My Kind of Transit

Rethinking Public Transportation in America

By Darrin Nordahl

ISLAND PRESS

Copyright © 2008 Darrin Nordahl and the Center for American Places at Columbia College Chicago
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-930066-88-5

Contents

PREFACE,
INTRODUCTION The Positive Transit Experience,
CHAPTER ONE Disneyland: The Fundamentals of an Enjoyable Ride,
CHAPTER TWO Cable Cars in San Francisco,
CHAPTER THREE Streetcars in New Orleans and San Francisco,
CHAPTER FOUR Monorails in Seattle and Las Vegas,
CHAPTER FIVE Shuttles in Santa Barbara, Phoenix, and Chattanooga,
CHAPTER SIX Taxicabs in New York City,
CHAPTER SEVEN Funiculars in Pittsburgh,
CHAPTER EIGHT Aerials and Elevateds in New York City and Chicago,
CONCLUSION Creating Positive Transit Experiences,
NOTES,
SELECTED READINGS,
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS,
ABOUT THE AUTHOR,

CHAPTER 1

Disneyland: The Fundamentals of an Enjoyable Ride

“Disneyland is dedicated to the ideals, the dreams, and the hard facts that have created America … with the hope that it will be a source of joy and inspiration to all the world.”

“To all who come to this happy place—welcome!” —WALT DISNEY, JULY 17, 1955

The designers of this world-famous amusement park have never created a ride that is purely functional or utilitarian. Every detail of every element within Disneyland is there for a higher purpose: to enrich the visitor’s experience. This is true regardless if the ride is a roller coaster or a simple park transport.

Great cities provide many choices in mobility for exploring their various urban spaces. Disneyland, itself a city of sorts, does so as well. With Main Street, U.S.A., the folks at Disney attempted to capture the best of American urbanity, and transit is an important component that helps to achieve that goal. Transit is an integral, inseparable part of Main Street, a quality that adds unique animation and delight.

Disneyland incorporates a variety of transportation systems along Main Street and beyond. These include scaled-down versions of railroads, park trams, horseless carriages, and riverboats, among others. This chapter will focus on three of the park’s transit systems, as these have the greatest relevance to transportation design and planning in our cities today: a past system that is currently extinct in America but deserves resurrection, one that can be readily found in the United States today, and one that many believe represents the future of public mass transit. Respectively, these systems are the omnibus, the streetcar, and the monorail.

OMNIBUS

If one studies passengers about to board the omnibus—an open-air, canvas-canopied, double-decker car modeled after the ones used in New York City during the 1920s—behavioral patterns emerge. Most notably, passengers exhibit an unbridled exuberance, regardless of age. When the omnibus approaches, their pace quickens, their steps spring, and giddiness abounds. This by itself is something transit planners should take note of. Considering the competition that the omnibus faces, it is an amazing feat to elicit such excitement from park-goers. Many might conclude that, in the context of Space Mountain, Pirates of the Caribbean, or the Matterhorn, a half-mile ride along Main Street in a slow-moving omnibus would elicit emotions of indifference rather than delight, but the omnibus holds its own. While this form of transportation may have been commonplace along the streets of Manhattan a few generations ago, it looks like nothing on the road today, and crowds gather gleefully for a chance to ride this unusual transit vehicle.

Further observation of boarding passengers yields another interesting behavioral pattern: when an omnibus becomes available to board, passengers scramble for a seat on the upper deck; few, if any, prefer the lower level. It is only when the upper-deck reaches capacity that passengers, somewhat reluctantly, begin filing into the seats below. It is curious why people immediately prefer the upper deck. The lower cabin, for instance, has excellent views out, and the plush seats, upholstered in rich, red leather, look inviting and comfortable. The cozy seating lines the perimeter of the lower cabin, allowing people to face one another for easy conversation. These lower seats are also close to the driver, a jovial being who is fun to talk to and who can answer many questions. The lower cabin seems a joyful place to be. Yet passengers, regardless of age, gender, or cultural background, overwhelmingly forego the apparent comfort and convenience of the lower deck and instead race up the steep, narrow staircase with an optimistic hope that they will be rewarded with a better experience up top.

After many trips within the omnibus and careful attention to people’s reactions, the reasons people prefer the upper level become evident. The first is the promise of a different perspective. People continuously seek unique experiences, and the ride along Main Street, at a height level with the second story of the passing buildings, provides such a thrill. No other form of transit offers such a vantage point, where passengers are elevated above the hustle of the bustling crowds yet are close enough to the ground as to not induce acrophobia and, more importantly, still be able to hear people’s voices, recognize their faces and expressions, take in the scents from the many eateries that line Main Street, and, thus, remain engaged with the street life. But the promise of a unique perspective does not guarantee a relaxing, safe experience. After all, there is no official keeper of the peace on the upper level, and one may assume that, without such an authoritative figure, feelings of insecurity may be prevalent. But the sense on the upper level of the omnibus (and all double-decker buses, it seems, even in the intensely urban areas of London and Hong Kong, for example) is of safety and calm. Tony Hiss, author of The Experience of Place, describes this calm as a sense of buoyancy. Hiss argues that, when people feel more in control of their environment, it helps them relax. He even uses Disneyland as an example:

“This sense of buoyancy is deliberately evoked at Disneyland, where all the buildings are scaled down to something like seven-eighths size. This is not enough of a reduction to make the buildings look like miniatures, but I’ve noticed at Disneyland that even this slight shrinkage does have the effect of helping people relax and feel more in control of their circumstances.”

Environments can loom over us and make us feel small, or we can loom over our environments, giving us a sense of control and peace of mind. In the case of the omnibus, that elevated vantage point gives us that sense of control—buoyancy—over Main Street. We float above the crowds and our surroundings with a commanding presence and an unobstructed view. It seems people intuitively understand that an elevated position is relaxing and rewarding, thus making the upper cabin the preferred choice of patrons.

The Disneyland omnibus is a proven crowd favorite. Unlike vintage trolleys, which are enjoying renewed popularity in cities small and large throughout the nation, there seems to be reluctance to resurrect the omnibus in America. Though modern-day omnibuses see heavy use as sightseeing vehicles and as public transit in cities all over the world, American cities seem to favor articulated buses. There is not much difference between today’s double-decker buses and articulated buses, as both generally seek to double carrying capacity by adding a second passenger cabin. In the case of the articulated bus, that second passenger cabin is attached to the rear of the first, creating a more train-like appearance. The omnibus, instead, places that second passenger cabin up above, maintaining a shorter wheelbase. This may seem like a trivial detail, but the overall effect on both the passenger and pedestrian is far greater with double-deckers.

What the double-decker does is accommodate just as many passengers as an articulated bus but with these added benefits: it has a unique form; it offers better visibility from the street, because it looms over other vehicular traffic; it provides a different perspective and, thus, a different experience to passengers above; it maintains a smaller turning radius, thereby eliminating the need to whittle away street corners to facilitate its movement; and it provides two more humanly scaled passenger cabins rather than one long corridor.

In spite of these obvious benefits, double-decker transit vehicles are rare in North America. It seems a shame, as an elevated vantage point is a principal reason why sport utility vehicles (SUVs) became so popular with the motoring public. Omnibuses offer a higher vantage point still, which could effectively draw people away from their cars simply for the unique perspective an elevated cabin offers. In Disneyland, it is safe to assume that the upper cabin is the predominant reason park-goers find the omnibus attractive. A simple detail really—an elevated seat—can transform a mundane transit experience into a memorable one.

STREETCAR

It’s difficult to say what transit system is more popular on Main Street, the omnibus or the streetcar. For a passenger, the choice between the two is a tough choice indeed. Popularity is difficult to measure, because the two transit vehicles are rarely, if ever, at the same location boarding at exactly the same time. Otherwise, it would be a worthwhile exercise to watch passenger behavior to determine what system promises the greatest joy and to speculate why. But, as it is, both vehicles routinely fill to capacity. What we can measure, empirically, is giddiness: the point where people, regardless of age, get excited and move quickly, with alacrity, almost running to get a seat; where parents abandon their kids for an “everyone for oneself” selfish pleasure; where one can actually discern a change in pitch in one’s voice to a higher tone just prior to boarding. This we could measure on a hypothetical “Giddiness Index.” If such an index were created, odds are the streetcar might rank slightly higher than the omnibus, meaning that, on a quick observation by a potential passenger, the streetcar promises a slightly more rewarding experience. But this would be splitting hairs, as there are no losers.

So what is it about the streetcar that prompts mature adults to trade composure for silly pleasure? The biggest factor is likely the streetcar’s source of locomotion, its literal horsepower. Animals have the ability to move us physically or emotionally. In Disneyland, animals do both. Main Street’s most popular public transit is a horse-drawn railcar, the type that was ubiquitous in America during the mid-1800s. Making its way from Town Square to Sleeping Beauty Castle with an easy, five-mile-per-hour clip-clop pace, pedestrians abandon the sidewalks and flock to the streetcar for a better look. Adults smile and point; incredulity is evident on every child’s face. No form of transit in the park seems as engaging as this one.

In addition to its animal magnetism, the streetcar is popular with both pedestrians and passengers, because of transparency. There are no walls, doors, or windows to enclose the passenger cabin—just rows of comfortable wooden benches with a fanciful roof overhead, supported by rather inconspicuous square-tube posts. The streetcar is really little more than wooden benches on a wooden platform affixed to steel wheels on steel rails. It is a very simple yet very compelling vehicle. The open-air cabin offers passengers the sights, sounds, and smells of Main Street without obstruction. And these passengers gliding slowly by, seem to engage pedestrians as well. There is a strong sense of connectedness between passenger and pedestrian, presumably because of the lack of physical barriers. Certainly, we are drawn to animals, but we are drawn to people as well.

Despite the wonderful qualities of Disneyland’s streetcar, one design detail merits criticism: the streetcars are fitted with running boards to facilitate boarding and alighting and, presumably, to provide a place for standees. This was a common design detail in the urban horse-drawn streetcars of yore, and, when used efficiently, that effectively doubled the carrying capacity of the transit car. The running board is an important detail in public transportation, because it offers those who must (or choose to) stand a worthwhile experience, perhaps better than those who are seated. When given the choice to sit or stand, almost without exception passengers choose the former. Those who remain on their feet throughout the transit journey are often further penalized, as the cabin’s windows are typically located and sized only for those seated, limiting the standee’s view. Riding transit can be an arduous and dull experience for those relegated to stand after a long day at work, cut off from the sights and activities of the passing street scene. Running boards, however, provide just compensation for foregoing a seat. They reward standees with completely unobstructed views. They move standees closer to the action, to the hustle and bustle of the street. Riding on a running board provides a visceral thrill, as one must remain focused and strong throughout the ride as the threat of falling into the flow of traffic becomes real. This threat heightens our awareness, sharpens our senses, and offers an exhilarating pleasure that is very different from what those safely seated experience. In this instance, choosing to stand or sit within such a car is not an obvious choice.

The reason the running boards on Disneyland’s streetcar deserve criticism is quite simple: the conductor prohibits anyone from standing on them during the ride. The running boards’ mere presence is an invitation for use. To have that invitation revoked is disheartening and makes little sense. Pedestrians, for example, are allowed to walk in the middle of Main Street, in front of oncoming transit vehicles. Such an action is presumably more dangerous than standing on the running boards of a slow-moving vehicle. Nevertheless, the running boards remain off-limits to passengers, except for helping one get on or off the car.

Revocation of running board use aside, the streetcar offers a remarkable ride. Arguments will persist over the humaneness of animal power as a source of locomotion. Certainly, the horses comprise much of the draw for passengers and onlookers alike, but the form of the streetcar itself is inviting and would remain so even if powered by steam or electricity. If everything else were held constant—a slow, easy pace, comfortable seating, an open-cabin, fancy and whimsy, and friendly conductors in period attire—the streetcar would still offer a treasured, fun-for-the-entire-family experience.

MONORAIL

The monorail is the only park conveyance that shuns nostalgia. Riverboats, streetcars, omnibuses, horseless carriages, and steam locomotives all reflect civility and technology of a time past. The monorail, though it was introduced to Americans via Disneyland in 1959, still appears to be travel ahead of its time. Its sleek form quietly glides along an elevated, rather delicate superstructure, attracting attention from all those who dream of the future. While the streetcars and omnibuses invite the elder crowd to reminisce, the monorail is a big hit with children, who have little history to reflect upon. Its elevated position gives kids, both literally and metaphorically, a new perspective on the world.

As with every park attraction, a ride on the monorail is more about experience than efficiency. Disneyland’s monorail shuttles passengers between just two places in the park: the Downtown Disney district and, quite fittingly, Tomorrowland. Though the distance between these two themed lands is less than a half-mile as the crow flies, the monorail flies a more circuitous two-and-a-half mile course, blending sightseeing with passenger shuttling. The additional distance offers an important lesson in transportation planning: the most direct route may not be the most pleasurable. Passengers do not seem to mind the extra time it takes to get to their destination. On the contrary, they seem to support enthusiastically the detours.

Designed for rapid transit, the monorail trains that Disneyland employs are capable of fairly high speeds, close to seventy miles per hour. Again, the goal for all park rides, even those that are just park transportation, is a joyful experience. It would be difficult to appreciate the scenery in the park, hear the happy crowds below, or feel comfortable entering a turn at seventy miles per hour. The passenger’s experience takes precedent above all else. Aware that excessive speed greatly diminishes a passenger’s enjoyment, operators pilot the monorail at a more leisurely pace, barely half its potential velocity.

Unlike the streetcars and omnibuses, which are confined to a direct route on Main Street, the meandering path the monorail follows guarantees that this transit system is a highly visible and integral component throughout the park. This may be the most important factor as to why it is such an enjoyable mode of park transit, to both passengers and onlookers. The train begins at Downtown Disney, glides past Main Street, then skirts alongside the edge of the park, with the juxtaposition of reality and fantasy in full view. Before reality becomes too overwhelming, the train delves back into the park, encircles the Matterhorn, loops around Fantasyland, and then doubles back to Tomorrowland. From there, the monorail whisks people through the Hollywood Pictures Backlot of the adjoining California Adventure theme park, over a whimsical replica of San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge, through the Grand Californian hotel, and back to Downtown Disney. Throughout the journey, the monorail tracks bank left and then right, climbing slightly and then falling gently, taking passengers away and then bringing them closer to the experience on the ground. At some places along the route, the passing monorail overhead seems almost low enough to touch. Faces are easily recognized, and delight is apparent in both passengers and pedestrians. In many ways, the monorail feels like a placid roller-coaster, an experience that could not be further from those offered by most transit systems. The monorail is as much an attraction in Disneyland as are the other rides in the park, eliciting broad smiles from big crowds.

(Continues…)Excerpted from My Kind of Transit by Darrin Nordahl. Copyright © 2008 Darrin Nordahl and the Center for American Places at Columbia College Chicago. Excerpted by permission of ISLAND PRESS.
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