Just visit Manhattan's Bryant Park, one of the country's most celebrated public spaces today, at 42nd Street and Sixth Avenue, created in 1871.  Like many parks, this one had become a haven for drug dealers.  But after hears of deliberation, design, debate and considerable public involvement, this midtown oasis was transformed back into the traditional gathering place it once was, attracting an
average of 8000 visitors a day since its reopening in 1992. It is now one of the crown jewels of Manhattan.  Office workers, parents with baby carriages, shoppers, visitors, the homeless, strollers, sleepers, chess players, people watchers, laptop computer users, and businessmen with folding chairs arranged in a circle assemble at various times all day on or around the great green carpet of a football field-size lawn.  Black, white, varied nationalities, rich, poor, blue-collar, white-collar, the assemblage is a democratic melange.  It was not always so.

In 1976, William H. Whyte, journalist, editor, and author of "City Rediscovering the Center," among others, conducted a study to evaluate Bryant Park.  Whyte, an astute observer of cities, was for years an articulate critic of the kind of Project Planning that destroyed urban street life, edited out serendipity from public spaces, and called for large public expenditures on capital projects when modest repairs and improvements could accomplish more. Following
his study, Whyte wrote a memorandum to Bill Dietle, head of the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, suggesting improvements to both the Public Library entrance and Bryant Park, which sits behind the library.  Whyte wrote:

    "There is a great opportunity for action.  The situation is bad, yes, but so bad it's good, and from this level even modest actions can have a dramatic effect on these spaces and people's perception of them.  It's not just a matter of reclamation.  Both of these spaces have potentials that have never been realized and there is every reason they should be among the greatest and most enjoyable spaces."

That memo was the blueprint that transformed the six-acre park and provided the country with one of the best lessons in achieving well-used, vibrant, accessible, and appealing parks and an equally exemplary model of a well-functioning public realm.  Whyte's ideas contrast sharply with conventional Project Planning.

Dope dealers dominated both spaces, Whyte observed, "but they are not the cause of the problem.  The basic problem is under-use.  It has been for a long time.  It antedated the invasions of the dope dealers and in part induced it. Access is the nub of the matter.  Psychologically, as well as physically... Relatively few people use these spaces, nor
are they invited to."  And how, according to Whyte, is
access achieved?  Through steps that are the antithesis of today's Project Planning and gating instinct.

On the terraces flanking the library's entrance, Whyte
recommended rejecting expensive capital proposals, then under consideration, that would redesign and rebuild the terraces.  "What gives one pause," Whyte wrote, "is the enormous differential in costs between many of these projects and the basics that are called for.  The basics are relatively inexpensive...First things first.  A few thousand dollars' worth of chairs and tables and food facilities would do more to liven up the front than hundreds of thousands worth of marble and paving.  And they can be immediate."  Cafes, Whyte had observed elsewhere,are the best security measures and create appealing, congenial places.  What he suggested was as successful as
he predicted.

For Bryant Park, the prescription was equally basic --
remove the spiked iron fence and the thick overgrown
shrubbery "that block what view there is, and like the 'NO' signs posted on them, they do not invite but deflect." Create more and wider entrances, provide a feeling of easy exit, and encourage a pedestrian flow into and through the park.  In other words, reverse all the things that a 1934 redesign plan provided and that made the park a walled-off sanctuary in which people would feel safe. "We now know that a healthy pedestrian flow is a great asset; it enhances the activities and acts as something of magnet.
Characteristically, the most favored places for sitting,
reading, shmoozing, are apt to be athwart the main
pedestrian flow, rather than isolated from it."

Whyte's suggestions were all followed, including the
establishment of a privately-funded management entity in charge of security and maintenance.  The Bryant Park Restoration Corporation, an organization of landlords and property owners on the surrounding blocks, fulfills this function.  No detail is too small for its attention. Sidewalks and walkways are swept daily.  Grass is well weeded and cut. Flowerbeds are immaculate.  Anything broken is repaired immediately.  Restrooms are spotless and even
get fresh flowers daily.  Whyte's ingenious idea of movable chairs is considered by many as the most successful feature, the extra magic, since it permits visitors to make an arrangement most suitable for their purposes.  It is amusing to watch people move the chairs just a few inches, nothing to make a real difference except that it personalizes the space.  Apparently, Bryant Park is the only public park in the country that uses such lightweight moveable chairs.  In 1996, 2400 were put out and 350 needed
replacement at $22 each, a modest expense for a public space that draws approximately 8,000 people a day.
 

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