Tanzer: What is the shape of Gainesville?

OPINION

BY KIM TANZER

When we travel, many of us consciously or subconsciously assess the “shape” of the city we are visiting. If we’re in Savannah, we might look at a map and see the river and perhaps the characteristic grid of the historic city to know where to look for a restaurant or hotel. In any beach town, we find the ocean, then seek the road running along it to discover vibrant commercial activity. We often rely on maps and may speculate about how cities are laid out based on their terrain, primary roadways, iconic buildings, and the varied fabric of their repetitive buildings. Studying these urban systems, we may come to understand why and where cities were founded and how they have grown across decades or centuries.

Because we live here, many have not devoted the same attention to understanding Gainesville. Today, using the analytic concepts of urban designers, I hope to help readers visualize the shape of Gainesville. 

Urban designers typically study cities by drawing them, often separating systems (water, roads, etc.) from each other on separate sheets of paper, or layers. Earlier paper-based layers of drawings have been replaced by digital GIS mapping, and most municipalities use these mapping tools in their work. Locally, both Alachua County and the Alachua County Property Appraiser provide the public with accessible GIS-based layers, so readers can explore our urban area’s systems for yourselves. Below I describe a few of Gainesville’s primary systems.

Terrain. The shape of any town is largely defined by its terrain—its landforms (topography) and water features (hydrology). Putting these together, we immediately have a striking but largely unappreciated explanation of Gainesville’s shape.

The state’s “continental divide” runs through Gainesville and is located around the high point of the 1861 Cedar Key-Fernandina Beach railroad. Gainesville straddles Florida’s ridge, with half of our water governed by the St. John’s Water Management District and the other half by the Suwannee River Water Management District. Unique to Gainesville, though, is the fact that none of our water flows to either the Atlantic or the Gulf of Mexico. Instead, our water flows to lakes, rivers, or streams that empty directly into the aquifer. We might think of Gainesville as one large bathtub, with several primary drains or “sinks.”

Water flows away from the center of Gainesville in three general directions. East of Waldo Road, Hatchett Creek and other streams flow to Newnan’s Lake. Roughly between Waldo Road and West 13th Street, water flows through Sweetwater and Tumblin Creeks south to Paynes Prairie. West of 13^th Street, the vast Hogtown Creek system runs from North U.S. 441 (and 13^th Street) southwest to Lake Kanapaha, where it enters a sink. Separately, most water on the UF campus flows into Lake Alice, then directly into the aquifer. 

Much of the traffic backlog coming from west Gainesville can be explained by the obstacles created by the Hogtown Creek wetland, running from University Avenue to Archer Road, while some of East Gainesville’s underdevelopment is a result of extensive wetlands draining to Newnan’s Lake.

Roadways. The second major system defining the shape of any city is its road network. Gainesville’s oldest roads are named after towns that either preceded Gainesville or developed at the same time. Some follow former railroad lines. These include Waldo and Hawthorne Roads to the east and Williston, Archer, and Newberry Roads to the west. Though Highway 441 is not named for Alachua, High Springs, or Micanopy, it provides a living link to those very old towns. 

Beyond these roads, many of Gainesville’s primary roads create a kind of supergrid: East 9^th Street, Main Street, and West 6^th, 13^th, 34^th, 43^rd, and 75^th Streets run north and south. Running east and west are University Avenue, 8^th and 16^th Avenues (both north and south), and North 39^th and 53^rd Avenues. Two interesting exceptions are NW 16^th Boulevard/23^rd Avenue and NW 23^rd Street Boulevard/Glen Springs Road. Both zigzag northwest and appear to follow much older historic roadways. Another important roadway is I-75, built in the 1970s and influencing the city’s growth ever since.

Nodes, or “activity centers.” Often commercial activity occurs at major intersections, not just in Gainesville but in any city, across time. In Gainesville, we find commercial centers at many of these intersections: University Avenue intersects Waldo/Williston Road, Main Street, West 6^th, 13^th, 34^th, and 75^th Streets. North 39^th Avenue intersects Waldo Road at the airport, along with NE 15^th Street, Main Street, NW 6^th, 13^th, and 43^rd Streets, where commercial areas are found. North 16^th Avenue has significant commercial activity at NE 9^th Street, Main Street, and west 6^th, 13^th, and 43^rd Streets. Butler Plaza, Celebration Pointe, the Oaks Mall, and Springhill are all located where major local roads intersect I-75.

Iconic places. These are the places historically featured on postcards or, today, in selfies posted on Instagram. They form our collective sense of place. In Gainesville, most would agree that Depot Park, the Hippodrome, the Thomas Center, portions of the UF campus, Paynes Prairie, Sweetwater Park, the Devil’s Millhopper, and Kanapaha Gardens merit this special recognition.

Built “fabric.” A city’s built fabric–block after block of repetitive buildings–quietly defers to iconic buildings, spotlighting them by contrasting with them. But, across any city, not all built fabric is the same. We might think of any city’s fabric as a patchwork quilt of different distinctive patterns. 

Typically, housing is the primary building type comprising a city’s fabric, and it varies based on age, construction techniques, transportation types, socio-economic circumstances, and fashions. The size and shape of buildings, along with block size (or lack thereof) and street width all contribute to characteristic built fabrics. 

Gainesville’s fabric is easily understandable and consistent with the city’s growth pattern. Around the downtown area and east to Waldo Road, many buildings are large and squarish—kind of blocky. Streets are gridded, and they mostly have sidewalks separated from the streets with grassy “verges.” This was the start of Gainesville, which in the 19^th century stretched east and west equally. Just south and west of downtown, in much smaller, mostly one-story homes, on smaller lots with narrower streets and no sidewalks, lived Gainesville’s 19^th– and early 20^th-century African-American population in Fifth Avenue, Porters Quarters, and Springhill. 

In 1905, land was donated to locate the University of Florida at the southwest corner of University Avenue and 13^th Street. This changed the shape of the city. 

From that time, more new housing was built closer to the University, then increasingly further west. A few examples are College Park, Hibiscus Park, and Golfview, platted in the 1920s. 

Soon after WW2, new single-family developments sprang up to provide housing for returning GIs and an increased UF student body, including Carol Estates, Magnolia Heights, Sugarfoot, and Florida Park in the 1940s and 1950s, with larger lots, low-slung mid-century ranch-style houses, and no sidewalks. 

Later still, Suburban Heights, Azalea Trails, Forest Ridge, and other areas continued the characteristic mid-century fabric. In the 1970s and 1980s, Haile, Cumberland Circle, Ridgewood, Monterey, and Brywood were built in the style of the day, often on larger, partially wooded lots, with wider roads and cul-de-sacs but no sidewalks. 

As I-75 became operational, more neighborhoods followed newer shopping and newer schools to the west of the city. 

Then, in the 1990s and 2000s, again echoing national trends, developers began building neighborhoods with two-story houses on smaller lots with sidewalks, reminiscent of early 20^th-century neighborhoods. Tioga, Sorrento, and Hillcrest are examples of this type of fabric.

Natural Systems. As described above, Hogtown Creek and its tributaries act as a giant green wall nearly cutting Gainesville in two. Other large natural systems also play important roles in shaping Gainesville. Paynes Prairie to the south, San Felasco Hammock to the north, and Newnan’s Lake to the east all constrain urban development, nudging it west. These large natural systems, and Gainesville’s many small local parks, also contribute to the shape of Gainesville.

Throughout this brief analysis I have focused on our entire urban area as it is today. This objective analysis is a critical starting point. My focus has been not just on the city’s historic center but on all the places people live and work. 

When I envision Gainesville, I see not a hub (downtown) and spokes (suburbs) but a network, with many equally vibrant local “villages” surrounded by forests and sometimes separated by creeks. Planners have begun to describe such cities as “polycentric.” 

As you read my description of Gainesville, and perhaps look at maps, websites, social media sites, or travel around the city, what is the shape of the city you discover? What would make it better?

Kim Tanzer lives in Gainesville. She is a former UF architecture professor, who was also dean of the University of Virginia School of Architecture.

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