We Need More Charming, People-Centered Places

The Yehuda market in Jerusalem. (Source: Author.)

Next to a creek with the birds chirping and water bubbling, the market is my favorite place to be. 

When I lived in Jerusalem, it was my habit to shop at the Yehuda market regularly for my feasting needs. Blocks of narrow streets packed with different vendors drew me in multiple times a week. I would walk the maze of streets looking for the best mangos, or I’d be sitting at one of the many small-scale restaurants packed within the market. There was a popcorn vendor who got accustomed to seeing me almost every Friday wanting a warm bag of fresh popcorn to snack on throughout the weekend. The market provided me with endless options for fresh vegetables and fruit, and it was an ideal place to meet friends and freelancers. 

“Let’s meet at Yehuda, we’ll find something,” was a typical entryway conversation into what we’d do for the evening. 

The idea of “we’ll find something” took away the pressure of having a planned outing with conversations like: 

“I don’t know where we should go, what about this place?” 

“We’ve been there just two weeks ago! I’m bored of it.”

When going to the Yehuda market, we knew it would always be busy, but if we wandered around a bit we’d find an empty chair at a coffee spot or a brewery calling our names. Destination-wise, we regularly traveled to the same space—but the diversity of the environment made it feel like there was something new to discover each time. There was an element of spontaneity that flowed with the market. Its large scale, seemingly endless pickings, and mixed crowd of locals and tourists made it a magical place. And on the days you wanted to break from the bustle of the market as your entertainment, there were plenty of other third places in a walkable distance. 

The Yehuda market in Jerusalem. (Source: Author.)

I fell in love with the environment so quickly because it was people-centered. The close quarters and seemingly endless streets to pursue stimulated an atmosphere of human connection I’d sorely been missing during my days of walking down a Walmart aisle. 

When I moved back to a small town stateside, I felt shockingly ostracized from the community. Missing the close quarters of small storefronts and the busy winding streets leading to small vendors, I had to instead return to driving in my car to a chain store for my groceries. And when friends and I wanted to go somewhere it turned into a google search for restaurants or activities; which ultimately would be spread apart and we’d have to drive around to each destination, missing out on the potential spontaneity of a densely concentrated place built for people to walk about. 

Many people will tell me that that’s just what happens when you’re living in a city versus a small town. “That’s just the way things are. Of course things will be more walkable, you’ll have more things to do, because that’s how downtowns in a big city are supposed to be.” 

It’s true, downtowns in big cities should be people-centered and there will always be more to do in a large city, but just because a town is small doesn’t mean it should be lacking in walkable, enjoyable third places. We shouldn’t have to travel to a large urban downtown to get a taste of a people-centered environment. I adore the small town I live in, I love the people and the businesses we do have. But I don’t like walking downtown to see empty storefronts, or having to drive to the other side of town for groceries because it’s the only option I have to obtain fresh greens. 

Fall festival pop-up shops in the author’s hometown. (Source: Author.)

Fall has always been my favorite Midwest season. The apple-crisp weather is supreme in my mind. But, past the scent of harvest drifting in the air, I love the fall because of the annual festival. It’s the time where, in addition to the farmers market, we have weeks of fairs where streets are closed and pop-up vendors are strewn about in parks, fairgrounds, or just on the sidewalk. It brings back that feeling of a people-centered environment where you can just walk around and discover your ideal third place, strike up a conversation with a stranger, or sit and enjoy live music. 

When it all closes down and the winter chill seeps in, those empty downtown storefronts seem to stand out even more. A town of 30,000 people shouldn’t feel like a ghost town—yet as I walk the quiet streets, finding the only places to be bustling with movement to be some of the spread-out restaurants and bars, I am disappointed. The sudden tear-down of a people-centered environment seems to make the winters more dreary. And this is coming from a person who loves cold weather. 

So really, why is it that our towns are lacking in walkability and third places? Why is it when I walk through the downtown of some towns I feel alienated and don’t want to be there for long? 

The root of this feeling lies within the topics Strong Towns members know well: zoning and issues of scale.

Many of these empty storefronts tend to be large investments that start-up entrepreneurs can’t afford. It’s a small investment to create a pop-up business for a fall festival, but to suddenly expand that idea to a large downtown store is not a fiscally viable option for small businesses. So, those large commercial spaces sit empty, wasting space and dulling the atmosphere. 

We aren’t providing a habitat for incremental growth by expecting business owners to make large investments in large buildings, with copious amounts of zoning regulations to balance. No one expects a teenager working a low-wage job to be able to afford a mansion or fancy sports car, yet I feel like that’s the pressure we place on business owners when their only options for start-up spaces are expensive, oversized downtown storefronts. Small businesses need more options than large, expensive spaces when they're getting started.

We need more market-style places for small businesses to pop up, test the waters, and learn to swim. There isn’t a lack of drive or inspiration in how to make our cities and small towns flourish with community growth and interesting spaces. There’s just usually no simple way to go about it. 

Fall festival pop-up shops in the author’s hometown. (Source: Author.)

One of our favorite stories here at Strong Towns are these low-cost pop-up shops in Muskegon, Michigan. Six years ago, the city took one small step towards creating feasible options for entrepreneurs and it grew rapidly. Taking inspiration from the farmer’s market, Muskegon decided to use a similar small-scale approach to create more long-term opportunities for local businesses. 

“The city hired a builder to manage the construction of 12 wooden buildings ranging from 90 to 150 square feet at a cost of just $5,000–6,000 per chalet. Their simple design—a portable wooden structure with windows and doors (but no running water)—kept them very affordable. In May 2017, these buildings opened for business—filled with clothes, gifts, crafts, and food.”

A people-centered place was quickly established as business owners flooded in and people came to explore. To this day, businesses are still utilizing the small-store incubators to grow and maintain their business. 

Akron, Ohio, tackled their downtown space by providing a market-style venue for start-ups. Unlike a mall, where businesses need to rent an entire little store, some of these vendors can rent a space the size of a table to host their business. The best part that vendors compliment the Northside Marketplace on is they don’t even have to be present to sell their items, thanks to a central check-out. The flexibility of this option is perfect for start-ups, letting them incrementally grow their business without having to quit their full-time job to dedicate time in opening a traditional storefront before the business has a solid, established base. 

One of my favorite options for creating more walkable, people-centered places is legacy shops, which can be more than a concentrated downtown marketplace. Legacy shops used to be sprinkled throughout residential neighborhoods, as well as being great downtown spots. Before America became a car-centric country, towns thrived on these simple two- and three-story, mixed-use, commercial buildings. But now, unfortunately, these spaces are illegal in most places while suburban-style zoning codes dominate the way our communities function. Buffalo, New York, started to re-invest in these local magical places with the first step of changing parking regulations. Old legacy shops that had once been boarded up could then reopen without having to tear down homes to build unnecessarily large parking lots. 

Seeing stories of towns dropping zoning codes and investing in incremental options for start-ups truly bolsters my spirits. We’ve lived through the suburban experiment and we can see how damaging it's been to the uniqueness and charm of our downtowns and small businesses.

Cars are a great thing, and they are very useful, so we shouldn’t give them up. But we also shouldn’t prioritize cars to the extent that we are sacrificing valuable, people-centered places and small businesses. I like driving my car, but I also like walking. It would be nice if we built all our towns, big or small, to have more balance between the necessity of a motor vehicle and a walkable habitat for locals and visitors.

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