Seriously. One attendee even shouted out, “How much are they paying you?” I returned to my seat (on the floor) a little shaken, but incredibly energized. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” I thought. Though I was briefly tempted to leave, I realized I had to stay till the end to see what else might happen.

As I was leaving, I did receive one greeting from another (against) speaker, an attorney. He warmly smiled and shook my hand and thanked me for participating in the process. That was good to hear. What a great place we inhabit. What a fascinating experience for me to be on the other side of the podium for a change. How proud I am of my neighbors, even if I don’t agree with them, for taking their time to come out and exercise their rights. How fortunate I am I wasn’t beaten to a pulp in the parking lot by a gang of restive septuagenarians!

As John Mellencamp might say, “Ain’t that America? Home of the Free. Little pink houses for you and me.” Just no “monstrosities” (another speaker’s term) for our aging parents, and yours, too.

I’ll keep you posted.

(Daniel Gehman is principal at Thomas Cox Architects. He can be reached at DanielG@tca-arch.com)

OK, let’s be transparent with one another for a while, shall we? How many of you in the service provider industry know anyone who is still working full time who hasn’t taken a pay/perk/benefit reduction of some kind over the last 18 months? For those of you who haven’t, kudos and congratulations, and may the force be with you. For the rest of us, who, from what I can tell, constitute the vast majority of all professionals, sacrifices have been made in the interest of mutually supporting our peers, or in some instances, even our organizations.

Here in California, as you may have heard, our state leaders struggled mightily but ultimately produced a new budget that reduced state spending (at least in theory) by enough to close our highly publicized $24 billion deficit. (Yes, that’s for ONE YEAR.) Despite any other judgmental misgivings about the results, the governor and legislators are at least to be commended on the fact that THEY GOT THE DARN THING DONE.

Ahem. Now comes the screaming part. There was, as might be expected, a group of people who screamed long and loud over the period of months in which we went without a budget (to the point that the state was issuing IOUs, even for income tax returns in some cases. Sure glad I filed, and received my refund, early.) The approaching financial “event” (I can’t even find the right word here, exactly: Fracas? SNAFU? Tsunami? Armageddon? Mere words don’t seem to do it justice) was daunting to all, so in the end, our fractious lawmakers finally cobbled something together, albeit with a substantial serving of smoke and mirrors by some accounts. (What else might you expect from the state that is home to the motion picture industry?)

Ah, but the screaming. Last week there were several reports on the public radio station of employee unions who were already threatening to sue the state over the proposed pay cuts they were going to have to take, which in some cases amounted to nearly 15% of their pay. While the dispassionate NPR reporters, I’m sure, endeavored to remain neutral in reporting this phenomenon, I believe a little of their agony crept into the accounting of the situation. Perhaps I have already been hardened by the current economic predicament, but I must confess that on some level I felt a bit cynical about the whole business. Typical of my thoughts about this was, “Hey, what are you griping about? Many of my peers have been laid off or taken pay cuts, and they can’t sue anybody. What’s up with that?!”

Which brings me to my point: we’re all in this together. Like the awe-inspiring daily draining of the Bay of Fundy, all boats have sunk in sync. Well, at least most boats. The public employees sector, which is typically abnormally resilient to these economic cycles, has finally felt the pain and humiliation of the kid left standing when the music stopped. In my brief twenty-three year career, I can’t remember when I ever saw this happen before. (Which is not to say it didn’t happen. The most likely time was back in 1991-92, but I was so pre-occupied with my own under-employment that I may not have noticed.)
Credit was the tide that retreated. For a while, it was funding everything, and it seemed like an epoch of unbelievable opportunity. Well, sadly, I guess unbelievable was the operant phrase there.

But back to the point. As the resumption of job creation in these cycles typically trails the bottoming of the S&P 500, surely the constriction of government payrolls and services has got to signal the end, or nearly the end, of our current melt-down. With this final piece of the puzzle finally tightened at the same level as everyone else, perhaps the field has finally flattened enough that some upward progress might be discernable, though at a re-set rate with very different expectations.

I don’t mean to begrudge the real pain and suffering that will befall our civil servants as they, too, look at personal and family belt tightening to endure the remainder of this downturn. And, naturally, as they were late to the party (so to speak) in terms of layoffs and concessions, I know they will be some of the last to return to business as usual when events finally turn around with certainty. Nevertheless, I think the symbolic importance of the “business” of government coming to terms with the same issues that have plagued the rest of us bodes well for determining where we are in the cycle of this drastic downturn.

After all, is there anybody left to be affected? With the other positive economic indicators we’ve see this month, I think there is real reason for our hope to get some grounding.

C’mon, tomorrow I love ya. You’re only a day away.

(Daniel Gehman is principal at Thomas Cox Architects. He can be reached at DanielG@tca-arch.com)

“Here is my car, I feel safest of all;
I can lock all my doors, it’s the only way to live,
In cars.”

Perhaps you have the good fortune to remember this ‘top ten’ song from 1980 sung by Gary Numan. I suppose this piece could be the un-official theme number of the City of Angels, where I do most of my work.

Over the last two weeks, I have experienced both ends of the spectrum of love/hate for the projectile ICE (Internal combustion engine, for those of you new to the discussion) personal transport system. First, I had the sublime pleasure of visiting our nation’s capital to check out a property belonging to one of my clients, to conjecture how to re-position the said asset to be more timely and appeal to a select demographic. In Arlington, Va., a “suburb” of Washington, D.C., renters actually pay a premium to inhabit a building that is mere steps from a subway (metro) station, rather than, say, a ten-minute walk.

Bopping around D.C. for a couple of days, I could certainly understand why this is true. For those of you who didn’t already know, the D.C. metro system is really cool. You can jam from a suburb to the National Mall in less than half an hour. With the current and future proliferation of government jobs, this is no small benefit; working in the core may be hot, but living there . . . maybe not so much . . . just yet.

Jump cut to L.A.—car coveting country. I heard another one of my clients give a talk on the nature of residential construction in L.A., especially with our new found enthusiasm for “transit-oriented development”, whatever that may be. This fellow, whom I profoundly respect and admire, comfortably stated the obvious about life on the left coast–south. Even if you are clever enough to find a domicile that allows you to walk or take transit to work, the moment you wish to engage in the 12-month-per-year outside activity culture, you’re probably going to have to get in your car to do it. Forget the river or the mountains, you’re probably going to need to car to jam out to visit Mom in Chatsworth or Duarte, or even Costco. 

The nuisance of all of this is, while we may in fact make great strides toward reducing the number of daily trips generated (and, hence, fulfilling the furtive future of such pedagogical legislation as Cali’s SB 375, the vehicle miles traveled juggernaut), it is going to be a dang long time before we are a region where most folks can comfortably live without their (for now) gas-gulping, emissions-belching personal velocity drone.

So, as my friend and client somewhat surreptitiously suggested, for the short time at least, let’s get over it. Ease into the future. Build the monument one brick at a time.

Great, so I have to continue to shoehorn 1.8 parking spaces per dwelling into the infill projects I’m designing unless they sit squarely atop a subway station. Well, maybe so. Or, maybe we’re ready for an interim step. Granted, the number of developments that can be built atop transit are relatively few. For the rest of us, what solutions might there be that will slowly help us to transition from everyone needing a car for everything everyday, to more of an occasional use concept, or even from there to a shared-car program? I might note that while in Arlington, walking from the property I was analyzing, to the metro station, there were two “Zip Car” outlets on the way. This was an eleven-minute walk, mind you.

What about district parking? Maybe I can keep one car at my residence, but the second family car (God willing, the hybrid Ford Escape or similar ride) in a public/private facility a block or so away from my address. The same structure might also house public parking for the services/restaurants/entertainments within the holy quarter-mile walking distance.

It’s just a thought. I’m down with the zeal to get folks out of their cars, but, for heaven’s sake, let’s listen to what they need today and help ease them into a transition, even as we fund and construct the transportation systems of tomorrow.

“Here in my car, I know I’ve started to think;
About leaving tonight, although nothing seems right,
In cars.”

Mmmmm . . . we’ve still got a long way to go; but thanks, Gary, for the thought.

(Daniel Gehman is principal at Thomas Cox Architects. He can be reached at DanielG@tca-arch.com)

Here in California, there’s a buzz brewing in the construction industry that’s going to have quite a future.  As you may know, our state has imposed upon itself a noble goal to reduce greenhouse gas emissions drastically over the next forty years or so.  You may also be aware that buildings—their construction and operation–typically account for about forty percent of the GHG produced in the United States.  Therefore, those of us who plan and design new buildings and communities are intently interested in figuring out how it will ever be possible to meet the stated goal.  The quick answer, of course, is that it won’t be if we continue with business as usual.  We’re going to have to look beyond the systems and solutions to which we have grown accustomed, and really try out some new and inventive stuff.

The idea about which I am currently the most excited is not, in fact, particularly new, but it’s been receiving a lot of attention lately, and consequently, something of a makeover.  That idea is co-generation, or combined heating and power (CHP), as it is sometimes known.  Take it one step further and you have CCHP, or combined cooling, heating, and power.  Sometimes this is also called “tri-generation.”  At the heart of this system is a central plant that burns fuel to heat water to turn a turbine to produce electricity.  (The exhaust is “scrubbed” before being released into the atmosphere.)  The excess heat is collected and used to warm domestic water or air.  Add absorption chillers to this starter kit, and cooling is provided as well.  (Though I must confess right here that it still baffles me how engineers are able to produce chilly air from hot water, but I’m working on it.)

Many college campuses and other institutions already have such systems.  They are, in effect, their own small utilities.  Because many different buildings are able to function off the central system, there are economies of scale.  To make smaller, individual projects or communities work with a CCHP system will require sharing of resources in a way that we have not been accustomed to in private development. 

On the other hand, we have already done infill projects, which, for various reasons, used a centralized boiler for domestic hot water, so the idea is not beyond imagining.  These boilers have typically been powered by natural gas, which is a relatively efficient process, but it still relies on a non-renewable resource as a fuel source.  Some of the bigger, industrial facilities, or even our emergency generators, run on diesel.  In the new generation of CCHP, other, more sustainable energy sources are being employed, such as bio-diesel made from used cooking oil, or bio-mass, which is typically produced from industrial or agricultural waste products (think sawdust or perhaps cornstalks.)

Perhaps the most exciting idea I’ve seen recently is solar tri-generation. This works similarly to the other fuel-powered systems, except it relies entirely on a renewable resource—the sun—to make electricity and heat water.  (Actually, this is more of a solar “team” generation as I understand it. The hot water for heating and cooling is heated up in little tubes run on the roof; the photovoltaics produce electricity that powers the lights and plugs, but also the condensors and fans required to make the chilled air.  But who am I to quibble?)

This is what the future looks like—even modest-sized projects will include their own generation facilities in order to dramatically reduce their energy consumption from the grid, thereby reducing greenhouse gas emissions at the generation source.  While the environment will benefit, these systems, while expensive at the outset, will absolutely save owners money over the lifespan of a project.

And who isn’t interested in that?

(Daniel Gehman is principal at Thomas Cox Architects. He can be reached at DanielG@tca-arch.com)