It’s almost axiomatic now to think unpleasantly about downtowns. They’re this, they’re that, they’re the other thing. Unappealing, worsening.
Here’s a contrary view, from my desk in downtown St. Paul, Minnesota on a regular old Tuesday morning, a cold spring day.
It’s chilly and gray outside, but the skyway is not. Running through and between buildings at the second floor level, it’s a short walk a few buildings over, where a regular group of downtowners is chatting and laughing and gathering to share neighborhood news. The blood drive needs volunteers, there’s a good-sounding show arriving at the Ordway, the Afro Del is changing locations.
Fourteen neighbors on this particular morning, from different buildings and backgrounds, associated only by geography and conversation, set off for a regular walk, shaking our heads over a closed building, pausing to wave hello to a barber shop moved to a new location, nodding at other neighbors out for their strolls, and at the police officers on their speedy Segways. One of us has never been to the ice rink on top of the Treasure Island building, so up we go. The ice and bleachers are empty this morning, but some of us have been up here watching hockey practice from time to time, fortified with a sandwich from the ground floor bar.
The walkers walk on, while I double back to the drugstore to pick up hairspray and toothpaste. In and out in four minutes. Do I have a rewards number? Well, yes, I do.
I cut across the street to our about-to-open independent bookstore, wishing for coconut-lime soup from the Thai restaurant. Lingering in the lobby, I am picked up by an arriving staffer, who invites me in to browse. The owner is already behind the counter, and I can read dozens of hand-written recommendations for the books the staffers love. I ordered a book for my husband’s birthday. It is ready, the furniture is comfortable, and I linger.
Across the street again, through the back door at the coffee shop, picking up a breakfast sandwich with pesto and mozzarella, the barista’s favorite. Back up to the skyway, pausing on the bridge for a view of the street construction, nodding at early-goers and young professionals going to work, coffee cups in hand, bless their hearts. We hope you love downtown; please move here and bring your friends.
Books in one hand, drugstore bag in the other, and home, into the elevator and up. The sun is peeking in on the river side. Traffic is moving, I see, out on 94. A light rail train rings a bell of arrival; down close to the river, a long-haul rumbles by toward the big Depot. The ball park jumbotron is up. Right on time, the neighborhood eagle flies by, at exactly this height.
Just an ordinary Tuesday morning. Meeting friends for a walk, an errand at the local drugstore, a stop at the bookstore, picking up a sandwich, ending up back at your desk to get some work done, occasionally glancing out at the sky and landscape. Just below is Raspberry Island with the Minnesota Boat Club and the big green fields of Harriet Island beyond. The Mississippi, different every day, carries barges and commercial traffic, and, as the weather improves, paddleboats, pleasure craft, and the occasional intrepid kayaker. We measure the spring flooding by marking its level on the steps to the water.
Other pleasures of mild weather, soon to come: Saints games with Friday night fireworks, weekend strolls to the Farmer’s Market, hailing the bike taxi when laden with vegetables and flowers. A stop at the wonderful bakery with the access window in the alley. Thursday night music in Lowertown’s Mears Park, and the Jazz Festival.
Downtowners know the challenges our city faces, similar difficulties to many others. We hope the city leadership will solve and improve the problems here in the capitol city.
But we also know the pleasures.
Within a few blocks: the Green Line to Minneapolis, with good restaurants and a soccer stadium along the way. Union Depot with its bike shop and bookstore and Amtrak heading to both coasts. Friendly café across the rails. The Latimer Central Library with its imposing architecture, and the Science Museum nearby. Rice Park with its fountain and the beautiful façade of the Landmark Center (free courtroom concerts!). The Xcel and the Roy Wilkins for sports, and sometimes the roller derby. The Palace Theatre and the Children’s Museum. Good theatres, and live jazz in a brewery. Overlooks of the Mississippi everywhere.
No car necessary.
Within a mile, the State Capitol, the History Center, the Cathedral of St. Paul, and Summit Avenue. Cross a downtown bridge to Harriet Island and the Padelford Riverboats. Take a bike and you are off to Lilydale to pedal through the forest.
One Fourth of July evening, from our perch above the river, we counted 72 separate fireworks displays, towns, neighborhoods, backyards and alleys. They lit up the landscape south and east, the way that many campfires illuminate a dark beach. Little human touches all the way to the horizon, distant booms, showers of sparks, color reaching up in the sky.
Downtown is hometown to 9,000 people. Doesn’t it sound just like a neighborhood? Plenty of room for you…come on down.
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Photo by Javier Quiroga on Unsplash