Streetbeat, Vol. LXIII
What do cities want the next five post-pandemic years to be?
Bene Advenis*
And welcome to this newsletter.
It's where I (John Surico) talk each month about cities & their discontents: streets, climate, cultures, people, food, form, etc. This month, we cover:
- New York City’s mayoral race;
- The meteoric rise of daylighting;
- Cities as networks;
& much, much more.
On the trail
I photo-bomb so many shots in 2016’s Weiner, a documentary about former Congressman Anthony Weiner’s rise and fall from City Hall aspirant to Democratic nightmare, that I should’ve gotten a line credit. New York City’s 2013 mayoral campaign, where Bill de Blasio practically tripped over the finish line after a series of frontrunners—Weiner included—crumbled, was a journalistic baptism by fire for me. Editors needed cub reporters to cover every inch of what was then the wildest mayoral campaign in a generation. Fresh out of college, I volunteered as tribune—and my first day was somehow this press conference.
I’m not a campaign reporter anymore. But the quadrennial race has since arrived at different stages of my career. The 2017 edition—which saw de Blasio waltz to re-election—came at a time of immense political fatigue for me, having survived the 2016 presidential race and everything that conjured up. The 2021 edition—which saw Eric Adams eke out a Covid-era victory—came amidst a return to New York from overseas. (I wrote about it here, but as an outsider looking back in.) And although I’m firmly in the city now, the 2025 edition—which makes 2013 look like child’s play—is coming at a time where I now straddle the lines of journalism, policy research, and organizing. That makes my input scattershot.
For example: the candidates could inherit a public space portfolio hobbled by the current mayor. Parks have been defunded. Open Streets and outdoor dining are disappearing. (More on that later.) And projects are measured by who has the mayor’s ear, and how loud they are—like the pause of a pedestrian walkway over a major bridge, even after five years of work and the start of a first-in-the-nation tolling scheme. It’s just the latest from a (likely lame-duck) mayor whose leaving behind, amongst other legacies, a workforce that is demoralized and defeated.
So I’m particularly interested in what this cadre will do differently. Or, rather, how can voters trust them after the current mayor reneged on so much? This was the case for parks—to advocates, Eric Adams was the first person to win office having pledged to ‘one percent for parks,’ or the campaign to dedicate at least one percent of the city’s $112 billion budget should go to the parks department. Four years later, they’re still waiting. (In fact, parks was actually one of the only things to get cut in this last budget and not later restored.)
So at a recent mayoral forum on parks (which my capstone class covered!), I was thrilled to hear that on the topic of future funding for these vital spaces, the candidates are thinking bigger than just the budget dance. Now, of course, I am biased; new revenue streams have been my focus of late at Center for an Urban Future. But the ideas we’re putting into the world seem to be breaking through.
Assembly Member Zohran Mamdani supports a “community parks fee” on the real property transfer tax. State Senator Zellnor Myrie supports a modest fee on ticket sales for parks maintenance. Former Manhattan Borough President Scott Stringer supports more public-private partnerships. And Comptroller Brad Lander supports an expansion of parks concessions.
All of these ideas are featured in a report we did last year. That last one, in fact, was the subject of a policy brief we released right before the forum. It breaks down why and how the city’s parks department could retain revenue generated from concessions in parks (cafés, rinks, kayak rentals, etc.) for upkeep—which, if you can believe it, isn’t the case right now, unless a conservancy or other private partner exists there. (Cue the inequities.) We suggested mechanisms to hold onto that money; a “concessions investment fund” to shore up properties; regulatory reform so it’s not impossible to work with the city; and a pilot to test modular setups. In the end, these are policy, not legislative, changes.
Like 2013, we’re at a transitional moment in our body politic—where we could either double down on the status quo, or imagine something new. We’re just under two months until primary day, a literal lifetime in politics. (People often mention that at this time in 2021, Andrew Yang was the frontrunner.) And so I, along with others, will be spending this next stretch pushing policies into the discourse, if only for the chance to shape the city for the better.
(Note: Crain’s New York Business had a great write-up of CUF’s outsized impact. It made our day.)
Have a seat
This always feels dark to say, but there were some (keyword!) good things to come out of the Covid-19 crisis. One that most people can agree on—based on what I hear in the countless conversations I’ve had since—is that places of all shapes and sizes loosened up their rules around people eating or drinking al fresco. Like the public parks that arose from pandemics past, indoor restrictions actually forced towns and cities to get creative with how they use and allocate space. And five years later, I still encounter these changes everywhere I go.
I’ve written too much here about what has stuck since then. And this month, New York City had a front-row seat to a post-pandemic stress test. In early April, its permanent outdoor dining program went into effect, converting what had previously been an emergency response for an industry teetering on collapse into a now-seasonal framework, with stricter rules and certainly-not-Covid speeds of permitting. (By the season’s start, the city had approved just 32 applications, with most operating under conditional approvals.) The proverbial “sheds” came down; new structures, informed by design guidelines that prioritize light, airflow, and accessibility, are slowly replacing them.
And in short: they’re beautiful. They blend with the streetscape better. They’re imaginative. And they’re easier to clean. As someone who helped guide that process, as an advisor on Al Fresco NYC, I’ve been anxiously awaiting this moment. For me, seeing outdoor dining return to our streets this month feels like a reset, where we can finally do the work of reassembling our cities to a higher ideal after they stooped to their lowest in years. And it provokes a question on my mind often: how much did we actually learn from the pandemic?
Now, answering that honestly is a glass half-empty/half-full situation. It’s hard to ignore that the program is a shell of itself, hallowed out by high costs and the lack of a year-round option. (All of those nifty structures will have to come down at the end of November, which restaurants are dreading.) Perhaps figuring out the pandemic’s aftershocks is easier to do on paper. Or, better yet: perhaps the biggest lesson learned from the pandemic is how inane our systems were beforehand—and will still continue to be long after, if left alone.
But humans adapt, even if it takes a while. Comparative models in Paris and Montréal took time to thrive, as eateries eventually figured out their way around city government. (There is, often, no playbook.) That doesn’t happen by chance, though; municipalities must create infrastructure for a market to succeed, or else they risk squandering the opportunity. (They should write that damn playbook.) Don’t sweat the small stuff; just make sure the experience isn’t debilitating.
I felt the same this month, as I watched the city propose a rule change for the amount of private seating allowed in public spaces. (No more than 33 percent of total square footage, for those wondering.) It very much shoved one of the pandemic’s organic outgrowths through the artificial grinder of government. I covered the hearing for Streetsblog, which had been dealt a sensationalist reaction in advance. And like outdoor dining, it raised some important flags for what comes next to make this stuff stick. If the pandemic’s first five years after were about recovery, then maybe the next five should be about resilience.
Lit up
It’s been a little while since we talked about ‘daylighting.’
For context: this is the approach in street design where intersections are made more visible, by: a) not letting cars park right up to the crosswalk; and b) putting a variety of things—hard (i.e. boulders, planters, concrete) and soft (i.e. signs, hydrants)—to prevent that from happening. And since so many crashes occur at a turning point, daylighting can effectively save lives.
Inspired by Hoboken, New Jersey–which saw no traffic deaths for years due in large part to daylighting—I wrote about the concept in 2023 for Bloomberg CityLab because I was genuinely stumped by why more cities weren’t doing this very cheap, very sensible fix. (It’s really rare in cities you get a proven solution that’s both cheap and sensible—and even drivers agree!) A lot has happened since then in New York. First, the Adams administration committed to daylighting a 1,000 intersections a year. Then over 20 community boards—the first being the one where I live, after 7-year-old Dolma Naadhun was killed at a opaque corner down the block from us—backed ‘universal daylighting,’ fed up with the administration’s piecemeal approach. And finally, legislation arrived both downstate and upstate to end the city’s exemption from a state law.
The momentum of an entirely grassroots effort was exemplified earlier this month on the steps of City Hall, when throngs of people rallied in support of a universal daylighting bill in the City Council, which now has a more-than-decent shot at passing. (Members of the 31st Ave Open Street Collective testified that day, citing our neighborhood’s history on the issue and a hyper-local push for intervention that we recently led, seen above.) In terms of how we actually design our streets, daylighting has had one of the fastest upticks for a policy talking point that I can remember. (I mean, community boards—yes, those community boards—back it, for god’s sake.) At that speed, something’s gotta give.
OSA: Flex
Earlier this week, a segment of 31st Ave flipped one-way for the first time.
The second phase of the ‘bike boulevard’ redesign—which will see traffic direction changes, a two-way bike lane, and quasi-permanent public plazas—is officially underway. City crews are out there as we speak, changing signs and re-striping the corridor. If, as an iterative design process, Open Streets is AOL 1.0, we’ve officially started the upgrade to AOL 2.0.
April is the launch month for the Open Street. And each year, that timing comes with a unique set of challenges: in 2022, we were mediating with business owners; in 2023, we were incorporating as an actual entity; in 2024, we were fundraising as a certified 501©3 nonprofit and streamlining processes. And in 2025, we’re very much looking beyond our actual weekend-only operations to maximize our impact. (Separately from that, our actual opening weekend this year was, unfortunately, cancelled due to thunderstorms and a wind advisory.)
I’ve mentioned two of them already here: our push for ‘universal daylighting’ district-wide, and the resumed redesign. But another joined the list this month: a campaign backing the city’s proposal for life-saving measures this summer on 31st Street—which, in true Queens grid fashion, bisects 31st Avenue. When businesses there organized in opposition, the Collective helped write a petition to affirm local support for redesigning one of the borough’s most dangerous stretches. Two weeks later, that petition now has over 3,100 signatures, and over 20 people showed up at a recent community board hearing to testify.
Again, technically, some of these projects have nothing to do with 31st Avenue. And this is not, necessarily, new for us: previously, we advised on the Western Queens Street Safety Plan with our elected officials, and we often speak out publicly about the program, most recently on the need for funding and reform. But the extent to which we are stretching out our map has risen substantially. Because with a wide reach locally—be it through our 100+ volunteer base, 15k+ online following, or physical two-day-a-week presence—we’re increasingly confident that we can move the needle. And of course: these issues, like our streets themselves, are connected, whether they happen on the Avenue or not.
Bright Side: Life on the farm
A lot has been written about the ‘city as a network’—of neighborhoods, innovation, ecosystems, and so much more. And when we think of our ideals for the way something works, it’s typically well-connected: a parks network; a road network (for drivers, cyclists, and pedestrians); a subway network. And that’s because networks have power: a network connects places, and makes those places feel more connected; if people are involved, networks can be a way to share resources, information, and best practices.
A network that has always impressed me for even existing in the first place is London’s City Farms. The Big Smoke has 12 such spaces, in total; together, they piece dollars together from various sources, like local authority grants, donations, and concessions. Most are charities (British English for nonprofits) and part of a larger member group. And everyone is welcome to visit.
I spent some time teleworking in London last month—saw friends, scooted around, ate some pies, enjoyed the sun when she came—and while I was in town, I was invited to Surrey Docks Farm. It was a special occasion: this year is the farm’s 50th anniversary. The site, nestled along the River Thames, was bustling when I arrived: families enjoying flat whites and sausage rolls from the café there; toddlers ogling the sheep and donkeys that grace the fields; groups touring the amenities, which include a blacksmith, greenhouse and stable.
Carla Conte, a friend of a friend who helps lead youth programming there, showed us around. She introduced us to a few of her regulars: high-schoolers who had piqued interest in journalism, sustainability, and construction trades. The tiny plot does so much; it’s equal parts climate jobs incubator, teenager third space, parent hangout, compost provider, and natural respite. It even provides youth livestock programs, which have marked success, to young offenders.
The farm, Conte explained, is educational at its core, which feels pressing. “Something about being around animals is really good for people,” she said. “They teach us how to treat each other, but also, they show us what’s possible.”
On the Radar: MISTO
When I was in London, I was introduced to a team from Kyiv, and we linked back up in New York at the Smart Cities Expo earlier this month. Now, I don’t go to these events often (and personally, I’m a skeptic on smart city stuff). It was held at Manhattan’s Jacob K. Javits Convention Center, which I had only entered previously for the New York International Auto Show (true life: I was a motor head kid) and a bizarre security conference I covered for VICE way back when. The place is a revolving door of trade shows; in fact, with multiple conventions unfolding at the same time, it can be hard to know which once is which.
But aside from seeing a few colleagues, I wanted to hear more about MISTO—and today, Anatolii Vovniuk, its business director, was giving me a tutorial. The closest thing I can compare MISTO to is Mobility as a Service, or MaaS for short. This is the idea that all of your transportation needs—your bus ticket, cab, parking, bikeshare, etc.—can be accessed on one app. (I’ve written about the concept here before.) But imagine if MaaS applied to an entire city’s planning and operations. Forget paying the meter, what if you could weigh in on a redesign of the entire street.
That’s the idea behind MISTO, an all-in-one platform where people can get alerts (like Citizen), get around (like MaaS), get to engage in local debates (like Change.org), get air quality updates (like AirNow), get bills paid (like Venmo), and get municipal services (is there actually an app for that?). Some call it City as a Service, or CaaS for short. MISTO is the technology underpinning Kyiv Digital, the city’s official app, which currently sees three million users a day.
But for me, what’s most fascinating is the backstory. MISTO started in Odesa at the height of the pandemic, when contactless transactions became a matter of public health. Then the platform took on another dire role: when the conflict with Russia broke out, citizens needed real-time alerts for incoming missiles, and directions to the nearest bomb shelter. Unfortunately, Ukrainians still need those services, and then some. But the MISTO team has relented, expanding to other cities (now just arriving in America!) and what it can offer people.
When I asked Vovniuk about that strange dichotomy—a smart cities app in the midst of an awfully dumb war—he argued the technology itself is a form of resistance. “We wanted to show the world that Ukrainians could still innovate,” he told me, “even in the worst of situations.” Slava Ukraini.
Streetbeat Gig Board
Summer interns! Streetsblog USA, the only media company solely dedicated to covering greener forms of transportation, is hiring. (Remote)
CultureHouse, a nifty placemaking outfit that I blab on about here often, is bringing on a full-time operations position. (Somerville, MA)
The New York City Department of Transportation, one of the largest municipal agencies of its kind, needs an urban designer. (New York, NY)
***
Tell us where the jobs are at by submitting them here.
Kita Monthly
