Lake of the Isles Grapefruit

Yes, I have fallen behind -- waaaay behind -- on posts lately. I'd like to pretend it's because I've been so busy living the good life, hanging out outside in the warm spring weather, grilling up a storm. It's not, alas, but if you, too, are antsy for getting on with the summer, here's a local recipe to add to your collection. It comes to you from Betty Crocker's Outdoor Cook Book, published in 1961. Betty Crocker is General Mills, but you don't typically come across Minneapolis references in their cookbooks. It was a pleasant surprise to come across, then, this recipe for "Lake of the Isles Grapefruit":

Lake of the Isles Grapefruit

Remove seeds from grapefruit halves. Cut around sections, remove center. Place each half on single or double thickness of heavy-duty aluminum foil depending on method used for cooking. (Cooking on briquets requires double thickness; cooking on grill requires only single thickness.) Pour over grapefruit a mixture of 1 tsp. honey and 1 tsp. sherry flavoring. Sprinkle with 1/4 tsp. nutmeg. Wrap foil securely around fruit. Cook on briquets 5 to 8 min. or on grill 15 to 18 min., turning once. Serve one-half grapefruit per person.

I haven't tried this yet, so would be curious to hear from anyone who has/does make it. If you'd like to expand the menu and enjoy what the authors named the "Midwest Special", it's a breakfast meal consisting of orange juice, blueberry pancakes with syrup, grilled pork chops, scrambled eggs, toasted English muffins, and coffee. Or, in what I think sounds like it is, or should be, a Midwestern recipe, fry up some "Darn Goods," (page 152), which are "crisp-fried doughnut-like crips coated with cinnamon and sugar." Yum.

Fun fact: on the same shopping trip that netted me this cookbook I also picked up one of Amanda Arnold's former books. (her name was on the inside) Small world. Well, not that small; this was, after all, the Richfield Value Village, and it was a city-related book. But still...

Dupont Residents Protest Street Paving

Paved roads: the curse of CARAG? An old photo, obviously (as in: pre-snowbanks), but just imagine what it looked like in 1915!

Did that headline catch your eye? Yes, I know I've fallen behind on posting, but I haven't fallen THAT far behind, "that far" being the year 1915. Still, given that the odds are slim to none that anyone reading this blog was around to remember the debate back the first time around, I thought it would be interesting to give it some second life in 2010.

Highlights from an article in the December 29, 1915 Minneapolis Journal ("Citizens Unite to Fight Dupont Paving"):

"Concerted opposition to the plan to pave Dupont Avenue from Lake Street to Thirty-Sixth Street South was voiced last night at a meeting of about a hundred residents of the Eighth Ward at the Calhoun Commercial Club. They oppose the plan on the ground that the paving of Dupont, which is strictly a residential street, would divert to it most of the traffic which now reaches the Lynnhurst district by way of Lyndale and Hennepin Avenue and parallel avenues, giving Dupont more traffic than should traverse it."

A committee was appointed to report back to the city.

Sort of puts things in perspective, doesn't it? People were complaining about traffic one hundred years ago, and unless things dramatically change they'll still be complaining about it next century. The modern solution of paved roads and regular stop signs seems to work pretty well. I'm not concerned about traffic volume, but definitely don't like the speeders. For more recent Dupont history, the neighborhood fought to put in a stop sign at 34th and Dupont back in the late '70s and early '80s to cut down on the speeding problem. I only remember life post-stop sign, but I do recall a few years ago (2006? 2007?) when the city temporarily removed it. It is now, thank goodness, back in place, and traffic along Dupont moves along at a reasonable speed.

Hmm... do you think we'd be restoring "character" to the neighborhood if we ripped out all the pavement and replaced it with dirt? My son would LOVE it... (or we could just flood it, let it freeze, and strap on skates to get around. Now that's an idea I could get behind...)

Save Lake Calhoun!

No, not from the dangers of tall buildings or even milfoil. Here's a taste of some of the big issues facing local residents in the winter of 1901. From the Minneapolis Journal, January 4, 1901:

"'Save Lake Calhoun' is the watchword of a movement inaugurated this morning.

Residents of the growing community on the east shore of Calhoun have awakened to the fact that two-thirds of the expanse of the lake has been staked off by the ice companies, and ice fifteen inches thick will be cut off in this whole area. The lake is fed only by subterranean springs, and is now sixteen inches than it was ten years ago. Two companies, the Boston Ice Company and the Cedar Lake Ice Company, have been cutting there for several years, but this winter, it is announced, will cut ice on the lake for commercial purposes. They have already staked off more than twice the area taken any previous winter, and the situation is getting serious. Ice boating is practically ruined for this winter, in itself sufficient grievance, but the danger of reducing the city's beauty spot to a marshy pond has aroused the neighborhood."

"Put a stop to the evil."

Outraged residents circulated a petition to put a stop to the excesses. According to Secretary Ridgeway of the Park Board, the ice companies owned property on the shore, and were thus entitled to do as they liked out on the ice. "Our jurisdiction extends only to the shore," he told the Journal, "and we have no rights on the lake."

The scene is set

What did the lake look like when carved up by so many ice cutters? It was quite a different scene than today, certainly. According to the Journal, "each ice company has staked off a tract of ice, planting small evergreens about thirty feet apart to make the limits plain. Then, to prevent ice boats and skaters from crossing, the tract is fenced in with blocks of ice."

Frosty Relations

Approximately fifty ice boats were kept docked up at Ewing's dock; the paper notes that the owners used to "tie them up on the bank wherever they pleased," but ice workers allegedly began to cut their ropes and even "used some of the boats roughly." Meanwhile, the employees of the ice companies depended on their access to the lake for their livelihoods, and presumably weren't always sympathetic to the recreational needs of those lucky enough to own ice boats.

Civil Discourse

One of the things that impresses me most about this story isn't the sheer magnitude of the ice cutting operations, although obviously that's significant. From a more modern perspective, I appreciate that the opponents of the ice cutters generally seemed to be taking the high road when it came to voicing their opposition. A sample quote from one of the local petitioners, Dr. J.W. Penberthy of Calhoun Boulevard:

"It is a downright shame to see one of the beauty spots of Minneapolis so despoiled. It is of the interest of every one in Minneapolis to see that it is preserved. I do not want to see a hardship inflicted on any one, and as the companies have begun their winter's work and have money invested in their plants, it might not be just to stop the work this winter. But eventually the work must come to a stop. The sentiment of the whole community must be aroused against it."

I like this. Short, to the point, doesn't resort to talking about evil outsiders out to destroy the community in the name of commercial gain. It seems a legitimate attempt to balance, or at least acknowledge, the varied needs of the community (the article also cites the many jobs created by the ice cutters), while still standing firm on the proposed ultimate solution. The ability to look at the issue as a whole, and to at least consider the various implications of action, is something that today's residents can take to heart. We might not agree on final solutions (and today's aren't as pressing -- and uncontreversial -- as the obvious dangers of draining a lake), but we should be able to find at least some common ground when talking about the pros and cons of current issues.

Why Do Only Homes Get to be "Historic"?

The Greenway - a reminder of Uptown's rich industrial heritage

Before I get into my spiel on the importance of local commercial and industrial buildings and landscapes to Uptown's "character," let me get a few disclaimers out of the way:

1. Historic houses are important, and do contribute to Uptown's character.


2. I think it's wonderful that the Wedge is actively working to designate part of the neighborhood as a historic district.


3. It's better to focus primarily (or virtually only) houses than on nothing.


4. Every neighborhood in Uptown should have a committee, or at least an informal group of residents, who actively consider issues relating to local history, culture, and, where relevant, preservation.

That said, hearing about the updates on LHENA's historic district, as well as their hopes to engage other neighborhoods, leaves me practically shaking with frustration. Take, for example, the current wording of LHENA's NRP Phase II Action Plan, Strategy 1.1.2 (bolding mine):

"In order to preserve historic homes and thus maintain the integrity and character of the neighborhood, LHENA will explore the possibility of designating the Lowry Hill East neighborhood as an historic district.... LHENA may explore networking with nearby neighborhoods which share similar interest, goals and needs to historic preservation."

The Board voted on proposed changing to the wording (at the July 1 meeting; I wasn't there, but assume that it was approved) to expand the section (leaving the above part alone) to include a paragraph stating that the neighborhood would "raise awareness and interest in historic preservation, through means such as producing and issuing commemorative plaques to recognize neighborhood homes and structures aged over 100 years or that have otherwise made a significant architectural or cultural contribution, and other educational efforts."

I don't have a problem with these statements say, but I do have a problem with what they don't say. When homes are emphasized over all other "structures" then it becomes all too easy for people to forget about our commercial and industrial past. And while that may be a simple oversight, I also wonder if there are larger issues at play here, even if maybe only on a subconscious level. Some thoughts on history and historic preservation in Uptown (in a broad sense, and not just in the Wedge):

Uptown's commercial buildings are just as important as its houses . Uptown's older commercial buildings contribute greatly to Uptown's character. There are the obvious landmarks, of course - the theaters, Temple Israel, my beloved Buzza Building (Lehmann Center), the Calhoun Beach Club - but there are many, many other commercial buildings throughout the neighborhood that contribute immeasurably to local character. They may even contribute more to a sense local community than do most individual houses. Businesses serve as landmarks in a neighborhood; they're open to everyone, serve as destinations, and become a part of people's individual neighborhood histories and memories. My family home is historically significant to me and my family, as well as to those who lived there before we did; that's important (and it would be personally devastating to see it torn down or massively remodelled), but of more importance to the neighborhood as a whole would be if a building like the Bryant Building (Magers and Quinn's building) or the Uptown Theater were demolished. Those buildings and their various businesses have been etched into local Uptown history in a way that touches many more people than does an individual house. That's not to say that local historic homes shouldn't be protected, or that they don't contribute to area character (and certainly the wide-scale demolition of older homes would detract from neighborhood character), but that shouldn't mean that homes should get a higher emphasis than does the local commercial past.

Uptown has an industrial heritage, like it or not. This is where I start to wonder if there are deeper currents when discussing local historic preservation. I don't get the sense that many residents really care about Uptown's industrial past. One need only take a walk or ride down the Greenway for a reminder that the neighborhood has an industrial past. Manufacturers, lumberyards, and other often dirty, sometimes loud, utilitarian businesses lined the tracks. These businesses provided jobs for thousands of local residents. Not every warehouse or old building needs to be preserved, but we should collectively take a look at this corridor and have a broader discussion about what should be saved, what can go, and what, if anything, of Uptown's industrial past should be acknowledged. I've got to wonder, though, if part of the apathy towards the industrial past is because to acknowledge that Uptown's historical character included a lot of gritty, blue-collar, city history (and not just lake-oriented pseudo-suburban "character") runs the risk of opening up a can of neighborhood character worms. Overall, though, I think most people just don't think about industrial history very much, and have fallen into the trap of focusing on the "finest" examples of rich people's houses because that's what often passes as history in modern society.

Plaques are a nice starting point. I don't quibble with the idea that commemorative plaques will increase interest in local historic preservation. I think they're a wonderful idea, and a potential source of revenue. Perhaps the price of the plaques (which should be shouldered by the homeowner) can be priced to provide an extra pot of more publicly-oriented historic education money. This could be used to produce high-quality outdoor signage located throughout the greater Uptown area; these signs could provide basic, site-specific historical information. Maybe a couple along the Greenway, by Lake Calhoun, by the former West High School, in the local parks, and so on. Signage of this sort is a more democratic way to educate a broader public about local history and culture, as well as enhances community, and - dare I say - character.

I'll leave it at this for now. In short, good for LHENA for taking a stab at boosting awareness of local history and historic preservation, but please, please, don't let a focus on homes blind the neighborhood(s) to the very significant nature of our commercial and industrial heritage. The combination of all of these elements have shaped Uptown into what it is now, and a responsible, inclusive approach to historic preservation and education can serve to shape Uptown into an even greater neighborhood in the future.

Snapshot in Time: 32nd and Fremont in 1930

Do you ever walk down Uptown’s streets and wonder what it was like to live here back when it was “new”? Uptown didn’t develop overnight, of course, but most of it dates to the first three decades of the twentieth century. Most blocks are filled with houses and apartments all dating to the brief time span. The experience must have been drastically different, say, in the 1920s; while walking your dog or strolling with the family you’d likely pass busy construction sites, walk across roads still being laid, and witness new businesses opening up constantly. The relatively new, thriving neighborhood was well-served by streetcar, and residents could buy practically anything they wanted right in the neighborhood, as well as go to the theater, attend church or synagogue, go to school, and generally meet most needs in life.

So who were these residents? The short answer: it varied greatly. Uptown has always had a mix of residents of different economic levels. It was a primarily white place, but then so was Minneapolis as a whole. Uptown was actually pretty diverse, with residents from all over the world. Also, unlike many Minneapolis neighborhoods, Jews could rent and buy Uptown homes and apartments. It was never a “Jewish” neighborhood in the traditiona sense, but with two synagogues in the neighborhood it had more religious diversity (plenty of Catholics and Lutherans in the ‘hood, too, of course) than many Minneapolis neighborhoods.

Out of pure curiosity I decided to take a look at some sample 1930 census data from the 32nd block of Fremont. I’ve always liked that block for its mix of grand old apartment buildings, duplexes, and single-family homes. As an added bonus, it’s also the current home to Ward 10 Council Member Ralph Remington. So who lived here in 1930? Here’s a snapshot from the time, featuring the representative residents of one big apartment building, one mid-sized multiple family building, and one single-family house:

3240 Fremont
According to current city data, the building is now home to 26 units: 25 one-bedroom apartments and one two-bedroom apartment. It was built in 1924. Rents ranged from $38 to $65 per month, with the average hovering around $55.

In 1930, it was home to 39 adults (ages 16+); all but three of them were born in the United States. 54 percent were born in Minnesota, with the other Americans coming from a total of 15 states, mostly in the Midwest or on the East Coast. The foreign-born adults were born in Canada and Russia. The majority of American-born residents were the first generation to be born in this country; most of them had at least one parent from another country. Germany, Norway, Sweden, Mexico, Russia, and Ireland all appeared multiple times, with other parental nationalities including Denmark, England, and Canada also listed.

The bulk of the building’s apartments seemed to be either couples or families with one or two young children, but some units packed in several generations or included roommates. The Malchow family, for example, consisted of mother Louise and her two daughters, Flora and Charlotte, as well as a young boarder. The girls were all in their young 20s and worked in office jobs. The Fosters, a couple in their 30s, lived with Mr. Foster’s mother. The biggest family was the Shortalls, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Shortall, Mr. Foster’s mother, and two Foster children.

The residents of 3240 Fremont held a broad array of jobs. In addition to the office workers listed above, other occupations included, among other things, a barber, a flour mill employee, a silk hose salesman, a paper boy, a filling station attendant, a candy salesman, several teachers, a bookstore clerk, a motion picture machine salesman, several engineers for the street railway, and a “credit man” for an underwear manufacturer. The vast majority of the women, regardless of age, were not officially employed outside of the home.

3216 Fremont
3216 Fremont was smaller and more upscale than nearby 3240. The 1923 four-plex still stands, and was one of the local buildings to “go” condo. Four families lived in the building in 1930. The owners, Max and Sarah Kohn, lived on-site; they had paid $15,000 for the building. Max Kohn was originally from Czechoslovakia, Sarah was from Austria, and their adult son, still living at home, was born in Minnesota. Max worked at a clothing manufacturing company and son Samson was a clerk at a cigar store. The Reade family consisted of Harry and his wife Mildred, along with their three-year-old son Noel Jack. Harry managed a jewelry store. While both adults were born in Minnesota, Harry’s parents came from Germany. Also living in the home was 20-year-old servant Celeste Schumacher, a Minnesota native with parents from Norway. The Reade’s young son probably played with three-year-old Charlene Morse; Charlene’s parents, Henry and Blanche, were born in Minnesota, although Henry’s parents were originally from Romania. The Morses also had a live-in servant; 19-year-old Natalie Pirrami was born in Minnesota, but had parents from Italy. Henry was the buyer for a radio store. The final family in the building was the Blat family; Charles was a barber and Leah was a beauty operator. They also had a six-year-old son, Robert. Charles was born in Russia and spoke "Jewish Russian" as his first language; Blanche was born in Minnesota to Russian parents.

3232 Fremont
One of the block’s single-family homes, 3232 Fremont was home to the Wallburg family. Herman and Elise Wallburg and their two young sons, Herman and Walter, paid $35 a month in rent. Herman Wallburg worked as a milkman. Both adults were born in the United States – Herman in Minnesota, Elise in Iowa – but Herman’s parents came from Germany and Elise’s from Norway. Elise, a 27-year-old mother with a 2 year old and a 3 ½ year old, was one of many mothers on the block; the houses and apartments - including both 3216 and 3240 - were filled with children.

Do You Remember A Brother's Touch?

Do you remember A Brother’s Touch? A Brother’s Touch, once located at 2327 Hennepin, was the Twin Cities’ first GLBT bookstore. It was a local landmark for many in the local LGBT community, as well as a familiar part of the neighborhood even to those who never set foot inside its doors.

Owner Harvey Hertz initially opened A Brother’s Touch at Franklin and Nicollet in 1983; at some point the store moved to its Hennepin location, where it remained until its closing in 2003. Its closing was part of a larger, national trend, a result of both competition from national chains and online booksellers as well as the changing nature of American society. By 2003 GLBT books were readily available in mass bookstores; at the time, Uptown’s own Borders branch purchased more books from LGBT publisher Alyson Publishing than any other store in the state.

I’m not gay or lesbian, and never actually went into A Brother’s Touch, but the store’s bright pink neon sign – a man with his hand on another man’s shoulder, if I’m remembering correctly – blends in with my other vivid mental images of Uptown’s changing landscape. The store’s loss is unfortunate on several levels; from a pure neighborhood standpoint it’s a sad reminder that this decade saw the departure of many good neighborhood bookstores (including the longtime and independent staple Orr Books, as well as the above-mentioned Uptown Borders).

Markets change, neighborhoods evolve, and businesses come and go. That’s the nature of life. Still, I look back at the closing of A Brother’s Touch and mourn the loss of an independent store, a store that would be unlikely to be found at a suburban mall. A Brother’s Touch is also a reminder that Uptown’s history has been (for the most part) inclusive and tolerant; while there is no “gay neighborhood” in Minneapolis, Uptown certainly has been and continues to be popular with plenty of Twin Cities LGBT residents. And while A Brother's Touch lacked any deep personal meaning for me, other than as a familiar storefront, I know that has great significance for many others. A Brother's Touch was a local institution, and as such deserves to be remembered for its role in Uptown's - and the Twin Cities' - history.

Calhoun Square: Good or Bad?

Now that work on Calhoun Square is visibly moving forward, it’s perhaps a good time to take a moment to look backwards. More specifically, back to the late 1970s when Calhoun Square was first envisioned, and the early 1980s, when it became a reality. Like it or not, most people will readily acknowledge that the opening of Calhoun Square was a turning point in the neighborhood’s history. Did Calhoun Square “kill the soul of Uptown,” (as one local argues in the Uptown Small Area Plan) or did the urban mall give the commercial district a figurative kick in the pants, reenergizing the neighborhood for the benefit of all?

First, some history. Depending on your point of view, Uptown in the 1970s was either a run-down crime-ridden dump, or it was the exciting center of local and even regional artistic and bohemian life. For others it was a combination of the two; a little rundown around the edges, perhaps, but still a vibrant, affordable, and desirable place to live. You could even argue that the extra layer of urban grit gave it the authenticity so often lacking in modern suburbs or in overly sanitized malls.

The Hennepin-Lake intersection had been the center of the neighborhood’s commercial district for decades. Businesses in the area included a bowling alley, the Rainbow Café (a regional draw), and stores ranging from the Uptown Bookstore to the Save-Mart store. An elementary school, Calhoun School, was located adjacent to the business district, approximately where Calhoun Square’s parking lot now stands. The school was closed and demolished in the mid-1970s, opening up land and ultimately paving the way for Calhoun Square’s eventual construction.

Even after Calhoun Square was gone, the Calhoun Square footprint had businesses and other buildings still standing. After a long and controversial public debate, the Minneapolis City Council voted to designate the Hennepin-Lake district as “blighted,” allowing both the use of eminent domain as well as tax increment financing. While some in the neighborhood were supportive, others dubbed the project “Updale.” In many ways this is the battle still raging, although not necessarily focused on Calhoun Square at the moment; the modern updated argument centers on modern luxury condo buildings and chain stores, but the basic concerns about gentrification, change, suburbanization, and yuppification remain the same.

Calhoun Square finally opened in 1983. The urban mall incorporated both old and new buildings. Five buildings originally were located on the site; two were razed for the project, while the remaining three were gutted. The mall’s stores included a mix of both longtime neighborhood businesses as well as new ventures. Although a mall, Calhoun Square’s independent retail stores were a far cry from the standard shopping outlets at the ‘Dales. The mall quickly became an anchor in the neighborhood, and did successfully draw shoppers from across the region.

So, did Calhoun Square squash the spirit of Uptown? Was it the best or the worst thing to happen to the neighborhood? In many ways, I think it was a little of both. Uptown pre-Calhoun Square was an active commercial district, but we’ll never know how well it would have survived the 1980s or 1990s without Calhoun Square. Calhoun Square did energize the neighborhood, and did bring in many new amenities. Large interior malls may not be the fashion now, but in a cold Minnesota winter (or even during the worst days of a hot Minnesota summer) it can be nice to have some indoor shopping options, too. Back in the 1980s the central atrium was actually pretty nice; there were fountains and plants and benches, and there did seem to be a genuine attempt to make the common space feel like it belonged to the community. On the other hand, Uptown’s “revitalization” meant that some longtime businesses got pushed out. A neighborhood shopping district once again became a regional destination; this meant more options for locals, but in return it meant a loss of that smaller, neighborhood feel.

Ultimately what I want out of the neighborhood is a vibrant, urban neighborhood, one in which I can do all my daily and special occasion shopping and living, only leaving the neighborhood because I choose to and not because I have to. I’m too young to have many memories of a pre-Calhoun Square Uptown; I don’t have an answer as to whether or not Calhoun Square was good or bad for the neighborhood. Ultimately I don’t know believe that anyone does. It changed the neighborhood, without a doubt, but things would have changed whether or not Calhoun Square was in the picture. Calhoun Square was only one pressure point of change – a large one, admittedly – on the neighborhood. It would be unfair to forget about larger city and even national economic and cultural trends that also shaped life at the local level. Would that bohemian artistic vibe survived the materialistic ‘80s? We’ll never know for sure.

Calhoun Square of today is a very different place than the Calhoun Square of the 1980s. It’s quieter now, with fewer independent stores and a lot more vacant spaces. The new construction has and will change things dramatically yet again, and it remains to be seen whether or not the outcome will be positive or negative for the neighborhood.

Regardless of one’s opinion about Calhoun Square, past or present, I think most people will agree that it is very important to Uptown as a whole that Calhoun Square survive, and ideally thrive. Love it or hate it, the reality is that the Uptown that existed prior to 1983 is long gone, and it isn’t coming back. The best we can do is to support Calhoun Square in its new form. Shop in its stores. Eat at its restaurants. Don’t forget about the rest of Uptown, of course, but do try to keep your money local. Don’t like chain stores? Focus your buying power on the independents. There’s no way to know whether the neighborhood will thrive or wither in the years to come, but having a big empty albatross sitting at our busiest intersection is the fastest way to encourage failure. Good luck, Calhoun Square, for all our sake.

Remember McPunks?

Ah, the good old days. In this case, for some of us, anyway, that means the 1980s. The decade of tight zipper-legged jeans, leg warmers, big hair, and Thriller. In Uptown it was the decade of the McPunks.

The McPunks were the mostly teenage punks with mohawks and piercings who used the Uptown McDonald's as their primary hangout. McDonald's had a different building back then, with a small patio separating the restaurant from Hennepin. At the time they were a highly visible, as well as controversial, part of the Uptown street scene. Some people thought they were scary: bad kids who meant trouble, and who undoubtedly would run amok in the neighborhood as soon as they got bored with nursing a Coke or cold fries on the patio. Others didn't have a problem with the McPunks themselves, but worried that they would scare away more conventional customers. Still others just saw them as kids with a different style who didn't hurt anyone, and in some ways might even help the neighborhood avoid becoming too tarnished with the gentrification brush. Calhoun Square was still brand new after all, and the neighborhood was starting to regain its position as a regional draw, and a bunch of teenagers with spikes on their head and safety pins in their noses might not fly with visitors of Edina. On the other hand, conventional visitors from the 'burbs didn't agree with all of the locals, many of whom were still bitter about the new urban mall in their midst.

The reality, of course, was that many of the McPunks were themselves from Edina. Or, if not Edina, then at least southwest Minneapolis. While there were some examples of vandalism and other crimes possibly attributed to some of the McPunks, for the most part they were good kids who simply chose to express themselves through the radical hairstyles and clothing of the time.

What does this mean, if anything, for those of us in Uptown today? I think a lot of people look back to the 1980s as the last decade in which Uptown had any claim to "weirdness," the last hoorah before national chains moved in in the 1990s and rents and housing prices began to escalate at even faster rates. The McPunks were a symbol that Uptown was an eccentric place and somehow different from other city (or suburban) neighborhoods. They were also a sign of the tensions of the neighborhood; did Uptown want to be weird? And where did the balance tip between weird-exotic and weird-scary? It wasn't an easy question, and was in some ways the neighborhood's clash-of-cultures of its time.

I'm pretty conventional in a lot of ways. My hair's its natural color, and I'm too cheap and lazy to get a cut that would involve too much maintenance, let alone put in the kind of time that must have been necessary to maintain one of those elaborate spiked 'dos. But even as a kid I was never bothered by the McPunks. They were just part of the landscape, just like the old people at McDonald's - who also hung around for hours, nursing a coffee or doing crossword puzzles - and the rest of the Uptown regulars. And while I'm not not a McDonald's regular myself, I do miss that old patio and its place in Uptown's cultural history.

Remember When Uptown Was "Bad"?

Remember back when people were scared to visit Uptown? When it was seedy and scary and "bad?" When people with kids moved away to "safer" neighborhoods? No? Well, I don't either, and I've been around more than a couple of decades.

This is a common enough refrain, though. I suppose each person has his or her own definition of what makes a neighborhood "bad." Still, despite occasional pockets of crime or problem houses, the main Uptown neighborhoods - CARAG, the Wedge, East Isles, and ECCO - have never been considered scary places to live or visit. Well, maybe they were by some people, but those people probably think everyone in city limits packs heat anyway.

So who is saying this and why do they continue to do so? A 2006 Uptown Neighborhood News profile of ECCO board member Tim Prinsen, a "born and bred" Minnesotan who moved to Uptown in 2001, remembers the '90s as a time when "people used to be nervous about coming into Uptown." While that is undoubtedly true, I think it's also fair to say that many of those people were basing their fear not on facts, but on misperceptions. And, unfortunately, perceptions take on the mantle of reality, especially when it comes to city neighborhoods. I doubt that many people actually living in Uptown at the time considered it to be scary or dangerous.

Although I don't fault Prinsen for that statement (yes, some people were nervous about Uptown although unjustifably so), I don't agree with him on his next point: "Tim remembers a time when young couples would move to the area, but once they had children they would move out. Tim and his wife are an example of how that is no longer the case."

I was born in Uptown. I grew up in Uptown, as did many other kids on my block, in my neighborhood, and at my school. If anything, Prinsen has it backwards. Young couples used to come to Uptown because they could afford to raise a family here. In more recent years young couples with children are moving away, not because they don't want to raise their kids here, but because they can't afford to buy a home in the neighborhood. I think it's wonderful that he and his family are able to live here, and hope that more families will have the opportunity to follow in their footsteps. An integrated community filled with people from all stages of life will make this a better place for all of us.

It would be one thing if this was just one isolated example of a reference to Uptown's scary past, but the revisionist history of Uptown's bad years is still around. Take Lara Norkus-Crampton's recent comments to the Southwest Journal, for example. I've discussed it in prior posts, but it bears repeating. "This area wasn't always seen as such a perfect place," attests Norkus-Crampton, There were parts of Uptown considered borderline." Norkus-Crampton is an ECCO resident and, unfortunately, a Minneapolis Planning Commissioner (as well as a newly-announced Ward 10 City Council candidate). I don't know what her definition of "borderline" is, but her comments only reinforce my impression that she is either unaware of Uptown's true history, or, possibly, finds the very attributes that made Uptown so popular to so many people - the "weird" and the artsy, the economically, age, and racially diverse, people who work blue collar jobs - to be uncomfortable.

In Lara Norkus-Crampton and other's defense, I suppose, I should note that Uptown in the 1960s and 1970s had its issues. It was, in fact, a very controversial designation of Hennepin and Lake as "blighted" that paved the way for the creation of Calhoun Square. Maybe Norkus-Crampton is talking about this era, although to many people Uptown wasn't "borderline" even then, it was just dumpier and and not as yuppified. What I just can't understand, as much as I think about it, is how anyone can make an argument that Uptown of the late '80s into the '90s was somehow a dangerous or even borderline neighborhood.

I'm tired of revisionist history. Uptown has had its ups and downs, but there's no point in highlighting a "bad" or "borderline" past that just doesn't exist. Why, then, do people insist on perpetuating this myth? Perhaps they like to envision themselves as urban cowboys, living in a tough neighborhood, turning it around through the toils of their labor. Or perhaps they just think living in a neighborhood without a North Face was really slumming it.

Uptown's "Clash of Cultures"

I've been going over the Uptown Small Area Plan, a wonderful and comprehensive document produced after many, many hours of meetings, discussions, interviews, research, and a lot of compromises. While the planning process took place a few years ago, the information is still relevant. What's more, the conflicts and opinions expressed are undoubtedly still bubbling away under the surface. One issue in particular struck me while reading the appendices. During the September 11, 2007 meeting, several unnamed committee members brought up what they called a "clash of cultures" in the neighborhood, pitting those "drawn to Uptown because of its entertainment options" against those who "view it as a traditional neighborhood." Thank goodness several committee members pointed out the common sense view that "Uptown can be both."

This "clash of cultures" remains one of the primary issues facing the neighborhood. I have a feeling that if we pulled together a similar group of people today this issue would still be raised. It is, at the heart of it, two ideologically different views of what Uptown has been, and what it could and should be in the future. I have some strong opinions on the matter myself:

The "clash of cultures" should be redefined. While I agree that there are people who are drawn to Uptown because of its nightlife, I heartily reject the notion that these same people cannot appreciate a "traditional neighborhood." I would redraw the two camps between "people who prefer a quiet, less-traditionally urban neighborhood" and "people who want a city neighborhood with all of the associated amenities."

What the heck does "traditional" mean? Who are these people who think that bars, nightclubs, and other "entertainment" options can't have a place in a traditional neighborhood? "Traditional" is purely subjective. And, in the case of Uptown, it's often misused to suggest a mythical past in which the neighborhood was quiet and went to sleep at 7:00 pm. The reality was much richer and more interesting. Uptown of the past offered plentiful evening entertainment options (for both residents and visitors alike) as well as a wide array of daytime offerings like shops, offices, schools, and basic services and amenities.

Uptown residents should be able to enjoy a night out without getting on the bus or in the car. Well-managed nightlife can benefit residents, too. It brings business to the neighborhood, gives local residents some local nightlife options, and keeps people out on the streets at night. The trick is in getting the balance right: Uptown doesn't want drunks puking in yards, revelers singing in the streets in the early morning, or entertainment-focused businesses to push out other daytime retail and service businesses. If done right, Uptowners can walk to the store and the pharmacy during the daytime, then meet up with friends for a drink later that night.

The Traditionalists are anything but traditional. Their vision of traditional is not a good fit for Uptown. Uptown is - and has been - an urban city neighborhood. Minneapolis has many other wonderful options for quieter neighborhoods with nice neighborhood coffee shops and plentiful parking. Linden Hills and Kenwood both come to mind. Uptown used to be a vibrant, around-the-clock kind of place; why not revitalize it back to its former glory rather than shoehorn it into something that doesn't fit?

I grew up watching Sesame Street, reading Jane Jacobs, and visiting cities around the United States and the world. My ideal urban neighborhood has a full range of business and residential offerings. In other words, I want what I consider to be a "traditional" city neighborhood, one that offers something for everyone and manages to blend it all together to serve residents of all ages and backgrounds. The Traditionalists are the ones who are also most likely to start talking about Uptown's "character" and "uniqueness" - why not truly live up to those standards and not try to turn Uptown into another Linden Hills? Many of us want and deserve a safe and vibrant, and dare I say, traditional, urban neighborhood that - gasp - includes some nightlife. It's time for those of us who support this vision (one that is supported by Uptown's history) to stand up and let our voices be heard.

Remembering Uptown's West High School

Once upon a time Uptown had a high school of its own. In 1908, local high school students first entered the halls of a brand new school. West, located on Hennepin and 28th, housed students in grades ten through twelve. The school thrived, and at one point it was the second largest high school in the Minneapolis system. Its students, clad in their green and white letter jackets and sweaters, swarmed the streets of Uptown. After school let out for the day they'd head to the library, to the soda fountains, to their afternoon jobs, or back to their nearby homes. West was, up until its closing in 1982, an important center of neighborhood life.

Today's local high school students don't have the luxury of a neighborhood high school. They go to Southwest or South or perhaps Blake or Breck or some other private school. And Uptown loses something in the process.

A neighborhood school does more than simply educate its students. It boosts the sense of community. Residents, with or without kids at the school, can attend student theatrical productions, cheer at the homecoming game (or just watch the parade) and help nurture the development of teenagers into fullfledged adult members of society. High schools have some downsides, too - lots of bad drivers floating around, probably an increase in litter and petty vandalism, cigarette butts on the street. But overall they're pretty good places to have around.

It's been more than a quarter of a century since our high school closed. Realistically there's no going back. For those that attended West, it must be a bittersweet experience to walk past the site of the once-grand school and its many years of good (and bad) memories. For those that came of age in Uptown post-1982, it must be difficult to imagine a time when one could walk to school quickly and easily. The next time you walk along Hennepin by 28th Street take some time to reflect on changing times and the ups and downs of neighborhood life.