The Town of Kansas Bridge, at the foot of Main Street, north of the City Market, sometimes seems like a forlorn place. The steel-framed pedestrian path and overlook connect with a riverside bike trail below. I rarely see people using it, but I’ve always appreciated the views the deck offers of the Missouri River.
You can channel the riverine pulse there. You can sense the city’s history. You can see how the railroads served to separate the river from the urban landscape. And you can sense the potential for river connections that we rarely seem to talk about in this river city.
I wasn’t sure what to think of the proliferation of padlocks that have been taking over the bridge’s grillwork like barnacles. There’s a certain grassroots charm to the lock meme, which purports to embody expressions of love. Until, of course, the encrustation of locks begins to threaten structural integrity, as we’ve seen on the Pont des Arts in Paris. But, for now at least, the locks represent a human connection to this pedestrian bridge in Kansas City and to the river it frames.
[block pos=”right”] The river today looms large in a current Kansas City controversy, the replacement of the Buck O’Neil Bridge (the former Broadway Bridge), which connects downtown to the city’s northern reaches. [/block]
The city in recent years has been tiptoeing a little closer to the river that meant so much to its origins and which it long ignored. New housing developments abutting Berkley Riverfront Park have brought more residents to the riverbanks. But, in general, bupkis.
I’ve been thinking about the Missouri River for no special reason lately. My general experience of the river has been, sad to say, passive. There was that one harrowing moment on the river up in Montana years ago when a squall kicked up and nearly sent me and a canoe mate to the next life. But I haven’t been on it ever since.
The river today looms large in a current Kansas City controversy, the replacement of the Buck O’Neil Bridge (the former Broadway Bridge), which connects downtown to the city’s northern reaches.
After the Missouri Division of Transportation issued renderings of the planned project, I was all set to get on a high horse and join the boo birds complaining about the uninspired design.
Replacing the current crumbling structure’s three arches would be a pair of mostly unadorned, low-profile ribbons of concrete. Total cost to be funded by the city and the state: nearly $250 million, including demolition of the original. The Twitterati went wild. Typical bland Kansas City, yadda yadda. An embarrassing disservice to the memory of Buck O’Neil, the beloved ambassador for Negro Leagues baseball history in Kansas City.
Then I had a chat with Kirk Gastinger, a retired architect, who turned my head around on the matter, at least in part. Gastinger regards the low-lying viaduct as an efficient and acceptable solution on several grounds.
One key issue involves height limitations posed by the proximity of the Wheeler Airport. And on a purely functional level, the plan absolutely improves the connection from U.S. 169 to Interstate 35 at the northwest corner of downtown. Shifting the highway to the west eliminates the inconvenient jog through the downtown traffic grid, though it also results in the loss of a small handful of largely non-historic buildings along 4th Street. Finally, as an avid bicyclist, Gastinger is satisfied with the new bridge’s plan for pedestrian and bike lanes. There’s even an observation point midway across the river.
With all due respect to Buck O’Neil, one must weigh whether the prime intention of the bridge is to convey traffic or to memorialize him. Opportunities remain to do the latter, perhaps near the southern end of the bridge. Or, better yet, as part of an emerging plan to save the current bridge and create something like a destination park. According to a project engineer, a good part of the bridge could be retained if the city wanted it.
I like the operating philosophy of the French architects Anne Lacaton and Jean-Philippe Vassal, who recently won the Pritzker Prize: “Never demolish, never remove or replace, always add, transform, and reuse!”
Yes, demolition of the original bridge would be a waste.
When I spoke with Mayor Quinton Lucas recently, he was optimistic that the city could find the money to turn the old bridge into a pedestrian space. It could be similar to, say, New York’s High Line, the hugely popular public artery made out of an abandoned rail line. Attractions could include a memorial to Buck and other markers of the city’s history. The preservation challenge will have to recognize that unlike the High Line, the lack of density and connective tissues here may not lead to a natural flow of people through the new elevated park.
I would add one more thing. Let’s remember the river above which all this happens. Though I hear very few people talking about this, a repurposed bridge would also give us a new chance to honor the natural power and rugged beauty of the Missouri River.
