Inevitably, communities evolve to reflect the personalities
of their inhabitants. Such an
assertion may come across as glib, and it probably is, but it’s far better than
the opposite—when a character of its community seems at odds with its constituents’
goals. A fundamental goal of an
effective representative democracy is that local governments allow people to
articulate what they want out of their communities. Obviously the ethics behind this practice can come into
question, such as when a town like Mt. Laurel, NJ
essentially restricted the construction of housing that would accommodate
families below a certain desirable income level, or when several entire states
levied poll taxes with the de facto
goal of disenfranchising an entire subset of the population which generally
lacked financial wherewithal and was overwhelmingly African American heritage. But these dramatic negative examples
are the exception to that lazily flowing stream of the provision of local
government services. Most of a
town’s personality manifests itself in the most mundane of ways.
Nonetheless, two municipalities will usually reveal a few distinctions
in how they choose to fund infrastructure, even if it comes down to inconsequential
differences in design. The obvious
best way to witness these differences is to stand along a border such as this
one in the suburbs of Cleveland:
For about six blocks, South Taylor Road forms the boundary
between Cleveland Heights and University Heights, two older, racially
integrated, mostly affluent inner-ring suburbs on the eastern side of Ohio’s
largest metropolis. As is often
the case, the municipal boundary rests on the crown of the road, so that, from
this angle looking northward, the left-hand side is Cleveland Heights and the
right-hand side is University Heights.
The differences are often subtle—nothing here as obvious as
contrasting paving surfaces for the two sides of the road. But the cities’ public works
departments clearly pull from different catalogs when purchasing some of their
basic streetscape elements. Notice
the road sign on the right-hand side of the street:
And then across the street, on the Cleveland Heights side of
South Taylor Road:
The “Cedarbrook” is no longer in all caps and it is missing
the “Road” suffix. Another visible
contrast is in the style of the streetlights. On the University Heights side of the street, the mast that
projects the light further into the street is thicker and looks to be of a
similar metal as the sheath that encloses the bulb:
By contrast, on the Cleveland Heights side of the road, the
mast is of an apparently different material that is thinner and with a narrower
diameter, and it appears to be fairly rusted:
Obviously these distinctions demand a keen eye, and by most
considerations they hardly matter. But review that first photo of both sides of
the street yet again, and now the differences between the streetlights should pop out.
Municipalities enjoy a wide berth in the array of designs
they are able to employ for a number of roadside features, particularly those
for which a motorist’s ability to see is important but not essential. Streetlights can obviously assume a
variety of configurations, and signs indicating the name of local roads are a
common method of municipal branding—most communities consciously seek out
different road name signs to distinguish themselves from their neighbors. Given the options available, the
differences between Cleveland Heights and University Heights are relatively
modest. I’m surprised they don’t
even use different colors.
The same flexibility can’t be said for signs regulating
speed limits.
The safety of roadways depends on a clearly recognizable
indicator of the maximum (and sometimes minimum) allowable speeds. During the first half of the 20th
century, speed limit signs assumed a variety of guises (some of them
particularly wordy) to the point many drivers ignored them. The release of the Manual on Uniform
Traffic Control Devices (MUTCD) in 1948 by the Federal Highway Administration
(FHWA) set a standard of black lettering on a white shield, looking like the one on the University Heights side of South Taylor Road,
seen in the above photo. This
design has remained more or less unchanged ever since, despite many new
editions and updates to the MUTCD.
We’ve all seen exceptions, most likely in the grassy median of a
subdivision or the entrance into an affluent community. But these customized speed limit signs
nearly always apply on local roads—not important collector streets like South
Taylor.
Despite a federal mandate for uniformity in the appearance
of speed limit signs, municipalities are generally left to their own devices
when it comes to traffic control. In
the case of these two Cleveland suburbs, one of the key regulations seems to
place them at odds with on another.
The photo above, with the speed limit of 25, looks northward on South
Taylor Road, viewing the regulation from the University Heights side. When I pivoted 180 degrees, looking
southward, this is what I see at the exact same location on the Cleveland
Heights side of the road:
Depending on the side of the street one is traveling, the
speed limit is different.
Northbound traffic in University Heights must travel 10 mph slower than
southbound traffic in Cleveland Heights.
Whether intentional or not, such a regulation could easily serve as an
embedded speed trap, much to the frustration of passers-by who, not knowing the
idiosyncrasies of individual suburbs, would probably never expect such a
thing. Obviously all it takes is
reading the signs as they pertain to the respective direction of travel, so a
motorist would be hard-pressed to make a convincing claim of entrapment. Perhaps University Heights, with John
Carroll University at its hub, has recognized the need for lower speeds to
protect the safety of a heavy pedestrianized student population. Or maybe the city is deliberately
trying to moderate the notoriously speedy younger drivers. After all, Cleveland Heights is an
equally pedestrian friendly suburb.
I’m sure other neighboring communities have attempted similarly
eccentric methods of enhancing the distinctions of the regulatory environment
between them; the results aren’t always as innocuous as a specialty vintage
road sign.
4 comments:
"mostly affluent inner-ring suburbs on the western side of Ohio’s largest metropolis."
I think you mean eastern side.
John--
You're right. Mistake corrected. Thanks.
It‘s interesting because my first thought when reading your post was about the Cleveland Heights-University Heights school district, and how when I worked in Cleveland our agency got referrals from student in that district (there is a similar situation with the nearby South Euclid-Lyndhurst school district). I remember there was a lot of emphasis on regionalization in Northeast Ohio and combining resources and services across jurisdictions to save money (especially since Ohio has so many localized government entities), though admittedly there has also been a lot of resistance. Maybe over time the scene you photographed at the Cleveland Heights / University Heights border will become less common as cities jointly purchase items like streetlights and road signs. We’ll see!
Thanks for your comment, Tucker. Incidentally, while I was there, the Cleveland Plain Dealer featured an article showing what Cuyahoga County would look like if municipalities consolidated, so that the county had only around 10 or 12 separate boundaries instead of closer to 50. The resistance you talk about most likely has much to do with school districts (no one wants to be lumped with Cleveland Public Schools or any other badly performing district). For that matter, a municipality with a reputation for poor delivery of services or even corruption isn't going to find many volunteers to consolidate.
But something as simple as streetlights would probably save municipalities money if they joined forces, taking advantage of economies of scale and buying in bulk (if such a thing is possible). However, you probably noticed that many communities adopt a specialized style for streetlights and road signs simply as a way to make them stand out from their neighbors.
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