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2016 New Urbanism on the Ground: Using Regional Geographic Context to Evaluate Sustainability Outcomes for Six Central Florida New Urbanist Communities Kathryn Louise Ziewitz

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COLLEGE OF SOCIAL SCIENCES AND PUBLIC POLICY

NEW URBANISM ON THE GROUND: USING REGIONAL GEOGRAPHIC CONTEXT TO

EVALUATE SUSTAINABILITY OUTCOMES FOR SIX CENTRAL FLORIDA NEW

URBANIST COMMUNITIES

KATHRYN LOUISE ZIEWITZ

A Dissertation submitted to the Department of Geography in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

2016

Kathryn Louise Ziewitz defended this dissertation on July 12, 2016. The members of the supervisory committee were:

Joseph Pierce Professor Directing Dissertation

Christopher Coutts University Representative

Victor Mesev Committee Member

Xiaojun Yang Committee Member

The Graduate School has verified and approved the above-named committee members, and certifies that the dissertation has been approved in accordance with university requirements.

Dedicated to my family, those by blood and those by kinship.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I wish to thank my advisor and the many professors and colleagues who have made this work possible. In addition, I thank my loving family and friends.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Tables ...... vi List of Figures ...... viii Abstract ...... x

1. INTRODUCTION ...... 1

2. LITERATURE REVIEW ...... 9

3. THE CASE: STUDY AREAS AND FLORIDA'S GROWTH MANAGEMENT HISTORY...... 90

4. METHODS AND DATA ...... 151

5. RESULTS ...... 169

6. DISCUSSION ...... 246

7. CONCLUSION ...... 289

References ...... 298

Biographical Sketch ...... 325

LIST OF TABLES

Table 1-1. New Urbanist study sites, acreages, and construction start dates ...... 7

Table 3-1. Recent population growth in study regions ...... 136

Table 4-1. Locational Sustainability Index variables...... 165

Table 4-2. Housing density categories ...... 166

Table 4-3. Land use categories from Florida Department of Revenue and as assigned for this study ...... 167

Table 4-4 Racial and ethnic population variables ...... 168

Table 4-5 Rubric for evaluation of collaborative planning ...... 168

Table 5-1. Rural or urban population density in year 2000 and locational sustainability score...... 220

Table 5-2 Housing densities for New Urbanist developments and surrounding census block groups for year 2000 with locational sustainability scores ...... 221

Table 5-3. Location within or outside of city limits and locational sustainability score ...... 222

Table 5-4 Presence of Homeowners Associations (HOAs) and Community Development Districts (CDDs) within study communities ...... 223

Table 5-5. Location within or outside or Urban Service Area and locational sustainability score ...... 224

Table 5-6. Greenfield or infill development, locational sustainability score, and acreage ...... 225

Table 5-7. Distance to nearest city or town and locational sustainability score, and distance to nearest limited access highway ...... 226

Table 5-8. Land uses within New Urbanist communities and one-mile buffer, year 2010 ...... 226

Table 5-9. Land use diversity ratio derived from proportions of land in commercial and and industrial uses relative to residential, parks, and conservation uses, 2010 ...... 227

Table 5-10. Locational Sustainability Index summary results ...... 227

Table 5-11. Racial and ethnical composition of census block groups within and surrounding New Urbanist developments and Population Diversity Ratings ...... 228

Table 5-12. Presence of collaborative planning in New Urbanist communities and associated Locational Sustainability and Population Diversity ratings ...... 229

Table 5-13. Role of New Urbanism and public sector support for development...... 230

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LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 1-1. Locations of New Urbanist study sites...... 8

Figure 3-1. Greater Orlando region New Urbanist study sites ...... 137

Figure 3-2. Greater Tampa region New Urbanist study sites ...... 138

Figure 3-3. Celebration and vicinity ...... 139

Figure 3-4. Celebration and vicinity in early development, 1995 ...... 140

Figure 3-5. Avalon Park and vicinity ...... 141

Figure 3-6. Future site of Avalon Park and vicinity, 1999 ...... 142

Figure 3-7. Baldwin Park and vicinity ...... 143

Figure 3-8. Baldwin Park and vicinity as Naval Training Center, 1994...... 144

Figure 3-9. West Park Village and vicinity ...... 145

Figure 3-10. Future site of West Park Village site as part of platted subdivision, 1994 ...... 146

Figure 3-11. Longleaf and vicinity ...... 147

Figure 3-12. Future site of Longleaf and vicinity, 1995 ...... 148

Figure 3-13. Hampton Lakes and vicinity ...... 149

Figure 3-14. Future site of Hampton Lakes, 1995 ...... 150

Figure 5-1. New Urbanist sites in greater Orlando region in relation to US Census Bureau Designations for Urban Areas for year 2000 ...... 231

Figure 5-2. New Urbanist sites in greater Tampa region in relation to US Census Bureau Designations for Urban Areas for year 2000 ...... 232

Figure 5-3. New Urbanist sites in greater Orlando region in relation to housing densities for year 2000...... 233

Figure 5-4. New Urbanist sites in greater Tampa region in relation to housing densities for year 2000...... 234

Figure 5-5. New Urbanist sites in greater Orlando region in relation to city limits ...... 235

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Figure 5-6. New Urbanist sites in greater Tampa region in relation to city limits ...... 236

Figure 5-7. New Urbanist sites in greater Orlando region in relation to Urban Service Area ...... 237

Figure 5-8. New Urbanist sites in greater Tampa region in relation to Urban Service Area ...... 238

Figure 5-9. Land uses within New Urbanist communities and one-mile buffer, year 2010 ...... 239

Figure 5-10. Land uses within Avalon Park and one-mile buffer, year 2010...... 240

Figure 5-11. Land uses within Baldwin Park and one-mile buffer, year 2010 ...... 241

Figure 5-12. Land uses within Celebration and one-mile buffer, year 2010 ...... 242

Figure 5-13. Land uses within Hampton Lakes and one-mile buffer, year 2010 ...... 243

Figure 5-14. Land uses within Longleaf and one-mile buffer, year 2010 ...... 244

Figure 5-15. Land uses within West Park Village and one-mile buffer, year 2010 ...... 245

ABSTRACT

This study contributes a critical geographic perspective to understanding possibilities and constraints for achieving more sustainable and just urbanization through New Urbanism, a market-oriented, Smart Growth approach consistent with the trend of deregulation of growth management in the US in recent decades. Six master-planned Florida New Urbanist developments were evaluated using mixed methods. Empirical analyses were conducted using geographic information system (GIS) tools to assess the "locational sustainability" of the developments in relation to the surrounding regional fabric, and census data were used to evaluate the racial and ethnic composition of residents. In addition, the study investigates whether greater public participation is linked to stronger sustainability outcomes and how a New Urbanist "brand" affected development processes. Finally, archival research is employed to uncover development histories to enrich understandings of development processes and the role of New Urbanism from pre-development through siting and actual development. The findings show generally poor and patchy fulfillment of sustainability outcomes for the New Urbanist communities studied, with no single community scoring well for both locational sustainability and racial and ethnic population diversity. Communities where the strongest participatory processes were in effect prior to development exhibited better sustainability outcomes; however, for all six cases, siting and development decisions were driven by economic factors similar to those for conventional suburban developments. The findings suggest that rather than focusing on particular styles of built forms, efforts be directed at promoting political and economic processes and policies that lead to more just and sustainable outcomes.

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION

1.1 The Research Need

As global populations continue to grow and urbanize, debates over settlement approaches are crucial from the standpoints of environmental, social, and fiscal sustainability. The urban built environment is a key locus for human efforts toward innovation in sustainability (Rees and Wackernagel 1996; Bettencourt et al. 2007; Keil 2007; Herrschel 2013), triggering the development and redevelopment of a variety of types of communities across Florida, the US, and the globe under the banner of “green” or “sustainable” places, including the New Urbanist communities in this study. Architects and urban designers originating master-planned New Urbanist places claim that improved environmental sustainability, along with social benefits, accrues from adherence to the formal principles of New Urbanist design as compared to predominant suburban development (Congress for New Urbanism 1996; Duany et al. 2000). New Urbanism is a market-based solution associated with the Smart Growth movement that has emerged as the dominant growth management regime. Accompanying the trend of deregulation that is associated with the rise of neoliberalism, growth management policies at all scales of government have reduced the reach of command and control interventions and shifted to a greater emphasis upon market-based and incentive-based strategies. The holds true for the state of Florida, where the agency charged with implementing growth management was dissolved and growth planning functions moved to the agency for economic development. In this climate, New Urbanism and the wider Smart Growth movement within which it can be reasonably categorized have been promoted as viable and pragmatic paths toward enhanced urban sustainability. This study employs mixed methods to investigate the extent to which a set of six New Urbanist communities in Florida satisfy claims for environmental and social sustainability in the face of countervailing trends that are driving sprawling and demographically stratified outcomes. Taking a regional view as to how a set of central Florida New Urbanist communities fit within the existing urban fabric, this study uses spatial variables to construct a "locational sustainabilty" index to determine whether these places can be considered as instances of "actually existing

sustainabilities" (Krueger and Agyeman 2004). The research considers whether contemporary political economic processes override the capacity for New Urbanist communities to attain sustainability goals predicated on improved urban form. The investigation provides an opportunity to consider the effectiveness of form and design in relation to that of process in bringing about more sustainable and just patterns of urbanization.

1.2 Expected Research Contributions

The study is considered in light of the call by Heynen et al. (2006) to investigate spatial patterns by which insights may be gained about uneven social and ecological consequences associated with changing urban environments, by Krueger and Gibbs (2008) to "examine the consequences and politics of sustainability as it actually exists in different social, political, and economic contexts, and to learn more about the geography of Smart Growth," and by Veninga (2004, 458) to "critically analyze the processes that prevent or facilitate the attainment of New Urbanism's normative ideals." As will be noted in Chapter 2, there is a particular need for more research on data sets of New Urbanist communities as opposed to single case studies (Grant 2006). A number of studies focus upon ecological and biophysical variables that reinforce the need to alter existing resource-intensive patterns of human living (Foley et al. 2005; Wackernagel et al. 2006); other research measures the effects on natural habitat of various settlement forms (Daniels 1999; Lenth et al, 2006; Koellner and Scholz 2008). Few case studies exist that focus directly upon the geographic setting of master-planned New Urbanist developments in a regional context and apply indicators for empirical evaluation of fulfillment of combined environmental and social sustainability objectives.

1.3 The Case Studies

Three New Urbanist developments in the Greater Orlando area and three in the Tampa Bay area are evaluated (see Table 1-1). The rapidly growing metropolitan regions of Greater Orlando and Greater Tampa, within the high-growth state of Florida (see Figure 1-1), provide good settings for examining cases where pressing environmental and social challenges are directly tied to increased urbanization and sprawling growth patterns. Challenges include water quantity and quality problems, air pollution, and loss of wildlife habitat and farmland. Development-related social and economic impacts include limited availability of affordable

housing, an imbalance in proximate jobs and housing, and lack of wages sufficient to cover housing costs. City and county governments continue to face fiscal challenges to provide necessary infrastructure for growth (myregion.org 2009).

1.4 Research Questions

This study seeks to answer the following four questions: 1.4.1 Research Question 1

To what extent do the six cases of built New Urbanist communities exhibit "locational sustainability" based upon empirical geographic measures? In other words, to what extent do they demonstrate "actually existing sustainabilities" (Kreuger and Agyeman 2005)? The literature review informed the construction of an index for "locational sustainability." Many authors argue that urban sustainability should be investigated on a regional basis (e.g., Campbell 1996; Calthorpe 2001; Ziegler 2003; Talen and Brody 2005; Oakerson 2008; Hillier 2008; Soja 2011; Duany et al. 2010; Congress for New Urbanism 1996). Therefore, variables have been chosen that characterize each New Urbanist community within the regional setting to which it belongs, probing how the community relates to the existing geographic fabric into which it was built. Selection of a regional metropolitan scale accounts for the lived experiences of residents spanning transits from home to work to social and recreational pursuits, as well as the interrelated ecological characteristics that span well beyond the confines of any master- planned community. The variables show how highly connected a community is to existing urban areas, what kind of land is being either “consumed” or reclaimed to establish new communities, whether the communities are located in sparsely or more high areas of housing density, the diversity of land uses within the immediate radius of the community, and other markers which in combination can provide a gauge of whether the built communities are in the "right location" (Daniels 1999), primarily to consider whether reduced automobile dependency is likely.

1.4.2. Research Question 2

What racial and ethnic characteristics apply to the census block groups in which the developments are located and how do these compare to the MSA within which the community is located? In other words, who are these places for? The second research question centers on the question of whether there is unevenness in the occupation of New Urbanist places, and if so, "who gains and who loses" from construction of these places, following Heynen, Kaika, and Swyngedouw (2006). New Urbanism’s charter calls for bringing together people of “diverse ages, races, and incomes into daily interaction, strengthening the personal and civic bonds essential to an authentic community.” Bressi (1994), Falconer-Al-Hindi (2001), and Grant (2007) and Talen (2008) have raised concerns that New Urbanist places fail to achieve objectives for diversity in age, race, and income. Even in the absence of apparent discriminatory factors, “birds of a feather” may flock together by voluntary choice into similar racial or ethnic clusters when selecting home locations (Iceland and Weinberg 2002). Another disincentive to diversity in housing comes from the tendency of both developers and county officials to favor buildings constructed at higher price points to garner higher returns or tax revenues. This research question treats whether the New Urbanism sites were able to overcome such tendencies in the case of race and ethnicity.

1.4.3. Research Question 3

What is the relationship between locational sustainability and the nature and extent of collaborative processes accompanying development? In other words, can processes of collaborative engagement leading up to development result in planned developments that exhibit greater measures of sustainability than similar developments created without use of collaborative planning processes? This research question has to do with the processes by which land use decisions are made, considering that land regulation and planning is an arena in which competing goals for economic development, environmental conservation, and social justice must be reconciled to achieve sustainable development. Many scholars (e.g. Harvey 2000; Veninga 2004; Campbell 1996; Talen 2008; Jepson 2004; Heynen at al. 2006) suggest that rather than focusing an urban sustainability debate over templates for built forms, as is the emphasis in New Urbanism, the debate might more productively aimed at issues of process. Campbell (1996), articulates how

differences in goals, values and perspectives carried by different actors concerned create inherent conflicts between private interests and the public good. It is in the negotiation of these conflicts through formal and informal processes in which solutions can be found to arrive at urbanization that is "green, profitable, and fair" (Campbell 1996, 298). This question investigates whether a richer, more collaborative process taking place in the siting and development of built communities can yield greater locational sustainability.

1.4.4 Research Question 4

What was the impact of New Urbanism on the siting and development of the communities? Was New Urbanism instrumental in permitting and approvals? Was expression of New Urbanist principles an impetus for development or an afterthought? The final question probes whether and how the development process was affected by choice of a New Urbanist mode. This question focuses on processes, the position of the developer, and any discursive advantages bestowed by New Urbanism. Case by case, what obstacles could be found associated with adoption of a New Urbanist style? Conversely, were special privileges conferred? Based on the high moral ground claimed by New Urbanist theorists, was the position of New Urbanist developers apparently separate from "growth machine" (Molotch 1993) politics? What could be found about the impetus for development and whether development motivations extended beyond economic returns?

1.5 Structure of Dissertation This chapter introduces the need for the research, the study's theoretical framing, and key aims of the research. Chapter 2 provides a literature review that surveys literature in geography, political ecology, urban sustainability, environmental history and urban planning to focus upon scholarship concerning what constitutes sustainable urban development, the importance of political economic processes as drivers of urban form, and prospects for collaborative planning to bend built communities toward more sustainable outcomes. Chapter 3 situates the research geographically and in the context of growth policy regimes occurring around the time frame of the development of the projects. It begins by reviewing statewide population trends affecting both areas, then provides brief development

histories of the two metropolitan areas. Next it examines sustainability challenges pertinent to the study area and reviews evolving growth policy initiatives playing out in the areas. Finally, overviews of the six developments that serve as case studies and descriptions of their development histories are provided. Chapter 4 details the methods and data used in the research. A mixed methods approach provides a spatially explicit and empirical approach to the study of urban sustainability. Quantitative analysis was done using GIS and census data; qualitative methods consisted of archival research following site visits to the communities. The combined analysis allowed for a rich interpretation of how the built communities are situated as well as insights into impetus for development and role of New Urbanism. Multiple cases allowed for identification of commonalities across cases as well as divergences in characteristics. Results are reported in Chapter 5, describing: 1) the extent to which the communities exhibit "locational sustainability," 2) the degree which they serve diverse racial and ethnic populations, 3) whether collaborative planning occurred and how it related to locational sustainability outcomes, and finally, 4) ways in which the New Urbanist mode of development was found to have been influential in the development process. Empirical findings are presented along with findings from the archival research to illuminate and expand upon quantitative data. Chapter 6 provides an in-depth discussion of the findings, adding to the dialog concerning the effectiveness of market-based solutions to urban sustainability and to the examination of alternative approaches. The discussion interprets the findings about the generally poor "locational sustainabilty" results for the developments, the general failing to achieve diversity in the racial and ethnic make-up of the residents within and immediately surrounding the developments, the limited impact of collaboration upon development processes and sustainability outcomes, and the mixed impact of New Urbanism on the development processes. The findings identify site selection as a pivotal moment in the development process, note the overwhelming share of agricultural land converted to create the developments, and conclude that New Urbanism fails to exhibit "ecological thinking" (Jepson 2004) in both theory and practice because of contradictions between business and sustainability objectives. The conclusion in Chapter 7 reinforces the contours of the study and summarizes its most salient findings, that fulfillment of socio-ecological goals for land management is constrained with the current valuation systems in effect, wherein values for ecological and social health are

submerged, whereas property values are emphasized to near exclusion of other values. The study finds that New Urbanist settlements can be seen as variants with minor differences to the sprawling settlement patterns that have dominated Florida’s landscape since World War II. Based on this study, the path to more sustainable land use is more likely to result from changes in process than from the production of more New Urbanist master planned communities.

Table 1-1. New Urbanist study sites, acreages, and construction start dates

Construction Development County Acres Start Date Greater Orlando Area Avalon Park Orange 1860 2000 Baldwin Park Orange 1095 2001 Celebration Osceola 4900 1995 Greater Tampa Area Hampton Lakes Hillsborough 40 2006 Longleaf Pasco 568 2000 West Park Village Hillsborough 225 2000

Figure 1-1. Locations of New Urbanist study sites

CHAPTER 2

LITERATURE REVIEW

2.1 Locating Sustainability in Contemporary Urban Form

This chapter surveys literature in geography, political ecology, urban sustainability, environmental history, and urban planning to focus upon scholarship concerning what constitutes sustainable urban development, the importance of political economic processes as drivers of urban form, and prospects for collaborative planning to bend built communities toward more sustainable outcomes. Literature focused specifically upon New Urbanism will be highlighted. The chapter starts with literature on the wider scope of geographic concerns that frame the study of urban sustainability, followed by a review of literature defining sustainability. Next I provide a summary of the literature treating sprawling settlement patterns as a sustainability problem. Examining the literature relating to urban sustainability, I highlight directions proposed for more sustainable urban growth patterns and touch upon ways that researchers have empirically assessed urban sustainability (more detail on this is provided in Chapter 4). I then review literature that examines how political economic forces drive urban growth, inclusive of New Urbanist developments, and how such forces present formidable barriers to growth management interventions. Finally, I turn to literature on process-driven collaborative planning as an alternative to command and control growth management. Differences in urban forms are widely recognized as influencing sustainability in all three categories of sustainability: environmental, economic, and social. However, a review of the literature reveals an opening for more work that focuses directly upon the geographic locations of built communities in the context of the existing regional fabric and implications of these locations for sustainability, while also considering the role of political economy in driving location choices. This chapter situates the case study of central Florida New Urbanist developments by focusing on the relationship between sustainable urban form --as evaluated empirically in a regional spatial context --and the presence or absence of collaborative processes leading up to construction of the development. Such processes may present an opening toward developments that are more socially diverse, ecologically sound, and fiscally responsible than

developments built without participatory interventions and influenced solely by political economic drivers.

2.2 A Summary of Geographic Thought Relating to This Study

Geographic thinkers have applied a wide variety of lenses to the study of built communities, and to the location, organization, and impact of human communities in relation to the natural environment. At various times, and as privileged by different scholars, the scope has varied to emphasize the influence of the earth on human culture and thus urbanization, or, conversely, the influence of societies on the environment, and, more recently, upon the intricate interrelationships among human and environmental features and processes. Scholars have also adopted different approaches as to inclusion or exclusion of social, economic, and political drivers as forces shaping space and place. Prussian scientist and explorer Alexander von Humboldt (1769-1859), is credited by B.L. Turner as championing a systematic study of human- environment geography, with attention to "understanding how an ordered, functioning landscape...arose from diverse phenomena, including humans" (Turner 2002, 56). George Perkins Marsh (1898) observed and commented upon exploitive impacts of humans upon landscapes. Current scholars of land use and land cover change (LULCC) recognize a variety of physical and societal factors at work in landscape production. Turner (2002, 62) states: "The human-environment condition....is an aggregate phenomenon derived from a composite of natural and human phenomena and processes, logically no different from the ecosystem or landscape of ecology, the group of sociology, and the institutions and organizations of political science." A school of early 20th century geographers who expounded the "geographic factor" (e.g. Mackinder 1904; Ratzel 1896; Semple 1911) produced scholarship investigating the relationship between geographic influences and human cultures, some of them producing scholarship that has been discredited as "environmental determinism" (e.g, by Peet 1998; Turner 2002; Robbins 2004; Bassin 2008). Alternatively, other late 19th century and early 20th century geographers, including Carl Sauer and the subsequent Berkeley School focused on how landscapes shaped human cultures and also how society materially used nature, including by domestication of crops (Goudie 1981; Turner 2002). Sauer also was concerned with ethics of human presence on earth, calling for an ethic to "pass on to posterity a good earth" (quoted in Peet 1998, 15).

Scholars including William C. Hoskins (1988), John Brinckerhoff Jackson (1984), and Michael Conzen (1990) contributed work on the historical and cultural forces that shaped British and American landscapes. After a Marxist historical materialist awareness swept the social sciences, geographer Denis Cosgrove (1984) applied a critical approach to landscape analysis, recognizing landscapes as property imbued with social and cultural meanings (Lilley 2004). Economic geographers working from a positivist stance focused on location theory that introduced explanations for locations of cities and industries in relation to agricultural lands. An early foundation was the concentric ring model of "the isolated city" introduced by J. H. von Thunen in 1826, which theorized the spatial consequences of balancing influences of land and transportation costs upon an agricultural economy and laid foundations for understandings of spatial patterns of rent (Page 2000, 242). Alfred Weber later focused on industrial locations; Walter Christaller and August Losch worked with central place theories that viewed industrial and urban growth as following patterns in response to presence of people and resources on land (Walker 2000). Burgess (1929) provided an influential zonal model of the spatial organization of the city that introduced consideration of suburbs. Location theory gained empirical sophistication during geography's quantitative revolution in the 1950s with development of many mathematically based models (Barnes 2001). Starting in the 1970s, some economic geographers became influenced by Marxian thought to adopt a political economic framework in search of explanations for how capitalism transforms space and place. David Harvey pioneered work on how capitalism structures spatial and social relations starting with his 1973 Social Justice and the City (Castree 2004). Harvey's work opened the way for geographers to examine how political economy produces space and place and how space relations are subject to transformation. Harvey's extensive scholarship continues to address his own challenge to: "construct a general theory of space-relations and geographical development under capitalism that can, among other things, explain the significance and evolution of state functions...uneven geographical development, interregional inequalities, imperialism, the progress and forms of urbanisation, and the like" (1985, 143-144). Harvey has applied a dialectical materialist analysis to issues including population and resource availability (1974), social and environmental justice (1996), and neoliberalism and global geopolitics (e.g. 2005a; 2006). His focus on urban geography and social inequality has continued, and he touches specifically on New Urbanism in the 2000 Spaces of Hope. Following

Harvey, Smith (1984) applied a Marxian perspective to explain inequities in production of urban space (Castree 2004, 264). Other scholars have introduced new concepts for applying economic geography analysis to contemporary urban form, which will be examined later in the chapter. The adoption of a Marxian materialist framework has been influential in both geography and environmental history scholarship, destabilizing ideas about the separate workings of nature and society. Worster (2005, 2) identifies clusters of issues that environmental history addresses: contributing to better understanding the past environment; examining socioeconomic issues influencing the environment, including configurations of power; and examining how perceptions and "structures of meaning" influence the human dialog with nature. Commodification of nature is a theme in work by environmental historians, including William Cronon (1983), Richard White (1995), and Donald Worster (1979) as well as geographers (e.g. Castree, 2003; Heynen and Robbins 2005; Harvey 2005). The field of political ecology emerged in the 1970s to examine how issues of access and control over resources relate to environmental degradation as well as to "the prospects for green and sustainable alternatives" (Watts 2000, 259). Political ecology scholarship pays attention to effects of scale, from local to national, and international levels (Robbins 2004). Using scalar perspectives and other means, political ecology examines how "relations of production make degradation situationally rational" (Watts 2000, 263). Early studies focused on marginalized primary producers in rural areas of 'developing' countries challenging Malthusian explanations of environmental degradation and focusing attention on the political and economic context in which land management practices were occurring (McCarthy 2005; Watts 2000). In these studies, the land manager with decision making power was a focus of study. A shift from common property regimes to privatization of land under the neoliberal economy is an important focus for political ecology research (Harvey 2005). Post-structural theory introduced concerns about power, knowledge, and discourse analysis to political ecology and other work in human-environment geography (Watts 2000). This post modern perspective helped to uncover the importance of language in shaping thought and physical reality and show how experiences of the “real world” are mediated socially through processes of signification (Barnes and Duncan 1992). Language about nature and the environment has been critically examined by many scholars. Smith (1984) articulated the concept of "production of nature" in his groundbreaking book Uneven Development, which

linked geographical and Marxian thinking to develop theory about capital, space, and nature (Harvey 2000). Robbins (2004a) sees the concept of the production of nature as an alternative and preferable way to frame research as opposed to metaphors of environmental degradation or destruction (2004). Other scholars vary in the degree of agency conferred to human practices and prefer to use "transformation" rather than "production" or "construction" of nature (Swyngedouw 2004; Peet 1998). Castree (2001, 13) endorses Swyngedouw's neologism "socionature" to describe the combined existence and workings of society and nature. Environmental historian William Cronon took up the concept of "wilderness" as a socially produced construct (1996). Whatmore (2002) calls for recognition of "hybrid geographies" that recognize the artificiality of the "nature-society" dichotomy. Following Latour (1999), she urges inquiry into the "socio- material imbroglios" of "co-production" taking place among human and non-human actors (2002, 4). Geographic approaches show urban forms to be grounded in historical processes that are both biophysical and cultural (Massey 2005; Agarwal et al. 2002). Over time, interactions among these spheres produces populated landscapes, which continue to change and evolve (Massey 2005). As political ecology scholarship has evolved, a number of scholars have called for applying political ecology's "tool kit" and normative focus to the "First World" (McCarthy 2002; Schroeder 2005), to cities (Robbins 2004) and to links among cities and rural areas (Neumann 2005). A growing body of work has answered the call to apply a political ecology focus to human-environment relations in industrialized countries (e.g. McCarthy 2005; Robbins 2007; Walker 2003). Some investigations have employed attention to networks (Robbins 2004b; McCarthy 2005) as well as ways in which scale itself is produced, thereby affecting the effectiveness of analysis (Rangan and Kull 2008). Continuing political ecology's focus on how social relations shape outcomes (Watts 2000), scholars have shown how informal politics shape both space and place, including siting decisions (e.g. Pierce et al, 2012). Walker (2003) argues that less political ecology work has focused upon formal political institutions and suggests such a focus should assume more importance in the "First World" setting. Geographers and other scholars have engaged in extensive debate over the relative importance of form versus process in relation to a variety of phenomena (e.g. Frenkel and Orenstein 2011). Recognizing that dualisms are imperfect models (McCarthy 2005), this research nevertheless probes the literature to examine the relative importance of form versus

process as emancipatory in the pursuit of sustainability. Erik Swyngedouw (2003, 46) writes, "Places or concrete geographies become...a moment in the perpetual dialectical dynamics of socio-spatial processes....For example, the making of the built environment or the cutting down of the Amazon rain forest is realized in and through socio-spatial processes of appropriation, capital accumulation, and the imagineering and scripting of people, place, and nature." Robbins (2004, 209) argues that it becomes possible to "symmetrically imagine human and non-human processes in the landscape" by adopting Smith's (1984) production of nature framework. Many geographic scholars have called for integrative and interdisciplinary approaches to uncover linkages between social and biophysical processes that influence land use changes pertinent to sustainability (e.g., Foley et al, 2005; Ehrenfeld 2008; Kaufmann and Cleveland 1995; Falconer Al-Hindi and Till, 2001; Diamond, 2005; Wackernagel and Rees 1996). Agarwal et al (2000) call for increased contributions by social science research to enhance understanding of drivers of land use change that stem from fundamental social patterns and processes. The development of geographic information systems (GIS) enables empirical spatial analysis related to urban sustainability. Work pioneered by landscape architect Ian McHarg (1969) provided a basis for analyzing suitability for land settlement based various physical characteristics mapped onto acetate layers, which could be analyzed in aggregate. Geographers including Waldo Tobler applied these concepts for use in computerized systems (Flowerdew 2004). Sui (1995) observes that GIS is well-suited for human-environment studies and for a search for nomothetic properties through examination of data sets. Literature explored later in this chapter will provide a further basis for use of GIS to create an index for evaluation of a development's "locational sustainability" within a region. Application of this index to the set of research locations will enable a search for patterns and relationships among the data. Several scholars (e.g. Harvey 2000; Christensen 1986; Fishman 1977; Wolch 2007) have pointed to the geographical imagination as vital for exploration of more just and sustainable arrangements. GIS and geo-visualization allow for manifold methods to measure and depict spatial phenomena, enabling engagement beyond viewing of a static map, for both scholars and community members (Hallisey 2005: Slocum 2009). Scholars are exploring participatory mechanisms that include GIS and other multi-media tools and as both an alternative and a complement to more formal planning mechanisms (e.g. Slocum et al, 1995; Jankowski and Nyerges 2003; Seltzer and Mahmoudi 2013).

Geographers as well as planners point to participatory and collaborative methods (with or without use of GIS) as fruitful directions for pursuit of more sustainable urban realms (Campbell 1996; Agyeman and Evans 2003; Wolch 2007; Zellner et al. 2012). New forms of collaborative policy making are seen as one possible opening in the seemingly conflictual agendas of sustainability and economic growth (Herrschel 2013). Wolch (2007, 380) argues for geographers to assist in promoting "urban ecological citizenship" that is locally engaged and globally aware. Wolch uses the re-greening of the Los Angeles River to demonstrate the emergence of such citizenship occurring under with new forms of governance that blurs lines of authority, meld actors and agencies, and restructure "relations between the local state and civil society" as alternatives to conventional planning processes. Wolch (2007, 380) insists that geographers are "well positioned to help greener urban worlds emerge."

2.3 Contested Views of Sustainability

In order to evaluate the sustainability of a particular urban form, the ideal of "sustainability" must be examined. The term "sustainability" is widely used in popular discourse to invoke long-term perpetuation of a host of objectives, sometimes contradictory. Recent popular discourse about sustainability has recently tended to focus on economic viability over time (e.g Tilford, 2012). Scholars have extensively analyzed definitions of sustainability (e.g. Sachs 1999; Adams 2001; Agyeman and Evans 2003; Kates and Parris 2003; Wheeler 2004; Jepson 2004; Redclift 2005; Leiserowitz et al. 2006; Ehrenfeld 2008). The ideal of sustainability arose from the international development arena, where the phrase "sustainable development" originated as a reform to international aid projects during the ascendance of the environmental movement in the 1970s and 1980s (Wise 2001). The most often quoted definition of sustainability originated from a 1987 report by the UN World Commission on Environment and Development. This report, Our Common Future, defined sustainable development as "development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs" (Brundtland 1987). The report responded to critiques that international development projects such as dams were having counterproductive environmental and social consequences (Wise 2001; Adams 2001). At a global scale, Kates and Parris (2003, 8062) have articulated a vision of sustainable development as attainment of "a sustainability transition" where "a stabilizing world population meets its

needs and reduces hunger and poverty while maintaining the planet's life support systems and living resources." The WCED definition has been criticized for being so abstract as to offer little traction for tangible action (Redclift 2005; Jepson 2004; Campbell 2007; Keil 2007). However, from it flowed a three-pronged model that calls for concurrent achievement of economic, social, and environmental objectives, variously called the "three pillars," (Figge et al. 2002; George 2007) or "triple bottom line" (Willard 2002). In this conceptualization, sustainability results from long- term considerations of environmental, economic, and social outcomes that are balanced when development projects are undertaken. This model provides a framework for setting actionable sustainable development goals (George, 2007; Campbell 2007) and has also dominated recent academic discourse of sustainability (e.g. Campbell, 2007, Dalal-Clayton and Bass, 2002) as well as models in the business world (Figge et al. 2002; Willard 2002). Gaining currency since the 1990s is the concept of ecological modernization (eco-modernization), which strives for "greening" within the constraints of the current, growth-driven neoliberal economy through market-based reforms and tools such as green taxes, permits, and trading plans (e.g. Pacala and Socolow 2004; Hawken 1994; Ehrenfeld 2005). Some supporters of the three spheres view argue that trade-offs can be made among the spheres to achieve sustainable development while pursuing economic growth. For example, Dalal-Clayon and Bass (2002, 5), hold that benefits such as increased agricultural productivity and increased life spans will ensue as long as environmental degradation is not in "excess." Springett (2003) argues a "green business" discourse of ecological modernization engages only superficially with deeper concerns of sustainable development. Keil (2007, 42) takes note of numerous critiques of eco-modernization by "a new generation of concerned environmentalist thinkers who have noted the fallacy of our belief that we can develop our way out of capitalism." The view of sustainability as pursuit of balance among three compartmentalized and equal spheres is contested by a number of scholars who argue that economic forces continue to dominate human relations to nature whereas social and environmental considerations tend to be secondary driving forces of everyday decision making in the world (e.g., Sachs 2001; Dawe and Ryan 2003; Redclift 2005; Adams and Jeanrenaud 2008; Krueger and Gibbs 2008). Heynen and Robbins (2005) argue that this trend is increasing with the accelerated commodification of the world's natural and human capital. "Society's shortcoming is

that as it strives to sustain its political and economic systems, it often neglects to sustain the ecological system," writes Campbell (1996, 304). Redclift argues (2005, 225) that in the intervening time since the 1987 WCED definition of sustainable development was forged, globalization and changes in science and technology and governance have created "new material realities" that compel us to address anew the cultural constructions we put on the environment as well as the shifting and culturally specific definition of "needs" to be met for current generations and reserved for future ones. Redclift (2005, 217) argues of the difficulty of implementing "corporate 'greening'" programs in a globalized economy that is tilted to shifting negative impacts upon the environment and upon unempowered people. A number of scholars emphasize a call for re-engagement with attention to political economy and distributive politics (e.g. Redclift 2005; Heynen et. al 2006; Krueger and Gibbs 2007). Some thinkers have proposed alternative economic systems (Schumacher 1973; Daly 1996, Stoll 2009). Daly's "steady state" system departs from a growth-dependent economic system with a model in which scarcity derives not from the marketplace but from availability of a resource relative to the effort needed to obtain it (Jepson, 2004, 5). Growth would be linked to rates at which renewable resources could be replenished, renewable resources could be used in place of nonrenewable ones, and rates at which wastes could be assimilated. Campbell (1996) assails a steady state economy as potentially offering no path out from poverty for the poor in both industrialized and developing nations. Stoll (2009, 53) writes, "Growth is one of the last vestiges of modernity to fall, and it will fall hard. The idea of an infinite nature held together an entire conception of society. Giving it up means rethinking everything." Jepson (2004, 7) argues that alternative platforms to neoclassical economies accounting paradigms have failed to gain much influence among economists: "Capitalism stubbornly refuses to assign any value to the natural capital stocks that it liquidates." An alternative model of sustainability privileges the environmental sphere as a way to draw attention to the human relationship to the earth that appears often submerged in the discourse of neoliberal capitalism. In this view, human enterprises are seen as arising from and nested within the same material and ecological basis that supports other organisms (Hawkin 1994; Adams and Jeanrenaud 2008; Henderson 2006). Social and economic spheres are depicted as nested within the planetary ecosystem. Adherents of this view consider movement toward environmental sustainability as crucial to planning for a planet with increasing population and

resource demands (Harvey 2000; Kates and Parris 2003; Brown 2006; Stoll 2009; Friedman 2011). This "you can't eat money view" holds that there is no long-term possibility of maintaining an economy without sufficient clean water, productive soil, maintenance of biological diversity, and so on. Justification for this stance can be found in growing empirical evidence of the impact of the human enterprise upon the earth's systems at large. The mounting scale of the human enterprise can be found in measures of is being tabulated by climate scientists (Hansen 2009), ecologists (Wilson 2002), and geologists (Crutzen and McNeill 2007). Foley et al. (2005) note that human uses already appropriate one-third to half of global ecosystem production. Rates of anthropogenic pollution are beginning to push up against the physical limits of the planet's ability to absorb excess nutrients and pollutants (Brown 2006). We face a wave of human-induced extinctions (Wilson 2002). Concerns even extend to whether there is sufficient photosynthetic capacity to provide both human food and the basis for natural ecosystems (Diamond 2005). The combination of sprawling development and conversion of land for agriculture threatens to reduce natural habitat to a fraction of its present range over the course of the next few generations (Daily 1997; Foley 2005). Crutzen and McNeill (2007) argue for naming the present Age of the Anthropocene because with human impacts to the earth's atmosphere and land forms are having a greater cumulative effect than natural forces such as erosion. Jepson (2004) defines an approach in which sustainability is applied to public policy in full recognition of the competing economic worldviews, which he calls "expansionist" and "ecological." The expansionist view is reflected in neoclassical economics, wherein growth can be virtually unlimited "due to the unique capacity of human beings to utilize, adapt, and innovate," as well as "the controlling effects of prices" (Jepson 2004, 4), also called a "cornucopian" perspective (Hempel 1996, 220). The expansionist perspective accommodates "our inherent disinclination" to extend our sphere of concern either temporally or spatially, Jepson (2004, 4) notes; thus, we can "let our preferences be the guide to our decisions rather than the facts." In contrast, the ecological worldview holds that human enterprises must be entered into with regard for impacts of human activities upon natural resources. This worldview is consistent the nested worldview in which human economy exists within, rather than outside of, the natural environment. Jepson's work in planning calls for embracing an ecological perspective while

engaging in collaborative planning that seeks to incrementally deconstruct expansionist policies that conflict with pursuit of sustainability (2004, 9). Krueger and Agyeman (2005) call for searching out and building upon "actually existing sustainabilities" while recognizing the limitations imposed within the neoliberal political economic framework. "At the national scale hope for US sustainability seems bleak...." they write (2005, 410). Yet, they find evidence of sustainability efforts at local levels. They urge research that gives "critical attention to how specific activities may lead to more sustainable places, where they fall short, and most importantly, their uneven distribution within places and across space" (2004, 411). Krueger and Ageyman (2005, 415) invite critical geographic research that steps beyond dismissing sustainability as "yet another regulatory strategy designed to reproduce the capitalist mode of production...or as an impossibility given the present political economic circumstances of 'post-Fordism'...." The authors recognize that sustainability is "largely undermined" by "the dogged strength of capitalism's attendant social relations and power networks." Nevertheless, they invite geographers to engage with exploring "the complex relationships between the environment, economy, and social change" (2004, 415). Keil (2007, 42) cautions against "blanket dismissal of all notions and practices of ecomodernization and sustainability," while calling for greater attention to societal relationships with nature -- both material and symbolic -- as a productive path forward. Wolch (2007, 377) sees promise in "strong ecological modernization approaches" that combine industrial ecology, policy instruments, and changes in organizational behavior to achieve goals such as reduced carbon emissions, lower energy consumption, and reduction of waste. Riddell (2004) urges pragmatism in order to address sustainability concerns in a "multi-belief system." He advocates use of collaboratively constructed indicators and development of options as constructive for finding mutual gain "in conjunction with competitive entrepreneurial forces as well as the generally conservative elements of central and local government administration." Innes and Booher (2001, 253) argue: "Mechanical and dichotomous notions, like making trade-offs between the economy and the environment...are not likely to be part of a sustainable path." Krueger and Gibbs (2008) write, "In response to scholarship that focused primarily on normative accounts of sustainable development, a new body of work on local and regional sustainability with a more critical and empirical orientation is emerging. These accounts combine

concepts of environmental justice, equity, and urban/regional governance with detailed empirical research to examine the consequences and politics of sustainability as it actually exists in different social, political, and economic contexts." Their focus on "actually existing sustainabilities" provides a means for moving forward to address crucial issues under current conditions. This investigation accepts the above-mentioned direction of Krueger and Gibbs (2008), applied to a nested model of sustainability articulated as the "ecological" worldview by Jepson (2004). I view nature as the a priori foundation of all social and economic possibilities for humans and, therefore regard environmental sustainability as imperative. Even so, I recognize that economic forces dominate human relations to nature, including production of urban landscapes. The nested model of sustainability is more sensitive to location than the three orbs view, as it calls attention to the presence of the biophysical environment as an indispensible matrix. Thus, it is more geographically oriented. For this study, the definition of the sustainability ideal used by Ageyman, Bullard, and Evans (in Agyeman and Evans 2003, 36) is employed. These authors define sustainability as "...a better quality of life for all, now and into the future, in a just and equitable manner, whilst living within the limits of supporting ecosystems." This definition reflects accommodation of social justice with recognition of ecological limits. Attaining sustainability has been recognized as a “wicked problem,” (Riddell 2004; Ehrenfeld 2008), meaning that it requires engagement of social and political processes rather than mere application of technological and technocratic solutions. While the discourse on sustainability remains problematic, many leading thinkers identify making strides toward improved environmental sustainability--broadly interpreted-- as a leading challenge of our age and a moral responsibility (Kaufman and Cleveland 1995; Harvey 1996; Diamond 2005; Brown 2006). This imperative is seen variously as an ethical demand upon present generations (Henderson 2006; Wilson 2002) an alternative to open warfare (George 2007), and an opportunity for conscious co-creation of new human-nature configurations (Wolch 2007; Beatley 2008). This research is partially aimed at evaluating the effectiveness of a particular urban form of building --in this case New Urbanist designs--as a means to making a transition to sustainability. The foregoing review of the sustainability literature therefore produces relevant

research questions: Following Jepson (2004), does New Urbanism reflect an expanionist or ecological, nested view of sustainability? Following Krueger and Agyeman (2005), do empirical measures find built New Urbanist communities to constitute "actually existing sustainability"?

2.4 Sprawling Land Use as a Sustainability Problem

Scholars recognize the urban built environment as a key locus for sustainability, both as a problem and a solution (Rees and Wackernagel 1996; Keil 2007; Herrschel 2013). Differences in where we live in relation to where we work, recreate, shop, and meet with others affects how many resources we must use to move ourselves and our materials from place to place. According to the Ecological Footprint Network, urban design influences over 70 percent of a person’s ecological footprint (the land and sea resources needed to sustain a person) (Global Footprint Network 2013). The development of settlements is a land use change that links local, regional, and global scales. The aggregate of multiple changes at local and regional levels combines to result in major ecological changes that affect climate, nutrient cycling, water quality and quantity, and biodiversity (Le Gates 2005; Carr 2007). In addition, impacts upon farmland are important, especially since cities tend to be near prime farmland (Daniels 1999). Therefore, local siting decisions directly affect land use and land consumption and indirectly are vitally related to multiple social and ecological sustainability outcomes. A number of geographic studies focus upon the extent to which urbanization is occurring and probe patterns of change (e.g. Lo and Yang 2002; Agarwal 2002). Urban areas, in their changing and expanding form, cover approximately 5 percent of the global land surface (Global Footprint Network 2013). Urbanization is expanding rapidly in both developing and developed countries (Bettencourt et al. 2007). Scholars agree that future development patterns will have historically unprecedented impacts upon the landscape of the US and other growing countries, as global population continues to grow into the 21st century. While the rate of global conversion of land for use in agriculture outstrips conversion of land for other purposes, the percentage of population living in urban areas is expected to continue to increase too in both developed and developing nations (Aliga et al. 2004; Bettencourt et al. 2007). In the US, the amount of land devoted to urban and built-up uses increased 34 % between 1982 and 1997 (Aliga et al. 2004). The extent of land devoted to urbanization is becoming a concern (Adams and Jenrenaud 2008).

Population growth is expected to continue driving building. Nelson (2006) projects that in the US alone, 32 million more households will exist in year 2025 than did in year 2000. Especially along coastal areas favored for settlement, demand for urban lands is outpacing supply (Aliga et al. 2004). Zwick and Carr (2006) predict spillover growth from coastal to inland counties in Florida as a result of "build out." Within areas of large urban agglomerations, and in nations that consume more land per capita than others, the expanding scope of the urban footprint is a concern (Saunders 2005). Expanding urbanization promotes loss of prime farmland proximate to the urban region (Daniels 1999) and reduces and changes wildlife habitat (Lenth et al. 2006; Hostetler 2012). Urban areas operate at a higher metabolism than rural locations, generating a higher per capita throughput of energy and materials than rural locations and producing a concentration of pollutants including air pollutants, heat, and noise. Urbanization causes generation of waste in quantities difficult to assimilate (Bettencourt et al. 2007). Concerns about impacts in large urban areas range from heat islands to security concerns about dependence upon distant sources for vital resources including food, water, and energy (Rees and Wackernagel 1996, 241). Not all impacts of urbanization are negative. At the same time that urban areas are sites of more intense consumption and pollution per capita (Bettencourt et al. 2007) than rural areas; scholars note that they also offer economies of scale for provision of utilities and public services and viable population densities to make mass transportation economically feasible, thus reducing per capita use of fossil fuels and associated greenhouse gas emissions (Rees and Wackernagel 1996, 242; Alexander and Tomalty 2001). Urban areas also offer opportunities for employment and synergistic effects from gathered human capital innovation (Bettencourt et al. 2007; Soja 2011). These opportunities extend to solving sustainability problems (Castells 1999; Wackernagel and Rees 2006). In Florida, urban growth and urban sprawl have been identified as key sustainability issues (Zwick and Carr 2006; Meindl 2010; Hostetler 2012). Florida's population grew from 2.8 million in 1950 to almost 16 million in 2000, with the rate of growth increasing at 476 % over the period, compared to a national increase of 13 percent (Ross et al. 2006). Between 1990 and 2000, more than 1,000 square miles (640,000 acres) of land in the state changed from rural to urban (Zwick and Carr 2006).

Before the 2008 decline in the housing market, researchers projected that accommodating expected population increase to the year 2060 would consume an additional 13 million acres of land given continuation of existing sprawling patterns (Zwick and Carr 2006). This future growth model projected that certain Florida regions, particularly coastal ones, would were expected to be "built out" an unable to absorb more residents, spilling growth into adjacent, largely rural counties. This projection applied to both the Tampa and Orlando areas (Zwick and Carr 2006). After the crash in the housing market in 2008, population growth and housing construction slowed dramatically in Florida as in most places. However, analysts still expect Florida’s population to grow. One study estimates that the population of Florida will rapidly grow again, gaining approximately 6 million new residents and reaching a statewide population of nearly 25 million by the year 2030 (Smith and Cody 2011). Florida (2009) considers the south Florida "Tampa-Orlando-Miami area" to be one of the world's emerging "mega-regions" of multiple cities and surrounding urban rings, which are drawing a disproportionate amount of population growth and serving as financial and commercial cores (Hagler 2009; Ross et. al 2011). As noted by LeGates (2005), human population growth must be absorbed either through growing up or growing out. Scholars have long debated the virtues of compact versus more dispersed growth patterns as well as the desirability and effectiveness of interventions in urban growth (Krueger and Gibbs 2008; O'Toole 2007; Cox 2007). Taking a long view, Sachs (1993) puts forth a goal of living within the existing built urban footprint, "recycling" lands over time to reinvent uses. Few other scholars raise such possibilities. "No growth" lobbies crops up in some communities where residents seek to block particular projects that directly affect their boundaries. In some cases, these critics are seeking to block the very kind of growth in which they partook at an earlier time (Russell 2005; Daniels 1999). Some scholars question whether there is an optimum scale for cities (Bettencourt et al. 2007; Sale 1980). Others argue that it is not cities themselves that create sustainability challenges, but the residents within them that have high consumption rates (Rees and Wackernagel 1996). An often overlooked feature of the sprawl debate is the indisputable fact that the average American's household's ecological footprint has expanded dramatically in the past century--with average home sizes increasing from an average of 983 square feet in the

1950s up to 2300 square feet in the 2000 even as household size shrinks (Wilson and Boehland 2005). New Urbanist advocate Calthorpe notes that even cities seen as paragons of sustainability will need to become more expansive to accommodate population growth (2008). The majority of other scholars do not argue that additional growth can be absorbed within the existing built footprint, yet most scholars find sprawling growth patterns--variously defined--as problematic from a sustainability standpoint (Daniels 1999; Rees and Wackernagel 1996; Song and Knapp, Krieger 2005; McDonough 2008). These scholars call for more efficient and less sprawling forms than continuation of present-day patterns of urban forms. Debates over density form a crucial element in land-use decisions, with the other major sticking point being degree to which public resources should continue to be poured into building more roads as opposed to alternative forms of transit. Saunders (2005) calls sprawl the single most pressing land use issue in the US at the turn of the century. The introduction of a Neighborhood Design program by the US Green Building Council's Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) certification program underscores growing awareness that resource efficiency considerations must be expanded beyond consideration of individual buildings (US Green Building Council 2009). LEED-ND ratings include a measure for "smart location and linkage" in response to concerns about context. This research will attempt to incorporate at least some of the measures being used in the LEED- ND program. Some writers espouse contrary views and oppose attempts to reign in sprawl. Too much density in urban areas a century ago was associated with squalor, disease, and poverty (Melosi 2005). Urban overcrowding was an influential motivation for the formation of "garden cities" that are often seen as precursors to New Urbanist developments (Fishman 1977; Beevers 1988). One feature of these idealistic cities was intentionally lower population density. Alexander and Tomalty (2002) find that increased building density raises concerns for affordable housing and preservation of urban green space. Gordon and Richardson (1997) defend suburbanization and show sprawl to be a rational private market response that distributes population efficiently. The status quo is vigorously defended by writers including Randal O'Toole (2001; 2007) and Wendell Cox (2007), both associated with conservative policy institutes (Keifer 2005). O'Toole argues against the Smart Growth movement on the basis that attacks on sprawl represent

infringements on personal freedoms, including freedoms of mobility, choice, and local control. (2001). Cox argues that Smart Growth policies are "Draconian" and will ration land, "corraling" populations inside urban growth boundaries, resulting in increased traffic congestion and air pollution due to greater concentration of automobile traffic in a smaller area (2007, 11). The views of those who resist a call to Smart Growth are articulated in the Lone Mountain Compact, which stands in contrast to the seminal Charter of New Urbanism (Orski et al, 2007) According to Krieger (2005, 44), libertarians and others who are opposed to government restrictions on property rights view efforts to control sprawl as "an elitist attack on the American Dream, an attack that withholds the dream from those who are still trying to fulfill it." Krieger (2005) holds that for much of American history, sprawling growth, although not named as such, was a hallmark of socioeconomic achievement. In a similar vein, a spate of attacks in the US on Agenda 21, the international agreement stemming from the 1992 Rio Earth Summit, have recently focused on perceived infringements on land use that accompany international agendas for environmental reform (e.g., www.democrats against Agenda 21). Such controversy highlights the inherently political nature of land use decisions and the resistance of some to any outside effort to impose community-wide decision making about land use, even at a local scale. Soja (2008) argues that goals of compactness and densification along are not sufficient to achieve goals for social and economic justice. Robbins (2008) and Castells (2008) also note that achieving density is not in itself a sound goal. There is a large body of scholarship on sprawl and its impacts. Nelson (2006) loosely defines sprawl as the low-density spread of either population or housing units across previously rural or low-density areas. Saunders (2005) defines sprawl as "the uncontrolled expansion of low-density, single-use suburban development into the countryside." Galster et al. (2001) offer a meaningful spatial definition that operationalizes sprawl as occurring when land use patterns show low values on combinations of eight dimensions: density, continuity, concentration, compactness, nuclearity, diversity, proximity, and centrality. Daniels (1999) identifies two manifestations of sprawl: waves of expansion from urban to suburban areas, and dispersed cropping up of housing, offices, and stores outside of towns that creates an increasingly patchworked landscape.

Sprawl is also quantified as a higher rate of change in land conversion than in population growth. Orfield (2002) found that in the US, the 25 largest metropolitan areas grew in population by 20 percent between years 1970 and 1990, while the amount of land urbanized over the same period grew by 46 percent. This measure is evidence of a sprawling pattern of growth at a coarse scale that is the basis for sustainability concerns. Researchers have found a trend of decentralization both in the developed and developing world (Anas et al. 1998; LeGates 2005). In the US, From 1990 to 1998, 76 percent of population growth in metropolitan areas was outside the central cities (Dunham-Jones 2005) At the same time, localized concentrations of increasingly dense development in scattered nodes have been observed to form as "clusters" on the landscape at the metropolitan scale, a trend that has also drawn scholarly interest (Hartshorn and Muller 1989; Kaplan 2004; Hillier 2007). As noted by Frenkel and Orenstein (2011), sprawl is a socioeconomic as well as spatial phenomena and a process as well as a pattern. These authors note it is also a cultural construct; therefore, various measurement schemes will show different outcomes. In addition, researchers find increasing inequality within urban areas represented spatially on the landscape in divergence between wealthy and poor neighborhoods (Harvey 2000) in keeping with the trend of a widening income gap between rich and poor and a decline in the middle class in recent decades (Sachs 2012). The result has been stubborn persistence of entrenched "inner city" poverty far removed from wealthy suburbs in far-flung locations, some with gates (Harvey 2000). Kiefer (2005) argues that sprawl is linked to broad-ranging environmental, social, and economic negative impacts including, "climate change, diminished air and water quality, and habitat and farmland destruction; its tendency to diminish community and quality of life; its increased public health costs due to respiratory ailments, traffic accidents, and even obesity."

2.4.1 Environmental Problems

Sprawl has first and foremost been regarded as an environmental problem. In regard to environmental effects, the particular form and structure of urban areas is widely seen as fostering varying levels of resource consumption, transportation-related pollution emissions, storm-water runoff, and other ecological impacts upon land and water (Saunders 2005; LeGates 2005, Calthorpe 1994; Rees and Wackernagel 1996). More dispersed, sprawling areas requiring more commuting and thus produces more air pollution, including greenhouse gases implicated in

climate change (Duany et al. 2000; Gurin 2003; Nelson 2006). Each gallon of gasoline burned emits 19.4 pounds of carbon dioxide (EPA). The average number of vehicle miles traveled (VMT) has increased over the past few decades as a result of population growth, an increase in the average length of personal trips, decrease in passengers sharing a vehicle, lack of sufficient mass transit and non-motorized travel facilities, and longer commutes due to dispersed regional development patterns (Ross et al. 2011). Land consumption and conversion is a major problem of sprawl (Hasse and Lathrop 2003). Urban areas that are more dispersed and lower-density consume more land than more dense urban areas, thus subtracting more land for natural habitat, farmland, or other undeveloped uses. Development in the urban-rural fringe often occurs on prime farmland, where soils and land prices are favorable for development (Daniels 1999; Hasse and Lathrop 2003; Wu et al. 2008). Consequences include subtracting the land from agricultural production and increasing land valuation, thereby placing upward financial pressure on remaining agricultural producers (Daniels 1999; Wu et al. 2008). Removal of prime farmland restricts the inventory of future land available for food and fiber production. In addition, development in the metropolitan fringe affects the aesthetic perceptions of landscapes, blurring boundaries between urban and rural. The spread of urbanization results in impacts upon natural ecosystems. Globally, the share of land existing in natural habitat continues to shrink as land is converted for agriculture and urbanization (Foley 2005). Research measures the effects on natural habitat of various settlement forms (Daniels 1999; Koellner and Scholz 2008). A study by Lenth et al (2006) found that attempts to use "conservation subdivisions" as a low-impact, dispersed settlement still resulted in disruptions to bird life similar to that created by standard subdivisions in spite of lower densities. The combination of sprawling development and conversion of land for agriculture threatens to reduce natural habitat to a fraction of its present range over the course of the next few generations (Daily 1997; Foley 2005). Perlman and Milder (2005) identify "indispensable patterns" for biological conservation that should be considered to maintain wildlife habitat needed to support future survival of wild species. These are: maintenance of large natural patches to provide core habitat for interior species and species with large home ranges; protection of naturally vegetated stream corridors for aquatic species; connectivity between large patches to provide for movement, migration, and dispersal of animals; and preservation of

natural remnants within human-dominated areas. Such areas include "microhabitats" of high conservation value, landscapes that provide essential ecosystem services, and remnants that provide edge habitat as well as access to natural areas by humans. Ecologists and planners find that existing development practices do not offer adequate conservation protections to assure the maintenance of ecosystem services or adequate habitat for wildlife (Daily 1997; Wilson 2002; Jepson 2004; Foley et al. 2005; Hostettler 2012). Land- buying programs, including in Florida, are intended to secure wildlife habitat as well as to protect watersheds that serve human populations. In 2012, 9.4 million acres of Florida's total 34 million acres of land were managed for conservation purposes, with another 573,551 acres managed under Conservation Easements (Florida Department of Environmental Protection). Even with this proportion of land under management for conservation, ecologists and planners see a need for additional protection and restraint from development (Cerulean 2008; Hostetler 2012). Concerns about impacts of continued sprawling growth prompted the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission to produce a report, Wildlife 2060, that listed threats of that would accompany continued sprawling growth. These threats include habitat loss and isolation, coastal challenges, water quality and quantity, and undesirable wildlife-human interactions (Cerulean 2008). Urbanization has increased competition between humans and wildlife for both land and water resources. Development diminishes the overall area available for natural habitat and fragments remaining habitat into sets of smaller, isolated areas (Cerulean 2008). The Florida 2060 study predicted that continued urbanization in the state following current land use patterns would mean conversion into urban uses of 2 million additional acres within a one-mile buffer of existing conservation lands, thereby "complicating their management and isolating some conservation holdings in a sea of urbanization" (Zwick and Carr 2006, 2). The study predicted that as much as 41% of the lands within the one mile buffer could be urbanized by 2060, with large implications for the long-term management of conservation lands: "Where rural lands once were their neighbors, urban land uses have and will continue to move in. In the worst cases this will leave conservation lands completed isolated, surrounded by a sea of urbanization. In the best cases it means management strategies dependent on natural ecological processes like flooding and fire will be compromised to accommodate the new neighbors." (Zwick and Carr 2006).

Habitat fragmentation poses immediate problems for wide-ranging animals such as the endangered Florida panther and the Florida black bear, but it also poses threats for other native plants and animals by isolating breeding populations of all types of plant and animal species from one another and reducing the opportunity for species to maintain healthy genetic diversity (Wilson 1992). Loss of wildlife habitat also affects the human experience "nature deficit disorder" (Louv 2006) and diminishes possibilities for recreational access of humans to land and water (Cerelean 2008). Urban development affects wildlife at a broader scale than the development footprint alone, affecting the biodiversity and survival of endemic species in proximate ecosystems (Hostetler 2012). Other environmental impacts of low-density development in the urban-rural fringe include impaired ability to maintain fire-adapted ecosystems. Existence of homes and roads in habitats that naturally are maintained by fire creates conflict and reduces likelihood of burns at frequencies necessary to maintain the flora and fauna of fire-adapted ecosystems (Cerulean 2008). Besides taking away land that can otherwise be used for natural habitat or farmland, development cuts back on “nature’s infrastructure” that produces soil and oxygen, stores and purifies water, holds back flood waters, and otherwise gives us what ecologists call “ecosystem services” (Dailey 1997; Adams and Generaud 2008). Water quality issues are related to sprawl. Advancing urbanization creates more impervious surfaces. Paved surfaces increase pollution from storm-water runoff as well as likelihood of flooding (Brabec 2002). Application of fertilizers and pesticides by residents is a factor in non-point pollution (Perlman and Wilder 2005). A proliferation of septic tanks associated with sprawling growth into rural areas also harms water quality and water supplies (Daniels 1999). In Florida, water quantity problems are urgent (Barnett 2007). Meindl (2010, 633) argues that given the urgency of Florida's water supply issues, any additional settlement by new residents in areas experiencing water shortages should be seen as a concern. He argues that residents of new homes, "particularly those sprawling outside urban areas" be charged a higher rate for water service that reflects the full cost of its provision.

2.4.2 Social Problems

Sprawling growth patterns have been critiqued as being linked to a number of social problems. These include social anomie and isolation of some segments of society, particularly

those who are not drivers (Kunsler 1994). Lack of civic engagement in a low-density landscape predominated by housing and commerce is cited by New Urbanists as a detriment of sprawl (Duany et al. 2000; Katz 1994). Putnam (1995) has highlighted the ills of social fragmentation. Fishman notes that suburban areas are able to replicate most elements of urbanity, "except for the urban experience itself" (Fishman 2005, 2). Settlement patterns have also been considered important in promoting or discouraging social equality; suburbanization in particular has been historically linked with racial and economic separation (Powell 1998). Russell (2005) argues that polarization of suburbs has created a "Darwinian" environment, in which one suburb fights the other to attract or repel new development. Sprawl has been argued to both create and reflect social inequities. "Exclusionary zoning," which mandates single-family homes on large lots, excludes affordable housing (Burchell et al. 1994; Ziegler 2003). Lack of affordable housing is a problem in Florida (Ray and White 2012). Sprawl is associated with an imbalance or "spatial mismatch" between jobs and housing that disadvantages minority populations (Kain 1992). The mismatch has occurred as jobs have migrated from central cities to outlying areas. Harvey (2005) focuses on the disconnection between jobs and housing as a forceful source of social problems that has a negative impact on residents of impoverished areas. Inequitable access to good schools, health care, and low-cost, healthful groceries are other examples of skewed opportunities linked to sprawling growth patterns (Powell 1999; Russell 2005). Soja (2008) notes that urban dynamics are creating disparate advantages for various population groups in places such as Los Angeles, where thriving clusters of creative, manufacturing, and government centers have sprung up in some areas; meanwhile large pockets of poor and unemployed populations are clustered densely elsewhere. Meanwhile, public health planners point to links between sprawling growth patterns and a set of health problems that include respiratory ailments, traffic accidents, and obesity--a growing problem in the United States due in part to our sedentary, auto-oriented lifestyle (Frank and Engelke 2001).

2.4.3 Fiscal Problems of Sprawl

Finally, urban form has been related to financial sustainability, with a focus on costs to the public sector of providing services varying with compact versus "sprawling" settlement (Carruthers and Ulfarsson 2003). Public costs of maintaining developed land are much higher than for agricultural land (Farr and Brock 2006). Negative economic consequences of sprawl are related to costs of extending infrastructure to the expanding urban fringe and costs associated with traffic congestion, including reduced productivity (Kiefer 2005). When new developments are approved, governments at all levels are called upon to provide or facilitate services including water, sewer, and electric power, as well as to building of roads schools, and hospitals. Several studies have found that when development is spread out at low densities, the per-unit cost of constructing and maintaining public facilities increases (Carruthers and Ulfarsson 2003; Burchell 2005). Some services that are both environmentally preferable and cost-effective in denser settings, such as public transit and district heating, are not feasible in dispersed, sprawling configurations. The way costs for this infrastructure are borne between public and private sector is often contentious (Wiewel et al. 1999) as has been noted in discussion on New Urbanism (e.g. Zimmerman 2001; Ziewitz and Wiaz 2004, Veninga 2004). Krieger (2005, 53) writes, "What must be brought to the fore in the debate over sprawl is this: the benefits of sprawl--for example, more housing for less costs with higher eventual appreciation--still tend to accrue to Americans individually, while sprawl's cost in infrastructure building, energy generation, and pollution mitigation tends to be borne by society overall." Beatley (1994) describes a social equity basis for planning that intentionally targets public sector resources to historically underserved areas as an ethical approach. This "social justice infrastructure" mismatch should be recognized and dealt with. Daniels (1999) proposes as much attention to public sector "givings" as to the "takings" decried by property rights advocates. Kelly (2004, 222) notes that growth follows sewers and highways and yet that "too few communities use...plans to influence their investment in infrastructure." Katz (2013) argues for use of a "fiscal impact quotient" to calculate, per acre, the number of years required for property taxes to repay initial public investments accommodating new development. In case studies, Katz finds this "missing metric" to favor denser and mixed- use development over less dense suburban patterns, including "big box" stores.

A social equity perspective linked to sustainability would dictate that sprawl reduction techniques be linked to goals for social and economic justice. For instance, spending of scarce public funds could be targeted to infrastructure projects that benefit underserved locations and population segments. Krieger (2005, 53) argues, "What must be brought to the fore in the debate over sprawl is this: the benefits of sprawl--for example, more housing for less cost with higher eventual appreciation--still tend to accrue to Americans individually, while sprawl's cost in infrastructure building, energy generation, and pollution mitigation tends to be borne by society overall." Thus, Saunder's focus is on remedies that "shift some of the costs of sprawl onto the sprawlers," including regional tax sharing, regional transfer of development rights, user assessments, and incentives for development in already developed areas. Some states, including Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Massachusetts have a "fix it first" policy in which repair of existing roads or transit is prioritized over construction of new highways (Kahn and Levinson 2011). Taken together, the literature reveals that attention to sprawl remains gravely important in relation to environmental conservation, social concerns, and sound fiscal practices. The suburban-rural fringe is often the geographical location in which sprawl occurs (Daniels 1999; Dunham-Jones 2005). As suburbs have been built up, scattered lower-density development at the urban-rural fringe --also called "ex-urbs"--has become the new frontier in the development of America's "middle landscape" (Rowe 1991) and the chief location in the battleground over sprawl (Rees and Wackernagel 1996; Daniels 1999; Dunham-Jones 2005). Daniels (1999, 10) describes the urban-rural fringe as "a region of middle ground between wide- open rural areas that are beyond commuting distance to a metro area, and expanding suburban residential and commercial development." The urban-rural fringe might extend a few miles beyond small cities to 40 miles or more around large metropolitan areas (Daniels 1999). Future evolution of the transitional area of the urban-rural fringe is expected to include emergence of new suburbs (Daniels 1999) or "cores" in the periphery (Irwin et al. 2008). Daniels calls for a goal of quite intentional sustainable development in the urban-rural fringe (p. 271). Amenities of open space, slower pace, and less congestion that originally drew people to the suburbs are now identified as key drivers propelling growth in exurban areas, fostered by continuation of reliance on automobiles, availability of fossil fuels, and enough societal wealth to support this diffusion (Daniels 1999). Dunham-Jones (2005, 1) writes that "the suburban fringe, the outer suburbs and exurbs--the landscape often called 'urban sprawl' " has accounted for

around 75 percent of new construction in recent decades. In Florida, as in other US locations, counties adjacent to metropolitan areas gained population at higher rates than the metropolitan areas themselves, signaling further expansion of low-density growth into areas far beyond cities (US Census Bureau 2010; Zwick and Carr 2006). Ex-urban growth has been highest in areas with outstanding amenities, such as coasts or near parks and other conservation lands (Irwin et al. 2008). Residential expansion into rural areas has occurred to the largest degree in Sunbelt and western states during the post-Industrial era, areas that also attracted the most growth overall (Irwin et al. 2008; Theobald 2001). How New Urbanism and other alternative settlement ideas negotiate their places in this contested zone is an important area for research (Ziegler 2003). As is argued later, academic work should recognize that purely rational plans for land use are subject to failure because urban development is strongly influenced by political economic, regulatory, and cultural influences (Ziegler 2003). A policy analysis created as a companion report to the "Florida 2060" report (Ross et al. 2006) framed Florida's status as follows: The results of the Florida 2060 research project conducted by the University of Florida show the state of Florida sits at the “tipping point” in regard to land consumption for urban development. Soon, the footprint and pattern of development will be set and without immediate proactive initiatives, the result will be sprawling disconnected subdivisions spread from coast to coast that surround a few isolated wetlands; and the opportunity to build great communities and forever protect natural lands and open space will be lost."

2.5 Directions for Sustainable Urban Settlement

Many scholars draw attention to the region as the proper scale at which to plan for more sustainable settlements (e.g. Campbell 1996; Ziegler 2003; Talen and Brody 2005; Oakerson 2008; Hillier 2008; Soja 2011; Duany et al. 2010). Peter Calthorpe, architect and designer of New Urbanist projects and Los Angeles planner William Fulton called attention to regionalism more than a decade ago in their influential book, The Regional City: Planning for the End of Sprawl (2001). The book put forth ideas for transit-oriented development, infill strategies, and revitalizing aging urban cores. More recently, Calthorpe (2008, 67) wrote, "Now more than ever, regions define our lives. Our job opportunities, cultural interests, and social networks are bigger than any neighborhood or town." Soja (2008, 295) calls for regional perspectives for urban planning, governance, and public policy to address an "urgent need for effective regional

approaches to the growing problems of contemporary urbanism." Russell (2005, 106) argues, "For suburbia to evolve to a more stable and satisfying urban form, the United States must be prepared to consider the true field of suburban concern as larger than the subdivision or village. It must also recognize that suburban towns and cities are parts of larger regional conurbations that must be participated in, planned for, and governed as such." Researchers have identified redevelopment of existing urban areas and infill development as directions for improving regional sustainability (Calthorpe 2001; Katz 2013). Multiple scholars call for revising land use codes to allow for mixed uses in both new or redeveloped locations (Parolek et al. 2008; Duany 2010). Options include mixed uses within a single building--commonly placing retail functions on ground floors and housing above--or mixed uses in separate buildings in close proximity. Cervero (2008) finds the latter to have practical advantages. Recent demographic trends favor choice of urban residences for both young adults and empty nesters (Nelson 2010). This trend is promising for revitalization and infill development in existing urban areas; however, maintaining neighborhood quality of life and providing for affordable housing in gentrifying areas are challenges associated with this revival of interest in urban locations for residences (Ziegler 2003). Redevelopment is also taking place in suburbs, increasing the density and range of land uses in a process that Kotkin (2007) calls "New suburbanization." A crucial link is recognized between urban form and transportation. Hillier's work (2008) on "spatial syntax" illuminates the interaction between the transportation network and the built environment that creates the literal shapes of urban areas. Hillier has observed a generalized worldwide pattern of urban development that adopts a polycentric pattern with "a network of linked centers and sub-centers at all scales, from a couple of shops and a cafe to whole sub-cities, all set into a background of residential space" (2008, 31). The evolution of the urban form exhibits variations based on how the active network for movement transportation interacts with the residential areas. In his theory of the self-evolving city, he identifies regional context as crucial. "A key element in this is that the process by which cities create themselves is about the relation between scales: that how local places arise in cities depends as much on how they are embedded in their larger-scale context as in their intrinsic properties" (emphasis in original). This research supports attention to transportation networks in tandem with residential development at the regional scale.

Calthorpe (2008, 69) argues, "It is short sighted to think that significant changes in land use and regional structure can be realized without fundamentally reordering our circulation system." Calthorpe and Smart Growth proponents (e.g. Freilich et al. 2010) support transit- oriented development (TOD) that brings together jobs, housing, and transit in high-density centers that transition to lower-density land uses away from transit stations. Cervero (2008, 129) pronounces, "In America today, transit-oriented housing stands as one of the most promising mechanisms for promoting multiple urban policy objectives--affordable housing construction, sprawl containment, and reduced car dependence." TOD is starting to appear in locations across the US. A cadre of urbanists argue that improving sustainability depends on introducing more travel choices and focusing upon personal mobility taking other forms than just automobile transport (e.g. Nozzi 2008). Some localities are finding success in introducing rail, for example California cities including Palo Alto and San Diego, as well as Charlotte, North Carolina. Orlando is creating a "Sun Rail" system with 31 miles of track in its first phase serving 12 stops (Sunrail.com). Nationwide, transit ridership still pales in relation to car ridership in that transit lines reach a limited range of residential destinations. Some observers see expanded bus transportation as more affordable and attainable (Calthorpe 2008). Calthorpe proposes an "urban network" transportation system that introduces a greater variety of road types than the dominant existing network of neighborhood streets, arterials, and freeways. New development could be constructed using multi-use boulevards that would accommodate light rail, streetcars, or bus rapid transit, with "throughways" at the boundaries of town to serve truck and auto-dependent land uses. At the same time, massive investment in car and truck-based transportation, and the cost of building new transportation infrastructure, presents formidable obstacles to near-term changes. Kotkin (2007) predicts auto-dependency to continue into coming decades. Automobile dependency is entrenched, especially in Sunbelt states like Florida where most urban growth occurred in a post-automobile era. As Dunham Jones notes for Atlanta, a "vast established physical pattern" is in place (2005, 57). An equally powerful force against a wholesale embrace of mass transit is the American love of freedom and mobility (Martinson 2000). Some writers advocate for easing road congestion by continuing to build more highways, as expressed by signatories to the Lone Mountain compact (Orski et al. 2007). .

Scholars point to an urgent need to address affordable housing, and to links between housing affordability and sprawl (Flint 2005; Talen 2005; Grant 2008), and placing emphasis upon addressing and correcting social inequities (Veninga 2004; Keil 2007). Flint (2007, 6-7) writes that redressing sprawl requires engagement with making more sustainable housing affordable, in that affordability is a large part of what drove sprawl in the first place: "Now is also the time for more thoughtful long-range planning in the arrangement of housing and jobs. Perhaps most important of all, these new more sustainable patterns must be made more affordable to the widest range of American families." He argues that the worst outcome would be if middle and lower-income residents seeking alternatives to sprawling locations were excluded from "gentrified urban neighborhoods or pricey transit-oriented or New Urbanist developments." Ideas to improve housing affordability include mandatory "inclusionary zoning," where 10 to 15 percent of new development must be affordable, either on or off site; housing trust funds; density bonuses to developers for building affordable housing; and community land trusts (Flint 2007; Ziegler 2003). Another path to improved sustainability is rethinking the concept of home, to return to a more expanded sense of belonging that existed historically (Fishman 1977). "Place-based" planning is one means for achieving such a goal (Kates and Parris 2003; Cheng and Daniels 2003; Oakerson 2008). Geographic techniques are also favorable for "place-based" governance and planning (Kingston et al, 2000; Zellner et al. 2012). An emphasis upon "place identification" may help foster sustainability by broadening the notion of "home" (Stefanovic 2000; Uzzell et al., 2002). Jamison (2001) notes that quest for sustainability can be framed differently using "the 'home' perspective" called for by Sachs (1999), "an approach to sustainable development articulated by representatives of the 'civic' culture." As for reforms to acknowledge and protect the ecological basis of urbanized areas, scholars and planners call for preserving greenways and enhancing urban green spaces (Bryant 2006; Beatley 2008; Hostetler 2013; Wolch 2007). Building on ideas of McHarg (1969), Duany et al. (2010) call for regional planning that begins with establishment of greenprint boundaries. Foley et al. (2005) call for land management that benefits human and natural ecosystems. "Many of these strategies involve management of landscape structure through the strategic placement of managed and natural ecosystems, so the services of natural ecosystems (e.g. pest control by natural predators, pollination by wild bees, reduced erosion with hedgerows, or filtration of

runoff by buffer strips) are available across the landscape mosaic" (Foley 2005, 573). Talen and Brody (2005) call for application of ecological thinking to both urban and rural planning and for use of landscape ecology to appropriately site development. Louv (2012) calls for providing areas for humans to recreate in connection with nature as essential to the human experience. Whether as moral imperative or from prudence for serving anthropocentric needs, concern exists about the extent to which development encroaches on provision of "ecological services" (Daily 1997; Foley et al. 2005; Wu et al. 2008). Attempts to promote land conservation are increasingly accompanied by analyses of the linked economic and ecological value of ensuring provision of ecological services (Segerson 2008). The emergence of work on ecosystem services includes work that puts these functions on maps that can be used in planning efforts (Troy and Wilson 2006). A later section explores in more detail the implications of such economic valuation for the urban-rural fringe. In addition, concerns about public health and obesity are leading to a call for more planning of non-motorized trails in urban areas and connecting urban to exurban and rural areas. In places including Seattle and Los Angeles, creating public access along urban streams has helped to restore ecological health to streams and create a stronger sense of place and more appealing urban environment (Beatley 2010, Wolch 2007). Maintaining working agricultural landscapes retains possibilities for more localized food production, links people with knowledge of food production, and preserves viewsheds (Donahue 1999). The complexity of development patterns presents challenges for implementation of greenbelts as well as preservation of greenfields. While greenbelts have been established and maintained in some locations, elsewhere, they have been observed to foster leapfrog development at a coarser scale than might otherwise have occurred (Kelly 2004). Scholars and theorists differ on support for greenfield building of new towns. Talen and Brody (2005) argue that new towns can fulfill three-fold sustainability objectives if properly executed. They support clearly delineating conservation areas from areas suitable for development as a way to introduce ecological considerations, whether those areas are within urban or rural locations. Ross et. al (2006, 15) assert that "sprawl-free" greenfield development should satisfy broad principles of identifying and protecting sensitive regional resources prior to development; be fiscally neutral to existing residents; support higher-density development; integrate multi-modal transportation;

and promote social integration and diversity through affordable housing choices, thus offering a place to "intercept migrants en route from rural areas to large cities." An observed tendency for New Urbanist developments to occupy greenfield locations (Grant 2006a) presents a need for New Urbanist scholarship to expand beyond case studies to empirically examine how wider sets of communities are situated in a region. Questions include whether development has negative effects from encroachment upon ecosystems and wildlife habitat (in the "greenprint") and the extent to which the developments internally exhibit the type of "Green Urbanism" espoused by Beatley (2008). Beatley (2008) calls for a change in view about cities altogether, from a view of cities as antithetical to nature to a view of that "cities can be environmentally beneficial and restorative, full of nature...." (2008, p. 189). His call for "Green Urbanism" is a wide vision to keep and reintroduce nature to cities--whether urban parks, forests, green roofs, gardens, restored streams- -and to encourage greater human interaction with these outside places. Green urbanism embraces compact and walkable cities that reduce sprawl and afford deeper connections to place by restoring "a walking culture" (2008, 190). Beatley argues that allowing greater outside play in fields, streams, forests, and gardens is essential to satisfy the human affinity for nature--termed "biophilia" by ecologist E.O. Wilson (1984) and to lay a foundation for stewardship of natural resources by future generations. Similarly, Rosenzweig (2003) argues for "reconciliation ecology," in which socially constructed landscapes are heedful of ecological principles. Several scholars suggest that answers to sustainability challenges will come from re-conceptualization of the relationship between humans and "natural" environment as being engaged in a constant, mutual process of invention and co-creation leading to more conscious engagement with natural processes on human-dominated landscapes and in human systems (e.g. Cronon 1995; Stefanovic 2000; Rosenzweig 2003; Latour 2004; Robbins 2004; Keil 2007).

2.6 Smart Growth

In the US, many of the above-cited directions for improved urban sustainability have emerged from New Urbanism, and from the "Smart Growth " movement with which it has become associated (Grant 2006a, 2006b). Sharing many similar planks to New Urbanism, Smart Growth arose mostly as a movement from the planning profession (Chavan et al. 2007). Former Maryland Governor Parris Glendening is credited with making the term "Smart Growth "

popular and for instituting policies in Maryland in the 1990s that included giving incentives for placing infrastructure within existing urban areas (Geller 2003). Smart Growth has become official policy supported by the US Environmental Protection Agency, which defines Smart Growth as "development that serves the economy, the community and the environment" (US EPA). Chavan et al. (2007, 3) state, "Supporters of Smart Growth assert that by using land more efficiently (increasing density); building homes, offices, stores, and parks within close proximity to one another (mixing uses); and linking development with transportation infrastructure, cities can continue to accommodate growth without creating the negative impacts associated with urban sprawl." Nicholas and Steiner (2000) argue that Smart Growth should be defined as development that makes a community better as opposed to bigger, and that for growth to be smart, it must be managed for both location and timing of new building. The concept is malleable. Various groups have interpreted Smart Growth differently: homebuilders, environmental membership and advocacy groups (Krueger and Gibbs 2008). All share a common stance accepting future growth, versus no growth. Beyond that, essential planks vary. The 2010 Smart Growth Manual (Duany et. al. 2020) counts some 30 organizations that endorse Smart Growth . According to Krueger and Gibbs (2008, 1266), "For many US local authorities Smart Growth ...provides a way or organizing disparate elements of land-use planning goals (e.g. open space preservation, regeneration, housing choice and economic development) and approaches (e.g. comprehensive planning, business improvement districts, the use of existing infrastructure) into a system of 'joined up' thinking." Herrschel (2013) identifies an evolution from "Smart Growth " to "smartness" applied at a city-region scale, and fusing agendas for sustainability and economic competitiveness that will be explored later.

2.7 Defining Sustainable Urban Development

Springing from suggested directions for more sustainable urban forms, what definitions do researchers provide for sustainable urban development? According to Campbell, sustainable development is "green, profitable, and fair" (1996, 298). Talen and Brody (2005, p. 689) define "sustainable metropolitan development" as development that is compact as well as socially and economically diverse. Daniels offers qualitative guidance for translating the abstract ideal of sustainability into measures suitable for comparing sustainability of competing urban forms. He writes, “Sustainable development is the logical goal of growth management. Development

should be the appropriate type, on a reasonable scale for the community, and in the right location” (Daniels, 1999, 166-175, emphases added). It is this third concern to which the present geographic research mostly speaks and seeks to operationalize as "locational sustainability" measures. Following Daniels (1999), Fishman (2008), Calthorpe (2001) and Duany et al. (2010), places within urban cores and existing suburbs offer prime opportunities as locations for infill and redevelopment (Fishman in Haas 2008) and exurban locations on the urban-rural fringe present areas in which growth should be highly selective. As previously noted, Nicholas and Steiner (2000) argue for careful consideration of location and timing for development. Yet, given the prevalence of modern polycentric urban forms, Dunham-Jones notes the difficulty of distinguishing "smart" from "dumb" growth at a regional scale (2005b, 65). Dunham-Jones poses the question as: "[A]re these the nodes of a pattern of healthy polynucleated growth or just aberrant reconfigured clusters of as-right development with minimal impact on the overall pattern?" Her answer (2005b, 65) is, "The difficulty of assessing whether a greenfield project is smart 'enough' is fundamentally a question of whether it only serves its immediate inhabitants or serves the larger region." Dunham-Jones suggests the assessment should be made by examining how well the project connects to the larger transportation system and to economic and environmental systems. Gold and Hostettler (in Mulkey 2006, 41) assert that, "the most sustainable strategy a community can adopt is to locate large portions of the population in close proximity to workplaces, commerce, and recreation." Following these assertions, and recalling Hillier's analysis that "that how local places arise in cities depends as much on how they are embedded in their larger-scale context as in their intrinsic properties,” it follows that demographic and spatial measures should be sought out to discover how the communities are nested in a regional matrix and who the beneficiaries of communities are. Creating a more sustainable and integrated metropolitan region requires identification of the crucial “armature” consisting of arteries and transportation and communication, key buildings and public spaces, and similar features and to forge a human-centered place that reconciles “the personal and the local with the metropolitan” (Jones 2001). The guides put forth by Campbell (1996), Talen and Brody (2005), Daniels (1999), Dunham-Jones (2005), Ross et. al (2006) and Hillier (2008) are contextual rather than absolute and call for attention to placement

of a development within a region, its functionality as a lived-in place, and its inclusiveness to varied populations. Heeding directions provided from prior work, this study pursues empirical investigation of patterns of how New Urbanist communities are distributed in a regional context: specifically, among greenfield and non-greenfield locations; in exurban, suburban, and urban settings; in relation to transportation systems; and in relation to various types of land uses. Sustainability can be assessed by locational measures that serve as direct or proxy measures for auto dependency, walkability, housing affordability, and so on. Use of demographic data will also be sought to inform investigation of social and economic characteristics of the population residing in New Urbanist developments. (However, it will be beyond the scope of this study to investigate the relationship between New Urbanist communities and the ecological impacts, internal and external, of the built community, aside from determining the location of the development within a region with regard to sprawl.)

2.8 Measuring Urban Sustainability

Development of and regular assessment of metrics that quantify movement toward or away from sustainability can be both a research and policy tool. Beatley (2008) views use of sustainability indicators and ecological accounting as steps toward "ecological governance" that incorporates consideration of environmental impacts into routine decision making by city governments and citizens. Some critical scholars find value in using metrics to augment qualitative studies (e.g. Kreuger and Gibbs 2008) and to foster pragmatic responses to urgent sustainability issues. Indicators are politically useful to promote problem recognition and awareness, communication, opinion forming, and strategies for solutions (Valentine and Spangenberg 2000; Frenkel and Orenstein 2011). Indicators may be developed either through top-down, expert-led instances or, conversely, as community-based, "bottom up" processes (Reed et al. 2006). In addition, they can provide a format for consistent reporting over time. Measurement systems take varied approaches. The "ecological footprint" provides a measure of human demand upon natural systems by estimating the amounts of earth's surface (land and seas) needed to sustain humans at the scale being considered (Rees and Wackernagel 1996). The footprint illustrates need to devise more resource-efficient ways of living. The footprint methodology can be applied at the scale of the individual (Global Footprint Network),

as well as city or region (Wackernagel et al. 2006) and focuses upon the environmental plank of sustainability. Ecological economists encourage the use of sustainability indices that integrate social and ecological criteria. Kaufman and Cleveland (1995, 109) speaking to ecological economists who are trying to model" the long run ability of natural ecosystems to provide life support, encourage the use of sustainability indices. They caution against seeking a "society-wide," "Holy Grail" sustainability index, urging instead that researchers choose a "form of environmental life support" upon which to focus, quantify the economic and ecological determinants of then model the dynamics concerned. Their focus is upon comparing costs and benefits of continuation of current, non-sustainable patterns and adoption of alternative ones. Meanwhile, multiple other accounting systems with different frameworks have been devised that attempt to introduce "triple bottom line" accounting for sustainability at the scale of industry or cities (Valentin and Spangenberg 2000). Many sustainability indicators rely upon statistical data at an aggregate scale and are not spatially explicit. For example, indicators called for by Agenda 21 are statistical (Frenkel and Orenstein 2011). Combined use of GIS and remote sensing can provide spatially explicit measures that are more meaningful for discerning impacts upon urban landscape production (Haase 2007). In terms of land use and settlement patterns, scholars have worked to create meaningful spatial methods to measure sprawl (e.g. Theobald 2001, 2005). These same measures of sprawl can be inverted in interpretation to derive measures of more sustainable land use patterns. The extensive body of literature on sprawl (summarized in Galster et al. 2001) shows that presence or absence of sprawl varied according to the indicators used. Frenkel and Orenstein (2011) recognize sprawl as both a pattern and a process and they encourage combining spatial variables with socioeconomic variables to fit the purposes of particular case studies. Measures for land use sustainability have been created by the EPA (www.epa.gov/smartgrowth/scorecards). The "Smart Project Scorecard" (Fleissig and Jacobsen 2002) is intended to help at the project level, where "the rubber meets the road," and where, "specific property owners, elected officials and neighborhood groups often don’t follow the spirit or intent of adopted plans." The scorecard was co-designed by the EPA and the Congress for New Urbanism to gauge the impact of large development projects to a region. Among the reasons identified for using the scorecard is to avoid the "interminable delay that usually await

demonstration projects" for developers who are willing to commit to basic Smart Growth criteria (Fleissig and Jacobsen 2002). The 10 measures given include proximity to existing development, mix of land uses, accessibility and mobility choices, and process collaboration. Creators of the scorecard propose that projects that address most of the Smart Scorecard criteria and benchmarks should receive expedited review for development consideration. In 2009, the US Green Building Council's LEED (Leadership in Environmental and Energy Design) certification program introduced a Neighborhood Development (ND) rating system that contains measures for location, mixed uses, mixed-incomes, and transportation connections for development projects (US Green Building Council). The plan encourages but does not require mixed-uses and mixed-income for developments. It requires that at least one building on site be LEED-certified. Some practitioners and scholars have experimented with participatory methods for creating place-based indicator systems based on local data. Reed et al. (2006) find that staging of involvement among citizen participants and technically adept facilitators can provide a framework for creating community indicators that offer "a holistic approach for measuring progress towards sustainable development. " They suggest participatory approaches for "setting the context" and reliance upon experts for indicator evaluation and dissemination. Empirical techniques employing GIS and indicators are tools for identifying problems with settlement patterns and working toward improved sustainability. These can be used in interventions of governance that incorporate collaborative techniques ranging from surveys and internet-based participation to formal stakeholder groups. As a research tools, GIS and indicators can provide an empirical basis for rating sustainability outcomes of various settlement patterns that can provide important information to policy makers (including citizens). In summary, a body of literature supports this study's approach of operationalizing sustainability objectives through construction and application of an index of "locational sustainability." Such an approach provides traction for investigation of how well built communities--New Urbanist or otherwise--fulfill the three planks of sustainability.

2.9 The New Urbanist Model

The urban design and building movement of New Urbanism purports to offer fulfillment of many of the previously mentioned directions for improve urban sustainability through more socially beneficial and "sustainable" urban forms than competing recent development patterns can produce (Congress for the New Urbanism 1996; Duany et al. 2000; Calthorpe and Fulton 2001). New Urbanism calls for mixing land uses to combine residential, business, and civic structures in a denser fabric than the suburbs it seeks to supplant (Congress for the New Urbanism 1996; Ellis 2002). Its hallmarks include pedestrian-friendly, tree-lined streetscapes and emphasis upon common spaces. New Urbanism stresses creation of an aesthetically pleasing environment, using architectural details and creating "viewsheds" to enhance experience of place (Rees 2003; Talen 2005). Proponents claim that New Urbanist developments enhance civic life and sense of place, promote social diversity, use land more efficiently, and reduce dependence upon automobile transportation (Ellis 2002; Grant 2006a). A large body of literature exists about New Urbanism. It includes writings by leading proponents of the movement, who are also practitioners and lecturers, and an outpouring of treatments in the popular press that are often accompanied by attractive photographs (e.g. Brooke 2005). New Urbanism has also attracted academic inquiry from a range of disciplines, including urban planning, transportation, and geography. Talen (2005) and Grant (2006) offer comprehensive examinations. Grant (2006) notes that the wide array of applications of New Urbanist projects makes it difficult to provide a comprehensive scholarly treatment, explaining why comprehensive data sets have rarely been compiled and subjected to analysis. Ellis (2002) offers a survey of critiques of New Urbanism, paired with rebuttals. His work shows that the literature relies heavily on case studies or anecdotal evidence. A New Urbanism defender, Ellis concedes there is a need to develop theory around New Urbanism. Marcus (2008, 135) sees New Urbanism as "maybe the most influential movement in contemporary urbanism." Rees (2003, 93) describes New Urbanism as a utopian landscape "being built and lived in." Hass (2008, 12) hailed New Urbanism as the “leitmotif” of contemporary urbanism, symbolizing worldwide efforts of urban designers to reform design of the built environment for a more human environment in the post-industrial age. Even among some harsh critics, New Urbanism is credited as stirring the geographic imagination about possibilities for better arrangements for living in the post-industrial era (e.g. Harvey 2000). New

Urbanism has grown in influence in the United States, Canada, and Europe, with other experiments in New Urbanism in Japan (Grant 2006). The New Urbanist movement has spawned an industry of architects, builders, and other professionals. By 2008, 520 places in the US, Canada and the Bahamas, both new communities and redevelopment projects, were listed in the definitive industry directory, along with 700 companies (Steuteville 2008). In Florida alone, developments and proposed developments from the directory covered more than 15,000 acres in 2008 (author calculations based on Steuteville 2008). Since the real estate crash, some projects listed in the directory have failed; however, no more current edition exists to show current numbers. New Urbanism also has been influential in federal policy. Former Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, Henry Cisneros, signed the Charter of New Urbanism (Rees 2003). New Urbanism began as an architectural movement, initially called “Traditional Neighborhood Development” (TND) for its reliance upon traditional and vernacular building designs and use of grid-dominated neighborhood street plans that harked to a pre-automobile- dominated society (Talen 2005). Grant (2006) traces the origins of New Urbanist school to late 1970s interchanges between British architect Leon Krier and then-students Andres Duany and Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk. TND concepts were put into practice in development of the village- scale Panhandle Florida town of Seaside starting in 1980. Meanwhile, West Coast architect Peter Calthorpe began to develop urban designs that emphasized proximity of development to transit, from pedestrian to mass transit. He introduced the idea of "pedestrian pockets" (Calthorpe 1989). Calthorpe (1993) subsequently developed the concept of transit-oriented design (TOD), which calls for high-density nodes of development at regular intervals in conjunction with rail service (Cervero 2002). The East and West coast schools converged into New Urbanism with the establishment of the Congress for New Urbanism (CNU), which held its first meeting in 1993 (Steuteville 2008). This organization is the political body for New Urbanists and its voice (Grant 2006). Steuteville (2008, 4) writes, “The term New Urbanism was coined in the early 1990s to describe a trend of adapting traditional city and town building techniques to solve modern land- use problems.” New Urbanist principles were codified in the Charter of New Urbanism in 1996 (Congress for New Urbanism). A preamble to the Charter decried "disinvestment in central cities, the spread of placeless sprawl, increasing separation by race and income, environmental deterioration, loss of agricultural lands and wilderness, and the erosion of society's built

heritage." These ills were described as "one interrelated community-building challenge." Remedies were listed in sets of principles "to guide public policy, development practice, urban planning, and design," organized by scale, ranging in ambition from block to neighborhood to region scales (Congress for New Urbanism). The discourse contained in the Charter for New Urbanism clearly provides a strong agenda complementary to the social, environmental, and economic ideals of sustainable development. A summary of literature addressing these claims follows. Claims of environmental sustainability rest heavily upon land use facets. Writings by leading proponents hold up New Urbanist designs as the antithesis to automobile-dependent, post-World War II sprawling development (Congress for the New Urbanism 2006; Flint 2006; Haas, 2008). New Urbanists claim a return to "traditional" neighborhood design will reduce urban sprawl, auto dependency, and road congestion. Duany et al. (2000, 4) write: The traditional neighborhood--represented by mixed-use, pedestrian-friendly communities of varied population, either standing free as villages or grouped into towns and cities--has proved to be a sustainable form of growth. It allowed us to settle the continent without bankrupting the country or destroying the countryside in the process.

New Urbanism replaces single-use zoning with a mixture of residential, commercial, and public land uses in close proximity and presumably accessible by walking, bicycling, or public transit (Flint 2006). New Urbanism calls for high building densities in order to increase community sociability and conserve more land for conservation (Duany et al. 2000; Talen 2005). Additionally, the use of a grid road system is expected to calm and disperse traffic to reduce congestion (Steuteville 2000). Writing in Suburban Nation, Duany et al. (2000, 185) clearly set an ideal for new development to occur within the existing regional urban fabric: Even in regions that are growing, the objectives of economic efficiency and social justice suggest that growth be focused on areas that are already at least partially developed. Why create new places at all when existing places are underutilized? It must be clearly stated that many social and environmental ills would best be solved, at least temporarily, by a moratorium on greenfield development. There is a ready supply of vacant land available for infill projects, both in the inner city and in existing suburbs.

Meanwhile, the authors call for regional planning to create a permanent "Countryside Preserve" that sets aside high conservation value lands. These lands would include wetlands,

forests, "steep slopes, cultural resources, scenic areas, view-sheds for highways, agricultural land, and current and future parks" (2000, 144). "If at all possible, the Countryside Preserve should form continuous greenbelts to best accommodate wildlife mobility requirements." Principles contained within the Charter for New Urbanism call for maintaining metropolitan regions that display clear boundaries and discourage development that will "blur or eradicate the edges of the metropolis." The "necessary and fragile relationship" of a metropolis to its "agrarian hinterland and natural landscapes" is acknowledged, but principles still allow for new development both contiguous and noncontiguous to existing urbanization. If noncontiguous, the development is to "be organized as towns and villages with their own urban edges, and planned for a jobs/housing balance, not as bedroom suburbs" (Congress for New Urbanism). In the social sphere, New Urbanist practitioners cite enhanced opportunities for civic engagement in New Urbanist developments because of the availability of well-planned, walkable public places. Reminiscent of Ebenezer Howard's hopes for prompting the free flowering of a "pro-municipal spirit" through his Garden City designs (Howard 1902), New Urbanists look to common green spaces and parks, shallow set-backs of homes, tree-lined, pedestrian-friendly streetscapes, and inclusion of front porches and balconies to encourage interactions among householders and passers-by. Street-scale guidelines within the Charter call for streets and squares that are "safe, comfortable, and interesting to the pedestrian," and which "enable neighbors to know each other and protect their communities" (Congress for New Urbanism). Supporters believe that New Urbanist design will reverse social isolation and promote public discourse. Write Duany et al. (2000, xiii): "Lacking a physical framework conducive to public discourse, our family and communal institutions struggle to persist in our increasingly sub-urban surroundings.... we believe more strongly than ever in the power of good design to overcome the ills created by bad design, or, more accurately, by design's conspicuous absence." In the economic sphere, the principles associated with the Charter call for sharing revenues and resources cooperatively among municipalities in a region "to avoid destructive competition over the tax base and to promote rational coordination of transportation, recreation, public services, housing, and community institutions" (Congress for New Urbanism). New Urbanism stands firm in its claims to the power of architectural form to positively influence society. Outspoken New Urbanist architect Andres Duany argues that "it is the role of

architecture to tame the savagery of commerce" (2008, 90). According to the Charter of New Urbanism, "We recognize that physical solutions by themselves will not solve social and economic problems, but neither can economic vitality, community stability, and environmental health be sustained without a coherent and supportive physical structure" (Congress for New Urbanism).

2.10 Critiques of New Urbanism

Critiques of New Urbanism include disagreement over the extent to which formal design can solve social problems (Bressi 2002; Berke 2002; Grant 2006; Harvey 2000, 2005b; Veninga 2004; Robbins 2008), arguments that New Urbanism's embrace of "traditional" design lacks historical veracity (Marcuse 2000; Talen 2000; Till 2001; Grant 2006) , critical appraisals over the ability of built projects to achieve various New Urbanist goals that emphasize sustainability, including reduction of auto dependency and sprawl (Berke 2002; Grant 2006; Newman 2008) and provision of affordable housing (Berke 2002; Bressi 2002; Talen 2008; Robbins 2008); and arguments that New Urbanism agenda--and the "Smart Growth " movement of which it has become a part (Grant 2006) advances a neoliberal agenda unlikely to provide hoped-for emancipatory reforms (Grant 2006b). Grant (2006b, 158) finds that the practice of New Urbanism reveals ironies: ...[I]t appeals to traditional forms and values while adopting modernist tactics; it supports enhancing the public realm while advancing the private realm; it advocates urban forms while building suburban enclaves; it calls for democratic and participatory communities and an egalitarian social vision while insisting on the need for expert judgement and producing developments for elite consumers.

This section examines these arguments, saving a fuller discussion over how New Urbanism approaches political economy and public participation for subsequent sections. A number of critics question the efficacy of New Urbanism's reliance upon built form. Bressi (1994) worries that New Urbanist projects emphasize style while abandoning "more substantial planning ideas." Berke (2002) points to inflated expectations over what can be accomplished through formal design as opposed to more holistic planning effort. Grant (2006a) points to a tendency for "spatial determinism." Robbins (2008, 300) concludes that New Urbanism appears increasingly irrelevant to address current challenges of urban sustainability because of its reliance on form: "It is the reliance on codes, formal structures, and on an

effectively essentialist instrumentalism that may be at the heart of the problems that have plagued New Urbanism in the past, and which will limits its utility as it attempts to face the challenges of the future." Harvey (2005b) places New Urbanism within a set of spatial utopias that trust too much in spatial form while neglecting social processes, such as the processes driving urban impoverishment and decay. He argues it is a fallacy "that the shaping of spatial order is or can be the foundation for a new moral and aesthetic order " or that "proper design and architectural qualities will be the saving grace not only of American cities but of social, economic, and political life in general" (2005b). Harvey describes as "facile" the notion that the urban landscapes of large and complex contemporary cities can be transformed into "communities" or sets of "urban villages" using New Urbanist codes and forms. He argues (2000, 179), "Utopias of spatial form get perverted from their noble objectives by having to compromise with the social processes they are meant to control" and calls for "a utopianism of process" as opposed to a "utopianism of spatial form." Some critics argue that New Urbanism is colored by nostalgia and romanticism (Marcuse 2000; Talen 2000; Till 2001; Grant 2006;) Marcuse (2000, 4) argues that New Urbanism "evokes a past that never existed in the form in which the New Urbanism pictures it, and certainly not one that existed in an urban setting." Rees (2003, 104) writes that "uncritical suburbia bashing is certainly a central thrust of New Urbanism." The flip side is equally uncritical idealization of pre-World War II urbanism found in writings of New Urbanist proponents, exemplified in the previously quoted passage extolling "the traditional neighborhood" as providing "a sustainable form of growth" (Duany et al., 4). Scholars of American environmental history including Cronon (1983) and Berry (1977) demonstrate that considerable environmental and human destruction accompanied the settling of the American continent. Such scholarship casts doubt on the across- the-board claim employed by New Urbanists that pre-World War II American settlement allowed the continent to be settled "without bankrupting the country or destroying the countryside" (Duany et al. 2000, 4).A presumption that "traditional" pre-War urban housing was non- problematic is countered by historical evidence including a description by Lewis Mumford (1946) of "vast areas of blight" evident across American cities at the close of World War II. Neither is a depiction of suburbs as a uniquely post-World War II phenomena historically accurate (Fishman 1977).

A number of scholars have engaged in research that attempts to measure the extent to which New Urbanist goals for sustainability have been achieved. Studies on the environmental outcomes of New Urbanist projects show mixed results. Berke (2002) finds lack of empirical evidence on how effective New Urbanism is at reducing traffic congestion, improving air and water quality, and producing more equitable forms of development. Grant (2006) reports that empirical studies are few and show mixed results. Some critics charge that New Urbanism as implemented comes up short on effective environmental protection at both local and regional scales (Berke 2002; Till 2001). Regarding reduction in auto dependency, Nasar (2003) found reduced auto dependency in one case study. Crane (1996) did not find such evidence. Ellis (2002) states that expectations of reduction in automobile use for New Urbanist communities are unreasonable without implementation of regional approaches to land use and transportation. Newman (2008) reports analysis of studies in Sydney and Melbourne that find reduction in car use is influenced more strongly by distance to a central business district (CBD) than any other factor. Newman finds that permeable street design (a grid system with short blocks and many intersections) is the most widely implemented feature of New Urbanism, yet it yields more limited benefits of reduction in car use than either proximity to CBD or dense building in transit- oriented centers. Noting that New Urbanist developments have lagged in achieving the proximity to CBD or in transit-oriented building, Newman (2008, 186) points to an "integrity gap" for New Urbanism relative to achievement of meaningful reduction in auto dependence. The ideal New Urbanist community is described as linked to mass transportation (Congress for New Urbanism); in reality, critics complain that many developments are merely "transit ready" as opposed to "transit served" (Grant 2006b). Bressi (2002) identifies 3 types of locations in which New Urbanist developments have been built: inner-city and first-ring suburban infill sites, new communities on the suburban edge, and ex-urban forms. Many researchers have noted a tendency for New Urbanist projects to locate on greenfield locations (Rees 1994; Ellis 2002; Grant 2006). The flagship New Urbanist community of Seaside was built on a rare coastal scrub ecosystem in a formerly lightly populated area along Florida's panhandle coast (Ziewitz and Wiaz 2004). Without offering a precise definition of "suburban greenfield," Rees (1994) notes that the majority of New Urbanist projects are themselves suburban greenfield developments. Such findings appear in stark contrast to the New Urbanist Charter's call for reinvestment in central cities. Some critics argue there is little

distinction between New Urbanist developments and the "conventional" and "sprawling" suburban developments that they revile and seek to replace: McDonough (2008, 60) calls New Urbanism "Sprawl with a Happy Face" Other scholars (Zimmerman 2001; Grant 2006) charge that New Urbanism legitimates growth in the urban-rural fringe. Robbins (2008, 299) concludes that New Urbanists "...have not as yet been able to deliver their promised regional plans. They have yet to integrate the proliferation of small pedestrian-based places in a way that does not also produce sprawl, fragmentation, and the domination of the automobile." Proponents acknowledge that for regional planning, "very much is known and very little is put into practice" (Duany et al. 2000, 139). A comprehensive picture of overall locations of what might be called "actually existing New Urbanism" is not available because little summary data on New Urbanist projects has been reported or analyzed (Ellis 2002). Al Hindi and Till (2001) noted a particular lack of scholarly work on New Urbanist infill projects. Trudeau and Malloy (2011) offer an examination of US New Urbanist projects that finds a preponderance of infill projects by number; however, no comprehensive accounting of proportion of built location by acreage has been found. Berke (2002) traces on-site environmental shortcomings to failures to translate broad, regional objectives into on-the-ground measures at the neighborhood and block scale. Berke's analysis of the Charter of New Urbanism finds that environmental principles present at the regional scale are altogether absent on the ground at the neighborhood and block scale. Of 18 principles at these scales, 15 addressed urban livability and sense of place, with the remaining three promoting economic development. "An examination of the principles for neighborhoods and blocks reveals a strong emphasis on livable built environments, but virtually no attention to other issues" (Berke 2002, 26). Berke finds that none of the neighborhood and block principles "give explicit support to maintaining essential life-support functions of ecosystems." Berke (2002, 28) elaborates, "For example, principle 9 under neighborhood scale relies on open spaces and the natural environment to support urban livability rather than the life-support function of ecosystems. This principle indicates that conservation areas and parklands should be 'used to define and connect neighborhoods.'" Till (2001) finds that New Urbanism exhibits a limited understanding of nature, relegating it to a either a utopian garden or "the countryside." In contrast to other experiments, such as London's Beddington Zero Energy Development (Chance 2009), New Urbanist standards do not codify an embrace of innovative resource conservation by other means, for example limits on the size of homes, community-wide programs for solar water

heating or other alternative energy systems, installation of cisterns, or building from local or recycled materials (see Ercoskun and Karaaslan 2001 for an example of standards for ecologically oriented design applied on a community scale). A division between urban and natural areas is challenged by many as leading to disengagement of people with everyday nature. Cronon (1996) argues that a bifurcation between "urban" and "natural areas" fails to recognize the ecological functions and presence of everyday nature in urban and suburban areas--"nature in the cracks of sidewalks." McDonough (2008, 60) criticizes that New Urbanist strategies "often don't see cities in the overarching context of the natural world and thus, they fall short of a truly sustaining urbanism." New Urbanist writings reveals a tendency to view land and nature as a uniform blank slate that serves as a backdrop to the urban designer. Nostalgic landscape terminology such as "agrarian hinterlands" reflects romanticism of the "what's outside the box" of the urban project area, diminishing the importance of the nature that lies within. Leon Krier, an influential figure in formation of New Urbanism and an architect involved in creating Seaside, refers to [unbuilt] urban space as "a void" (Krier 2008, 52). New Urbanist discourse tends to draw a sharp distinction between "countryside" and "cities," reflecting language present in the Charter of New Urbanism (Congress for New Urbanism). Duany (2008, 254) clearly presents such a dualistic view in a stinging critique of Portland, Oregon; he writes that here, "nature is to be preserved, the city to be ignored." In summary, the literature on New Urbanism reveals that New Urbanism as conceived by its founders reflects a world view in which nature and economy are in separate spheres as opposed to expressing a nested, ecological, view of sustainability. Regarding the social aspects of sustainability and New Urbanism, several studies find that aspects of the design precepts of New Urbanism promote positive social experiences for residents, although these elements are not always associated exclusively with New Urbanist communities. Joongsub and Kaplan (2004) found that residents of the New Urbanist Kentlands development in Maryland expressed greater sense of attachment to their community and sense of place than residents in a nearby traditional suburb, with open spaces and natural features playing a strong role. Brown and Cropper (2001) found New Urbanist dwellers reported more interactions with neighbors than occurred for residents of conventional suburbs in the Salt Lake City area, although sense of community among both sets was similar. Rogers et al. (2012) find that increased walkability in communities is associated with higher levels of participation in

civic-minded activities. Talen (1999) finds research to support improved sense of community via the built environment, but not exclusive to New Urbanism. Similarly, Lund (2008) found a pedestrian-oriented environment fostered a greater sense of community, but not exclusive to New Urbanism. As to housing diversity, the foundational Charter of New Urbanism calls for neighborhoods that are "diverse in use and population." The accompanying principles state that "a broad range of housing types and price levels can bring people of diverse ages, races, and incomes into daily interaction...." Housing diversity is called for through mixing in of carriage houses, apartments, and townhouses along with single-family homes. Yet Berke (2002,28) charges that, as with environmental principles present at the regional scale and absent at finer scales, "...none of the neighborhood and block principles support equity in access to healthy living environments and social and economic resources essential to eradicating poverty. Only principle 4 under neighborhood scale alludes to inequity by indicating the need 'to bring people of diverse ages, races, and incomes into daily interaction.' " Grant (2007, 62), finds less mixing by age, race, and income than hoped for among built New Urbanist developments. "Despite the hope that a range of detached units, townhouses and apartments might bring together diverse households, experience indicates that many projects with mixed housing types reflect variation in household size and composition" more than other demographic factors, she states. Falconer Al-Hindi (2001) finds that the chief beneficiaries of New Urbanist developments are upper-class homebuyers, design professionals, and developers. Bressi (1994) observes a failure to address social and economic segregation and divisions. Developer-led integration of affordable housing in private developments is rare, although some developers are creating affordable housing options by partnering with government and community organizations (Johnson and Talen 2008). Duany et al (2000, 53) propose theoretically incorporating a limited proportion of affordable housing into a development, on the order of no more than one subsidized housing unit for ten market-rate dwellings, in order to "avoid neighborhood blight and reinforce positive behavior." The general rule is that so far, affordable housing is generally found only where governments have intervened. In the US, New Urbanist affordable housing has been associated with urban infill developments sponsored by the federal Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) under the HOPE VI program to replace existing public housing apartment towers (Talen 2010; Hanlon 2010). More than 200

such projects were constructed in the 1990s (Hanlon 2010). The changeovers resulted in overall reduction of housing units and displacement of some original occupants (Popkin 2004; Grant 2010). Popkin et al. (2004, 3) found "substantial evidence that original residents of HOPE VI projects have not always benefited from redevelopment"; these authors note "lack of meaningful resident participation in planning and insufficient attention to relocation strategies and services. Hanlon (2010) argues that the adoption of New Urbanist design in HOPE VI projects is associated with new public-private financing models that reflect a neoliberal approach to urban redevelopment (Hanlon 2010). Talen (2008, 78) views affordability as the most important policy issue facing New Urbanism. At present, she concludes, "Actual achievement of socially just community building is mostly optional." She argues, "If left unaddresssed, critics of New Urbanism will be right: social equity goals attached to design schemes are mere rhetoric. New Urbanism will have accomplished only a facade of social improvement, and the label of 'yuppie infantalist fantasy' for the upper middle class will ring alarmingly true" (2008, 77). Robbins (2008) declares a failure of New Urbanism to house the poor in the rapidly urbanizing world, in North American and beyond. Soja (2008, 295) argues that focus of New Urbanism on combating sprawl and promoting densification and compactness overlooks greater societal needs that have emerged in the restructuring of metropolitan areas since the 1960s: "growing mismatches in the distribution of jobs, housing, and public transit...generating increasing problems of social and economic polarization." Keil (2007, 62) places New Urbanism into a set of "mainstream environmental urbanist propositions" that lack attention to social justice and ecological change. As for the financial viability of New Urbanism, findings are mixed. Some scholars regard New Urbanism as having little influence or acceptance beyond a narrow niche market. Audirac (1999) pointed to mixed attitudes among consumers about departing from larger-lot, single- family home style suburban living. Eppli and Tu (1999) found a segment of buyers will pay a premium to reside in New Urbanist communities. Song and Knaap (2003) found that home buyers are willing to pay more for some, but not all, design features of New Urbanism. Meanwhile, the economic return for New Urbanist designers and architects themselves has sometimes been quite positive. The first New Urbanist town of Seaside was so financially successful that it quickly gentrified (Ziewitz and Wiaz 2004), providing property tax revenues that boosted the entire county (Ziewitz and Wiaz 2004). Veninga (2004) argues that increased

building density can be seen more cannily as a way to maximize profits when no solid mechanisms exist to reign in future development. After 2007, the economic downturn affected New Urbanist developers among others in real estate, resulting in abandonment of many Florida projects that were in the planning phases (author findings). However, there is some evidence that shifts have taken place since the housing downturn of 2008 and that market acceptance of New Urbanism is growing due to shifting demographics and buyer preferences (Nelson 2009). What about research on implementation of the broader, Smart Growth policies of which New Urbanism has become a part? Academic studies on the efficacy of Smart Growth implementation are limited (Echenique et al. 2012). Downs (2005), finds that implementation of Smart Growth policies has lagged because of conflicts with American traditions of home rule and low-density living patterns. Talen and Knaap (2003) found that Illinois jurisdictions rarely employed Smart Growth policies and that existing land use regulations ran counter to Smart Growth policies. Dunham-Jones (2005) weighs successes of Smart Growth in the context of regional planning for greater Atlanta. Instances of success include a $2 billion mixed-use project on a former steel mill, rebuilding of public housing, and resurgence of an urban neighborhood in conjunction with a community-based planning initiative, all of which drew residents back into Atlanta's city limits. Private sector initiatives included consolidation of Bell South offices in proximity to subway stations and construction of urban, mixed-use projects by a leading developer. TOD development occurred through transfer of development rights to keep intact larger conservation areas. The changes have introduced more choices for urban living that have been well-received in a region that tops the nation with the vehicle miles traveled (VMT) at an average of 35 miles per person per day in 1999 (Dunham-Jones 2005, 62). One regional centerpiece of Smart Growth efforts is the Atlanta Beltline, a project underway to create a 22- mile multi-modal transit beltline on historic railway corridors around the city (The Atlanta Beltline Project). Dunham-Jones credits imminent loss of federal transportation dollars stemming from the region's failure to meet EPA air quality standards as a crisis that forged the political will to institute regional planning. In addition, she credits steady news coverage on Smart Growth projects with coalescing public interest in new "urban versions of the American dream" (2005, p. 64). In spite of these successes, Dunham Jones (2005) observes that the region is losing the battle over sprawl as federal efforts to encourage Smart Growth buckle under market forces that drive individual development projects. This lament echoes the failures mentioned by Duany et al

(2000) about similar failures of the "Eastward Ho" initiative along Florida's Treasure Coast. "Eastward Ho" was intended to incentivize infill development and discourage sprawl into the Everglades. "In response to that initiative, in one city in one year, twenty-seven separate projects were proposed by developers, all bucking the tide and trying to do the right thing. Of those, not a single one was approved, thanks to a local government unwilling to stand up to a few noisy neighbors" (2000, 141). Such observations contradict Duany's assertion that New Urbanism will "tame" commerce (2008, 90). New Urbanist principles for "sustainable development" are hinged upon regional planning principles that scholars observe are difficult to implement. Citing failures of regional planning to date, Duany et al. (2000, 141) note that "effective regional planning is not possible in the absence of effective regional political leadership" (2000, 141). Few municipal bodies exist at the regional scale, and "the idea of establishing an additional layer of government within the federal/state/county/town hierarchy is hardly popular," they state (2000, 140). McKinney and Johnson (2009) call this a "governance gap." In the more recent Smart Growth Manual (2010, 141-142), Duany et al. (2000, 141-142.).continue to retreat into reiteration of guiding principles for regional management as a lynchpin: "Given the difficulty of implementation, it is of some comfort that at least the principles of regional planning are straightforward. Their primary purpose is to organize the growth of metropolitan areas on behalf of environmental health, social equity, and economic sustainability." Saunders (2005, vii) notes that even though Smart Growth and New Urbanism are accepted as "default position of most architects and urban planners, if not most urban officials," sprawl remains the overwhelming form of new American development. Kotkin (2007) puts forth a contrary vision to that of New Urbanists. He writes, "All of our analysis of current and likely future trends reveals that sprawling multiple cities with predominantly auto-dependent suburbs will continue to enjoy economic and demographic growth over the next several decades." He notes that job creation is occurring in suburban areas outside older cities and multi-polar cities of the West and Sunbelt. Given this situation, he argues "..it seems a bit quixotic to push for a future that takes its signals from the dense, centralized, transit-dependent urban past," he suggests. Instead, he writes, "The time has come to acknowledge the dispersed reality of our metropolitan future and to find out how to make it a better one." Campbell (1996, 308) cautions about putting too much faith in "the regional 'spatial fix,'" writing, "No geographic scale can, in

itself, eliminate all conflict, for not all conflict is geographic." He cautions that fixation upon an abstract vision of regional planning may be as difficult as the pursuit of the abstract vision of "sustainability." Kreuger and Gibbs (2008) argue, "The new consensus on Smart Growth may produce a convivial alliance for some interests, but may ultimately be unable to produce more sustainable outcomes without more direct government intervention." Lang et al. (2005) point to a need for adoption of new financing methods in order to promote Smart Growth development, including providing tax credits for developments that would provide affordable housing. To summarize, much of the academic literature on New Urbanism lends skepticism about the movement's success at translating eloquently stated environmental and social goals to execution in built projects. Further empirical work examining auto dependence, sprawl, and social mix at built New Urbanist projects would further the understand about the efficacy of New Urbanism in achieving sustainability goals. A geographic analysis would further understanding of the spatial distributions of New Urbanist projects within the regional context that is identified as crucial by scholars of urban sustainability. To date, systematic studies that probe placement and operation of New Urbanist developments within a metropolitan region are lacking. The literature reveals a need for more empirical studies and studies beyond single case studies to answer questions such as: How well does New Urbanism achieve sustainability goals, operationalized by location within a region (thus affecting auto dependency and sprawl, and access to mixed land uses)? Who are the residents and beneficiaries of New Urbanist projects, and how do are they different or similar to other residents of the region? What are the spatial governance characteristics of New Urbanist communities? The question of how New Urbanist communities are situated within a regional context will be a central focus of this research. Operationalizing sustainability through location within the region using empirical measures will fill a research gap and allow evaluation of summary data as well as reveal potential patterns in variations among outcomes.

2.11 Political Economy as Key Shaper of Urban Form

An argument can made, springing from broad-based critiques of New Urbanism (e.g. by Grant 2006a, 2006b, 2008; Alexander 2008; Harvey 2000, 2005b; Keil 2007), that New Urbanist proponents and practitioners have embraced normative goals while only selectively paying attention to larger political economic processes at work, both in the evolution of sprawl and in

their own development decisions. This section will focus broadly on literature theorizing political economic factors as drivers of urban form. Literature from urban studies, environmental history, economic geography, rural and resource economics, and urban political ecology fields provides a framework for viewing built forms--New Urbanist or otherwise--as being constituted within larger systems that respond to logics of economics and politics as well as to cultural conditions. Informed by a political economic vantage, these developments can be seen to occupy particular places in the regional urban-rural fabric based on larger driving forces at work in a globalized neoliberal capitalist framework. New Urbanists do selectively acknowledge political economic drivers affecting achievement of their goals; for example, factors that continue to favor greenfield over infill development. Exurban development is simply more attractive to investors based on market forces and current subsidies for mortgages and highways, they state (Duany et al, 2000). As previously mentioned, they also acknowledge an absence of governance for regional planning (Duany et al. 2000). However, literature produced by New Urbanists tends to draw attention narrowly to architects, planners, government officials, and mortgage lenders narrowly as the agents instrumental in creating modern urbanized landscapes. "We live today in cities and suburbs whose form and character we did not choose. They were imposed upon us, by federal policy, local zoning laws, and the demands of the automobile. If these influences are reversed-- and they can be--an environment designed around the true needs of individuals, conducive to the formation of community and preservation of the landscape, becomes possible," write Duany et al. (2000 p. xiii). Such an analysis places an emphasis upon regulatory barriers while eliding consideration of other powerful political economic agents and cultural drivers at work in shaping both regulatory practices and urban form. Talen (2008, 77) criticizes New Urbanists for staying politically neutral, having risen to prominence in an era of a where "anti-planning atmosphere that heralds private property rights and limited public control above all else." Talen contends that New Urbanists tend to be engaged with "regulatory destruction....getting rid of environmental regulations, restrictions on growth, exclusionary zoning, and impact fees...," she argues (2008, 78). She urges abandoning political neutrality to push for policy reforms to address the crucial issue of housing affordability. Alexander (2008, 18), charges, "Because the New Urbanists have so intensely desired to succeed in a practical way, and implement large areas of built projects, they have embraced, without

enough critical awareness, the machinery and the monetary and control structures of the modern developer, lock, stock, and barrel. That is to say, they have embraced the very thing that was, and is, the origin of a great part of our environmental ills in the first place." Harvey (2007, 26) charges New Urbanism with a refusal to confront "the political economy of power." He argues that New Urbanism "builds an image of community and a rhetoric of place-based civic pride and consciousness for those who do not need it, while abandoning those who do to their 'underclass' fate" (2007, 25). Robbins (2008, 300) asserts that New Urbanism has become increasingly irrelevant to address current challenges of urban sustainability because of its reliance upon form. "It is the reliance upon codes, formal structures, and on an effectively essentialist instrumentalism that may be at the heart of the problems that have plagued New Urbanism in the past, and which will limit its utility as it attempts to face the challenges of the future." Keil (2007) views New Urbanism as a "mainstream" proposition that requires a politicized concern to address social justice and ecological change. Scholars concerned with landscape production including Muller (1990) and Morris (1979) assert that settlement patterns in the US have been strongly influenced by a capitalist economy, laissez-faire land use regulation, and a social philosophy stressing individual rights and freedoms. Some scholars (Leopold 1966; Berry 1977; Beatley 1994; Zimmerman 2001; Heynen et al. 2006; Swyngedouw 2007) draw attention to the importance of attitudes toward land and nature as integral to formation of institutional regulation of land use and settlement. Some environmental historians argue that from Colonial times to the present in the US, land in American has been chiefly viewed as a means of wealth creation (Worster 1979; Cronon, 1983; Muller 1990). Cronon (1983) links destructive landscape practices to the American conception of divine Providential license for dominion over the earth. De Toqueville (1829) was an early observer who asserted that mobility of Americans fostered a transitory and mercenary attitude toward land for man. Merchant (2005) holds that practices and attitudes toward the land changed over time as a market economy absorbed subsistence farmers who had previously constituted a majority of Americans, giving rise to more environmentally destructive practices. Berry (1977) identifies the separation of people from a steady working relationship with land as a spiritual loss for both people and a source of increased degradation for land. He argues that a nurturing attitude toward land is hinged to the material functioning of households as both units of production and units of consumption. Leopold (1966), originator of the "land ethic" concept,

cautions that not all land-use decisions are economic and that the ultimate source of cultural meaning rests in land, a consideration not to be abandoned lightly. Radical reformers such as Henry George (in Ward 1994) expound the argument that access to land is an inherent part of wellbeing. Healey (1997, 73) notes cultural variations in how societies treat land tenure, land use, and development, ranging from farming societies in Africa that hold land in trust "from past generations to be passed on to future generations," to Western societies, where "land is typically seen as a commodity, to be bought and sold like any other." Nevertheless, constraints on development are typical, with provisions to prevent nuisance, allow public access, and in the extreme, permit eminent domain (Healey 1997; Riddell 2004). Variations for accommodation of public access as found in roaming privileges given in Scotland for crossing open lands, and the common access pathways in Great Britain, and rights to roam and gather fruit in Scandinavia (Healey 1997). Healey (1997) observes that the state's role in spatial land use planning increased concurrently with the increased role of government in providing infrastructure such as roads, railways, sewerage, and water networks, all of which had impacts upon land valuation. As development proceeds, Healey notes (1997, 73) tensions arise between property owners or between people "for whom a property is an attribute of their local environment and the individual land and property owners." Scholarship on drivers of form includes valuable historical perspectives on the development of suburbs, lending a deeper understanding to the evolution of sprawling forms that New Urbanism is purported to counter. Jackson (1985) holds that the recent suburban settlement pattern constitutes the most significant realignment of urban structure in the global history of cities. Scholars find that this proliferation of suburbs has been driven by features of a rising capitalist economy and cultural trends, as opposed to strictly the rise of automobile travel that is so often emphasized by New Urbanists. Fishman (1987) associates the rise of suburbs to increase in wealth and the rise of a capitalist economy. Wealth enabled more families to separate the enterprises of work and home, with males attending to the business world and females attending to domestic upkeep and rearing of children. "Home" no longer meant the larger community but referred to a smaller orbit. Just as separation of home from work occurred when people left farms (Berry 1977), a similar separation affected middle and upper-middle class suburban dwellers (Fishman 2006). Jackson writes (2006, 31), "By 1870 separateness had become

essential to the identity of the suburban house....The new ideal was no longer to be part of a close community, but to have a self-contained unit, a private wonderland, walled off from the rest of the world." Privacy, so scarce in earlier times, was prized, as was the connection to nature in an Arcadian sense, versus a utilitarian, agricultural one. The social invention of commuting arose in pre-Industrial 18th century London when the "merchant elite" began to travel to work by private carriage from villas on London's periphery (Fishman 2006). From introduction of commuter rail, streetcars, and later, automobiles, the proliferation of new modes of transportation began to provide a more affordable solution for commuting that enabled a wider spectrum of people to afford suburban living. Because suburbs of various types and suiting various income levels grew outside American cities even before the automobile saturated the American market, Martinson (2000, 19) argues that beginnings of urban sprawl should be associated with public transit rather than with the automobile. Martinson (2000) finds one reason for the popularity of suburbs to be a deep-seated association between land ownership and self-destiny. He argues that the majority of European settlers arrived carrying an intertwined desire for self-rule and property ownership. Some settlers were former tenant farmers who had paid oppressive rents for use of land with no prospect of gaining title to it; others were younger sons who were denied inheritance of land by primogeniture laws. Persistence of fierce property rights beliefs is better understood given this historical foundation. Ray (2000) argues that exploitive land practices and fierce adherence to property rights are tied to histories of oppression among Scots-Irish who settled parts of the South. Real estate financing scholarship produced by Lang et al. (2005) argues, "The entire history of American real estate development is one of speculation—and short-term thinking." Many scholars find that Americans' respect for private property influences prevails over attempts to institute master planning by public agencies. Russell (2005, 102) argues that the American case reflects greater empowerment of private property rights over civic interests advocated and planned for by government and identifies privatism as "the underlying driver of American city making...." He argues (2005, 101-102) :

Private-sector real-estate investment and development are forces propelling worldwide urban growth, but the relationship between the private and public sectors in the United States is unique and has never been much accepted in the

rest of the world. To varying degrees, other countries envision city form and growth as representative of community values rather than of an accumulation of individual decisions. So government is empowered far more directly to plan and guide growth.

The varying role of the state in land use planning across nations has been remarked by scholars. European planning systems "embody stronger recognition of the importance of spatial organization and supra-local considerations" (Healey 1997, 76). Kayden (2005) argues that the US Supreme Court has given states wide interpretation on whether or how to adopt growth management programs, making a home rule model of land regulation a large factor weighing against top-down or regional planning. Muller (1990, 270) writes:

With the increasing complexity of American society, governmental responsibilities have necessarily expanded and undergone redefinition, but the laissez-faire conception of government has endured, providing a constant check on public policies seeking to manage the economy or effect social engineering. Americans doggedly adhere to this national framework in the face of technological change, foreign immigrations, recurrent communal impulses, disturbing social inequities, and alternative European political models. As centers of economic activity and power, American cities reflect the geographical consequences of the national political economy and have displayed increasingly marked contrasts to their European counterparts.

Budd et al. (2008) argue that sub-national variations in political cultural dynamics are predictive of the extent to which cities are successful in implementing sustainability practices. They found the degree of willingness of US cities to adopt sustainable governance practices to be linked to the political culture within the community, with those cities exhibiting high degrees of social trust combined with a moralistic political culture most likely to adopt formal sustainability goals. Drawing from Elazar (1994), Budd et al. defined a moralistic political culture as operating from a commonwealth conception of government wherein politics is valued as a search for "the good society." As expressed by Elazar (1994, 232-234), "...in the moralistic political culture, both the general public and the politicians conceive of politics as a public activity centered on some notion of the public good and properly devoted to the advancement of the public interest...the moralistic political culture creates a greater commitment to active government intervention in the economic and social life of the community." In contrast, the other two political culture types are less supportive of interventions. Elazar (1994, 230) defines an

"individualistic political culture," as one that looks to the marketplace as the foundation of democratic order and "places a premium upon limiting community intervention...into private activities." The "traditionalist political culture," expresses a more ambivalent attitude toward the marketplace and "functions to confine real political power to a relatively small and self- perpetuating group drawn from a long-established elite...." (Elazar 1994, 235). The other factor Budd et al. (2008, 259) found to be predictive of strong expression of commitments to sustainability was social trust, defined as, "...coordinated collective action...based on trust in others, a belief that facilitates the initiation of affiliations and '‘networking,' producing collective action and effective civic activity to achieve shared goals." Even controlling for demographic variables for education and income, presence or absence of high social trust and a moralistic cultural heritage produced the highest extent of adoption of sustainability practices relating to sprawl, economy, health, environment, and plans and policies. A number of scholars (e.g. Campbell and Fainstein 2003; Nelson 2006) join New Urbanists in linking US policies for zoning, housing and transportation policies instituted in the first half of the 20th century to large impacts on urban form. Scholars observe that in a nation that is reticent to restrict use of private property, zoning is accepted as the primary land use control (Daniels 1999; Kelly 2004). Zoning formalized separation of land uses, propelled by efforts of urban reformers seeking improved living conditions for citizens, merchants who desired a separation between commercial and industrial areas, and residents who wished to protect their existing residential areas from future development for industrial use (Kelly 2004). The 1926 Euclid v. Ambler case upheld the right of the village of Euclid, Ohio, to impose zoning protecting its municipality from industrial development--against the real estate company's position that such a restriction on land use was an unfair "taking." The Federal Housing Act of 1954 assisted states in implementing zoning to divide residential, retail, employment centers, civic institutions, and transportation corridors (Nelson 2006). Zoning has led to consequences that have made it a target of much criticism, including by New Urbanists. They attribute many urban ills to the mandated separation of land uses, including social segregation and reduction in "walkability. Zoning divides not only residential from commercial and industrial, but divides various types of residential uses, excluding more affordable multi-family housing types from areas zoned for single-family homes. Riddell (2004) views the separation of urban functions as one of the greatest failings to achieving more sustainable urban form. Scholars have noted the

privileged status of single-family homes as supported by US policies. Federal programs that insured mortgages for single-family homes have fostered single-family home ownership and sprawling growth patterns (Duany 2000). Into the present, federal policy encourages owning rather than renting homes through the mortgage tax deduction thereby privileging ownership of single-family homes. There is wide scholarly agreement with the often-stated New Urbanist observation that the construction of highways after World War II had a great impact on urban form in the US. The Federal Highway Act of 1956 funded construction of interstates, cementing the predominance of motor vehicles over rail and opening the way for urbanites to more easily relocate to bedroom suburbs (Conzen 1990). New highways carved up downtowns, destroying historic buildings and bisecting neighborhoods. Racial strife and social unrest in the 1960s and 1970s further prompted "white flight" from established city neighborhoods and intensified separation of populations by race and income (Fainstein and Campbell 1996). At the same time that new suburbs were sprouting around the edges of large cities, large-scale urban renewal public housing projects replaced working class housing, further concentrating impoverished populations in modernist projects, many of which became notoriously crime-ridden. In 1950, 27 percent of Americans lived in areas defined as suburban by the US Census Bureau. That percentage rose to 52 percent by 2000 (Nelson 2006). The trend of outward migration from city centers that started with residential building followed with commercial and industrial development (Conzen 1990). Sheer population growth also must be considered. The impact of changing energy sources has been observed to be as a driver of immense changes in human lifestyles and landscapes over various time periods (Odum 1976; Droege 2011), including fostering urban sprawl. The availability of cheap gasoline in the latter half of the 20th century prompted middle-class households to accept higher costs for transportation in exchange for larger suburban homes at lower cost as Conzen (1990, 273) describes, to "drive till you qualify" to purchase a home. Contemporary scholars point to vulnerabilities of contemporary settlements to dislocation in future supply of nonrenewable fuel sources (Droege 2011) as well as water resources (Barnett, 2007). As previously mentioned in the summary of geographic thought section that began this chapter, early work by economic geographers developed location theory that analyzed landscape production based on rent. Classic "central place theory" models from von Thunen on, observed

patterns of dense, valuable land uses at the urban center and less intensive (and less valuable) land uses spreading in rings, zones, or sectors from the center. In von Thunen's classic model, proximity to a market location in the urban core dictated rent, influenced by transport costs from locations where varied agricultural and forestry enterprises occurred. As noted by Hall (1997, 316), models of urban development devised in the US in the 1950s and 1960s drew from earlier urban theories from Germany and the US that reflected "a world of relatively self-contained agrarian regions, in which central urban places exchanged goods and services with their rural hinterlands." Burgess's Chicago model introduced a set of urban zones extending from a central business district (CBD). After the introduction of modern highways, cities exhibited more complex forms. Locations of highways changed the valuation of land, spreading out higher values along transportation corridors, warping the traditional bid-rent models (Conzen 1990). Scholars of urban morphology observed that by the second half of the 20th century, many metropolitan areas no longer consisted simply of an urban core and its periphery: they were polycentric, with multiple concentrations of activity located across the urbanized region in conjunction with transportation arteries (Riddell 2004; Segerson 2008). At the local scale, scholars have observed clustering forming sub-centers of activity in formerly peripheral areas that sometimes these gave rise to "suburban downtowns" (Hartshorn and Muller 1989, 148) or rural clusters (Segerson 2008). "Edge cities" might be located 30 miles from downtown (Garreau 2011). The previous pattern of commuting from suburban residence to downtown workplace has given way to patterns of "cross commuting" (Anas 1998) from suburb to suburb or reverse commuting from city to suburb. Scholars have examined accessibility to highways as a crucial driver of contemporary urban form (Yang and Lo 2003). The observed pattern of new roadway construction forging into undeveloped lands and leading to "fishbone" growth has been documented worldwide, showing the importance of transportation in opening the way to ribbon sprawl (Riddell 2004). Scholars still employ the von Thunen bid-rent model to explain spatial outcomes of economic development in both urban and rural regions. Keys et al. (2007) employed a Von Thunen model to explore growth patterns for the Phoenix metropolitan area and found that employment and industry remained relatively centralized near the central business district even as sprawling and leapfrog development spread to converted crop and desert lands at the area's

perimeter. Walker and Solecki (2004) used the von Thunen model combined with analysis of changing political economic regimes periods to develop an explanation that incorporates dynamism and political economy as explanatory factors for landscape production along with bid- rent. They argue that land-use and land cover change in southeast Florida that has resulted in extensive urbanization and loss of natural habitat can be explained by changing bid-rent interactions taking place over time through changing political economic regimes. Initially rural and urban economies were coupled; however, over time, the city-hinterland dynamic decoupled, with separation of economies in urban and rural sectors occurring as urbanization increased and as agricultural economies became disassociated from local and regional demand. After this decoupling, urban growth occurred independently of agricultural economies, propelled by influences of a global economy, international finance, massive tourism, and domestic and Latin American immigration. The meaning of centrality and proximity as it applies to contemporary urban space is still being redefined (Sassen 2001). Scholars of resource and rural economics have recently begun searching for new ways of viewing and valuing the rural "hinterlands" in the context of recognition of the dynamics taking place between categories of “urban and rural” as well as “human and nature” (see Wu et al. 2008). These approaches depart from a von Thunen perspective of the hinterlands by focusing upon natural capital and how it is valued economically. Segerson (2008) notes that classical economic efficiency theory considers the environment primarily through calculation of environmental damages considered as production externalities. She argues that the depth and scope of environmental change is too fundamental, and human well being too intimately tied to natural capital, to treat environmental change through the lens of negative externalities. Alternative approaches for economic valuation of natural capital (to date studied most often in relation to “rural” lands) draw out a wider set of demand-side values than just use or exchange values. These include anthropocentric use values that include commodity production but also welfare values for recreation, climate regulation, clean water production, and other “ecosystem services” values (Segerson 2008). Non-utility anthropocentric values include existence value, bequest value, and moral, religious, and cultural values. Non-anthropocentric values include intrinsic values. As pertains to land conversion, values play an important role in landowner decisions. A landowner seeking to maximize exchange value is more likely subdivide and sell land for real estate development than a landowner who is desirous and financially able to choose

use values or intrinsic values that avoid development. A number of land use interventions exist that attempt to sway the balance to the latter category (e.g. conservation easements; wills); however, the US emphasis upon private property rights tends to make such interventions voluntary. While economic computations can, with difficulty, be used to ascribe currency values to utility functions of the ecosystems services properties of land, Segerson (2008) points to negative consequences that stem from applying a market approach to natural capital. She argues that a market approach reframes property rights with detrimental and large effects if a normative goal of sustainability is embraced because a market approach requires paying for conservation rather than requiring it. This is a departure from a “polluter pays” principle that is undergirded with a concept of society having underlying rights associated with property as opposed to total landowner control conveying with an ownership title. A spatial perspective brings to light other complications relating to ecosystem services that are relevant to investigating land-use change dynamics in the urban-rural interface where sprawl occurs. Segerson (2008, 216) refers to work by Wu and Plantinga (2003) and Wu (2006) to provide a crucial insight into the ironic relationship between valuation of open space and the development of sprawl: “Because individuals value open space and other environmental amenities, heterogeneity in the spatial location of these amenities can contribute to ‘leapfrog’ development and sprawl….” People electing to locate in areas rich in ecosystem services are thereby affecting the provision of ecosystem services and potentially causing fragmentation (Segerson 2008). Segerson notes that spatial externalities have historically been treated through zoning and land use regulations that are inadequate to address spatial externalities associated with provision of ecosystem services. It is necessary to not only make natural capital more visible in decision making processes (aided by tools such as econometric analyses and geographic information systems), but also to discover mechanisms for valuing the public goods and services natural capital provides, Segerson argues (2008). Doing so would require adoption of policies that recognize and internalize such spatial externalities (Segerson 2008). Scholars in economics, geography, and sociology have examined how globalization has acted on urban systems that are no longer "relatively self-contained." Economic changes in the neoliberal capitalist era include an international "spatial division of labor" that allows production to be divided among multiple locations worldwide, based on comparative advantage for production conditions, primarily labor (Massey 1984). Soja (2008) observes that the combined

effects of globalization, the formation of a post-Fordist economy that is flexible, information- intensive, and global, and the spread of new information and communication technologies have transformed modern metropolises in ways that render traditional definitions of urban and suburban outdated. Soja (2008, 294) argues that an "unbounding" has taken place within city- regions, mixing the once-clear border between city and suburb. Trends show expectation of continued agglomeration in selected urban regions across the world, with continued depopulation in most rural areas. Agglomeration can occur at low densities, presenting a situation of simultaneous decentralization and low-density agglomeration (Dunham-Jones 2005). Friedman (2007) argues that strictly economic models are insufficient to explain powerful processes of globalization. Friedman points to work of scholars including Manuel Castells and David Harvey. Manuel Castells (1996) emphasizes the role of communications as a driving force along with globalization, pointing to emergence of a networked society capable of engaging across space in real time. Much different than the simple market village or set of these, today's cities are complex systems linked by networks and flows. Continuing improvement in communications technology reduces the importance of physical proximity. Harvey notes the ascendancy of the global neoliberal political economy as a driving force shaping world landscapes. Harvey (1985, 145) invokes Marx’s prediction of the “annihilation of space by time” through innovations in transportation and communications that speed the flow of capital and overcome spatial barriers. "There are abundant contemporary examples of changes that liberate production from dependence upon localised labour skills, raw materials, intermediate products, energy sources and the like. By increasing the range of possible substitutions within a given production process, capitalists can increasingly free themselves from particular geographic constraints." Scanning the post-industrial urban landscape, geographer David Harvey argues powerfully that the particular form of neoliberal capitalism that is extant trumps other factors in production of landscapes. When landscapes become barriers to capital accumulation, places change. Harvey (2000, 59) writes: Capitalism...produces a geographical landscape (of space relations, of territorial organization, and of systems of places linked in a 'global' division of labor and of functions) appropriate to its own dynamic of accumulation at a particular moment in history, only to have to destroy and rebuild that geographical landscape to accommodate accumulation at a later date.

Harvey sees uneven development as a consequence of mobile capital driven by a continuing need for expansion and accumulation. Crises along the way trigger "spatial fixes" that realign conditions to allow absorption of excess capital for continued accumulation (in Peet 1998, 99). Smith (1984, 2010) expanded scholarly inquiry into the production of space under historical capitalism to show unevenness as a distinguishing geographic characteristic of capitalism at scales from local to global. His work linked a geographic and political perspective to argue that uneven development “is both the product and the geographical premise of capitalist development” (Smith 1984, 2010, 206). Smith argues that a restructuring of the political basis of society, including re-evaluation of use values and exchange values, is necessary to achieve more socially desirable outcomes. Dear and Flusty (1998) posit a "keno capitalism" game-board model of urbanization wherein pieces of land are developed in seemingly random fashion as capital touches down on the space. As described by Kaplan et.al (2009), "the relationship between development of one parcel and non-development of another is a disjointed, seemingly unrelated affair. While not truly a random process, it is evident that the traditional, center-driven agglomeration economies that have guided urban development in the past no longer apply." (Conversion of farmland is vulnerable to this keno capitalism pattern. Russell (2005, 102) finds, "The failure to reconcile the role of a privatized economy with the desire for an ordered, pleasant, and harmonious urbanism continues to diminish the quality of life in the United States. The 'creative destruction' of capitalism has everywhere left its mark on the landscape, whether in the obvious form of abandoned malls, in the dispiriting and enervating disjunctions of opportunistic development, or the more subtle failure of many communities to build parks, schools, and libraries." He argues (Russell 2005, 107) that the popularity of suburban living reflects a deeper problem of American failure to put more priority on the public sphere: "Suburbanites have resisted higher-density, multifamily housing and mixed incomes and mixed uses because these are emblems of the chaotic and disordered city. But the disorder or urban life has long been threatening suburbia precisely because Americans have been unwilling to reconsider the lack of order implicit in the purely mercantile model of city making.” He argues the emphasis upon rights of private property owners has “produced the freewheeling growth machine that now produces the same relentless and upsetting change that people left the city to escape" (Russell 2005, 101). Instead he advocates more attention to creating "ordered, pleasant, and harmonious urbanism" as an antidote (Russell 2005, 102). Juergensmeyer (1996) argues that

the American case in respect to property rights is unique from a legal perspective in its extremity of protection of land owners from "takings" that undermine a property's use or value. He (Juergensmeyer 1997, 701) holds that from a global perspective, concern with "takings" is "almost exclusively an obsession of the American legal system and society." In other countries, he notes, "there is at least a relatively well established view that property serves a social function and that it is the role of the Legislature--Parliament in most countries--to decide, when they enact a regulatory measure, whether and how much compensation is to be paid to those who lose economic value through the application of the regulatory measure." Drawing attention to the imbalance of power in the position of landowners and the generalized public interest, he notes (Juergensmeyer 1997, 705) that, "Many landowners feel devastated by any government action that lowers their profits, but never bother to write thank you notes, of course, for those government actions that increase their profits or values." The effects of globalization combined with the trend of suburbanization have "hollowed out" the populations of some cities, leaving a whittled tax base and economic and social malaise (Soja 2010). To counter the trend, cities employed strategies including enticing sports arenas and entertainment and retail districts (Conzen 1990). Some recent scholarship points to instances of "re-urbanization" in some metropolitan areas, reversing a half century trend of outward suburbanization. Fishman (2008, 296) notes that a "surprising resurgence" of some central cities has occurred in the 21st century, including in Brooklyn, Oakland, and south central Los Angeles. He raises the question about how to effect urban resurgence while also making it socially equitable. Logan and Molotch (1987, 2) offer a "growth machine" hypothesis. They argue that the "extreme commodification of place touches the lives of all and influences virtually every cultural, economic, and political institution that operates on the urban scene." They draw attention to the social context in which markets operate and to different values for place held by residents and entrepreneurs/developers. Residents emphasize the use value of a place, while developers and investors are concerned with its exchange value in the marketplace, they argue. Because in the US, government does "relatively little to interfere with the commercial manipulation of land and buildings," (Logan and Molotch 1987, 2), individuals and groups generally negotiate the conflicts in values at the local level government level and become involved in trying to influence government. Logan and Molotch accept a neo-Marxian political

economy that views capital accumulation as a driving force in landscape production. They also direct attention to human actors and roles they play in the process. "People dreaming, planning and organizing themselves to make money from property are the agents through which accumulation does its work at the level of the urban place. Social groups that push against these manipulations embody human strivings for affection, community, and sheer physical survival" (Logan and Molotch 1987, 13). The emerging school of Urban Political Ecology (UPE) examines power relations and political processes that manipulate and transform nature to create contemporary urban landscapes. UPE work builds on the work of Smith (1984) in drawing attention to growing unevenness in development and elevating questions about political power, class, and equity. In so doing, UPE scholarship frames important questions such as, “What ‘environment’ is being saved? For whom? To what end?” (Krueger and Gibbs 2007, 4). Heynen et al. (2006, 1-2) describe contemporary cities as "dense networks of interwoven socio-political processes that are simultaneously local and global, human and physical, cultural and organic." Heynen et al. argue (2006, 10), "because of the underlying economic, political, and cultural processes inherent in the production of urban landscapes, urban change tends to be spatially differentiated, and highly uneven." Heynen et al. note (2006, 10) the particularity of outcomes: "there is no such thing as an unsustainable city in general, but rather there are a series of urban and environmental processes that negatively affect some social groups while benefitting others...." Uneven social and ecological change is expressed in explicitly spatial patterns and distributions that are also entrained with struggles concerning class, gender, and ethnicity. Heynen et al. (2007) call for analyzes of urban form that consider how social processes, material metabolism, and spatial form together create contemporary urban landscapes. In contrast to eco-modernization lenses that focus on “win-win” outcomes for economic and environmental gains, urban political economy scholars are looking more broadly at impacts upon the third pillar of sustainability, social equity as well. Heynen et al. (2006, 8) join with other scholars (Smith 1984; Logan and Molotch 1987; Segerson 2008) in directing attention to use value of land compared with its exchange value. They observe that under capitalist social relations, "the metabolic production of use values operates in and through specific social relations of control, ownership, and appropriation, and in the context of mobilization of both...nature and labor to produce commodities (as forms of

metabolized socio-natures) with an eye towards the realization of the embodied exchange value." As previously observed, different systems of valuation for land influences the conversion of land to new uses, including from rural to urban. Scholars and planners have identified a host of strategies for intervention to impose greater consideration of the public good into a capitalist market economy. These strategies range from regulations to incentives to government budget prioritization. Yet, many scholars observe strong links between outcomes and political economy broadly (see Jepson 2004; Lake 2000, cited in Budd et al. 2008) or, more narrowly upon the political climate in a particular locality (Budd et al. 2008).

2.12 Political Economy and New Urbanism

As far as explicit consideration of the relationship between political economy and New Urbanism, in a few works with New Urbanist cases, themes of political economy and power have emerged as central (e.g. Harvey 2000 and 2005b; Veninga 2004; Till 2001; Zimmerman 2001; Ziewitz and Wiaz 2004). Veninga (2004) produced a case study that broadly theorizes the connection between New Urbanism and the contemporary political economy. In her investigation of Northwest Landing, a mixed-use development in Washington State designed by leading West Coast New Urbanist Peter Calthorpe and built by the Weyerhaeuser timber company, Veninga argues that the characteristics of New Urbanism present a favorable means of capital accumulation in the present phase of capitalist urban development. Mixed land uses that would be unacceptable for an industrial economy are attractive in a post-industrial economy that seeks to attract high-tech and back-office jobs, she claims. Veninga's work situates New Urbanism in the contemporary economic realm in which regions are courting members of economically important "creative class" (Florida 2002) to locate. Veninga observes (2004, 477): The construction of a mixed use community on an old manufacturing site represents the local shift to a post-industrial economy that has been facilitated in large measure by technological innovations that allowed for deindustrialization. Beneath the neotraditional, craftsman-style architecture, Weyerhauser has laid fiber optic cables in order to attract high-technology industries such as Intel.

Strict codes ensure an attractive set of public and private spaces reassure investors that property values will hold. Also, the strict codes create a socially and economically controlled environment that overcomes resistance to the higher densities called for in New Urbanism. The

production of a place that evokes a traditional atmosphere serves a purpose of attracting a clientele attracted to the niche market who find favor with an "urban village" setting. The "community" that exists is assisted by orchestrated events that are part of a larger marketing strategy to show Northwest Landing as "small town living" and "a simpler way of life" (Veninga 2004, 479). Veninga demonstrates that creation of the development was a result of the workings of "growth machine politics" wherein combined forces of Weyerhauser, state and local government and utilities worked to attract the microprocessor company Intel to the planned town on the shore of Puget Sound. The combined efforts also resulted in the construction of a new Interstate exit. New Urbanism was applied in modified fashion in a wave of growth that swept across the Florida panhandle at the turn of the 21st century (Ziewitz and Wiaz 2004). Here, New Urbanist developments were located in high-amenity places and marketed to well-to-do buyers in concert with far-reaching boosterism and infrastructure support from local and regional governments. The New Urbanism "brand" elevated and legitimated development. Any opposition to development ran up against barriers of anti-regulation sentiment and pure political muscle. In this study too Molotch's "growth machine" (1976) theory was employed to explain conversion of the landscape through political economic processes that provided economic benefits to members of pro-growth consortia. In similar fashion to events in Washington State, the Florida developers and government officials orchestrated spending of millions of dollars of publicly-financed infrastructure, from government office complexes to schools to an international airport, all of which increased the land value and enhanced further development (Ziewitz and Wiaz 2004). This spending represents what Daniels (1999) terms "givings," as opposed to "takings" protested by property rights activists. The "growth machine" model emphasizes the local scale, where parties who stand to gain financially exert influence over political and permitting decisions. In both Northwest Florida and Washington State, New Urbanist developments were carried out by paper companies with large land inventories at their disposal on company lands in locations that offered considerable amenities to elite members of the creative class. Like Veninga, Robbins (2008) finds potent economic reasons New Urbanism is accepted by some developers. His critiques run parallel to those of Veninga: that developers find in New Urbanism "an opportunity to establish development codes that provide for greater permissible densities than conventional planning" (Robbins 2008, 299). The strict codes provide a security

for investment by homeowners. In this light, the preponderance of property-related organizations that serve as often the only form of "community governance" make market sense for both developer and investor/homeowners. In Florida's New Urbanist developments, community development corporations are common (Ziewitz and Wiaz 2004). These corporations are funded by surcharges on housing units and focus on governance of common spaces and amenities within a development with a focus on maintaining property values. A related aspect of political economy that has received little attention is the role of the New Urbanist designer as a full participant and financial beneficiary in a growth-dependent interest group. New Urbanist designers are a part of a commercial industry founded on growth, no matter if they adopt the ennobled title of "town founder" instead of developer. Veninga (2004) and others (Russell 2005; Ziewitz and Wiaz 2004) argue that governance directed at community building suffers because of continued domination of the growth machine. On a regional scale, public infrastructure spending in areas of new growth fomented by the "growth machine" has the effect of hollowing out public spending for older, existing areas. Fishman (2005, xv) notes that in contrast to the system that exists for "the sprawl builders," the method for alternatives to sprawl demands "coordinated actions and alliances at the regional scale that our present economic and political system make almost impossible. Krieger writes, "....the goal of creating a more diverse, life-enriching, and environmentally sound urban future will ultimately depend on Americans finding ways to align short-term self-interests with long- term social value." (p. 53). Krieger (2005) points to a need for reform in legal structures to shift the costs of sprawl to the agents of sprawl. Currently, "benefits of sprawl accrue to Americans individually, while the costs tend to be borne by society as a whole" (Krieger 2005, 61). As identified by Daniels (1999), the direction of large amounts of public money for infrastructure spending to support private development is a feature of "givings" to property owners as opposed to "takings" in the form of restrictions on their lands. For both site selection and transportation decisions, fragmented, privatized views of Americans present a barrier to planning for the public good. Starnes and RuBino (2008, 349) argue, "Public planning, in most places, is still subjected to the overpowering influences of the concepts of minimal government responsibility, rampant land speculation, and minimal interference with private property rights." Russell notes, "Although local and state governments employ city planners, their powers, never impressive,

have been eviscerated over the past decade or so as the public distrust of government intervention has waxed...." Kiefer (2005) is among scholars who hold that regional development continues to be more a result of an agglomeration of development decisions forged in the marketplace than a result of plans and designs by any entity, public or otherwise. He notes (2005, 38) notes: The region is now well established as the basic spatial settlement unit, yet land use, for the most part, continues to be regulated at the local level. Sprawl can thus be viewed as a consequence of an effectively unregulated land market, aided by government tax and transportation policy. It will be reduced only if Americans choose to give government a mandate to use basic powers of regulation, taxation, and spending to intervene in the marketplace to serve important public policy goals, just as it did to build interstate highways, create a federal system of mortgage insurance favoring single-family homes, and offer a mortgage-interest deduction.

It is the incremental siting of development projects, one building permit at a time by which urbanization occurs, in a more or less sustainable fashion (Carr and Zwick 2007), and therefore, site approvals are at the core of anthropocentric landscape production. "The unit of simplistic real estate development is the increment by which the suburbs grow, but it is also what prevents the attainment of traditional urbanity or civility. America need not attempt to recreate a nostalgic urban vision or to follow modern European models. The nation may well develop a new path, even a unique path, if we are willing to try," writes Russell (2005, 107). Falconer Al- Hindi and Till (2001, 196) encourage academic investigations that encompass questions about power and representation in New Urbanism as being important for developing "theories and plans that create more equitable social and spatial relations in cities at various scales." In a pivotal article, Campbell (1996) identifies the pursuit of sustainable urban development as a quest to navigate conflicts among property, the private interest, and the public good. Campbell identifies conflicts that simultaneously occur between economic growth and social justice ("the property conflict"), social justice and environmental protection ("the development conflict"), and environmental protection and economic development ("the resource conflict). In this tug-of-war, each side is mutually dependent, needing the other for its long-term survival. Focusing on "the property conflict," while the private sector resists interference in private property ownership, it also desires and requires government support and interventions-- for instance, for zoning, provision of housing for the working class, or supply of infrastructure.

According to Campbell, the tension between the two is "the boundary between private interest and the public good" (1996, 298) It is in the negotiation of these conflicts to find solutions that are "green, profitable, and fair" (1996, 298). Campbell finds the work of narrowing the gap between theory and practice in sustainable development to reside here. "Getting to the center ...will not be so easy. It is one thing to locate sustainability in the abstract but quite another to reorganize society to get there," he writes. Applying Campbell’s model, land becomes the battleground wherein the competing goals for economic development, environmental conservation, and social justice must be negotiated in the quest for attainment of the three prongs of sustainability. Having earlier found in the literature ample justification for operationalize the measure of a community's sustainability through its location within a region, it appears there is a need to focus on the moments and processes by which developments are sited, approved, and carried out on land. It is this crucial set of processes that pins developments to the ground, resulting in greater or lesser "locational sustainability." Adopting an approach used by political ecologists to focus on land managers, questions arise about how land management decisions can be directed toward greater sustainability in the contemporary US setting "Analytically, the fulcrum of any nature-society study must be the 'land manager' whose relationship to nature must be considered in a 'historical, political, and economic context' (writes Watts, quoting Blaikie and Brookfield 1987, 239). Viewing developers as "land managers" in the sense of classical political ecology, and the development process in a broader political, historical, economic context leads to attention to the siting and development process as a geographically fateful moment deserving of more attention in the literature. Such a perspective also calls for a search for new ways to more effectively incorporate social and environmental considerations in land development decisions. Heynan et. al (2006, 10), call upon UPE research to "tease out who gains and who loses land (and in what ways), who benefits and who suffers from particular processes entailed in socio- environmental change." Veninga (2004, 458) argues for a research agenda about New Urbanism that moves beyond post-structural critiques of nostalgic and symbolic landscapes to "critically analyze the processes that prevent or facilitate the attainment of New Urbanism's normative ideals." In particular (2004, 478), she calls for research that assesses "the degree to which such developments satisfy New Urbanist social goals, such as environmental sustainability, increased social interaction, and democracy."

In summary, rational plans for land use are tempered by political, economic, and cultural influences. Operationalizing sustainability through location within a region is a way to focus upon site selection as a pivotal issue and to probe for "small openings" (Latour 2004) for making site selections more sustainable from a broad, social equity perspective. For both site selection and related infrastructure decisions, market capitalism, growth machine politics, and fragmented, privatized views dominating the current political economic climate present formidable barriers to implementing interventions for the public good. The following section will review scholarship addressing this potent challenge.

2.13 Collaborative Processes and Urban Sustainability

This section will complete the literature review with a look at scholarship on ideas about improving urban sustainability through process. Many scholars (e.g. Smith 1984; Harvey 2000; Veninga 2004; Campbell 1996; Talen 2008; Jepson 2004; Heynen at al. 2006) suggest that rather than focusing an urban sustainability debate over templates for built forms, as is the emphasis in New Urbanism, the debate might more productively aimed at issues of process. I will present key arguments for a process-based focus then move to ideas in the planning literature for implementing collaborative processes as well as challenges for doing so at the regional scale. Castells (2008, 321) argues, "Architecture and design may bridge technology and culture by creating shared symbolic meaning and reconstructing public space in the new metropolitan context. But they will only be able to do so with the help of innovative urban policy supported by democratic urban politics." Robbins (2008, 300) asserts that New Urbanism has become increasingly irrelevant to address current challenges of urban sustainability because of its reliance upon form. "It is the reliance upon codes, formal structures, and on an effectively essentialist instrumentalism that may be at the heart of the problems that have plagued New Urbanism in the past, and which will limit its utility as it attempts to face the challenges of the future." Keil (2007, 62) urges that New Urbanism is a mainstream proposition for environmental improvement that "will need to be politicized at the seemingly opposed ends of social justice and ecological change." Fishman sees the need for political and social change as more important than design (in Saunders, 2005, xv). Fishman (in Saunders 2005, xiv) writes, "...any true alternative to sprawl would not be a 'style'--whether Modernist or anti-Modernist--but a profound transformation in

the whole system that created the sprawl environment." The objective is "not some predetermined 'right' form or density but a process that overcomes the social and physical fragmentation of the sprawl itself." A similar argument is made by Soja about Los Angeles, where densification has occurred, yet pools of entrenched poverty remain. In the face of discouraging failures of formal regulatory growth management practices to the present in the US, Fishman lauds attempts to focus on "prospects for political and social change" instead of innovations in design. While he sees promise for adoption of New Urbanist principles for urban cores and first-ring suburbs, based on propulsion of market forces in favorable directions, he sees little hope for the market alone to slow the forces of exurban development. Fishman argues for interventions "that are either modest in scale or directed more toward land-use policy than new exurban typologies." He endorses such interventions as knitting together clusters in suburban landscapes or splitting suburban arterials to create small, walkable districts (in Haas 2008, 298). As for reforms in exurban development, Fishman calls for "policy interventions to support local governments aiming to preserve their rural character, and hence to preserve a green edge for the region; equally crucial are interventions against affluent suburbs whose propensity to 'zone out' diversity through large-lot zoning and other requirements that limit communities to the affluent...." (in Haas 2008, 298). Campbell (1996, 304) calls for following "procedural paths" to sustainability that include conflict negotiation, overcoming linguistic barriers between economic and ecological perspectives, and political debate, as well as voting. Such paths consist of incremental and iterative "contested negotiations over land use, transportation, housing, and economic development policies...". Campbell finds, "the most successful solutions seem to undertake several different resolution strategies at once. For example, negotiation among developers, city planners, and land-use preservationists may produce an innovative, clustered design for a housing development, plus a per-unit fee for preserving open space" (1996, 308). Site selection would appear to be a good direction for scholarly focus on "procedural paths" toward sustainability as suggested by Campbell. Talen (2006) argues that proactive methods of engagement with communities could yield more diverse New Urbanist communities. Talen (2005, 78) calls for New Urbanists to work in tandem with community development and affordable housing advocates, including neighborhood groups and civic institutions, to achieve "a better merger between good design and good policy."

Such work includes a need to address unfounded fears among wealthier would-be residents that inclusion of affordable housing is inevitably linked to lower property values and poor quality of public services, including schools. Similarly, barriers facing less wealthy would-be residents must be addressed, including ensuring that the New Urbanist community includes public transportation and affordable daycare. Alexander (2005) provides a limited set of built examples that offer an alternative to conventional market approaches for developing communities. In order to achieve the status of a "healthy and wholesome" place that supports its residents, Alexander proposes a development system that emphasizes process, incorporates recognition of complexity, and relies upon new forms of finance and investment. The more a development is designed by its future residents and in which "co-decision making" occurs through a complex but structured process, the better the outcome. Alexander's "generative code" process replaces a general contractor with a project manager, who is paid by fee and who answers to the community and works with sub-contractors. Having reduced the profit motive to investors, financing must come from alternative sources including: developers who agree to a fixed rate of return; governments who lend to non-profit community entities such as land trusts; nonprofit developers who operate on a fee basis; or private loans from investors of "patient capital." Use of a carefully worked out process that invites participation from people from many vantages at various stage of the development process, Alexander (2008, 14) claims to be able to construct a "socio-spatial fabric" that binds land and people: "The fabric must be generated by the processes we use, and in the processes we support, which try to build houses and public space and neighborhoods--it is this fabric which must be generated." In the limited number of instances in which this process has been applied, Alexander claims, "newly built neighborhoods created in this better and more generative way fundamentally alter how people living and working there feel about the place and about themselves." Suggested by Alexander, it is possible that the more collaborative the decision making regarding the site, the more likely the development is to be sustainable in all three planks of sustainability. Approximately 20 developments in the US and other countries have been constructed using Alexander's process (Alexander 2008). A New Urbanist instance that incorporates some of the principles advocated by Alexander is Southern Village, a New Urbanist development in Chapel Hill, and North Carolina's first New Urbanist development (Chapel Hill Historical Preservation Society 2006).

Southern Village placed the community at the helm of development. The greenfield community was created as part of the overall long-range plan that began in 1989. Chapel Hill already had in place long-range planning that protected historic districts and watersheds and imposed an urban services boundary with buffer areas to the north and south. In 1992, the city adopted a long-range plan for the town's southern quadrant, consisting of around 3,000 acres that were mostly undeveloped. A 300-acre site close to the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill and downtown was identified as ideal for creation of a mixed-use village. Other areas within the southern quadrant that contained scenic vistas, slopes, and hardwood forests were protected from development by transferring development rights and rezoning. The "Southern Small Area Plan" isolated the location for future development but did not specify details for how it would be developed. A developer subsequently purchased the site and introduced a New Urbanist master plan for the town that was approved in 1993 (Chapel Hill Historical Preservation Society 2006). Jepson, following Campbell, offers planners and policy makers guidance on fostering an incremental process of adoption of an ecological viewpoint. Planners who apply an ecologically informed perspective can work to slowly deconstruct barriers, he suggests. The methods include a commitment to long-term education and collaboration with a community's individuals and institutions rather than any "top-down, one-size-fits-all attempt to integrate sustainable development into public policies..." (Jepson 2004, 9). Instead, incremental and long-term education are needed to overcome the "risk-averse" response that often meets with "so-called expert reasoning" (Jepson 2004, 9). Jepson suggests starting with to gauge the degree to which an expansionist as opposed to ecological view is held in a community using tools such as opinion surveys. The dominant perspective can inform the likely success of implementation of a particular policy, Jepson notes; for example, greenway development would be more positively received by those holding an expansionist perspective than creation of a wildlife corridor. Such an approach is sensitive to the political culture for a particular region, in keeping with the argument by Budd et al. (2008), that public policy should be crafted with regard to the context and characteristics of particular projects. Budd et al. call for adaptive governance that sets a priority on community-level processes for resolving trade-offs in values affecting sustainability, also concluding that sustainability policies should be tailored to fit the culture of the particular locale.

Planning theorists argue for collaborative decision making when confronting complex problems in order to generate a range of viewpoints that incorporate a range of ideas to better conceive, assess, and choose among an array of options for the future (Zellner 2012). Involving citizens and "stakeholders" in planning is a canon of good planning and is connected with democratic governance (Seltzer and Mahmoudi 2012). Arnstein (1969) defined genuine citizen participation as requiring redistribution of power, somewhat crudely defined as between "have nots" and "power holders." She constructed a "ladder of citizens participation" with degrees of participation ranging from non-participation to tokenism to partnership to citizen control. In partnerships, citizens are engaged to negotiate with traditional power holders. Arnstein recognized that "power holders" and "have-nots" would not in reality consist of homogenous blocks of people. Potapchuk (1991) recognized that non-formal actors hold power to either support or block decisions and may use media, politics, courts, or other means to thwart a decision and its implementation. Ross, Buchy, and Proctor (2002) observed that participatory processes for natural resources management are affected by participant characteristics including number of members in representative groups, their origin and history, and their tenure rights. Fung (2006) observed that institutions shape participation by choosing who participates, how decisions are articulated and arrived at, and how discussions are linked with actions and outcomes. Healey (1997) argues that collaborative policy making can have transformative effects on place governance. She proposes a process that recognizes the difference between an idealized place-based gemeinschaft community where residents share daily encounters as well as values and the more realistic diverse and complex contemporary settings in which residents have territory as the perhaps the chief defining commonality. People no longer share social relations merely because they share space. Healey writes (1997, 77): The challenge of managing co-existence in shared spaces…requires the interlinking of the economic, social, and environmental dimensions of contemporary life, from the point of view of people in households, firms and agencies, and associations of various kinds. It means bringing together on a territorial basis relations which have been separated off in many cases into institutionally distinct functional sectors—for example, economic development, housing, transport, education and health—in order to identify precisely where the points of strategic common interest lie, and to build on the institutional capacity to address them.

Collaborative processes for spatial and environmental planning consist of identifying matters of collective concern, defining problems, drawing upon knowledge resources, articulating solutions, and, finally, developing ideas for how to put solutions into practice (Healey 1997). As opposed to participation along a more tightly prescribed institutional process, collaboration connotes dynamic negotiations toward a common decision or goal (Brand and Gaffikin 2007 in Seltzer and Mahmoudi 2012). Innes et al. (2007) find that collaboration works through a network that relies on both formal and informal relations within a community. Seltzer and Mahmoudi (2013) identify "communicative planning," which uses collaborative processes to involve a broad range of stakeholders, as an area of active concern and promise for planning theory. Harper and Stein (2006, 238) argue that achieving more sustainable urban growth requires a shift from the traditional rational comprehensive model (RCM), which prescriptively and narrowly defines the role of public involvement, to a "dialogical" method that rests on inclusive participation by community members. Dialogical planning is founded on Rawls's (1971) principles for justice, which provide for "fair terms of social cooperation between free and equal persons" (Harper and Stein 2006, 96). Following Rawls's normative liberal ethical theory, Harper and Stein argue that planners should intervene to correct oppressive inequalities. Therefore, planners are called upon to exhibit leadership in devising collaborative planning processes, they argue. Dialogical processes are characterized by face-to-face meetings, shared decision making, inclusion of diversity of stakeholders, multiple meetings, and negotiations toward overlapping consensus. The role for planners is to guide organically derived processes of reasoning among citizens operating on equal footing in a fair decision making process (Harper and Stein 2006). In contemporary pluralistic communities, the challenges are great. They argue (2006, 95), "The more pluralistic the society, the more diverse the differing conceptions of the good life and the more important the procedural aspects of its social institutions." The "dialogical planning" they advocated by Harper and Stein (2006) uses communicative planning with added characteristics of explicit attention to inclusiveness and advocacy for liberal normative values. In contrast to the rational comprehensive planning model (RCPM) that has dominated official government planning, the aim of dialogical planning is actively seek inclusive representation of citizens in order to strive for overlapping consensus to place-based challenges. Harper and Stein (2006) argue, "providing a sustainable environmental

basis for planning requires no paradigm shift and no jettisoning of traditional morality." Rather, they urge changes in procedure and process. Social scientists have begun to apply theories about complex adaptive systems (CAS) to the study of cities (Sanders 2008; Innes and Booher 2001), lending support to the importance of addressing "bottom up" processes similar to those long ago identified by Jane Jacobs (1961) as instrumental in creation of diverse and thriving cities. As argued by Zellner et al (2012, 77), decision makers should acknowledge complexity as “integral to planning for human- environmental systems that include residents, developers, farmers, and the land's biophysical features all interacting both directly and through feedback loops, "creating dynamic and spatial interdependence." Geographic techniques can be deployed to assist stakeholder groups in process-based, collaborative planning for sustainable urban and regional development, including creating geographic visualizations that project effects of planning decisions on the shared landscape of the region (Zellner et al. 2012). Innes and Booher (2001) call for adaptive management that allows room for distributed, versus top-down intelligence to guide planning. An adaptive approach fosters a “collective intelligence that can sustain itself indefinitely,” they argue (Innes and Booher 2001, 253). Innes and Booher (2001) take a position that process-based adaptive management approaches are essential for movement toward sustainability in the complex system that characterizes contemporary life. “The implication is that sustainability is about process, not about a particular vision, pattern, set of rules or criterion,” they argue (Innes and Booher 2001, 253, emphasis in original). In contrast to calling for discrete collective visioning processes, they advocate three primary strategies for improving the sustainability of metropolitan areas, to take place on an ongoing basis: 1) development and use of indicators and performance measures, 2) use of collaborative consensus building among stakeholders with knowledge of the metropolitan system, and 3) creation of new forms of leadership (Innes and Booher, 2001, 254). The approach of Innes and Booher presents a less prescriptive and teleological bent to pursuit of sustainability than much extant sustainability research and discourse, calling into question whether reduction in consumption and rejection of fossil fuels are “the only approach to sustainability” (Innes and Booher 2001, 253). They argue (Innes and Booher 2001, 253),

“Mechanical and dichotomous notions, like making trade-offs between the economy and the environment…are not likely to be part of a sustainable path.” Their alternative suggestion is (Innes and Booher 2001, 253-254): Instead of trying to define a vision of sustainability –how to get from here to this ideal world – we need to find ways to make the complex system we have into one that will allow the players themselves to turn the metropolitan system into a collective intelligence that can sustain itself indefinitely. Riddell (2004) endorses a similar path, calling for policy leaders and planners to work on establishing frameworks for participation by which creative synthesis can take place to provide direction and political will to pursue sustainability solutions. In contrast to the much-vaunted planning charettes that are employed by New Urbanists, processes put forth by planning theorists draw a wider circle for the actors brought to the table. Given the scholarly evidence of shortcomings of other growth management and sustainability programs, it appears that collaborative approaches embracing adaptive management and complex systems should be further investigated. Additional research exploring connections between applications of collaborative processes and sustainable “on the ground” outcomes would assist this line of inquiry. Some scholars (e.g. Hagler 2009; Innes et. al 2010; Judith Innes, Sarah Di Vittorio and David Booher (2010); Ross et al. 2011) are drawing attention to the urgent need for new governance structures to coordinate planning for the rapidly growing urbanized areas that are emerging as "megaregions." Hagler (2009) describes megaregions as sets of metropolitan areas that have continued to expand and whose boundaries have blurred. Interlocking economic systems, shared natural resources and ecosystems, and common transportation systems create an impetus to coordinate policy on this expanded megaregional scale. A clear need exists for coordinated spatial planning adopted by multiple actors within localities, states, and across state borders, to enable multi-scalar perspectives working within more flexible governance structures than are typical at present in the US. Ross et al. (2011) note, "The question then becomes how the concept of megaregions can be effectively promulgated, particularly in the fragmented political and planning systems in the U.S." At the regional scale, a "governance gap" noted by McKinney and Johnson (2009) impedes such an effort. The gap is evidenced by the earlier-mentioned challenge of there being a

dearth of institutions charged with trans-boundary issues or matched to the scale of issues being addressed. However, some regional collaborative planning efforts with a sustainability component have been the focus of recent scholarship. Manzi et al. (2010) see a need for scholarship concerning new spaces of governance that blur spaces of governance among city, region, and hinterland in relation to sustainability issues. Innes et al. (2011) examined varied regional governance systems in a variety of countries and found instances of successful multi- jurisdictional planning and coordination. Ross et al. (2011) observe that, "Geographers and planners in Europe have employed spatial planning to define and integrate economic, social, cultural, and ecological policies" Herrshel (2013) observes that new processes of governance are emerging in North America that serve to address the disparate and sometimes conflicting agendas of sustainability and economic competitiveness. Furthermore, these processes are emerging at the regional scale at which governance typically presents such a challenge. In places including Vancouver, British Columbia, and Seattle, negotiated collaborative approaches are producing spatially coordinated and politically cooperative efforts, including efforts aimed at reducing sprawl and traffic congestion. These efforts serve to render these places more economically competitive by virtue of promoting positive perceptions about the region's quality of life. Herrshel sees "smartness" as a new, broader interpretation of Smart Growth , which draws in a wide array of public and private actors into "negotiated co-ordination and collaboration" (2013, 1222). Herrshel introduces a conceptual framework for evaluating the success of "smart city regionalism." This framework assesses the extent to which collaboration is evident in two factors, which depend upon breadth in two factors to approach a "smart city regionalism" standard. The first factor is spatial coordination across territories, which becomes broad and holistic in outlook, versus exhibiting spatially uncoordinated actions across territories city-region. Coordination across jurisdictions is achieved by "rescaling governance and policy-making arrangements. Mechanisms include "superimposing a new (higher) spatial scale of governance" broadly, or and shifting government functions to a broader scale to introduce a "broader, more strategic" policy perspective (Herrshel 2013, 2334). The second factor is political cooperation, wherein local interests accept broader rationales and perspectives, versus where local interests undermine regional structure. Different policy sectors are gathered in "an operational framework for linking

the spatial and policy-sectoral perspectives to the more strategic-conceptual 'bigger picture'. (Herrshel 2013, 2334). Whether “smart city regionalism” can produce more socially just environments to expand an apparently eco-modernist agenda focused on “livability” to a serious embrace of social equity is an open question. Krueger and Gibbs (2007) investigated Smart Growth initiatives in the “new economy” locations of Austin and Boston, probing whether sustainability could be congruent to neoliberal capitalist forms. They found that in both cases, allowed public-private efforts experienced some degree of success and cohesion that produced incentive-based and voluntary programs. Firms took sustainable development seriously in relation to quality of life and environmental assets. These are important concerns for economic competitiveness in order to attract and retain elite and footloose workers who may be repelled by locations experiencing ill effects of growth such as congestion, high housing costs, and sprawl. The political climate allowed for taking up issues such as water depletion and transportation. In Austin, an incentive- based Smart Growth program including a TOD ordinance was instituted before consensus broke apart in the economic downturn. In Boston, ambitious plans faltered from lack of mayoral support and business involvement. In both cases, issues of social and environmental justice were not advanced. Weighing the cases, the authors observe the potential for actors engaged in these processes to push toward policies that “do not necessarily follow the straight edge of the neoliberal project.” They write (Krueger and Gibbs 2007, 118), “Contingency solutions potentially exist when actors struggle to define just what the problem is that institutions might ameliorate.” Healey (1997) observes that even when collaborative planning efforts do not end in consensus, they may still produce unforeseen positive results into the future as well as create a stock of possibilities for application at other places and times. Echoing previously presented scholarship calling for continued scholarly focus on the social plank of sustainability, Krueger and Gibbs (2007, 6) urge inclusion of concepts of “nature, scale, economic change, institutions, and governance” in sustainability analyses:

Without these conceptual linkages, we risk writing the story of sustainability in a way that merely fulfills the requirements of capitalist accumulation and thus rendering it something less than it is—a progressive project that ameliorates the negative externalities of economic activity for everyone, not just those characters who write the story.

This review of literature on participatory/collaborative planning suggests that it is worthwhile to investigate whether a richer, more collaboration process taking place in the siting and development of built communities can yield greater locational sustainability at both local and regional scales. If so, such a process would promote the "urban citizenship" called for by Wolch (2007), in which the residents of a place are globally aware and locally engaged. Further, such a process engaging the geographic imagination surrounding possibilities for co-creation of urbanized areas might summon momentum and political power from both formal and informal agents that may temper negative effects of market forces. Returning to the perspective of political ecology, a richer "ecology" of decision making surrounding site selection and development might serve to shift perceptions of what is "situationally rational" from the vantage of the land manager.

2.14 Chapter Summary

In summary, this chapter has surveyed the literature and found there is a call for geographic investigations to illuminate opportunities for improving urban sustainability, as expressed by Krueger and Gibbs' (2008) complaint, "The geography of Smart Growth often gets omitted." The literature shows a need to bring to light pivotal moments in urbanization processes that provide traction for pursuit of development that is "green, profitable, and fair," as Daniels (1999) suggests. The foregoing literature review supports the proposition that settlement location choices are a key nub bringing together literatures of political economy and sustainability. There is a gap in research that addresses these concerns in tandem. The sustainability literature revealed great challenges in translating sustainability ideals into specific practices--"actually existing sustainabilities" (Kreuger and Ageyman 2004; Campbell 1996). Setting aside the discursive pitfalls of sustainability in the abstract, researchers have identified a need for more research that employs empirical and spatial measures to provide an empirical means for evaluating whether "actually existing sustainabilities" are present. An emphasis in the literature upon the regional scale shows a gap in work that specifically focuses upon location of a built community within the regional spatial context to address concerns about environmental consequences of sprawl alongside social concerns about housing affordability that have emerged as a crucial concern. The review of literature on sprawl found the urban-rural fringe to be the location in which sprawl is manifested, even as development in this location is

linked to dynamics in urban cores and throughout a region. Development in the urban-rural fringe is problematic because it infringes on farmland, fragments wildlife habitat, and leads to increased greenhouse gas emissions from long commutes. The sprawl literature affirms that location within a region is a viable measure of sustainability and invites exploration of whether New Urbanist projects diminish or add to sprawl in this location. Support was found in the literature for development and application of indicators. Specifically in regard to research on the efficacy of New Urbanism, prior scholarship casts doubt upon whether this built form is able to negotiate the property conflict more successfully in the interest of sustainability than do other developments. New Urbanist scholars call for more empirical and systematic research to investigate institutional barriers that result in poor implementation of New Urbanist projects in terms of satisfying broad sustainability objectives. The second major research gap addressed here concerns investigation of interventions that can foster choices of more sustainable locations against the full weight of the contemporary neoliberal political economic regime. As Krueger and Ageyman (2005, 416) observe: "The power of the political economic explanation is that it can transport sustainability from normative concept to actions existing in a social context that are beholden to 'logics' of prevailing economic systems, ideologies, and discourses." A political economic vantage on the current state of sprawl illuminates the influence of a globalizing economy, federal policies that promote sprawl by subsidizing mortgages and highways, strong local pro-growth alliances among business and political elites, and weak cultural and political acceptance of regulating land developments. In addition, land ownership, presence or absence of "patient capital" are important factors. The form of American settlements has been more strongly affected by political economy and the American cultural predisposition to individual property rights than by growth management interventions on the public behalf to date. Yet, as noted by Aldo Leopold, not all decisions in regard to land use are economic. The review of literature revealed a need to examine more precisely the points of engagement for bending land use and property decisions toward a more sustainable public good, especially in the exurbs/rural urban fringe. Research that can clarify areas of conflict and points of engagement can help to more precisely target areas for future work by practitioners and theorists in the light of ineffectual outcomes of growth management to date. New forms of

collaborative policy making are seen as one possible opening in the seemingly conflictual agendas of sustainability and the drive for economic competitiveness (Herrschel 2013). Wolch (2007, p. 380) argues for geographers to assist in promoting "urban ecological citizenship" that is locally engaged and globally aware. Collaborative planning was seen as having potential for fusing agendas for sustainability with economic competitiveness based on shared concern for quality of life and sense of place. This intersection provides a pragmatic avenue for pursuit of introducing "ecological thinking" as espoused by Jepson and a broader sense of home as called for by Jamison. The planning literature provides a framework for analyzing collaboration, therefore opening the way to investigate whether heightened collaborative process serve to negotiate the property conflict more successfully in the interest of sustainability than do developments undertaken without this degree of public engagement in process.

CHAPTER 3

THE CASE: STUDY AREAS AND FLORIDA'S GROWTH MANAGEMENT HISTORY

3.1 The Study Areas

This chapter situates the research geographically and in the context of growth policy regimes occurring around the time frame of the development of the projects. It begins by reviewing statewide population trends affecting both areas, then provides brief development histories of the two metropolitan areas. Next it examines sustainability challenges pertinent to the study area, provides an overview of Florida's history of growth management, and reviews evolving regional growth policy initiatives playing out in the respective study areas. Finally, overviews of the six developments that serve as case studies and descriptions of their development histories are provided. Three case study sites for this research are located in the Tampa Bay region, within the state's second largest metropolitan statistical area (MSA) after Miami, and three are in the Greater Orlando region, within the third largest MSA in Florida (US Census Bureau 1990, 2000, 2010) (See Figures 3-1 and 3-2). Florida's population grew exponentially in the 20th century during the Sunbelt growth period, from 2.8 million residents in 1950 to almost 16 million in 2000, with decadal growth ranging from 20 to 80 percent (Smith 2005). During this period, the central and southwest central Florida regions in which the study sites are situated became areas of major population growth (US Census Bureau; Smith 2005). By year 2000, 39 percent of the state's population lived in the 17 central and southwest counties stretching from Ocala at the north to Tampa-St. Petersburg area in the southwest to Ft. Pierce on the east coast (Smith 2005). Population figures for both metropolitan regions are shown in Table 3-1. As growth in the two metropolitan areas continues, the areas are becoming increasingly interconnected through shared economic, transportation, and natural resource systems. The Orlando and Tampa regions are being seen as developing into a "super region" (Ross 2011) with interlocking economic, transportation, and natural resource systems. At a coarser scale, much of peninsular Florida is seen as an emerging globally competitive mega-region anchored by Miami as the dominant economy (Hagler 2009; Ross 2011).

Florida's growth has been propelled by both domestic and international immigration with natural increase playing a smaller role (Smith 2005). In 2000, fewer than one-third of residents in the 17-county central region were born in Florida, reflecting the strong impact of migration (Smith 2005). Immigrants have long included retirees and retiring Baby Boomers continue to move to Florida (Smith and House 2006); in addition, younger newcomers are migrating to take jobs in the study areas as economies and culture diversifies (Smith 2010; Florida Trend 2015). In the years at the start of the 21st century, Florida's population continued to grow rapidly. Between 2003 and 2006, more than 400,000 people per year took up residence in the state (University of Florida Bureau of Economic and Business Research 2010). The real estate crash that began in 2008 hit Florida's housing markets hard, leaving the state with the highest mortgage delinquency rate in the nation through 2013 (Orlben 2013) and causing a temporary dip in the state's population from 2008 to 2009 (University of Florida Bureau of Economic and Business Research 2010). However, by 2010, the state's population was growing again. In the study areas, the percentage growth from 2000 to 2010--which included the recessionary period-- topped the national growth rate, with a rate of 2.5 percent annually for the Orlando-Kissimmee- Sanford MSA and 1.6 percent for the Tampa-St. Petersburg-Clearwater MSA (US Census Bureau 2010). Land use change in Florida is strongly tied to residential real estate development, which has transformed vast areas of the state from natural and agricultural areas into housing subdivisions of varying densities (Derr 1998; Zwick and Carr 2006). Florida's modern population has historically resided mostly in urbanized and suburban areas (Mormino 2005). Urbanization in the state proceeded from coastal to interior lands as wetlands were drained and Florida's transportation system developed (Derr 1998; Mormino 2005); other areas the urbanized at early stages were accessible by boat, including interior sites along rivers that were accessible by steamboat. The state has experienced periods of building booms dating from the 1920s to housing bubble years ushering in the 21st century (Mormino 2005; Smith 2010). In the decades from 1950 to 2000, Florida was the fastest growing state in the nation (Smith 2005). During this period, population shifted from predominant location within municipalities in 1950 to suburban locations outside municipal boundaries (Mormino 2005). In current years, population growth has continued to be among the strongest of states, and population growth is regarded as the state's main engine of economic growth (Farr and Brock 2006).

In the central and southwest Florida area, residential growth has included the building of many subdivisions spanning large acreages. Even as Florida's economy has diversified in the late 20th and early 21st century, to include greater economic dependence on international trade, professional and business services and health care, still tourism and real estate development have remained major economic drivers (US Bureau of Labor Statistics 2015). An estimated 106 million tourists visited the state in 2015, making it the top US destination state, with the most visits concentrated in the greater Orlando area (Visit Florida). Tourism attractions and lodgings cover many acres, linked to theme parks and convention centers in the Orlando area and to beaches and revitalizing downtowns and beaches in the Tampa Bay Region. Along with construction of new residential, commercial and industrial projects, new tourism venues continue to be developed (Florida Trend Economic Yearbook 2015). Housing development consists of building of second homes as well as primary residences for both "snowbird" seasonal residents and affluent buyers from domestic and international locations (Smith and House 2006) . A steady trend of conversion of agricultural land to urbanization has continued, with citrus, cattle ranching and cropland diminishing and giving way to development of suburban and exurban developments (Mulkey 2006). The industry faces challenges from global competition, pests, and high production costs, and increasing competition for water with urban users (Douglas 2012; myregion.org).Yet, agriculture remains the state's second leading industry after tourism, with citrus, tomatoes, sugarcane, sweet corn and green beans as leading crops (Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services 2015). Agricultural land use was historically important in the study areas, and remains so even as urbanization proceeds; urbanization poses one of the biggest threats to farming in the region in the future (myregion.org). Statewide, approximately 10 percent of land is in conservation and parks, with the inclusion of federal conservation and military lands, amounting to almost 10 million acres (Farr and Brock 2006). Prior to the stalemate of state land acquisitions noted in Chapter Two, millions of acres of agricultural lands, forests, and natural areas were purchased with public funds and enrolled in conservation, including lands associated with several properties that are case studies in this research. Aside from state and private conservation efforts, county land buying programs have been established by 27 counties, including for several counties in central Orlando (Farr and Brock 2006; Ross et al. 2006).

In the Greater Orlando area, Wekiva Springs State Park and Wekiva River Buffer Conservation areas in Seminole and Orange counties, and Hall Scott Regional Preserve and Park, in eastern Orange County, form the largest public lands, the latter of which was established as a purchase from developers of the Avalon Park New Urbanist development. The other large conservation area is a portion of the Seminole Ranch Wildlife Management Area, in the extreme northeast of Orange County, along the watery lands of the St. Johns River mosaic. In the Tampa Bay area, the Lower Hillsborough Wilderness Preserve and the J. B. Starkey Wilderness Park are the largest public conservation lands; the Starkey Wilderness Park was established out of a Pasco County ranch for which remaining lands were developed for real estate, including the Longleaf New Urbanist community. Prior to the economic recession and collapse in the real estate market in 2008, the "Florida 2060" population distribution study (Zwick and Carr 2006) predicted that, if growth patterns remained consistent with current trends, "explosive" urbanization in both the Orlando and Tampa regions would occur in excess of available vacant lands to absorb new houses, commercial, and other built projects in the foreseeable future. Coastal areas and the corridors for I-75 and I-4 were projected to be almost completely built out by the year 2060, propelling growth inland and to presently rural lands within the region, especially those adjacent to growing metropolitan areas (Zwick and Carr 2006). Evidencing this pattern, the rate of recent population growth in several outlying counties in both the Tampa and Orlando MSAs in the Orlando MSA has outpaced growth of the counties within the MSAs, as shown in Table 3-1. The region's current transportation network includes Tampa's deepwater port and international airports in Tampa and Orlando. Interstates I-75 and I-4 connect Tampa to the Miami and Orlando areas. A high-speed train was proposed for construction connecting Tampa to Orlando after approval by voters in a constitutional amendment in 2000. Federal economic stimulus funds of $2.4 billion were earmarked for the project, but it was halted by incoming Governor Rick Scott in 2011 as one of his first official acts in office (Williams 2011).

3.1.1 The Greater Orlando Region

The Orlando-Kissimmee-Sanford MSA had a population of 2.13 million in 2010 (US Census 2010) across four counties (See Table 3-1), ranking as the nation's 26th largest MSA. In the MSA, 60 percent of residents lived in unincorporated areas and 40 percent within cities. Orlando remains the dominant city by far in the four-county area, with its population of 238,300, with Kissimmee and Sanford trailing by far with populations under 60,000. Demographics for the greater Orlando area show growing international migration, including the nation's fastest growing population of Puerto Ricans, as well as growing populations of residents originating from the Caribbean (US Census Bureau). In 2000, 19 % of Orlando's population spoke Spanish (US Census Bureau), reflecting the Greater Orlando region's attraction to Caribbean basin and Latin American immigrants. Significant natural resources exist within the MSA. The area is characterized by an extraordinary number of lakes and rivers. Natural habitat includes as cypress swamps and other wetlands, with pine and palmetto uplands and prairies. A limestone substrate gives rise to springs and sinkholes typical of karst topography. Among the "must save" ecosystems that have been identified within the Greater Orlando area are the spring-laden Wekiva River basin and the Greater Kissimmee Prairie (myregion.org 2009). The area is situated east of the Lake Wales Ridge, an ancient shoreline that forms an geological spine comprising peninsular Florida's highest elevation and is home to endemic wildlife species including the Florida scrub jay and a number of rare plants. Two rivers traverse the area to the east of region between the Orlando area and the Indian River Lagoon, beyond which is Cape Canaveral on a long barrier island fronting the Atlantic Coast. The north-flowing St. Johns River that has its mouth in Jacksonville flows to the east of the area and is navigable from Sanford north, while its southernmost reaches traverse a series of lakes and marshes to its origins in marshes west of Vero Beach, picking up tributaries along the way including the Econlockhatchee River, an Outstanding Florida Waterway that was part of original land purchase for the Avalon Park development. The combined area is known as the St. Johns-Econlockhatchee Mosaic (St. Johns River Water Management District 2013). Lake Okeechobee is 100 miles to the south and is connected to the region by the Kissimmee River, which originates in a large lake at the town of Kissimmee and flows southward to join Lake Okeechobee across historically wet prairies.

Central Florida's pre-Columbian settlement included presence of a number of early peoples (Milanich 1994) who became extinct before the area was re-inhabited in the early 1700s by the migrating Creek and African people who became known as Seminoles. Seminoles were granted a reservation in central Florida under a short-lived treaty signed in 1823, and the area saw movement and conflicts in the ensuing Seminole Wars. Among the Seminole leaders active in the area was Osceola, for whom the county in which Celebration is sited was named in 1887. After the close of the Seminole Wars in the late 1800s, a scattering of early settlers raised cattle and crops. The start of urbanization began in the 1880s after growers established citrus groves that were served by newly built railroads serving Orlando and Sanford and an active steamship trade for which Sanford was a hub. Orlando became the capital of the citrus belt (Mormino 2005). The city of Orlando was incorporated as a town in 1875, and as a city in 1885 (City of Orlando). During this period, northern tourists began to visit the area seasonally. Besides oranges, vegetable crops and sugarcane were widely grown, and these were products were shipped by rail to northern cities and moved by steamships. Sanford was renowned for growing celery, and cattle ranching was also widespread across the region. A hard freeze in 1894-95 devastated the local economy and caused a shake-out in the citrus industry, although some growers remained. Meanwhile, tourism continued, with resorts drawing northerners during the period between the close of the 19th century and World War I. Orlando, like other Florida cities, had its vocal local boosters extolling its virtues to potential land buyers during the Florida land boom of the 1920s (Mormino 2005). Residents occupied bungalows in newly built neighborhoods near downtown. In the 1940s, Orlando became the spring training camp for the Washington Senators (Mormino 2005) and home to an army base that eventually became the Naval Training Center (NTC). In 1950, the Orlando-Kissimmee- Sanford MSA population was 185,579, and Orlando was the state's largest inland city (Mormino 2005). Neighborhoods were established within the city limits, still holding the majority of the population. Surrounding rural lands contained orange groves, cattle farms, and truck farming. The NTC was decommissioned in 1993, after which the New Urbanist development of Baldwin Park was constructed on the site. In 1971, Walt Disney World opened approximately 21 miles southwest of downtown Orlando in neighboring Osceola County. The proximity of Interstates 4 and 75 and the Florida

Turnpike were decisive factors for Walt Disney as he scouted Florida locations to site his theme park (Foglesong 2001; Mormino 2005). In addition, the Orlando area offered the advantage of an inland location to buffer the site from hurricanes and an expansive airport that was originally part of an Air Force base. The opening of Disney World, followed by other large tourist attractions, established the region's large tourist economy. Subsequent development of the airport into present-day Orlando International Airport, and proximity to the Space Coast and Atlantic beaches (approximately 40 miles away) promoted growth that brought hundreds of new permanent residents to the area on a daily basis from the 1980s to present (Mormino 2005; my region.org). The Greater Orlando area is the world's top tourist destination. In 2013, 59 million visitors per year spent over $33 billion in the region (Clark 2013). The Orlando area's economy remains heavily dependent upon tourism to theme parks and conventions. Defense -related industries, filmmaking and other entertainment production companies, health care, and higher education also are important in regional economy (http:www.usa.com). Historically important industries of agriculture and aerospace are shifting focus, with agriculture's footprint shrinking (myregion.org 2009). A patchwork growth pattern has characterized urban growth relative to the city of Orlando, with strong growth in unincorporated outlying counties. Following a decline in downtown population during the 1970s, Orlando has made significant revitalization investments in the downtown area, including the Church Street Center entertainment district and a performing arts center. Osceola and Lake counties were the fastest growing counties in the MSA over the past decade. Recent transportation infrastructure developments include the 2014 opening of SunRail, a passenger train connected to the Orlando International airport and serving Volusia, Orange, Osceola, and Seminole counties. In 2015, SunRail was adding stops and capacity in 2015, including establishment of a multi-modal station in downtown Kissimmee (Florida Trend 2015). In addition, a beltway is being completed around the metro area.

3.1.2 The Greater Tampa Bay Region

The Tampa-St. Petersburg-Clearwater Metropolitan Statistical Area includes four counties with a combined total population of 2.78 million in 2010 (See Table 3-1) (US Census 2010). The MSA is the nation's 19th largest. Hillsborough County is located on a smaller peninsula jutting into the north part of Tampa Bay and contains the region's largest city, Tampa.

Pinellas County with its capital, St. Petersburg, occupies a large peninsula framing the northwest portion of the bay. The other MSA counties, Pasco and Hernando, lie north of Tampa Bay along the Gulf Coast. In 2010, the majority of the population in the Tampa MSA (1.69 million, or 61 percent) resided in unincorporated areas, while 1.09 million residents (39%) lived inside city limits. Principal cities and their populations in 2010 were: Tampa, 355,709; St. Petersburg, 244,769; Clearwater, 107,685, and Largo, 77,648 (US Census; University of Florida Bureau of Economic and Business Research 2010). Pinellas was one of only two counties that lost population in the 2000 to 2010 decade; the county population dipped by 0.5 %, and its county seat, the city of St Petersburg, declined by 1.4% over the same period. However, these population declines should be considered alongside the fact that Pinellas County already has the highest population density of any county in the state and is already considered to be "built out," at least in its present form (Zwick and Carr 2006). The contemporary Tampa-St. Petersburg-Clearwater MSA reflects a smaller percentage of Hispanic, non-white, or multi-race residents than the statewide average, 24% in 2000 compared to the statewide figure of 34.6% (US Census Bureau). The chief features of the region's physical geography are Tampa Bay and the Gulf Coast. Tampa Bay is Florida's largest open-water estuary, extending over 400 square miles and forming coastlines of Hillsborough and Pinellas counties within the MSA, as well as Manatee County to the south (US EPA 1999). The landing spot for Spanish explorers Panfilo de Narvaez (1528) and Hernando deSoto (1539), Tampa Bay remains one of Florida’s major ports, and it is undergoing expansion to enable expanded trade through the Panama Canal (Florida Trend 2015). The area was quiescent for a long period after eradication of the native American population from disease. Its pioneer history includes establishment of a military fort during the Seminole wars, followed by incorporation of Tampa as a town in 1855. In the 1880s, the area grew after the discovery of the fertilizer element phosphate in the nearby "Bone Valley" area and the completion of Henry Plant's South Florida Railroad in 1883. In 1885, cigar maker Vicente Martinez Ybor relocated his cigar factory from Key West to Tampa, establishing an industry that endured until the 1930s, drawing thousands of immigrant workers of Cuban, Spanish, Italian, Eastern European and German origins. The workers lived, worked, and socialized in a variety of civic clubs within the vibrant neighborhood that became known as Ybor City (Central Florida Chapter of American Planning Association 2008). More so than most other Florida communities at the time, the area

became a center for working class immigrants, supported by the cigar exports from Tampa, then the "Cigar Capital of the World" (Mormino 2005). During World War II, MacDill Field was constructed, later becoming MacDill Air Force Base. Following World War II, the area's population surged. Newcomers included war veterans. As suburbs began to be developed in the 1960s, residents including veterans and Ybor City dwellers began to occupy the suburbs, leaving the city center (Mormino 2005). The development of St. Petersburg, across the bay, followed that of Tampa. The city was incorporated in 1892 and its early industries included fishing and shipping. Starting in the 1940s, the city became known as a retirement destination for the Midwest, and its population boomed for three decades before leveling off in the 1980s. Today's city is gaining a new younger population and boasts a lively revitalized downtown. Clearwater, the Pinellas County seat, is situated due west of Tampa. It claims the most sunny days in a year of the nation and is perhaps best known as world headquarters of the Church of Scientology. As in the Greater Orlando area, growth in the Tampa Bay area since the 1980s has been strongest in suburban and exurban unincorporated areas. A sprawling region known as "New Tampa" has emerged to the north and east of Tampa. A portion of the area was annexed by Tampa in 1988; the wider area referred to as New Tampa extends into Pasco County, with Wesley Chapel its best known place name. The transportation network is marked by I-75 and I-4. A toll expressway, the Suncoast Parkway, opened in 2001, providing an additional north-south artery for commuters. In addition, the greater Tampa Bay area has multiple deep water ports and international airports (Tampa Bay Partnership 2015).

3.2 Sustainability Issues for Both Areas

Current growth and development patterns in the study areas present many challenges to sustaining healthy human and wildlife populations into the future. The most apparent sustainability issues are environmental impacts directly tied to increased urbanization. These include water shortages and water pollution problems, air pollution, and loss of wildlife habitat and farmland. In addition, social and economic issues include availability of affordable housing, a balance in proximate jobs and housing, and wages sufficient to cover housing costs. City and county governments continue to face fiscal challenges to provide necessary infrastructure for growth (myregion.org 2009).

Water quantity and quality issues affect the regions. Agriculture remains the state's biggest end user of freshwater supplies (Borisova and Carriker 2009). However, municipalities and households loom close behind and are expected to overtake agricultural use by the early decades of the 21st century. As early as the 1920s, freshwater wells in coastal Pinellas County were becoming salty as a result of over-pumping of freshwater (Meindl 2010, 423). By the 1980s, the Tampa region as a whole faced severe water shortages. Tampa water authorities developed new well fields in outlying counties, including Pasco County, prompting “water wars” over rights and use of groundwater that were eventually settled in long court battles (Meindl 2011). Water supply from freshwater wells is now augmented by use and treatment of brackish waters, by re-use programs for non-potable purposes, by conservation education programs, and by the opening of a $158 million desalination plant in 2007, the nation’s largest such plant at the time (Meindl 2010, 423). Water shortages have been less acute in the Orlando area than in Tampa, partly as a consequence of the area’s aggressive use of reclaimed water. However, water re-use has failed to keep pace with growth since 2000 (myregion.org 2009), and water availability is still a “major factor” of concern for central Florida as it grows (myregion.org 2009). The drawdown of underlying aquifers has continued, as is evidenced in the opening of sinkholes after periods of heavy water use (such as after large agricultural uses for freeze protection of valuable crops such as strawberries and citrus) and low rainfall (Wiatrowski 2013). Sinkhole collapses occur when limestone formations previously filled with groundwater are depleted of water and the air-filled rock overburden gives way; notorious incidents have occurred in both the Greater Orlando and Tampa Bay regions. Water quality in both areas is threatened by non-point source pollution from stormwater runoff, over-application of fertilizers and pesticides by residents and farmers, and mercury pollution that enters water bodies from airborne emissions emanating from fossil-fuel burning power plants to serve growing power demands in the areas (myregion.org). Impacts to local ecosystems include eutrophication of water bodies and uptake of mercury in fish, sometimes fish consumed by low-income residents. Lake Apopka, six miles from downtown Orlando, is the infamous site of massive bird die-offs, amphibian mutations, and other after effects stemming from contamination of phosphorous, nitrogen, and pesticides originating from farmland, citrus processing, and sewage runoff held in the large water body. In a seven-county area including the

Greater Orlando MSA, more than a quarter of waters were impaired in 2008 (myregion.org 2009). Population growth and urbanization are associated with increased air pollution that harms human health. In the Orlando region, air pollution from urban smog is at the brink of non- compliance with federal standards; in 2007, 20 percent of the population altered plans for outdoor activity based on poor air quality (myregion.org 2009). Urbanization in the wide central Florida area has increased competition between humans and wildlife for both land and water resources. As noted in Chapter Two, development diminishes the overall area available for natural habitat and fragments remaining habitat into sets of smaller, isolated areas (Cerulean 2060). Encroachment on black bear habitat has led to increased human-black bear interactions in the state and the area, with lethal effects on animals. Intensification of land use also diminishes the production of “ecosystem services” that benefit both human and wildlife species for functions such as water storage and filtration, soil creation, and photosynthesis (Dailey 1997). Adequate groundwater recharge is a concern for both study areas (myregion.org 2009; Tampa Bay Partnership Regional Research and Education Foundation 2010). Conversion of natural habitat to urbanized land affects quality of life by using lands that might have been available for recreation and conservation to provide room for homes and other urban uses. Urban land development commonly occurs on agricultural land, subtracting these acres from possibility of providing food for the future (Foley et al. 2005). Economic pressures are a large factor in conversion of farmland in Florida. Central Florida remains the top international producer of citrus; however, the citrus industry has declined markedly because of global competition and citrus diseases. In a seven-county area of central Florida, acreage in citrus declined by 25 percent from 2002 to 2008 (my region.org). Many grove owners have sold their land or are subdividing their orchards for their own real estate ventures. In the Tampa Bay area, thousands of acres of farmland have been urbanized in recent decades (Tampa Bay Partnership Regional Research and Education Foundation 2010). Social sustainability challenges in the central Florida region include an enduring need for affordable housing and for higher wages. Currently, in the greater Orlando area, income lags behind the national averages, and one-third of residents spend more than 30 percent of their income on housing (myregion.org). Between 2000 and 2007, more than 10,000 "working poor" families were living below poverty (myregion.org). Distance between jobs and housing is also a

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serious issue in the both areas. In the Greater Orlando area, annual gallons of gas consumed in 2007 was 699 gallons, above the state average of 678 gallons and the national average of 583 (myregion.org). The jobs-housing balance in the Greater Tampa Bay area is also poor. Forbes magazine ranked Tampa Bay as one of the nation's worst cities for commuters (Tampa Bay Partnership Regional Research and Education Foundation 2010). As a percentage of household income, costs to residents in the Tampa Bay area for housing and transportation combined are among the highest in the nation (Tampa Bay Partnership Regional Research and Education Foundation 2010). Growth and urbanization present fiscal sustainability challenges to local governments. Governments are called upon to provide or facilitate services including provision of water, sewer, and electric power, as well as to build roads schools, and hospitals, and other public services. As mentioned in Chapter 2, sprawling growth patterns drive up costs for providing services (Katz 2013), and how costs for this infrastructure are divided between public and private sector can be contentious or unjust (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). Sprawl remains a problem. In the seven-county area of which the Greater Orlando MSA is the core, the number of urban acres per household increased by approximately one-third of an acre from 2002 to 2007 as the percentage of land in agriculture declined by 9 percent (myregion.org 2009).

3.3 Three Waves of Policy for Growth Regulation and Their Expression in Florida

Starting in the 1970s, various actors in the state of Florida attempted to deal with the impacts of growth using three main instruments: first, through state programs to purchase environmentally sensitive lands and lands crucial to the state's water supply; second, through regulatory programs that attempt to plan for and manage growth; and third, through varied voluntary, incentive-based, and economic-development focused planning strategies. These programs and policies have generated much debate over the years, highlighting the enduring clash between private property rights and the public interest (Krueger and Gibbs 2008; Rubino and Starnes 2008). The implementation of programs has ebbed and flowed with shifting political winds, yet the characteristics of Florida's policy toward growth and development can aptly be viewed as transiting through the three waves of policy interventions identified by Krueger and Gibbs (2008), who offer a useful summary linking recent interventions to manage urban growth in the US to a changing political economic context that will help guide consideration of this

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topic. Krueger and Gibbs (2008) identify three "waves" of policy interventions geared at growth management.

3.3.1 First Wave: Growth Control

The first was a "growth control" approach dating to the 1970s, in which a few states including Florida, Hawaii and Vermont first began to attempt centrally regulate development, requiring official growth plans and special approvals for large-scale developments. At this time, there was a general surge of support for environmental regulations, reflected in passage of cornerstone federal legislation including the Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act, and the Endangered Species Act. Regulation was prompted by environmental disasters such as the burning of the Cuyahoga in Ohio and the Santa Barbara oil spill. Kelly (2004) identifies regulatory tools of the growth control era used across the nation. These included urban growth boundaries (UGBs), moratoria on building permits, and quotas on building-related permits. US municipalities that adopted UGBs include Portland, Oregon; the Twin Cities, Minnesota; Virginia Beach, Virginia; Lexington, Kentucky; and Miami-Dade county. More than 20 cities in the San Francisco Bay Area have UGBs (see Greenbelt Alliance, a Bay Area organization that has been involved in establishing these boundaries). Kelly (2004) finds that command and control types of regulations, such as quotas or moratoria, to be ineffectual in the long run. In some cases, scholars have documented that exurban growth restricted in one jurisdiction (e.g. Kelly 2004, in the case of Boulder, Colorado) only to be pushed to another area. Therefore, UGBs have been noted to have the perverse effect of promoting extreme leapfrog growth. Unique factors associated with success of compact growth Portland, Oregon include a relatively strong agricultural economy that supports financial viability of farming and high land values in lands surrounding the city. Even so, sprawling growth has leapt across the state line to Vancouver, Washington (Song and Knapp 2004). In Florida, explosive post-World War II growth and water shortages following a severe drought in 1970-1971 built support for the introduction of growth controls that included statewide management plans for land and water (RuBino and Starnes 2008). Blatant environmental degradation including destruction of mangroves, dredging and filling to create canals and fingers islands for real estate development, and discharge of raw sewage that collided with tourists in Miami's Biscayne Bay created conditions so egregious that a groundswell of

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support from the voting public and elected officials converged to put new environmental, planning, and construction permitting regulations in place (Nicholas and Steiner 2000; Rubino and Starnes 2008). It could be argued that both use value and exchange values of land became joined to a common purpose. The mood of the public was to "search for land development regulatory approaches that supplemented local planning resources and also provided a route to appeal approval of what were deemed ill-advised developments to some tribunal that had a greater than local perspective" (Nicholas and Steiner 2000, 652). In effect, the regulations served to counteract local "growth machine" politics by introducing standard review and regulation at the state and regional scale (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). One policy tool that jumped governance scales to impose environmental protections was a program that allowed the state planning agency to designate "Areas of Critical State Concern" (ACSC) for places deemed to be facing urgent resource management problems (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). The state planning agency could designate the areas, with approval from the Governor and Cabinet, and impose "principles for guiding development" that were to remain in effect until the local jurisdictions produced satisfactory management plans to overcome the problems (Nicholas and Steiner 2000, 653). Among the areas with ACSCs was Tampa, where droughts of in 1970-71 exposed the severity of water quantity problems. However, this program was not politically accepted, and no new ACSCs were designated after 1979 (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). Another impetus for action at the state scale was federal incentives. State and regional level planning was encouraged by federal requirements for establishment of formal planning bodies as a criteria to position local and state governments for matching funds for health care, coastal zone management, housing, outdoor recreation, and transportation (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). The federal Aid Highway Act of1962 mandated transportation planning for municipalities with populations over 50,000, laying the groundwork for preparation of five-year plans (Rubino and Starnes 2008). Some regulatory bodies and processes established during this period have endured to 2015, while others have been eliminated, reorganized, or changed in scope. A state planning agency was established in 1972 (DeGrove 2005). During this same period, Florida established several regional regulatory bodies: regional Water Management Districts were established along boundaries of drainage basins and given regulatory powers; metropolitan planning organizations

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(MPOs) were charged with transportation planning, and Regional Planning Councils (RPCs) were established (RuBino and Starnes 2008). MPOs were linked with multiple counties within the same metropolitan statistical area (MSA), sometimes, but not always, sharing offices and working closely with RPCs (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). Although the RPCs were given advisory roles only, the RPCs were charged with reviewing the largest of developments that fell under new requirements for "Developments of Regional Impact" (DRI) also put into place in 1972. Another law passed in 1969, the Interlocal Cooperation Act, enabled neighboring jurisdictions to engage in planning with each other and with private to enter cooperative agreements jointly with private entities (Rubino and Starnes 2008). DRIs were, through 2015, an enduring feature of Florida's growth regulation process, applying to large developments affecting multiple jurisdictions. Developments categorized as DRIs require an in-depth study to be conducted to identify the project’s regional impacts across a range of concerns, from water supply to the project’s contribution to supplying affordable housing. From its inception in 1972 to later decades, the DRI process has remained in effect, although recent state laws have introduced multiple exceptions for types of developments for which a DRI review is required (1000 Friends of Florida 2015). Implementation of the "Development of Regional Impacts" program was intended to allow for careful evaluation of costs and benefits of a development proposal (DeGrove 1992). Development plans were often modified and in rare cases rejected on the basis of this public process (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). The reviews are time-intensive and expensive and are often resisted by developers. As will be seen in the case studies, whether or not a DRI is conducted can become a bargaining chip in the regulatory process. Rubino and Starnes (2008, 190) note that during the 1960s and 1970s, despite the introduction of new planning laws, transportation plans were the "driving force" for development, with political influences strongly shaping the outcomes of required 5-year transportation plans. Numerous cases can be found of instances where road projects became targeted as priorities suddenly in relation to emergence of politically favored projects (e.g. Ziewitz and Wiaz 2004).

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3.3.2 Second Wave: Growth Management

The second phase identified by Krueger and Gibbs (2008) replaced the first era of "command and control" with "growth management" policies during the Reagan era of deregulation. This phase emphasized cost-benefit analyses and adequate public finance programs, which dictate that a pro-active plan to pay for infrastructure is in effect before permits are granted. Such policies created a system with potential for linked governance at local, regional, and state scales; they also opened a way for contested negotiations over growth permits at varying scales. In Florida, the growth management phase was solidified with the enactment of the seminal 1985 Growth Management Act, contained in Chapter 163, Florida Statutes and codified in Rule 9J-5, Florida Administrative Code. This law has guided local government planning in the state over the past 25 years, while being modified over time. Stated objectives of the law were to foster growth to enhance economic performance while enhancing environmental quality, arguably the very basis of "Smart Growth "(Nicholas and Steiner 2000). The Growth Management Act required that every local government in Florida adopt a comprehensive plan to guide growth and development. The plans were required to include a future land use plan and elements for housing, transportation, solid waste, recreation, conservation, recreation and open space, and capital improvements, and intergovernmental coordination; review and approval was required at the state level (Starnes and RuBino 2008). Florida policy called for compact development. In addition, the Florida policy used an adequate public finance program that called for "concurrency" as the cornerstone to ensure that new infrastructure would be in place to support development. The objective of concurrency called for adequate public facilities to be in place prior to development for roads, schools, sewer, parks, and other public services. While Florida's process was lauded nationwide as a manifestation of the planner's idea for a rational comprehensive model (RCM) of planning, implementation of the growth management statutes foundered on systematic flaws tied to concurrency and funding for concurrency. Nicholas and Steiner (2000) observe failure to meet the most expensive concurrency element, transportation, as a consequence of failing to link comprehensive planning with budgeting, and with lack of public funds to support improved transportation in already urbanized areas. They write (2000, 645), "The state's concurrency system should have tied local comprehensive planning with budgeting

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but it has failed to do so because many local governments do not have adequate funding for projects to support new development and the State failed to provide funding sufficient to meet the needs. Lack of funding has led to modifications of concurrency and efforts to shift improvement costs to the private sector." A committee charged in 1985 with estimating costs to fund capital infrastructure improvements came up with a figure of $52.9 billion, $16 billion of which was for transportation (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). An array of financing tools put forth included an increase in gas taxation, increased state revenue sharing with municipalities, approval of county taxation over unincorporated areas. The largest expected revenue source would stem from imposition of sales tax for services. In 1987, the Legislature passed the services sales tax, which was repealed "in the face of massive resistance" (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). Florida voters in 1992 amended the state constitution to restrict taxation of property, and in 1996 voted to require a two-thirds majority approval for instatement of a new form of tax (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). Consequently, it fell to local governments and developers to develop strategies to fund concurrency. A "pay and go" approach was adopted to allow developers to be assessed a "fair share" of road building costs. Amendments to concurrency requirements included exceptions for urban redevelopment; however, the incentives have done "nothing to change the economic realities of the development or redevelopment on an urban site instead of a greenfield site" (Nicholas and Steiner 2000, 668). Local governments consequently tended to enhance transportation where they could maximize roadway miles enhanced for the investment or where the developer provided the funding, as opposed to where infrastructure would promote compact growth. Further, a focus on measuring roadway capacity discouraged enhancement of other modes of transit (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). Following economic logic, developers chose to site projects in low-density areas along less-heavily trafficked roads rather than to pay expensive “concurrency” costs of adding to road capacity and other in more populous areas. Low-density, rural areas generally offered lower land costs as well lighter traffic counts. As a consequence, the growth management rules had the perverse effect of discouraging compact development in existing urban areas because of the high price tag for infrastructure development. Nicholas and Steiner (2000, 645) argue hold that failure to adequately fund concurrency at the state level, linked to voter sentiment, produced a

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transportation concurrency system "effective in producing capacity at the urban fringe with the resultant sprawl." In theory, the existence of comprehensive plans with "Future Land Use Maps" (FLUMs) projecting future land uses and associated building densities provided for orderly development and adequate conservation of sensitive lands; in reality, repeated amendments to comprehensive plans had the effect of continually revising the long-term plans. At the local level where requirements were applied, land owners sought and obtained land-use change amendments that collectively have been seen as severely compromising regional planning efforts " (Starnes and Rubino 2008). In spite of the regulations and the official decree calling for compact development, sprawl has continued. "Despite attempts to discourage sprawl, it continues on, and on, and on....especially into the rural countryside" (Starnes and Rubino 2008, 359). Starnes and Rubino (2008) describe the programs as reactive instead of proactive interventions. Despite its flaws, the growth management system is credited with many improvements of broad public benefit relative to what existed previously, including protection of wetlands, improvements in wastewater handling, and better building codes (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). The DRI program, in which more than 80 percent of projects were approved with conditions, laid a groundwork for processes of negotiation that improved outcomes for public benefit (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). Yet, DRIs only applied to approximately 10 % of projects receiving permits statewide (Nicholas and Steiner 2000). Along with Florida's growth policy initiatives, the state pursued an aggressive program for public acquisition of environmentally sensitive lands by the state and the regional water management districts. By 2006, the state had purchased and protected more than 6 million acres of land for natural resource protection and nature-based recreation (Farr and Brock 2006). In addition to state programs, some municipalities also have developed land-buying programs. In contrast to the political opposition to measures that would raise taxes to support costs of growth, the state's voters, legislators, and governors, up until recent years, consistently supported land- buying programs. The state began buying lands in the 1960s, initially with funds from a tax on outdoor clothing and merchandise (the "bathing suit tax"), which was replaced by funds collected from documentary tax stamps paid on real estate transactions (Farr and Brock 2006). The first major state program, "Save our Rivers," was established by the Legislature in 1981. In 1990, the Legislature passed "Preservation 2000," which sold $3 billion in bonds to add almost 2 million

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acres more conservation lands to state's inventory over 10 years (Farr and Brock 2006). In 1998, 72 percent of Florida voters approved a constitutional amendment to establish a successor program, "Florida Forever," and the Florida Legislature passed an the Florida Forever Act in 1999 to fulfill the state land buying effort. In 2014, nearly 75 percent of voters passed another constitutional amendment, the Florida Land and Water Conservation (Amendment One), to require that one-third of net revenues from documentary stamp taxes be permanent earmarked for acquiring and restoring Florida's conservation and recreation lands in a continuation of Florida Forever. Implementation of Amendment One faltered as lawmakers failed to pass bonds for land acquisition or allocate sums for major projects. Critics charged that only a fraction of funds that should have supported land acquisition were passed in the state's budget, while other funds were diverted to offset administrative costs of existing programs, amounting to what the Tampa Tribune editorialized was a "betrayal of Florida voters" (Dockery 2015). The support of voters and elected officials for conservation land acquisition is consistent with a staunch belief in property rights, reflecting attitudes that land is better conserved by acquisition than by regulation; in addition, the programs were previously widely supported in recognition that destruction of the natural environment would harm the state's economy, with its tourism economy estimated at $57 in 2006 (Farr and Brock 2006). In summary, the "second wave" of growth management in Florida created a system with potential for linked governance at local, regional, and state scales and implementation of emerging "Smart Growth " principles; however, it was thwarted by failure to link infrastructure budgets to planning, weak support from voters to fund a stronger comprehensive planning and building, and failure of incentives for compact growth to counter strong economic drivers favoring development in urban fringes and greenfields.

3.3.3 Third Wave: Smart Growth

Krueger and Gibbs (2008) link the third and current "Smart Growth " phase of growth policy to the continued ascent of neoliberal doctrine favoring market-based approaches to governance. Smart Growth uses market-based incentives and disincentives. It has the characteristic of public-private coordination and accepts growth as positive if properly managed. The Urban Land Institute's Director of Environmental Land Use Policy considers Smart Growth as "new and distinctive" because it "seeks to identify a common ground where developers,

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environmentalists, public officials, citizens and financiers all can find ways to accommodate growth that is acceptable to each entity” (Fleissig and Jacobsen 2002). DeGrove (2005, 8) argues that Smart Growth policies, “carefully conceived and wisely implemented, are not only good for natural systems, but also point the way to a strong economy, a high quality of life for all citizens, and a sustainable future for the nation as a whole.” Kreuger and Gibbs (2008) find that this market-based approach for Smart Growth is a logical response in an era of fiscal crises for local government and disdain for command and control policies. According to Kreuger and Gibbs, "The new consensus on Smart Growth may produce a convivial alliance for some interests, but may ultimately be unable to produce more sustainable outcomes without more direct government intervention." Saunders (2005, vii) finds that even though Smart Growth and New Urbanism are accepted as "default position of most architects and urban planners, if not most urban officials," sprawl remains the overwhelming form of new American development.

3.3.4 Third Wave in Florida

In the 21st century "Smart Growth " era, Florida has sharply reduced the level of state oversight and initiative for planning and development. Shortly before the Recession, a wave of studies focused on Smart Growth in Florida (e.g. Zwick and Carr 2006; Ross et al 2006; Mulkey et al. 2006) provided a basis for discussion and evaluation of the state's growth policies and suggestions for reforms. The call for Smart Growth that emerged during the growth management phase became more pronounced after the release of the "Florida 2060" study (Zwick and Carr 2006) in 2006. This study, which modeled urbanization to the year 2060 given trends in place up to 2005, projected a conversion of 7 million acres of land from open and undeveloped uses to urbanized uses to accommodate a total state population of 36 million by year 2060. Given continued sprawling growth patterns, urbanization was projected to convert over half of remaining undeveloped lands--consisting of native habitat, pine plantations, agriculture, and low-density urban development--into urbanized areas over the period. The study's model showed the state's urban land use would double from 16 percent to 34 percent of the state's land mass, while agricultural use would shrink from 51 percent to 33 percent (Zwick and Carr 2006). A follow-up modeling effort by planners (University of Central Florida 2007) created an alternative scenario

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that accommodated the same population growth with millions fewer acres being urbanized based on hypothetical adoption of policies including acquisition of conservation easements for natural and agricultural lands, construction of a high-speed rail system with connections to local rail transit in large cities, and increased densities for urban development. A companion study to the Florida 2060 report provided a policy framework for "quality growth" in Florida, calling for a shift from growth management to "growth leadership" (Ross et al. 2006). The report's authors (Ross et al. 2006, 2) called for coordinated policies to benefit the state's future development: How, where, and when rural lands are converted to urban use will determine the future of Florida’s communities and natural resources. Current state policy focuses on discouraging urban sprawl, but allows urban development to replace agriculture and open space without ensuring that the public benefits from these new developments. A growth leadership perspective requires new policy mandating that the conversion of rural land to urban density only be allowed in return for significant public benefit, especially the preservation of natural lands and open space. The use of large scale community master plans, and regional visions, will be important to implementing this policy. Four specific "Critical Growth Leadership Recommendations" were provided: 1) Expand the state's land buying program (Florida Forever) to include not only natural lands and open recreation, but also agriculture, creating permanent edges to existing urban areas; 2) Institute a new policy to allow conversion of rural lands to urban uses only in return for "significant public benefit;" 3) Create a legacy plan to demarcate lands for permanent protection and others suitable for development; and 4) Identify leaders and galvanize supporters. Another set of policy recommendations were assembled by Mulkey et al (2006), advocating for a wide range of "resource-based" approaches to policy solutions and reflecting an the ecological worldview espoused by Campbell (1996). Carr and Zwick (2006), authors of the Florida 2060 report, called for an examination of adjustment of processes and policies to address weaknesses in implementing effective resource-based management, given that a majority of land use decisions rest in the hands of locally elected officials and occur in an incremental manner. Their comments echoed initial concerns at play in the institution of Florida growth policies

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dating to the "First Wave" command and control era, raising the persistent question about the efficacy of growth policies to date to overcome "growth machine" politics. They pointed to several promising tools that would be conducive within the market economy, including: regionalism, use of transfer of development rights; form-based codes; and public land acquisition. The authors (Zwick and Carr 2006, 35) dismiss the efficacy of Smart Growth incentives to retain agricultural land, noting that "[m]arket forces are so strong that safeguarding agricultural land through tax incentives has proven unsuccessful. It appears that mutually agreed upon taxation to generate funds to protect agricultural land will be essential." The state lacks a farmland protection law. Brevard County, southeast of the Greater Orlando MSA, supported a collaborative project to advance Smart Growth in practice starting in 1998. Following Smart Growth principles provided by the Urban Land Institute, the produced a plan, "Getting to Smart Growth in Brevard County" (2002) that was approved by the County commission. County ordinances to support affordable housing and mixed land uses were approved with support from a broad-based coalition. The success of this effort was instrumental in the 2006 formation of a similar effort for a seven-county region in central Florida, including the Greater Orlando MSA and extending to Brevard County (Nelson 2008). A participant in the Brevard County process noted that, "Creating good policies to achieve sustainable outcomes will be much less challenging than keeping those same policies intact long enough to make any measurable difference" (Carlson 2008, 114). Few of the recommendations in the spate of reports from 2006 and 2007 have been implemented, as the state of Florida has markedly retreated from a leadership role in growth policy since the mid-1990s. A turning point in growth policy came in 1995, when the state legislature passed a private property rights law that made provision for land owners to seek redress, including monetary compensation, for local and state land use restrictions that imposed an "inordinate burden" on real property, preventing existing uses or vested rights to uses (Powell et. al 1995). The law covered instances that would not rise to a "taking" under federal legislation. An analysis more than a decade later (Echeverria 2008) found that the law had had a minor fiscal effect on state and local governments; by 2008, 202 claims had been filed, with most cases being settled without payments. A few cases heard in court dealt with changes for height limits, density, and regulations protecting critical habitat. The law's chief result was a "chilling effect"

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on state and local governments, which stepped back from enacting new measures (Echeverria 2008). Examining effects of laws in both Florida and Oregon, Echeverria (2008, 4) argues, "The property rights measures have seriously impaired communities' capacity to enact new land use laws and limited the opportunities for members of the public to advocate for and defend their communities." Offering an alternative legal perspective, Juergensmeyer (1996, 704) suggested the law "inordinately burdens the public interest from a pro-environmental protection and land use planning perspective." He argues that while the regulatory land use mechanisms that were in effect were not without fault, they were effective at enabling land use planning and environmental protection without undue restrictions of uses of land. If anything, he argued (1996, 704-705), governments were already refraining from "the degree of planning and environmental protection that is needed because they fear having their regulations struck down by the courts." Following elections in 2010 that included election of a governor who ran on strong limited government platform, the state dismantled its state-level growth management agency and delegated much of comprehensive planning to local governments (Pittman 2011). After elimination of the Department of Community Affairs in the spring of 2011, Remaining comprehensive planning efforts are coordinated by the Department of Economic Opportunity, which absorbed the former Department of Community Affairs. The current regulatory environment favors local and market-based solutions to urban planning problems, while retaining revised versions of the foundational Growth Management Act. Legislation in 2015 was proposed to eliminate DRIs (1000 Friends of Florida 2015). Florida has lagged in implementing the four policies called for by Ross et. al ( 2006 ) deemed as essential to proactively planning for "future growth that is both sustainable and environmentally-friendly." The first recommended initiative, expansion of permanently protected conservation and working agricultural lands, has not been realized. Only modest additions to the state's land inventory have occurred since the heydey of Preservation 2000, when an average of $300,0000 million per year were spent on land acquisition through 2000 (Farr and Brock 2006). Weak initial implementation of the 2014 Land and Water Conservation amendment (Amendment One), which was intended to ensure that one-third of documentary stamp revenues continuously funded ongoing land acquisition and management, signaled weak Legislative support for additional land purchases. Meanwhile, in 2015 the state was exploring and implementing

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"multiple use" revenue-generating operations including timbering and grazing within some state park lands, raising questions about the security of existing lands for conservation and recreation into the future (Portman 2015). Additional proactive land use planning initiatives identified by Ross et al. (2006) have not been achieved. Creation of a statewide policy mandating that the conversion of rural land to urban density only be allowed in return for significant public benefit has not materialized, neither has creation of a statewide "legacy plan" to call for disposition of land uses at a "build-out" condition; such an effort is clearly antithetical to a property rights orientation. The final recommendation by Ross et al (2006), for active leadership by champions working toward sustainable development, is more difficult to evaluate. Governor Rick Scott has emphasized economic development and reduced the state work force in an attempt to ease the path for development of private sector businesses for a state that is being branded “the perfect climate for business” (Olorunnipa 2013). Legislation in 2015 was proposed to remove Florida's regional planning councils (1000 Friends of Florida 2015). Sustainability and growth management are not part of the current pro-growth discourse, and there appears to be little evidence of a cooperative effort among the governor, state legislators, and citizens to "change the course of development through deliberate growth leadership" (Ross 2006). The call for elected leaders to " establish a new paradigm for growth in Florida—one that accommodates new growth and development in ways that improve the quality of life for current and future citizens," (Ross 2006) appears out of season. While a narrative of sustainability and Smart Growth is not currently apparent among leadership at the state scale, regional planning and broad-scale transportation planning efforts remain active, along with varied municipal efforts to revitalize city centers and introduce alternative transportation. The extent to which New Urbanism represents a market-based solution is important question in the current deregulatory growth policy regime. Government policy to date has been favorable to New Urbanism: as will be seen in development histories, approvals in some cases (e.g. Avalon Park) were tied with developer commitment to implement New Urbanist style of building.

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3.3.5 Experiments in Regional Growth Planning

Development in both study regions has been influenced by policy and regulation at local, state, and federal scales. Communities considered in this study were permitted and developed between the time frame when growth management was in its maturity through the period when growth management was losing its appeal and political support during the mid-to late 1990s and early 2000s, concurrent with rise of Smart Growth discourse. The period coincides with the ascendancy of the private property rights movement, when government interventions for growth management were held back by the "chilling effect" of the 1995 Bert. J. Harris Private Property Rights Act (Echeverria 2008) . At the same time, during the period when several of the New Urbanist communities in this study were in planning or early developmental stages, the state tested the waters with a new program that combined sustainability and deregulation goals. The small-scale experimental program shifted significant growth regulatory powers to local governments who were chosen to participate. Five selected communities took part in "The Florida Sustainable Communities Demonstration Project," launched in 1996, the same year that the Celebration community began construction and after permitting of Avalon Park. Under the program, local "Sustainable Communities Teams" were charged with managing growth consistent with a set of sustainability goals, forged in a state-approved Local Designation Agreement. After this, participating jurisdictions were exempt from state review of comprehensive plan amendments. The program was intended to "help the state determine whether local communities are able to mitigate the regional impacts of development with minimum state oversight" (Smart Communities Network 1998). "If so, the project will demonstrate that not only can Florida achieve environmental sustainability, but that doing so can save money by reducing the role of government" (Smart Communities Network 1998). Both the City of Orlando and the City of Tampa with Hillsborough County were selected, having met the crucial eligibility requirement of having established urban growth boundaries in effect. The project did not advance beyond the demonstration stage and the program ended in 1998. The program supported the nascent planning for two case communities in this study, Baldwin Park in Orlando, and Hampton Lakes at Main Street in Hillsborough County. State resources, such as for technical assistance, aided in planning carried out at the local level.

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In the Tampa Bay area, the state-sponsored demonstration project was conducted by the joint Tampa-Hillsborough County planning department. Broad goals were set to promote development within the Urban Growth Boundary, develop a plan to preserve agricultural lands through incentives, develop a greenway corridor plan, promote downtown economic development, and provide affordable housing (Smart Communities Network 1998). The Hillsborough County effort support a master-planning and community visioning exercise for northwest Hillsborough County, an area that was observed to be undergoing rapid conversion from semi-rural to urbanizing lands (Manion 1999b). Consultants hired to guide the effort included the Duany Plater-Zyberk firm, to design an infrastructure plan, and another consulting team from Kansas City, to develop community design guidelines (Manion 1999a). While it was hailed enthusiastically by government leaders and citizen activists at the outset (Ripley 1999; Manion 1999a), ultimately the effort was criticized as being ineffectual in stemming sprawling growth and for lifting standard requirements for review of comprehensive planning amendmentsby some of its earlier champions (Ripley 2000a). In addition, plans drew criticism from established residents who opposed increased densities (Zimmer 2000). Regardless of the critiques, the plan resulted in creation of individual "Livable Communities" plans for neighborhoods (Hillsborough County 2011). As of 2015, these elements remained a part of the county's comprehensive plan and may be seen as contributions to promoting sense of place and unique neighborhood character. This project was influential in the siting and initial conceptual design for the smallest of this project's case study developments, the 40-acre Hampton Lakes at Main Street. The City of Orlando also participated in the Sustainable Communities Demonstration Project. Its goals included developing design plans for a greenfield adjacent to the Orlando International Airport, revitalizing a predominantly minority neighborhood, and support the reuse planning for the decommissioned Naval Training Center, which became Baldwin Park (Smart Communities Network 1998). Subsequent to this pilot project, both Central Florida and the Tampa Bay region embarked on major public-private regional planning efforts. The two regions are seen by some as state leaders in implementing regional growth management initiatives and pursuing collaborative planning (Ross 2011). The efforts reflect a voluntary and incentive-based approach linking economic competitiveness with a livability agenda that is reflective of the Smart Growth ,

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property rights approach. Aside from a preliminary set of efforts in the central Florida region in the late 1990s, the studies presented next came after the permitting and construction of the both study areas' New Urbanist communities and during periods in which the communities were being completed and inhabited. They are provided here to: first, provide insights into concerns in relation to growth elicited from participants for each community; second, to view how voluntary regional efforts function in the study regions as semiformal collaborative processes attempting to meet the regional "governance gap" (McKinney and Johnson 2009); and third, to provide context for assessing how the New Urbanist study communities fit into the desired visions produced for each region through extensive public involvement processes. In Central Florida, a major collective regional planning effort was launched on the basis of the success of the earlier efforts in the late 1990s in Brevard County (myregion.org), as well as joint transportation planning among Orange and Volusia counties during the same period (Ross 2011). The wider and sustained effort encompasses seven-counties and 86 cities was formed as "myregion.org," which later became absorbed under the umbrella of the Central Florida Partnership. Myregion.org's mission was to promote "smart, quality growth" to make the region more globally competitive (myregion.org). Its goals included developing a comprehensive regional growth vision and following up to realize the vision through pro-active decisions on land use and transportation. The project involved government, business, and civic leaders from the counties, as well as the regional planning councils for the area. In 2003, myregion.org leaders adopted 10 "regional resolves" that included establishing a regional transportation organization, a research corridor, a strategy to protect environmental assets, and regional economic development. A major visioning effort was conducted in 2006 and 2007, involving a reported 20,000 citizens and 500 leaders (myregion.org 2009). The project established a website that became instrumental in a visioning effort that involved more than 7,000 participants to choose a preferred development scenario using public participation GIS (myregion.org 2009). Respondents rejected following the existing pattern of growth and supported preservation of land with special environmental attributes, maintaining open space and rural countrysides, concentrating development in urban centers, and connecting centers with transportation corridors (myregion.org 2009, 21). In 2008, a formal congress of regional leaders, the Central Florida Partnership, was established to advance the previously adopted resolves. In the 2009 report by myregion.org,

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successes were reported, including working through a Central Florida MPO Alliance (CFMPOA) on long-range transportation planning. In 2009, a progress report was produced titled, "Where in the world are we?" The report provided measures describing the state of the economy, education, the environment, quality of life, growth, and also provided a section on the status of collaborative regional cooperation. The report noted, "Stewardship of Central Florida's natural ecosystems, open spaces, and wildlife is an environmental, economic, and social imperative" (myregion.org 2009, 13). It noted opportunities exist to "recognize environmental stewardship as a competitive advantage," (2009, 15) supporting continued efforts to protect seven "must save" regional ecosystems and implementing other actions to conserve water and energy, reduce driving, and protect natural areas. Among the many statistics reported was urbanization per capita, which showed increasing land consumption from 2.2 urban acres per capita in 2000 to 2.8 urban acres per capita in 2006 (myregion.org 2009). The report produced in 2009 noted, "The regional vision helped build consensus around smarter, more sustainable growth, but it now rests on local governments and other partners to adopt and act on the themes of Conservation, Countryside, Centers, and Corridors" (myregion.org 2009, 27). It is beyond the scope of this chapter to evaluate the status of the visioning effort in depth. By 2015, regional collaboration efforts were being conducted by the Central Florida Partnership, under a mission "to anticipate the complexities of global markets, growth and collaboration and respond with timely and appropriate action to ensure economic prosperity and quality of life (www.centralfloridapartnership.org). In 2015, contemporary references to the implementation of the regional vision were not readily apparent, although archived information was found. A set of indicators that were established for tracking progress on in six areas were published up until 2012; however, the current metrics were not available as of 2015, indicating a potential lapse in political will to continue tracking these indicators. In the Tampa Bay area, a similar wide-ranging public-private visioning and planning effort similar to the myregion effort was also conducted starting in 2007, following the earlier- described initiatives for the City of Tampa and Hillsborough County. The "One Bay: Livable Communities" initiative involved thousands of citizens in developing a shared regional vision, using workshops, forums, surveys, and polls. Similar to the results in the Greater Orlando effort, residents favored a development pattern that presented an alternative to the current "business as usual" trend scenario by emphasizing compact design and use of mass transit. The introduction

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to the report noted that if the vision were "implemented responsibly" it could sustain the region's distinct sense of place while absorbing "any increase in jobs and population in the future" (Tampa Bay Partnership Regional Research and Education Foundation 2010). "The exercises and public participation during the ONE BAY process has demonstrated that the region can accommodate its future housing and commercial development needs and still protect the region's natural assets," the report asserted (Tampa Bay Partnership Regional Research and Education Foundation 2010, 2). Recommendations included encouraging mixed-use and compact development; promoting transit-oriented development, supporting diversity in housing options, and encouraging preservation of agricultural and open land. (Tampa Bay Partnership Regional Research and Education Foundation 2010). The plan was presented in 2010, and implementation was to flow from actions of the "Congress of Regional Leaders." Anticipated actions included the incorporation of ONE Bay principles and recommendations into key documents of the governmental organizations and establishing public sector support to achieve the goals. Leading groups included Tampa Bay Regional Planning Council, which supplies technical assistance to local governments on a voluntary basis, and the Tampa Bay Partnership, a regional economic development organization formed in 1994 representing eight counties in the great Tampa Bay area. In addition, the Tampa Bay Area Regional Transportation Authority (TBARTA) set a goal to coordinate with local governments to ensure that land use patterns support efforts to develop a regional transit network (Tampa Bay Partnership Regional Research and Education Foundation 2010). The report endorsed the building of the high-speed rail as well as making sure new communities were "transit-ready." In 2015, the status of implementation of the One Bay effort was not clear based on a cursory search. The discourse of the Tampa Bay Partnership was focused on goals of global economic competition. The Partnership seeks to position Tampa Bay to be "one of the premier markets in the nation" with a place to claim a place in the global economy (Tampa Bay Partnership 2015). Its initiatives include regional marketing, transportation enhancement, support for a new baseball stadium. Sustainability is not mentioned in its goals. While a cursory review does not provide a basis for evaluation of the two regions's successes at bridging the "governance gap" (McKinney and Johnson 2009) through ongoing

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partnerships, several scholars see efforts as positive. Ross (2011) views the regional transportation planning that has been carried out in central Florida as an important regional planning achievement. Ross describes the Central Florida MPO Alliance (CFMPOA) as a model for successful planning for regions and megaregions. Under a voluntary interlocal agreement, multiple Florida Department of Transportation districts, six MPOs, and regional planning councils have reached agreement on a consolidated list of prioritized transportation investments. Outcomes have included construction of the 61 mile-long SunRail line serving four counties, which is operated, governed, and funded through an interlocal agreement. University of Pennsylvania professor and planner Jonathan Barnett, who led several planning studio projects in central and south Florida, in 2010 credited both regions with having laid a stronger greater regional planning foundation than most US regions (Trigaux 2010). Barnett stated that introduction of a high-speed rail system linking the Orlando-Tampa super region to Miami was an "absolute essential" for regional growth (Trigaux 2010). As previously noted, the as of 2015, plans for statewide high-speed rail were not active.

3.4 The Case Studies

The cases for this research are among 40 New Urbanist developments in Florida begun before the Recession of 2008 (author count based on Steuteville 2008). The six case study developments were constructed from 1998 to 2004, during the period in the shift of Florida's growth policy regime from a growth management to Smart Growth approach. Thus, the communities are good cases for investigation of whether the New Urbanist communities, as manifestations of Smart Growth , exhibit "actually existing sustainabilities" (Krueger and Agyeman 2005). The communities can be seen as early expressions of the "Smart Growth " livability agenda. The following descriptions are based on site visits and archival research to provide overviews of each case and to describe development histories. The sites range in size from 45 to 4,900 acres, in location from infill to greenfield, and by development from major corporations to a family partnership by heirs of agricultural land. The histories reveal differences in the ease of obtaining development permits, involvement in the development of regional impacts (DRI) process, mechanisms for financing, provision of affordable housing, and extent of public controversy and scrutiny. In addition, the cases vary in terms of existence of quasi-governmental

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bodies in the form of community development districts, which in a number of cases serve as important financing vehicles as well as the form of micro-scale government. The study sites reveal an influential effect on subsequent developments stemming from construction of Celebration, which was the first of the cases to be completed, and the first New Urbanist development in either of the study areas (even though New Urbanist plans for Avalon Park predated those for Celebration). Apart from flagship New Urbanist community of Seaside, built starting in 1981 along the Gulf Coast in the Florida Panhandle, Celebration,was the first large-scale development in Florida. Developers of several communities paid visits to Celebration and studied it as a model before developing their own projects, sometimes hiring former Celebration personnel and contractors, as the development histories reveal. In the sections that follow, cases are therefore presented chronologically based on date of construction. The development histories that follow aid in setting the groundwork for evaluating key concerns of this research, to be presented in Chapter Five, including impetus for development and evaluation of the significance of public participation in support of sustainability outcomes. Analysis of the cases as a body is reserved for Chapter Five.

3.4.1 Greater Orlando Region Projects

3.4.1.1 Celebration. Celebration is the largest New Urbanist development in Florida (Steuteville 2008) and the first large development of its kind to be taken on by a major corporation (Central Florida Chapter of American Planning Association 2008). Celebration was developed by a Walt Disney Company subsidiary on a portion of the 28,000 acres purchased in the 1960s to create Disney World's theme parks (Ross 1999; Foglesong 2001). It is located to the southeast of the theme parks, separated from them by Interstate-4 in northwestern Osceola County on lands that were part of the buffer area the Disney company maintained around its amusement parks in adjacent Orange County to screen out unwanted development proximate to the theme park (Hiaasen 1998; Frantz and Collins 1999; Ross 1999) (See Figures 3-2 and 3-3). Construction on the greenfield site began in 1996 with establishment of a downtown retail district at the outset, a rarity among new master-planned communities at the time (Ross 1999; Frantz and Collins 1999). Originally part of a unique semi-autonomous governance region crafted by the Disney Corporation and approved by the Florida Legislature in 1967, the

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development was not planned with a New Urbanist/traditional neighborhood design in mind; the form of development followed a general plan to site a residential community in order to advance larger corporate goals to improve transportation and obtain environmental permits, as will be argued in Chapter Five. After Seaside, Florida's flagship New Urbanist community on the Panhandle Gulf Coast, Celebration is the state's oldest New Urbanist model. Like Seaside, it has gained much attention in the national press (e.g. Rybczynski 1996; Goodnough 2004). Celebration served as a seedbed for New Urbanist developments; a number of developers visited the project before launching their own New Urbanist projects. Celebration ranges across 4,900 acres of property in Osceola County, approximately 7 miles straight line distance from Walt Disney World, 17 miles from Orlando's City hall, and 5 miles west of Kissimmee (Google maps). It contains a downtown, an office park, a medical center, and eight "villages" containing a spectrum of residences from condominiums to bungalows to estate homes surrounded by and interwoven with greenbelts. Within the development, there are 880 acres of conservation and open space uses, which consist of wetlands as well as common recreation and open spaces (Florida Chapter for Congress of New Urbanism 2005). Surrounding the development is a greenbelt of 4,700 acres (Florida Chapter for Congress of New Urbanism 2005). It was designed to house approximately 12,000 residents, in 3,000 single-family and 2,500 multi-family homes (Florida Chapter for Congress of New Urbanism 2005). Celebration has schools, churches, and many recreational amenities, including tennis, golf, and swimming, and walking paths. In 2010, its population was 7,427 (US Census Bureau 2010). Native ecosystems include abundant wetlands and prairies (http://www.osceola.org); historic development in the area was dominated by cattle ranches with some citrus (Frantz and Collins 1999). Resident wildlife includes bald eagles and alligator and gopher tortoises. At the time of development, the greenfield area did not fall within any municipal nor urban growth boundaries and it remains an unincorporated "census designated place" (US Census Bureau 2010) within Osceola County, whose only incorporated cities are Kissimmee, the county seat, 18 miles due south of Orlando, and St. Cloud, 9 miles east of Kissimmee (http://www.osceola.org). Prior to its development as Celebration, the parcels held by Disney were used for grazing cattle and raising timber (Frantz and Collins 1999). The Disney company was taxed for this land at the state's low "greenbelt" agricultural taxation rate (Frantz and Collins 1999). Osceola County

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challenged the taxation status, arguing that the land was being held with the intention for development; however, this challenge was unsuccessful and the company remained in this tax category for more than 25 years (Frantz and Collins 1999). As part of the Disney lands, the area was governed in a unique public-private quasi- governmental district, the Reedy Creek Improvement District (RCID) (Frantz and Collins 1999; Ross 1999; Foglesong 2001). The Disney Corporation successfully lobbied state government (Ross 1999) to create this 42-square mile district covering all the Disney lands in 1966. The RCID serves as a virtual sovereign government empowered to create its own land use and development codes, carry out drainage and flood control projects, undertake road and sewer building, as well as provide its own police and fire protection (Frantz and Collins 1999; Ross 1999). Foglesong (2001) called it "The Vatican with Mouse Ears." In lobbying for the creation of the RCID, Walt Disney championed the case for unfettered private sector development of the large swath of land across multiple counties (Frantz and Collins 1999). In remarks for a promotional film made when the Disney Company was lobbying the Florida Legislature for approval of the RCID, Walt Disney stated that he sought freedom to develop the land in order to "...work in cooperation with American industry and to make decisions based on standards of performance. If we have this kind of freedom, I'm confident we can create a world showcase for American free enterprise that will bring new industry to the state of Florida from all over the Country" (quoted in Frantz and Collins, 26). By state charter issued in 1967, the RCID thus became empowered to issue tax-free municipal bonds and levy internal taxes and fees to raise capital (Frantz and Collins 1999). The Florida legislature approved the sovereign government in May 1967, and the Florida Supreme Court approved bond issuance the following year (Frantz and Collins 1999). Creation of the private government enabled the Disney company to finance the building of the Disney World infrastructure, while also assuming responsibility for regulating and inspecting construction that would otherwise have fallen to local government (Foglesong 2001). The operations of the RCID have historically been subject to votes of fewer than fewer than 50 permanent residents, all Disney employees, who reside in company homes in the Lake Buena Vista and Bay Lake communities (Frantz and Collins 1999; Ross 1999). After making the decision to develop its Osceola lands for real estate, the Disney corporation was successful in de-annexing the lands slated for real estate development from the

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RCID (Ross 1999). Had the development remained within the RCID, the new permanent residents would have become voting members of the district, jeopardizing Disney political control. Instead, land use regulation now fell to Osceola County and state and federal agencies (Frantz and Collins 1999). After de-annexation from RCID, the land became subject to Florida's growth management regulations as well as to county codes. At this point, public sector interventions were required under Florida's historic 1985 Growth Management Act (Frantz and Collins 1999). Under this state law in effect at the time of development of Celebration, a comprehensive plan was required to be written, with review and public hearings by a technical review committee, planning and zoning board, and county commissioners. Also under the state law, development of Celebration required preparation of a development of a regional impact (DRI) review, required for developments affecting multiple counties (Rubino and Starnes 2008). Among other requirements, DRIs mandated provision for affordable housing, encouraging on- site provision but also allowing for mitigation by contributing funds to provide for off-site affordable housing (Rubino and Starnes 2008). The Disney company's fulfillment of statutory growth management requirements was managed by Disney executive Tom Lewis, who was well versed in the law due to prior terms as secretary of two state agencies, the Florida Department of Transportation (FDOT) and the Florida Department of Community Affairs (DCA), which oversaw DRI review and statewide comprehensive planning (Frantz and Collins 1999). In total, 16 federal, state, and local entities were party to the review (Frantz and Collins 1999); however, Disney had secured an agreement to streamline review, whereby Osceola County retained the final say on most elements, an advantageous agreement to Disney (Frantz and Collins 1999). In 1993, the Osceola County commission approved the comprehensive plan and issued the development order for the "Celebration Development of Regional Impact" (Frantz and Collins 1999). It approved building of 8,065 dwelling units, 810 hotel rooms, 325 time shares, 3 million square feet of office space, 2 million square feet of retail, 1.7 million square feet for industrial workplace, plus a performing arts center (Ross 1999). With approval from Osceola County, Disney satisfied the requirements for affordable housing by contributing $300,000 to a county fund for housing subsidies (Frantz and Collins 1999). State officials initially sought for Disney to include houses costing less than $100,000 within the development, but Disney argued that enough affordable housing was already available

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elsewhere in the region and Osceola County officials deferred to Disney's viewpoint with the state then conceding (Frantz and Collins 1999). Frantz and Collins (1999, 75) noted that for a development project costing $2.5 billion, the $300,000 for housing subsidies was "a mere pittance." Both Disney and Osceola County would benefit from higher price points on homes, which would yield more profits and property taxes; meanwhile, county housing officials noted that Disney employees who could not afford to live in Celebration were among those lining up to request housing subsidies (Frantz and Collins 1999). Affordable housing remains in short supply for the Orlando area (myregion.org 2009). In November, 1995, the development kicked off with a high-profile lottery held by Disney to select people eligible to purchase the first set of homes, in which 5,000 people participated (Frantz and Collins 1999). Disney formed the Celebration Company (TCC) strictly to manage the development of Celebration and selected several private builders to construct the homes. TCC was now charged with administering the town and direct Disney involvement in the town diminished.

3.4.1.2 Avalon Park. Avalon Park is an 1,860-acre development in unincorporated southeast Orange County. It is located approximately 17 miles from downtown Orlando and 8 miles from University of South Florida, south of State Highway 50 (See Figure 3-5). The development adjacent to the biologically important Econlockhatchee River was highly controversial and was narrowly approved under specific conditions that it be developed using New Urbanist /traditional neighborhood development (TND) principles (East Central Florida Regional Planning Council 1993; Chiaramonte 2008). The Avalon project was the first central Florida New Urbanist development approved, in 1993, although its construction began in 1998, after Celebration. Its developer describes it as "the poor man's Celebration" (Verrier 1999). Avalon Park consists of six "villages" and was permitted for approximately 4,000 housing units consisting of single-family homes, live-work units, and apartments, as well as a downtown area with 500,000 square feet of commercial space (East Central Florida Regional Planning Council 1993). A full-size grocery store and gas station are elements at the town center. Avalon Park contains a preschool, elementary, and middle school and is adjacent to a high school. Amenities include sports fields, tennis courts, swimming pools, and walking and biking paths. As of 2015, development continues with the start of a senior housing community

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(Shanklin 2015). There is no community development district (CDD), but a homeowners association exists. The lands that became Avalon Park were a portion of approximately 10,000 acres of flatwoods and pasture that were acquired in 1989 by Flag Development Company, based in Ft. Myers, Florida (Graham 1990). The property straddled the Econlockhatchee River, a blackwater tributary to the St. Johns River in the "mosaic" area that is a designated Outstanding Florida Water (St. Johns River Water Management District 2013). Prior economic uses included timbering and cattle raising. The land was dominated by flatwoods forests and wetlands and provided habitat for wildlife species including gopher tortoise (Polyphemus gopherus) (St. Johns River Water Management District 2013). Surrounding land uses at the time of Avalon Park's development included institutional uses for a prison, landfill, and sewage treatment plant (East Central Florida Regional Planning Council 1993). In 1990, Flag Development Company began its development planning for Avalon Park (Graham 1990). Flag enlisted the New Urbanist planning firm of Duany Plater-Zyberk (DPZ) for master planning for a wide-ranging project then envisioned to encompass 9,400 acres and to provide for 25,000 homes (Frank 1990; Graham 1990). Flag's president touted the plans as central Florida's first example of a new town to be built with an emphasis on environmental protection. The development, then planned to straddle both sides of the Econlockhatchee River, would protect native vegetation and wildlife by virtue of its architecture and landscape guidelines, the president said (Graham 1990). As plans proceeded, the development footprint shrank as a result of sales of land for conservation that totaled 6,544 acres, leading to the creation of the Hal Scott Regional Preserve and Park (St. Johns River Water Management District 2013). The first conservation land sale was in 1992, when Flag sold 2,706 acres of the land bordering the east side of the river to the St. Johns Water Management District for $10,380,000. The tract included floodplains portions of the land bordering the Econlockhatchee River (St. Johns River Water Management District 2013). Rare wildlife species on the site included the federally endangered Red-cockaded Woodpecker (Picoides borealis). Developers submitted a DRI study, which was narrowly approved by Orange County commissioners in August 1993 (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993b). The DRI noted the project would have significant regional effects upon wetlands, floodplains, vegetation, water resources,

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schools, housing and employment balance, and roadway traffic (East Central Florida Regional Planning Council 1993). Approval was given to develop 5,715 acres.Unlike Celebration, the project proposed to meet needs for affordable housing on site through both rentals and moderately prices homes for sale. Financing for Avalon Park did not entail creation of a CDD. The development company was assessed impact fees for road building (DRI), and costs of roadways were divided among the developer and the public (East Central Florida Regional Planning Council 1993) through a public-private partnership, as were costs for building public schools (Chiaramonte 2008). Company funds were bolstered with the land conservation sales prior to Avalon Park's development, which totaled $24,963,096, after a second sale for an additional 3,838 aces took place in 1996 (St. Johns River Water Management District 2013). At the time of development, the area was served by two 2-lane rural roads, and the development order noted that servicing the project would require “extensive roadway improvements.” The DRI analysis projected road costs fell short of developer-paid impact fees by $114 million (East Central Florida Regional Planning Council 1993, 91). The DRI traffic analysis was customized to include expectations that because of use of the traditional neighborhood development planning style, the proportion of automobile trips outside the community would fall below the usual rates. The structure of the development company changed in 1995 when the investment group Kahli and Associates, led by former Zurich accountant and investment banker Beat Kahli, joined with the Flag in the Flag Avalon Company (Snyder 1995). Kahli, along with other German and Swiss investors, brought capital for the Flag projects in Pasco and Orange counties that had received approvals but were financially foundering in the recession of the early 1990s (Verrier 1999). In 1996, the Flag Avalon company closed on a second conservation land sale for an additional 3,838 acres to the North Florida Water management District, adding more environmentally sensitive lands on the east side of the river to the Hal Scott Preserve and Park. The sales price was $14,583,096 (St. Johns River Water Management District 2013), with funding for the purchase split equally by the WMD and Orange County (Quintana 1995; St. Johns River Water Management District 2013). In 1998, Kahli became CEO and president of Avalon Park Group and began development of Avalon Park (Verrier 1999), following the New Urbanist principles already in place. In 2015

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the Avalon Park Group remained active, with developments in both Orange and Pasco Counties, including an “Avalon West” development, also initially begun by the Flag group (Ribbens 2015).

3.4.1.3. Baldwin Park. Baldwin Park is a 1,093 acre mixed-use development built on the former grounds of a decommissioned US Naval Training center three miles northeast from downtown Orlando (See Figure 3-5). The base was decommissioned in 1993. At the time of its construction, it was one of the largest infill redevelopment projects in the nation (EPA 2006). The city of Orlando was instrumental in the redevelopment; it originated public-private partnerships for planning and helped to finance the community. After a long process of planning, demolition and site-clean-up, and working out arrangements with various builders, Baldwin Park broke ground in 2001 and was completed before 2010. A New Urbanist development model for development was chosen based upon broad input from community stakeholders in the master planning process (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006) before a developer was selected. The mixed uses in this large community include approximately 4,000 residential units, both single-family and multi-family and 900,000 square feet of retail space, including an eight-block square village center with shops, restaurants, and a full-size grocery store (Florida Chapter of the Congress for New Urbanism 2005). Both large- and small-scale commercial development are present as well. Civic structures include an elementary and middle school, a network of parks and walking paths, swimming pools, fitness centers, and community centers. Baldwin Park contains two lakes and a 200-acre park network that is commonly held (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). The site was initially acquired by the US government as a training site for the Army Air Corps in 1940, when Orlando was a town with a population of 35,000 (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). In 1968, the base was transferred to the Navy, which operated it as the Orlando Naval Training Center (NTC) until the base closed in 1995 (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). The site was initially chosen for the NTC because of the climate, transportation network, and the supply of family housing nearby (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). Located within Orlando's city limits, the NTC was surrounded by established residential neighborhoods that later became connected to the new Baldwin Park through a new network of road intersections.

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In 1993, the base was placed on the list for closure, and Orlando's mayor formed a Base Reuse Commission to study options for reuse of the base lands, acting as the Navy's agent (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). Master planning shepherded by the city was completed before developers were selected. The resulting plan called for creation of a community with a variety of home types in a walkable, mixed-use setting that connected to existing neighborhoods (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). At the conclusion of the master planning phase in 1995, the city created a seven-member NTC Advisory Board to develop the design plan, form a business plan, and oversee selection of a development team in a competitive process that attracted four companies (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). In 1998, the city selected a four-party development team that had prior experience with base redevelopment in Chicago (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). Because of delays, including a need to remediate arsenic-contaminated soil from a Navy golf course, three out of four development partners withdrew (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). The Pritzker Realty Group, a privately held company whose interests included the Hyatt hotel chain, became the developer (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). The city purchased the base property from the Navy and promptly resold it to the developer in October 1999 (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). The developer paid $7.6 million for 1,093 acres, of which 90 went to the federal and state governments for offices. Subtracting 468 acres covering wetlands, lakes, and parks, Baldwin Park provided 535 developable acres (EPA 2006). The per acre sale price of $6,900 per acre was criticized as being "bargain basement prices" (Orlando Sentinel 2001). The speed of the transaction was also critiqued. In December 1999, the city of Orlando formed a community development district, the Urban Orlando Community Development District, establishing a mechanism to help finance infrastructure at the future Baldwin Park. As for all Florida CDDs, the formation of this governmental jurisdiction assesses property owners a non-ad valorem fee to fund the construction and maintenance of the community's infrastructure (Florida Statutes). In addition, the city loaned the developer $14 million to fund extensive demolition. In 2001, the CDD sold $76 million in tax-free bonds to repay the city loan and further fund infrastructure (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). In addition, the city assisted with financing by waiving development impact fees, variously estimated at $13.5 million (EPA 2006) and $33 million (Schlueb 2005). Some critics charged that the city support was too generous (Orlando Sentinel

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2001) amounting to a "sweetheart deal," (Schlueb 2005). Urban Land Institute fellow William Hudnut (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006, 16) defends public financial support as necessary for the project to take place, and noted that the city's investment was matched by a commitment of the developer "to spend tens of millions on demolition, remediation, and infrastructure before a single parcel could be sold to builders." The city of Orlando also eased regulatory requirements for the development. The city sought and received state approval for exemption from the rigors of a Development of Regional Impact (DRI) review through a measure passed by the Florida Legislature in 1994 that exempted base redevelopments (Ross 1999). In addition, in 1998, the city passed Florida's first "form based code," the Baldwin Park Planned Development Ordinance, which allowed flexibility in regulatory compliance with zoning, parking requirements, density, set-backs, and other elements that would otherwise have created obstacles for the New Urbanist design principles calling for narrower-than standard streets, higher densities, and mixed land uses (Geller 2003; Ross 1999). In 2000, the Pritzker company hired David Pace to be managing director of what would become Baldwin Park Development Company. Pace had worked for Disney's director of Real Estate at Celebration from 1993 to 2000 (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). After a prolonged period devoted to demolition and remediation, construction began in August 2001.

3.4.2 Greater Tampa Area Projects

3.4.2.1 West Park Village. In the Tampa area, West Park Village is the oldest and most populated New Urbanist community. It was built starting in 2000 as the last phase of Westchase, a 2,030-acre master-planned community featuring golf courses, large single-family homes, and sculpted landscapes in unincorporated northwestern Hillsborough County (See Figure 3-10). Executives with the company managing and developing Westchase decided to build the 225-acre West Park Village along New Urbanist principles after researching the market and visiting Celebration (Chiaramonte 2008). West Park Village consists of approximately 500 single-family and 1,200 multi-family homes in neighborhoods linked with grassed parks that are centrally situated between streets (Central Florida APA) and amenities including an Olympic-sized pool, tennis courts, and sidewalks throughout. The parks become lively gathering places during occasions such as Halloween when one green becomes "Halloween central" (Chiramonte 2008). The development has a central commercial space at street level with apartments above. The city

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center connects to a four-lane divided highway. The community is fully developed and was a commercial success, selling out in 2003 (Central Florida APA). In December 2014, the multi- family and downtown district at West Park Village was purchased by an Atlanta-based real estate joint venture for $122.5 million. A community development district (CDD) is in place for West Park Village, and a homeowners association is also in effect (http://westchasewca.com). West Park Village was developed as the last phase of a DRI originally approved in 1987 to develop 2,030 acres north of Tampa Bay near the border between Pinellas and Hillsborough counties (Hillsborough County 1999). The land consisted of two parcels, the former 1,452-acre Thomas Ranch (1,452 acres) and a 578-acre parcel belonging to an already platted subdivision (Hillsborough County 1999). The original developers, Westchase Associates, were a consortium of companies from Tampa, Houston, and San Diego. At the time, the developers noted that the location was one of the few large tracts available as growth in Pinellas County was moving east, while growth in Hillsborough County was moving west. When the development was approved, the president of a homeowners' association for a nearby subdivision noted that residents would be sorry to see the huge undeveloped parcel go (Washington 1988): ''It's a shame land has to be continuously built on,'' she said. ''But this is Florida.'' The Westchase development contains multiple neighborhoods developed as conventional single-family home subdivisions flanked by amenities including a golf course. The developers established a CDD to fund construction and maintenance of common infrastructure. The ownership of Westchase changed as it continued to develop. By 1998, the New York-based development company that owned and managed Westchase at the time sought and received county approval to develop West Park Village as a "neo-traditional" village, offering housing styled after Charleston or Savannah. In December 1998, Hillsborough County commissioners approved the changes, which added almost 775 additional housing units, as well as additional 88,000 square feet of commercial and office space to the already-permitted development approvals (Hillsborough County 1999). The changes added density to building entitlements and complexity and challenge to the development relative to a more conventional subdivision. In order to introduce the narrower streets, zero lot lines, alleys, live-work structures, and other features of New Urbanist planning, developers had to obtain 30 exceptions to standard county development rules (Chiaramonte 2008).

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Infrastructure improvements for West Park Village included reconfiguring a collector roadway and adding a curb cut. The developer assumed cost for installing a traffic signal and for instituting a traffic monitoring study as well as a study to lay plans for a future roadway connection (Hillsborough County 1998). Major roadway costs were satisfied from earlier phases of development, when, under terms of the original DRI, the developer designed and constructed a road to serve the development and connect Pinellas County and northwestern Hillsborough County, paying costs for a "fair share" amounting to $5,634,543 (Hillsborough County 1999). The amended DRI did not require designation of affordable housing, but mirrored language from the original DRI (Hillsborough County 1999, Exhibit A, 12): "If feasible, the developer shall utilize Multifamily Housing Revenue bonds issued by the Florida Housing Finance Agency and/or the County Housing Finance Agency for some rental housing within the project." Westchase is governed under a community development corporation (CDD). As was done at Celebration, a well-publicized lottery was organized for homebuyers, organized by the Westchase marketing director, who arranged for a couple wearing names tags for June and Ward Cleaver to circulate in the crowd, offering hot dogs purportedly prepared by Beaver Cleaver (Mackey 1999). In February 1999, a reported crowd of 300 wrote deposit checks for $100 and waited as names were drawn for the chance to purchase a lot (Mackey 1999). Developers had planned for up to 1,000 people to flock to the event, as the debut of the first neotraditional community in Tampa Bay area, dubbed "Celebration West" by a Tampa planning official (Chiaramonte 2008).

3.4.2.2 Longleaf. Longleaf is a 568-acre development in unincorporated Pasco County, approximately 5 miles east of the inland town of New Port Richey and 30 miles from downtown Tampa (See Figure 3-12). It was developed on a former ranch by grandsons of the ranch's founder as one of Pasco County's first New Urbanist communities, breaking ground in 2000 (Central Florida Chapter of American Planning Association 2008). Longleaf received permits to develop 1,400 housing units, including apartments, townhouses, and detached single-family homes (Central Florida Chapter of American Planning Association 2008). The development consists of four neighborhoods separated by greenbelts, with homes placed to avoid the numerous wetlands as well as uplands high in wildlife value (Starkey 2007). It contains a small retail center of 8,000 square feet, as well as a village green and town hall, a pool, jogging trails,

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basketball and tennis courts, and tot lot. The development has a community development district and a neighborhood association. The developers undertook its construction as a prelude to plans for building a larger New Urbanist project encompassing 2,500 acres of ranchland adjacent to the site (Starkey 2007; Kinsler 2008). The property containing Longleaf was part of the former 16,000-acre Anclote River Ranch that encompassed the headwaters of the Anclote River and Pithlachoochee rivers in central and western Pasco County (Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services 1997). Jay B. Starkey, Sr. established a cattle ranch and timber operation in 1937 on the land, which consisted of pine flatwoods, cypress domes, freshwater marshes, stream and lake swamps, sandhill and scrub (Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services 1997). In the 1980s, Jay B. Starkey Sr. sold 6,000 acres to the Southwest Florida Water Management District to establish a well field and county park that is used for passive recreation (Southwest Florida Water Management District 2015). In 1996, the state purchased 3,500 acres of the original ranch to mitigate wetlands destroyed in construction of the Suncoast Parkway, a toll north-south expressway completed in 2001, six miles east of the location for Longleaf. The sale assisted the family with paying a $9 million estate tax bill that followed the death of Jay B. Starkey Sr. (Verrier 1997; Pardue 2000). J. B. Starkey Junior continued to ranch on 3,500 remaining acres of the land originally acquired by his father, also opening a nature-based tourism business in the late 1990s in an attempt to generate revenues to maintain the working ranch (Verrier 1999). His sons Jay B. "Trey" Starkey III, and Frank Starkey formed a real estate business partnership in 1995 (Verrier 1997). Pasco County commissioners approved the Longleaf development in November 1997, rezoning the land from agricultural to a master planned unit development district (Forgrieve 1997). A DRI was not required. The developers agreed to build a road connecting the new subdivision to an adjacent one, in accordance with county guidelines striving to connect neighborhoods, to the protest of residents in the neighboring development (Forgrieve 1997). Financing for the expected $25 million project (Forgrieve 1997) was assisted by family members (Starkey 2007); in addition, the developers established a CDD for sale of tax-free bonds to finance infrastructure development (http://longleafcommunity.com). The Starkeys sold the residential lands to builders and retained the commercial center to develop themselves (Starkey 2007).

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Press coverage of the development of Longleaf emphasized the Starkeys' ranching heritage and included recollections of the developers' roving over the land as boys (e.g. Verrier 1997; Stark 2000). Frank Starkey, trained as architect, pledged to create a community that took its cues from the land that his father had laboriously cleared for pasture (Starkey 2007). Frank Starkey told a reporter (Verrier 1997): "We've always been bothered by the typical development patterns that look at land as a blank slate, but ignore the geography and the sense of place of what makes a particular piece of land unique....Usually developers are from out of town and aren't sensitive to the local heritage of the land. We were born and raised on the ranch. . . . The land is like an old friend." In response to being asked whether the brothers regretted seeing the land developed, Frank Starkey said, "Our vision is that there is a way to develop that doesn't destroy the environment or the heritage" (Verrier 1997). Trey Starkey told a reporter (Stark 2000), "We're motivated by profit, yes, but we're also motivated by legacy." The community opened in spring 2000; by 2003, 150 families had moved in (Thorner 2003). One of the new residents commented, "We are a niche market..."It's not as easy a sell as in other markets. But everyone loves it when they move in" (Thorner 2003). By 2007, the community had approximately 1,000 residents in 400 homes (Central Florida Chapter of American Planning Association 2008). After Longleaf was launched, Trey and Frank Starkey joined with other family members to form the Starkey Land Company with the objective of planning the much larger-scale, 2,500- acre Starkey Ranch New Urbanist project encompassing the remaining ranch land adjacent to Longleaf (Starkey 2007). The company received DRI approval in 2008, and the family company continued development planning through 2012, through the economic recession, before selling the land to a Connecticut-based private equity firm in December 2013 for $54 million (Kinsler 2013). The project manager for the purchasing firm noted that the location along a "corridor with potential for growth" in the Tampa Region, made it a viable investment (Kinsler 2013).

3.4.2.3 Hampton Lakes. Hampton Lakes at Main Street is a 45-acre mixed-use development in unincorporated northwest Hillsborough County constructed starting in 2004 (See Figure 3-8). It combines 15 acres of retail consisting of a full-size grocery store, other retail stores, fast food outlets, a bank, and a medical center with 25 acres of residential housing (Central Florida Chapter of American Planning Association 2008). Housing includes two-story

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townhomes that were also approved as "live-work" units with permits for bottom-floor businesses (Zink 2002; Chiaramonte 2008). The project was developed at an intersection that had been identified as well-suited for development in a government-led visioning project for the fast- growing area (Chiaramonte 2008; Hillsborough County 2008). The development does not have a CDD but has a property owners' association. Prior to development, the land was zoned for industrial use. Adjacent to a major arterial road at the time of construction, nearby land uses included a horse racing track and industrial warehouses, with the nearest subdivisions approximately a mile distant (Google Earth historic imagery). The area chosen was in one of the most rapidly growing parts of the county (Carino 1999) in an area described as "half developed" at the time (Ripley 1999). A group of Tampa investors of which a law firm was a principal investor (Zink 2002) launched development plans, employing a land developer and a residential developer (Zink 2002; Chiaramonte 2008). The group announced plans for the mixed-use development in 2002 (Zink 2002). Although the site was selected as one of multiple areas that could be targeted for compact, mixed-use development in a public planning effort prior to the initiation of development, both the zoning and the comprehensive plan in effect for the area at the time of development called for industrial land use, so developers sought rezoning, which was obtained in 2002 (Zink 2002). Rezoning was completed in May 2002 after review and approval by the county planning commission and the county. Developers won approval for 129,000 square feet of general commercial space, 90,000 square feet of professional office space, 43,000 square feet of commercial/office space, a 120-room hotel, and up to 500 residential units with 80 set aside as "live work" units to be built on top of stores or offices and (Zink 2002; Chiaramonte 2008). The project was privately financed. Developers obtained bank financing with difficulty as bankers accustomed to financing residential developments consisting of single family homes were reluctant to lend for a mixed-use project (Chiaramonte 2008). The developers were required to contribute to a mitigation bank for impacts to a wetland on the property (Chiaramonte 2008). Construction began in 2004. Concurrent with development of the Hampton Lakes parcel, an adjacent but separate residential development and an elementary and middle school were constructed (Chiaramonte 2008).

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3.5 Chapter Summary

This chapter provides a political-economic, historical, and spatial context for understanding the six New Urbanist projects treated in this study. The siting, permitting, and development of each project--elements crucially affecting sustainability outcomes--is affected by the political economic as well as physical contexts at play in each case. These contexts were reviewed for the necessary scales of inquiry: for the two general study regions; for the combined area (the "super region") as a whole; and for the individual cases. This chapter illuminates the developments as products of a historical moment when sprawling urbanization was recognized as problematic, even as a deterrent to realization of future ambitions for emergence as part of a globally significant mega-region, yet when interventions to curb sprawl were subject to increasing state deregulation. The study sites are seen to be within areas facing sustainability challenges relating to availability and protection of natural resources, maintenance of working agricultural lands, jobs-housing balance, and commuting-related stressors on people and the environment. During the time period of planning, development, and construction of the New Urbanist communities, the regions exhibited continued sprawling population growth, along with a rise in voluntary, public-private collaborative planning and regional governance.

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Table 3-1. Recent population growth in study regions

1990 2000 2010 % Growth Locality Population Population Population 1990-2010 Tampa-St. Petersburg-Clearwater MSA 2,068,000 2,395,997 2,783,243 34.6 Hernando County 101,115 130,802 172,778 70.9 Hillsborough County 834,054 998,948 1,229,226 47.4 Pasco County 281,131 344,768 464,697 65.3 Pinellas County 851,659 921,495 916,542 7.6 Clearwater (city) 98,784 108,789 107,685 9.0 New Port Richey (city) 14,044 16,117 14,911 6.2 St. Petersburg (city) 240,318 248,232 244,769 1.9 Tampa (city) 280,015 303,447 335,709 19.9

Orlando-Kissimmee-Sanford MSA 1,225,000 1,645,000 2,134,411 74.2 Lake County 152,104 210,527 297,052 95.3 Orange County 677,491 896,344 1,145,956 69.1 Osceola County 107,728 172,493 268,685 149.4 Seminole County 287,529 365,199 422,718 47.0 Orlando (city) 164,674 185,951 238,300 44.7 Kissimmee(city) 30,337 47,814 59,682 96.7 Sanford (city) 32,387 38,291 53,570 65.4 Source: US Census Bureau 1990, 2000, 2010.

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Figure 3-1. Greater Orlando region New Urbanist study sites

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Figure 3-2. Greater Tampa region New Urbanist study sites

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Figure 3-3. Celebration and vicinity

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Source: Google Earth

Figure 3-4. Celebration and vicinity in early development, 1995.

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Figure 3-5. Avalon Park and vicinity

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Source: Google Earth

Figure 3-6. Future site of Avalon Park and vicinity, 1999.

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Figure 3-7. Baldwin Park and vicinity

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Source: Google Earth

Figure 3-8. Baldwin Park and vicinity as Naval Training Center, 1994.

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Figure 3-9. West Park Village and vicinity

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Source: Google Earth

Figure 3-10. Future site of West Park Village as part of platted subdivision, 1994.

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Figure 3-11. Longleaf and vicinity

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Source: Google Earth

Figure 3-12 Future site of Longleaf and vicinity, 1995.

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Figure 3-13. Hampton Lakes and vicinity

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Source: Google Earth

Figure 3-14. Future site of Hampton Lakes, 1995.

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CHAPTER 4

METHODS AND DATA

4.1 Overview

This study uses mixed methods of inquiry to expand understanding about environmentally and socially sustainable modes of urbanization in the current US political economy. Analysis of empirical data is combined with archival research and site visits to allow for a deep geographical analysis of the sustainability of a set of landscapes built under New Urbanist principles. The regional-scale investigation situates the New Urbanist study sites in their metropolitan physical, social, and historical contexts to evaluate "locational sustainability" and the demographic characteristics of residents. In addition, the study investigates whether greater public participation is linked to stronger sustainability outcomes and how a New Urbanist "brand" affected development processes. A mixed methods approach is supported by literature reinforcing the need for a spatially explicit and empirical approach to the study of urban sustainability. The methods are responsive to a call by Heynen et al. (2006) to investigate spatial patterns by which insights may be gained about uneven social and ecological consequences associated with changing urban environments; by Krueger and Gibbs (2008), to "examine the consequences and politics of sustainability as it actually exists in different social, political, and economic contexts and to learn more about "the geography of Smart Growth , and by Agarwal et al. (2000) to better understand linkages between social and biophysical processes associated with land use change that affect sustainability. As noted in Chapter Two, there is a particular need for more research on data sets of New Urbanist communities as opposed to single case studies (Grant 2006). A variation on a "grounded visualization" method was ideal for this study and was adopted. Knigge and Cope (2006) describe “grounded visualization” as an expression of grounded research blending qualitative and quantitative methods. Quantitative analysis was done using GIS and census data; qualitative methods consisted of archival research following site visits to the communities. Six case study sites were chosen from the set of New Urbanist communities listed for the state of Florida in the Directory of New Urbanism 2008 (Steuteville 2008) (See Table 4-1). This

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directory lists places that either have won a Charter Award from the Congress for New Urbanism (CNU) or are chosen by the editorial staff of the publisher (New Urban News Publications) to “best represent a complete range of project types” (Steuteville 2008). For Florida, the Directory contained 63 listings, of which 40 were active or completed developments of more than one acre including a residential component. Listing in the directory was deemed as sufficient to describe a development as "New Urbanist" whether or not it was consistently self-described as such throughout the planning, development, and marketing processes, wherein some were described as neo-traditional or traditional neighborhood developments. Three sites were chosen from the Greater Orlando area and three from the Tampa Bay region. Choosing sites in these fast-growing regions allowed consideration of how New Urbanism operated in areas already experiencing challenges from sprawling growth, and furthermore, areas predicted to be evolving together as a "super-region" that had connections with one another. In addition, the sets of developments chosen included the largest and longest-standing New Urbanist developments in the respective MSAs. In the Orlando-Sanford-Kissimmee MSA, Celebration is both the largest at 4,900 acres and oldest, with an establishment date of 1996. In the Tampa-St. Petersburg-Clearwater MSA, Longleaf is the largest at 568 acres, and West Park Village the oldest, established in 2000. The study sites were the focus of a tour of central Florida New Urbanist communities organized by the Florida Suncoast Section of the American Planning Association (November 6- 8, 2008). The tour provided a chance to observe six central Florida study sites, divided equally between the Orlando and Tampa regions, and to obtain promotional materials, maps, photographs, and other qualitative and quantitative information. Archival research was completed using search engines to obtain data from sources including the public record on development orders and related documents, archived news stories, Florida statutes, and several journalistic books as well as some academic articles and an oral history. Archival research provided data relating to land use and development histories, impetus for development, impacts of a New Urbanist style upon development processes, and extent of collaborative planning associated with site development. A template was constructed to provide a structured format for consistently recording elements sought in the archival data collection. Geographic information system (GIS) techniques offer a good research platform for obtaining quantitative and descriptive information concerning how the New Urbanist developments fit within a regional matrix. GIS and geographic visualization present an

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opportunity for multiple representations, assisting in data exploration and analysis (Slocum et al. 2009). ArcView 10 (ESRI) was used to create maps of the study communities and to perform spatial data analysis, including a parcel analysis. Data for analysis were obtained primarily from the Florida Geographic Data Library (www.fgdl.org). US Census data were used to obtain and analyze demographic data in ArcGIS. The combined analysis allows for a rich interpretation of how the built communities are situated as well as insights into impetus for development and role of these New Urbanist places. Multiple cases allow for identification of commonalities across cases as well as divergences in characteristics. The rest of this chapter will address the data and methods specific to this study's research questions. 4.2 Operationalization of Research Questions

4.2.1 Research Question 1

To what extent do the six cases of built New Urbanist communities exhibit "locational sustainability" based upon empirical geographic measures? In other words, to what extent do they demonstrate "actually existing sustainabilities" (Kreuger and Agyeman 2005)? To address this question, a sustainability index focused on regional location factors was devised. The literature review informed the construction of this "locational sustainability index." Many authors argue that urban sustainability should be investigated on a regional basis (e.g., Campbell, Campbell 1996; Calthorpe 2001; Ziegler 2003; Talen and Brody 2005; Oakerson 2008; Hillier 2008; Soja 2011; Duany et al. 2010; Congress for New Urbanism 1996). Therefore, variables have been chosen that characterize each New Urbanist community within the regional setting to which it belongs, probing how the community relates to the existing geographic fabric in which it was built. No single variable can adequately measure urban context, so multiple variables were used (Table 4-1). The variables show how highly connected a community is to existing urban areas, what kind of land is being either “consumed” or reclaimed to establish new communities, whether the communities are located in sparsely or more high areas of housing density, the diversity of land uses within the immediate radius of the community, and other markers which in combination can provide a gauge of whether the built communities are in the "right location" (Daniels 1999), primarily to consider whether reduced automobile dependency is likely. The empirical measures

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are consistent with goals for regionalism stated in the Charter of the New Urbanism (Congress for the New Urbanism 1996). For each community, variables are applied and results are obtained based on a scoring system that applies a value from 0 to 1, with 0 representing the lowest sustainability score and 1 the maximum high sustainability score. The following sections describe the variables used to construct the index.

4.2.1.1 Urban or Rural Population Density. The urban-rural fringe is the location where conversion tends to occur from rural working agricultural landscapes as well as forest lands to suburban and urban forms (Daniels 1999; Haas 2008). Therefore, siting of a development within an existing urban area is preferable from a sustainability point of view. The scoring is supported by the Charter of New Urbanism's call for the "restoration of existing urban centers and towns" and support for encouragement of infill development over "peripheral expansion." For this study, each community was determined to be located in either an urban or rural domain based upon definitions from year 2000 Census Data. This time scale reflects the conditions into which the communities are built. The Census Bureau defines "Urban Areas" as agglomerations of census block groups that together make up populations greater than 50,000 at densities of 1,000 persons or more per square mile (3.86 persons/ha, or 1.56 persons/acre) at the core, with surrounding block groups at a density of at least 500 persons per square mile (1.93 persons/ha) (US Census Bureau glossary http://www.census.gov/geo/www/tiger/glossary.html Accessed July 27, 2011). The urban boundary does not follow jurisdictional lines. "Urban Clusters" are areas settled to the same density standards but with smaller total populations, ranging between 2,500 and 50,000 people. A shapefile ("ua2000") from the Florida Geographic Data Library based on boundary data from the US Census Bureau was incorporated into ArcGIS 10 and each community's location was determined to be either urban or rural based on the designation of its polygon location in 2000. For a community in an urban area, the sustainability score assigned was 1; for a development that straddedl urban and rural areas, 0.5, and for development situated in a rural area, the score was 0.

4.2.1.2 Housing Density. Census data from 2000 were used to determine the housing density landscape into which the New Urbanist developments were built. Theobald (2005)

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argues that housing density is a better measure than population density for sprawl, especially for rural fringe areas. Housing density more precisely reveals the extent of the human presence in a region, regardless of the number of occupants in a dwelling. Whereas population data are measured for the place of primary residence for census respondents, housing density does not discriminate seasonal from permanent use (Brown et al 2005). Housing units include all types: single-family homes, townhouses, condominiums, and apartments, or mobile homes. A shapefile with processed housing density data for Florida (bg_2000) was obtained from Theobald (2005), who refined 2000 census block group data to a resolution of 2.47 acres for a national data set after removing water bodies and protected public lands. Categories and values were assigned based on groupings as follows for rural, exurban, suburban, and urban densities: urban, more than 2.4 housing units/acre (hu/a); suburban, 0.2 - 2.4 hu/a, exurban, 0.2 - 0.19 hu/a; and rural, less than 0.02 hu/a (See Table 4-2).

4.2.1.3 Inside or Outside City Limits. One of the most clear-cut measures of urbanity is inclusion within the boundaries of a city. In Florida as nationwide, the population has tended to migrate from cities to unincorporated areas (US Census; Dunham Jones 2005). A shapefile from FGDL consisting of polygons of all incorporated Florida cities as of 2007 ("par_citylm_2007") was used to determine if a community fell within or outside of city limits. For the sustainability index, a score of 1was given to those developments within city limits and a 0 was given to those outside city limits.

4.2.1.4 Inside or Outside Urban Service Boundary. Urban service areas (USAs) are commonly used policy tools that serve to regulate growth and control public costs for delivery of infrastructure including roads, water, sewer, emergency and fire service (Hall, 2008 in Haas, ed.). Service boundaries are intended to direct growth into a city by limiting extension of infrastructure including municipal sewer and water services to areas within the USA. In addition, building densities are held to lower levels on the rural side of the boundary. Municipalities define these boundaries based upon the forecasted need for urban land to fall within city limits, typically intended to hold for a 20-year period (Daniels 1999). Development within the designated USA is defined as more sustainable in keeping with the call from Nicholas and Steiner (2000) for careful consideration of both location and timing of new development.

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Development within an USA is consistent with the Charter of New Urbanism's call for development and redevelopment to "respect historical patterns, precedents, and boundaries." In the Greater Tampa Bay MSA, only Hillsborough County has a USA. A shapefile for this Tampa Urban Service Area ("URBANSRVpoly") was downloaded from the Tampa Bay Regional Planning Council 2010. In the Greater Orlando MSA, a USA exists for Orange County ("UrbanServiceArea") and it was downloaded from the Orange County GIS website in 2010 (http://orangecountfl.net). Communities were given a score of 1 if they fell within a USA and 0 if they did not.

4.2.1.5 Infill or Greenfield Site. The infill/greenfield variable characterizes the land use at the time of development. Loosely speaking, infill developments are those that take place in close connection to existing urbanization, whereas greenfield developments take place in previously undeveloped areas. Greenfield developments are generally recognized as sprawling; however, a case is sometimes made that if the development is largely self-contained, greenfield development should be looked upon more benignly (Calthorpe 2008), especially if certain conditions are met, including fiscal neutrality and provision of affordable housing (Ross 2006). As previously noted for the urban/rural variables, the Charter of New Urbanism states a preference for infill development over "peripheral expansion." Also, the Charter descries "loss of agricultural lands and wilderness." Smart Growth principles recognize a hierarchy of "smart" to "dumb" growth, with urban revitalization and infill considered "smartest," followed by suburban retrofits and suburban expansions, with new neighborhoods gaining lowest marks (Duany, Speck, and Lydon, 2010). At the very bottom are neighborhoods requiring new infrastructure and those in environmentally sensitive areas. For this study, developments are considered infill if they met any one of the standards for infill established by the US Green Building Council for its Leadership in Environmental and Engineering Design Neighborhood Development (LEED-ND) certification. These criteria specify that developments must be in an area that is already mostly developed, as specifically defined by measurable criteria. For each New Urbanist community, the land use of the development area and its surrounding parcels at the time of construction determined the designation.

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To determine the status of each project, land histories were researched, and Google Earth's historical imagery was used to verify any questionable cases. The LEED-ND criteria state: "a) At least 75% of its boundary borders parcels that individually are at least 50 % previously developed, and that in aggregate are at least 75% developed. b) The site, in combination with bordering parcels, forms an aggregate parcel whose boundary is 75% bounded by parcels that individually are at least 50% previously developed, and that in aggregate are at least 75% previously developed. c) At least 75% of the land area, exclusive of rights of way, within a half-mile distance from the project boundary, is previously developed. d) The lands within a 1/2 mile distance from the project boundary have a pre-project connectivity of at least 140 intersections per square mile." If one of the standards was satisfied, the project was considered an infill project. Communities were given a score of 1 if they were infill and 0 if they were greenfield.

4.2.1.6 Distance to Nearest City Center. The straight-line distances from a community to other places offers a crude measure of proximity to the connection between a community and existing urban centers that provide places of work, transportation networks, and commercial and civic venues. New Urbanism places great emphasis upon the central business district and people’s access to it. Whereas optimal distance for non-motorized transit is less than one mile (Hasse and Kornbluh 2004), a distance of four miles was considered as proximate for this study. ArcGIS was used to measure from the straight-line distance from central location of each community to the nearest cities. City point locations were obtained from an FGDL file ("cities_feb04"). Communities located within 4 miles of a city or town center were scored with a 1, whereas communities located further away were scored with a zero.

4.2.1.7 Proportion of Mixed Land Uses. Increasing the mixture of land uses proximate to residential housing is seen as a desirable sustainability goal (Cervero 2008; Parolek et al. 2008; Duany 2010). Mixed land uses are touted to promote "a walking culture" (Beatley 2008) reduce automobile dependency (Calthorpe 1993; Flint 2008), and add vitality to a community (Congress for New Urbanism 1996). Mixed land uses are part of the Smart Growth agenda (US EPA) and are a cornerstone of the Charter of New Urbanism (Congress for New Urbanism

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1996). The Charter asserts that when it must occur, noncontiguous development "should be planned for a jobs-housing balance, not as bedroom suburbs." To assess the extent of mixed land uses associated with the study communities, a parcel analysis was performed. GIS shapefiles were created for each community based on materials supplied by developers and publicly available boundary information. These files were joined to county parcel maps produced by the Florida Department of Revenue, which maintains a centralized database of GIS files for land parcels. Using these files for each county, land use categories were aggregated into seven categories, as shown in Table 4-3. The buffer tool of ArcGIS was used to create a one-mile buffer from the perimeter of each community, based on the optimal distance for walking and bicycling (Hass and Kornbluth 2004). Parcels that fell partially or completely within the buffers were selected to create a new layer. The percentages of land uses by area within the one-mile radius and including the community were tabulated and the proportion of land uses by acreage was computed. For the sustainability index, the proportion of residential to non-residential land use was computed. Scores could range between 1 and 0, with higher scores representing more diverse land uses and lower scores representing a preponderance of residential land use.

4.2.2 Research Question 2

What racial and ethnic characteristics apply to the census block groups in which the developments are located and how do these compare to the MSA within which the community is located? In other words, who are these places for? The second research question centers on the question of whether there is unevenness in the occupation of New Urbanist places, and if so, "who gains and who loses" from construction of these places, following Heynen, Kaika, and Su (2006). New Urbanism’s charter calls for bringing together people of “diverse ages, races, and incomes into daily interaction, strengthening the personal and civic bonds essential to an authentic community.” Bressi (1994), Falconer-Al-Hindi (2001), and Grant (2007) and Talen (2008) have raised concerns that New Urbanist places fail to achieve objectives for diversity in age, race, and income. Even in the absence of apparent discriminatory factors, “birds of a feather” may flock together by voluntary choice into similar racial or ethnic clusters when selecting home locations (Iceland and Weinberg 2002). Another disincentive to diversity in housing comes from the tendency of both developers

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and county officials to favor buildings constructed at higher price points to garner higher returns or tax revenues. This research question treats whether the New Urbanism sites were able to overcome such tendencies. Census data are used to describe who lives in New Urbanist places and whether the profile of these people differs from those in the county and MSA region as a whole by race and ethnicity. The 2010 decennial census was used to allow for the New Urbanist communities, which were constructed between 1996 and 2004, to be as fully occupied as possible. The chosen unit of analysis is the census block. These are the smallest geographic units for which the Census Bureau tabulates decennial data. Depending on population density, blocks vary in size with more densely populated areas corresponding to blocks bounded by streets and less densely populated blocks covering a much wider area. ArcGIS was used to determine the census blocks that intersected with the six central Florida New Urbanist communities belonged. A shapefile of year 2010 census blocks was obtained from the Florida Geographic Data Library ("cenblk2010_Aug11"). The shapefile contained processed data with selected fields from the 2010 census. ArcGIS was used to select census block polygons that intersected with the New Urbanist community polygons. In addition to census block scale, data were obtained for the Tampa-St. Petersburg-Clearwater and Orlando- Kissimmee-Sanford MSAs as well as for the counties in which the six communities are located to allow for comparison. State-level data offered another baseline for comparison. Attributes from the shapefile selected for analysis were: % Asian, % Black, % Hispanic, % Multi-race, and % White, not Hispanic (See Table 4-5). Data for census block groups intersecting with each community were averaged and compared with surrounding geographies enabling evaluation of differences.

4.2.3 Research Question 3

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This research question has to do with the processes by which land use decisions are made, considering that land regulation and planning is an arena in which competing goals for economic development, environmental conservation, and social justice must be reconciled to achieve sustainable development. Campbell (1996), articulates how differences in goals, values and perspectives carried by different actors concerned create inherent conflicts between private interests and the public good. These conflicts must be navigated in the pursuit of sustainable development within a capitalistic democratic system. Following Campbell (1996), the private sector resists interference in use of property but also desires and requires government support, for example, for infrastructure. Similarly, the public sector requires growth and development to support the economy and its own functions, but it also has a role to play in regulating to conserve resources for the future and to protect the interests of the socially disenfranchised people. Whether the conflicts are manifested or latent, they are inherently present in the development of any place, insomuch as changes to the land affect people, the environment, and the economy. How those interests are represented and empowered is at the root of this inquiry. National and sub-national governments exert varying degrees of control and intervention in support of policies that attempt to plan for the ideal of "green, profitable and fair" development (Campbell 1996). Variations include the extent to which land development regulations are promulgated at the national level with little leeway for change, as in Great Britain or the Netherlands (Echenique et al 2012); another variation in North American concerns the strength of any regional governance bodies. While regional governance is generally weak in North America (Sorensen et al. 2004), some exceptions exist, including Portland, Oregon and Vancouver, British Columbia. As described in Chapter Three, in the US generally and certainly in Florida, growth policy regimes have shifted from more to less interventionist methods. This has been the case in Florida, where state-directed comprehensive planning policies were established in the 1970s, strengthened in the 1980s, and weakened in the 1990s and beyond. Krueger and Gibbs have identified the "Smart Growth " approach in the current "Third Wave" as a more laissez faire approach than the preceding growth control and growth management regimes in the US, consistent with the contemporary neoliberal political economy. A strong property rights and "home rule" ideology in the US, decidedly pronounced in Florida, has further limited government intervention since the 1990s.

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In recent decades as regulatory approaches to land development have changed, some planning scholars (e.g. Healey 1999, Talen 1999, Innes and Booher 2001, Jepson 2004) have called for a variety of methods to incorporate a wider range of substantive participation in planning processes than is possible following the conventional rational comprehensive planning model (RCPM). In particular, some planning theorists argue that alternative processes are necessary to address complex issues of sustainable development. Collaborative planning processes that either replace or supplement traditional approaches have been identified by scholars including Healey (1999) and Innes and Booher (2001) as well suited for policy making for complex planning processes, including spatial and transportation planning. In the conventional system of permit review and approval, technocratic experts conduct a coordinated analysis and review in compliance with existing laws and codes, and final development approval is subject to up or down voting by elected officials. Formal participation by citizens and stakeholders apart from applicants is reactive and sporadic and contestation of proposed development occurs in legally required public hearings. Other avenues for participation include formal channels in courts to raise legal challenges and informal means such as use of media and lobbying. In contrast, collaborative processes are characterized by iterative interactions involving diverse stakeholders who are seeking to achieve a common goal (Innes and Booher and Innes 2001). Reeger et al (2009) describe new intervention strategies for sustainable development as exhibiting forms of governance that include adaptive management and reflexive learning processes among diverse actors. Herrschel (2013) views engagement in cooperative and coordinated policy making at the regional scale as an opening in the seemingly conflictual agendas of sustainability and the economic competitiveness. Collaboration is listed as one of the hallmarks of Smart Growth , with which New Urbanism is associated (US EPA). A New Urbanist community with a history characterized by a collaborative development approach is Southern Village in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, where the 300-acre development was sited and developed only after a community-involved long-range planning process for a 3,000 acre sector of mostly undeveloped land (Chapel Hill Historical Preservation Society 2006). To gauge whether collaborative planning was in effect for the cases in this study, a rubric was constructed and applied to archival research and information obtained during site visits. Each development was scored as to whether collaborative planning processes were in effect or

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not. Collaborative processes could be sponsored by governmental, private sector, or public- private entities and could consist of a variety of exercises and formats provided they were open to the public and thus inclusive of diverse stakeholders. Invitation-only planning charettes sponsored by developers and confined to professionals were not counted as collaborative. In order for collaborative planning to be considered instrumental, public participation had to extend beyond conventional required public hearings (RCPM). In addition, the collaborative processes had to have a demonstrated and substantive effect on outcomes, either for the site chosen for development or for the design and construction of the development subsequent to siting. Decisions relating to siting are seen as crucially influential in achieving sustainable development because of the premises of "locational sustainability" set forth in the first research questions. Collaborative processes shaping the internal make-up of the development are less influential overall, but are still relevant, especially to social sustainability concerns about who will reside in the housing. Each case was scored as shown in Table 4-6. Findings could then be related to outcomes for locational sustainability to search for associations between greater collaborative planning and higher sustainability outcomes.

4.2.4 Research Question 4

What was the impact of New Urbanism on the siting and development of the communities? Was New Urbanism instrumental in permitting and approvals? Was expression of New Urbanist principles an impetus for development or an afterthought? The final question probes whether and how the development process was affected by choice of a New Urbanist mode. New Urbanist developments differ from prevailing suburban developments in physical building conventions and also in their connection, via New Urbanist theorists and proponents, to far-reaching claims of civic betterment that ensure from adopting of New Urbanist principles (Congress for New Urbanism 1996). Whereas Research Question One sets forth an empirical test for evaluating claims to sustainability, this question focuses on processes, the position of the developer, and any discursive advantages bestowed by New Urbanism. Case by case, what obstacles could be found associated with adoption of a New Urbanist style? Conversely, were special privileges conferred? Based on the high moral ground claimed by New Urbanist theorists, was the position of New Urbanist developers apparently separate from "growth machine" (Molotch 1993) politics? What could be found about the

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impetus for development and whether development motivations extended beyond economic returns? The case study review rubric guided the search for answers about the impact of New Urbanism in permitting and approval. At the scale of the development itself, each development was subject to laws and regulations governing permitting to acquire a development order. The archival research for each site noted particular challenges or privileges associated with a New Urbanist approach in the quest for formal approvals as revealed in written records of development orders, newspaper accounts, and planning documents. New Urbanist building codes differ from conventional design standards in many aspects, including narrower-than-standard streets, shallow set-backs and lot lines, and mixed land uses. Densities and intensities of land uses above pre-existing standards are also common. The archival search noted whether land use change amendments were required and whether a development was required to undergo a Development of Regional Impact (DRI) review, and, if so, whether the selection of a New Urbanist or neotraditional style was noted to affect permitting in these cases. Second, the archival search examined the position of the developer and searched for indications of the impetus for development. Was New Urbanism a driving force behind the development? Was it chosen at the outset or later in stages of planning and permitting? What other information could be found to assess the impetus for development of the community? Acquiring answers to these questions was again guided by a rubric. For each community, the development history was compiled using the aforementioned archival record consisting of development orders, newspaper accounts, and other documents turned up in database searches. The developer position was determined for each case to be by a private investor or group of investors or a public-private entity. The archival record was searched to uncover information offered by developers to state their objectives for the development generally as well as any statements describing their reasons for choosing a New Urbanist design in particular.

4.3 Chapter Summary

In this study, empirical methods using GIS and archival research are combined to examine a set of research questions concerning the success of New Urbanism as an "actually existing sustainability" (Krueger and Agyeman 2005) applied to six case studies. Geographic methods for approaching these questions move beyond normative and discursive examinations to

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better understand how a set of actual developments built under the umbrella of New Urbanist design are situated within a regional context, whom they serve, and the role that New Urbanism played in their siting and development. Additionally, the methods allow for analysis of instances exhibiting higher degrees of collaborative planning were associated with higher "locational sustainability" scores.

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Table 4-1. Locational Sustainability Index variables

Variable Sustainability Score Data Source

US Census Bureau Rural =0, Population Density 2000, Rural or Urban Partially Urban = .5 "ua_2000" shapefile, Urban =1 Florida Geographic Data Library (FGDL) Inside/Outside City FGDL, Outside = 0, Inside = 1 Limits "Par_city_lm_2007"

Greenfield/Infill Greenfield = 0, Infill = 1 Google Earth

Distance to nearest city > 4 miles = 0, < 4 miles = City points FGDL (miles) 1, shapefile US Census Bureau Block Housing Density, in <.02 hu/acre = 0 Groups 2000, data community and adjacent 0.2 - 0.19 hu/acre = .33 processed by Theobald census block groups, 0.2- 2.4 hu/acre = .66 (2005) "bg_2000" hu/acre >2.5 hu/acre = 1 shapefile % Commerical + Industrial Mixed land uses within Florida Department of Land uses/ % residential + community and one-mile Revenue (2010) via park land uses, low score is buffer shapefiles from FGDL less diverse

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Table 4-2. Housing density categories

Housing Average lot size Category units/acre in acres

> 42 acres per Rural <.02 home 5 to 42 acres per Exurban .02 -.19 home .41 to 5 acres per Suburban 0.2 - 2.4 home < .41 acre per Urban >2.4 home Source: Kretser et al. 2008

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Table 4-3. Land use categories from Florida Department of Revenue and as assigned for this study

FDOR Category Description Assigned Category Description if Different than FDOR Croplands, grazing lands, timberlands, orchards and Agriculture groves Agriculture same

Light and heavy manufacturing, machine shops, lumber yards, packing houses, food processing factories, mineral processing plants, warehouses and Industrial distribution terminals, vacant industrially zoned lands Industrial same Stores, shopping centers, supermarkets, office buildings, professional service buildings, repairs shops, restaurants, theaters, hotels and motels, banks, Commercial vacant commercial lands Commercial same

Public schools, colleges, and hospitals, municipal, Assigned Category combines state, or federal buildings, military and other public Government and Institutional lands, forest, parks, conservation, and recreational Government, Institutional, categories, and removes parks, forests, Government areas Educational conservation and recreation areas

Included with Government, Institutional, Educational, removes land owned by cultural organizations (including Private schools, colleges, and hospitals, churches, Government, Institutional, Homeowners Associations and Institutional clubs, lodges, union halls, and nursing homes Educational Community Development Districts) Single and multiple family homes, vacant residentially Residential zoned lands Residential same Publicly and privately owned parks, forests, conservation areas, and recreation lands, with open lands owned Government Parks, forests, conservation areas, and recreation by Homeowners and Community (subset) lands Parks and Conservation Development Districts Roads, rights-of-way, utility-owned lands, lakes, Other rivers, wetlands, and submerged lands Other same Source: Florida Department of Revenue

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Table 4-4. Racial and ethnic population variables

Variable Population % Asian % Black % Hispanic % Multi-race % White, not Hispanic Source: Cenblk2010_Aug11, FGDL, 2010 US Census Bureau

Table 4-5. Rubric for evaluation of collaborative planning

Influential Pre- Development and Development Collaboration development Post-development (yes/no) (yes/no) (yes/no)

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CHAPTER 5

RESULTS

5.1 Introduction to Results

Results are presented for the investigation of the six New Urbanist communities. The results describe: 1) the extent to which the communities exhibit "locational sustainability," 2) the degree which they serve diverse racial and ethnic populations, 3) whether collaborative planning occurred and how it related to locational sustainability outcomes, and finally, 4) ways in which the New Urbanist mode of development was found to have been influential in the development process. 5.2 Locational Sustainability Findings

Research Question 1 asks: To what extent do the six cases of built New Urbanist communities exhibit "locational sustainability" based upon empirical geographic measures? In other words, to what extent do they demonstrate "actually existing sustainabilities" (Kreuger and Agyeman 2005)? The first research question is answered by operationalizing sustainability in the context of regional location using the set of previously described measures for density, jurisdictional characteristics, relation to existing towns and cities, and land uses. The variables are chosen to reflect the extent to which the communities were situated within an urban context likely to reduce sprawl and automobile dependency for residents, as is a leading goal of the New Urbanist movement. In addition, the variables reflect how well or poorly the communities, and thus their residents, are knitted into or separate from the surrounding urban fabric, giving an indication of how the developments are positioned to contribute to New Urbanist goals of strengthening vitality of existing urban areas. The lived experiences of residents depend on forms, functions, and networks both within and outside the master-planned community, and the greater metropolitan community likewise is affected by the extent to which residential areas are integrated or isolated. Results will be presented for each variable with results from archival case study findings, then the summary Locational Sustainability Index will be presented.

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5.2.1 Variable 1: Population Density

This variable measures the population density of the place into which a development was constructed, with an urban density deemed to mark a more sustainable development location choice and rural population densities indicating a more sprawling location selection. This variable assesses conditions in the proximate environment into which the communities are built, as opposed to a focus limited to the confines of the internal communities. This scope is important to acquire an understanding of how the new development exists in relation to the surrounding region. Low population density locations are associated with sprawl and automobile dependency as well as more limited ability for residents to take part in the wider community's civic life. Four of six developments were populated at urban densities in 2000 (See Table 5-1), defined by the US Census Bureau as agglomerations of census block groups consisting of populations of greater than 1,000 persons per square mile (1.56 persons/acre) at the core, with surrounding densities of at least 500 persons per square mile (0.78 persons/acre). Interpretation of results is assisted by examining maps (See Figures 5-1 and 5-2). These show that two communities, Baldwin Park and West Park Village, were located entirely within Urban Areas, three were on the urban-rural fringe partially within an Urban Area, and the remaining one was completely outside of an Urban Area. In the Orlando area, all of the developments either were contained within or overlapped a portion of a Census-defined Urban Area for year 2000 (Figure 5-1). Baldwin Park, the site of the decommissioned US Naval Training Center, was centrally located within the city of Orlando, and the two others were situated on the very edges of the urban classification: Avalon Park, located on the eastern portion of Orange County near the Econlockhatchee River, and the Disney-built Celebration in Osceola County. Constructed starting in 1996, by 2000 Celebration was its own census designated place populated by 2,736 people (US Census Bureau) overlapping the extreme southwestern portion of the Kissimmee Urban Area. In the Tampa area, West Park Village, adjacent to the already-developed master-planned community of which it was the last phase, fell into but near the edge of the urbanized area in 2000. The site for Hampton Lakes, located in the northwest portion of Hillsborough County in a patchwork of semi-rural to urbanizing lands, fell outside of the urban population density. Longleaf, in Pasco County located between undeveloped ranchland and subdivisions, partially overlapped the urban classification of the US Census Bureau.

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In summary, analysis of population density showed that two communities were located in areas of urban population density, three were located on the urban-rural fringe with portions of the development footprint within Urban Areas, and one was located in an area of rural population density in 2000.

5.2.2 Variable 2: Housing Density

Housing density is used as another measure to determine the intensity of development in the landscape into which a development was constructed. Since census block group data include all types of housing units for seasonal or permanent use, they provide a comprehensive indicator of the degree of residential development in the areas into which the developments were located. To assess the building site as well as the immediate surrounding area in the time frame during which developments were being built, housing densities were calculated for the census block in which the site was located as well as for all intersecting block groups using 2000 GIS data processed by Theobald (2005). This method allowed for assessment of the proximate area into which each development was constructed while avoiding artifacts of data, such as a result of extremely low density that would have resulted in the case of Baldwin Park, which was unpopulated at the time of census due to demolition of the former Naval site. Population in census blocks within existing developments surrounding and intersecting with the base elevated the housing density results to the suburban category. Housing density figures illustrate comparative land consumption for various densities. Results ranged from a low density of 0.12 housing units/acre for Celebration to a high of 2.17 hu/acre for Baldwin Park (See Table 5-2). The mean housing density was 0.7 hu/acre. Using classifications standards developed by Kretser et al. (2008), densities of 0.02 - 0.19 housing units/acre are exurban, representing theoretical average lot sizes of from 5.1 to 42 acres, while densities of .2 -.2. 4 housing units/acre are suburban, representing average lot sizes from 0.41 to 5 acres. Urban densities cover residential building at densities of greater than 2.4 housing units/acre, representing average lot sizes of .40 acre or smaller. Based on these standards, five of the six developments were built into suburban surroundings, with Celebration falling into an exurban housing density category. None of the developments was built into an area of urban density.

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5.2.3 Variable 3: City Limits

Geographic inclusion within or outside of city limits speaks to both locational and governance factors. Developments located within existing limits of incorporated cities are by definition more urbanized and considered to be more centrally located and therefore less sprawling than developments located in unincorporated areas. In addition, location in a city indicates a higher likelihood of participation in civic life. Five out of six developments were located in unincorporated areas (See Table 5-3 and Figures 5-5 and 5-6). The exception was Baldwin Park, which was located in the City of Orlando. Results show that the preponderance of the New Urbanist sites were in unincorporated areas, reflecting the general trend of post World- War II developers and residents to favor housing locations in unincorporated areas in Florida (Smith 2005). As noted, only Baldwin Park was located within a city. However, other formal legal bodies were in effect that relate to experiences of life in the communities for residents. In the archival research, notice was taken of the existence of these entities, although they were not included in evaluation of locational sustainability scores. Each community included a formal Homeowners Association, which enforces aesthetic and other community rules and organizes social events. For four more communities, community development districts (CDDs) were also in effect (see Table 5-4). Homebuyers and business owners become subject to CDDs by default when they sign papers at purchase that enroll them in the CDD and indicate their agreement to abide by a set of covenants, codes, and restrictions that govern rules concerning protection of property value within the community. Under Florida law, CDDs can be formed to issue tax-free bonds that support both initial development and ongoing upkeep of infrastructure (roads, sewer, and more) and maintenance of commonly held lands within a master-planned community (Florida Statues, Chapter 190). CDDs exact payments from homebuyers to pay development costs, thus transferring much of the development financial burden to incoming buyers and sparing the developer of seeking capital elsewhere in its own reserves or on the commercial market (Frantz and Collins 1999). Homebuyers and business owners elect to participate by default when they sign papers at purchase that enroll them in the CDD and indicate their agreement to abide by a set of covenants, codes, and restrictions that govern rules concerning protection of property value within the community. Management of CDDs is by a board of supervisors who must be landowners in the

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district; they are elected on formal ballots in formal elections along with other governmental candidates (Florida Statutes, Chapter 190). The archival research found that residents were highly engaged with issues pertaining to HOAs and CDDs (e.g. Frantz and Collins 1999; Ross 1999). Based on the formal governance structures involving payments of yearly fees for HOAs and added payments for those communities with CDDs, residents within communities had substantial and financially vested governance concerns focused within the bounds of the community. Based on lack of inclusion within city limits for all developments except Baldwin Park, formal incentives for civic involvement in wider municipal issues were lacking. Therefore, a focus of formal civic scope was considered to be inward for five of the six communities (Table 5-4). To summarize, for the study sites, only one site was part of a wider incorporated city. For the other developments, formal civic structures operating through HOAs and CDDS were focused on property-related matters that governed the communities themselves.

5.2.4 Variable 4: Urban Service Area

Developments falling within an urban service area are considered responsive to planning efforts by local governments to contain development for a set planning horizon and to control costs for infrastructure, and incentivize developers to locate within the boundary in order to receive greater share of public support for development of infrastructure. Therefore they are given a higher locational sustainability rating than developments outside of such a boundary. Results are shown in Table 5-5 and depicted in Figures 5-7 and 5-8. In the Orlando area, Baldwin Park and Avalon Park fell within the urban service area in effect for Orange County at the time of the projects' development; however, for Avalon Park, the service boundary was amended specifically to include the development (Orange County 1993). Celebration is located outside of any urban service area; there is not such a boundary for Osceola County. In the Tampa area, Hampton Lakes and West Park Village are within the urban service boundary for Hillsborough County. Hampton Lakes was originally outside the urban service boundary, which was expanded as an outcome of the Northwest Plan, a community planning and visioning exercise conducted starting in 1998 (Hillsborough County 2008). Pasco County, where Longleaf is located, also lacks an urban service area.

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The analysis of communities' locations relative to urban service areas suggests that where such boundaries are in existence, amendments to boundaries can occur in similar fashion to amendments in zoning designations, as happened in the case of both Avalon Park and Hampton Lakes, casting doubt on the actual effectiveness of these instruments in controlling sprawl. Similar to the findings on population densities, several sites existed within but at the edge of the urban service boundary.

5.2.5 Variable 5: Greenfield or Infill Location

Development on sites more connected to existing urban areas is considered to be more sustainable than greenfield development based on the connection between greenfield development and land consumption, habitat fragmentation, and sprawling development patterns that are linked to greenhouse gases from commuting. Using Google Earth historical imagery to examine surrounding land uses for the time of development and following guidelines of the US Green Building Council (USGBC) for measures of urbanization, four out of six developments were determined to be greenfield developments with low measures for development on surrounding lands. Only Baldwin Park in Orlando and West Park Village in Hillsborough County were situated at the time of construction in areas that were already urbanized by USGBC standards. Results are shown in Table 5-6. A total of 7,368 acres of previously agricultural land was converted to create the six communities, out of 8,688 acres for all developments (85 percent of acreage), showing the attractiveness of open agricultural land to developers. Further interpretation is aided by applying a scale of devised by Duany, Speck and Lydon (2010, 1.6) for regional development using Smart Growth principles. The scale prioritizes growth alternatives from "smartest to "dumbest" on a scale from 1 to 8, with urban revitalization as best at number 1 and new neighborhoods in environmentally sensitive areas ranked as the worst at number 8. The three greenfield projects built on agricultural lands would rank as among the least desirable choices from a Smart Growth perspective, falling into either "new neighborhoods requiring new infrastructure," ranked at number 7, or number 8, "new neighborhoods in environmentally sensitive areas." Land histories for the study cases revealed that the disposition destiny of several large properties formerly in agricultural use was divided between lands sold for conservation and lands kept for development. The link between land passing from agricultural use to either development

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or conservation is an established pattern in Florida. Land in prior agricultural or silvicultural use may be developed or conserved depending on environmental regulatory constraints in effect for federally protected species and wetlands that hamper development options, as well as the availability of public funds for land conservation purchases at the time when development is being considered. In Florida, the public sector has been an important land buyer for property owners in possession of land that is deemed to have valuable environmental attributes (Florida Department of Environmental Protection). The environmental and traffic impacts of greenfield development were vigorously discussed during the development approval process for Avalon Park. Flag Development Co. was in possession of nearly 10,000 acres of land in eastern Orange County, out of which 1,860 acres ultimately became Avalon Park. The land was comprised a mixture of pasture, flatwoods forest, and wetlands straddling the Econlockhatchee River, an Outstanding Florida Waterway that is a tributary to the St. Johns River in a wetlands-rich ecosystem (Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission 2013). The land was used for cattle raising and timbering and provided habitat for federally endangered red-cockaded woodpeckers and gopher tortoises, among other species. Before the DRI was completed, the developers sold 2,706 acres on the eastern portion of the river floodplain to the St. Johns Water Management District to establish the Hal Scott Regional Preserve and Park (Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission 2013). The development order approved in 1993 permitted development of 5,715 acres on the west side of the river (Orange County 1993). Environmental impacts emerged as a chief point of contestation in public meetings over permitting of Avalon Park (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993) but did not derail approval. County commissioners noted particular conditions within the DRI they said were responsive to concerns for protection of the river, such as deep setbacks (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993). The agreement to protect wildlife included setting aside 170 acres of habitat in exchange for a permit to "take" (kill) 715 gopher tortoises (Spear 2005). Before construction began, the developer negotiated to sell additional acreage abutting the river for conservation. He was later quoted saying that if the sale fell through, he intended to develop the land to its fullest as permitted (Snyder 1995). The sale was completed, adding another 3,838 acres to the Hal Scott Regional Preserve and Park and substantially reducing the footprint of the Avalon Park project from its original, and duly approved, scope.

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At Celebration, approval of the 4,900 acre greenfield development was less controversial. Disney executives had worked closely with county, state, and federal agencies to reach long-term agreements about environmental and traffic impacts, which were codified in the DRI and the resulting Celebration Development Agreement, which was approved without controversy (Ross 1999; Frantz and Collins 1999). The land where Celebration was sited consisted of many wetlands as well as uplands dominated by palmetto prairie, interspersed with mesic forest and scrub habitat and supporting bald eagles, alligators, and gopher tortoises, among other species (Osceola County 1994). It was used for raising cattle and timber by the Disney Company prior to being de-annexed from the Reedy Creek Improvement District to establish Celebration. Within the 4,900 acres permitted for the Planned Unit Development (PUD), 880 acres were set aside for conservation, open space, and recreation land (Central Florida American Planning Association). Efforts were made to keep native vegetation and trees intact and to encourage builders and residents to incorporate indigenous vegetation into landscaping (Osceola County 1994). Agreements for mitigation for development impacts were obtained from federal and state agencies that granted long-term permits for "encroachment into wetlands, wetlands buffers, wildlife, wildlife habitat and other environmentally sensitive areas" (Osceola County 1994, p. 128). Disney received a long-term permit allowing the killing of 3,254 gopher tortoises across its properties, including Celebration; in 2005, the company reported moving 400 tortoises and killing none (Spear 2005). Included in the long-term mitigation is a large permanent greenbelt of 4,700 acres of land flanking the project to the east and west was established on the remainder of the land outside the PUD. At Longleaf, the greenfield development of 568 acres was the largest real estate development to its time on family lands that had once been part of the 16,000-acre Anclote River Ranch. The original ranch owner sold 6,000 acres to the Southwest Florida Water Management District in the 1980s to establish a well field and county park that is used for passive recreation (Southwest Florida Water Management District 2015). In 1996, another 3,500 acres of the original ranch was purchased by the state to mitigate wetlands destroyed in construction of the Suncoast Parkway, a toll north-south expressway completed in 2001 (six miles east of the location for Longleaf). The sale assisted the family with paying an estate tax bill of $9 million that followed the death of Jay B. Starkey Sr. (Starkey 2007). Starkey family members had previously developed a 287-acre subdivision. After Longleaf, they went on to master plan and

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obtain a DRI for 2,500-acre Starkey Ranch, purchased by an investment group in 2013 (Kinsler 2013). The disposition of the original ranch land shows the passing of land from agricultural to a mixture of conservation and development uses. The lands at Longleaf included wetlands and uplands in the pine flatwoods ecosystem. Developers developed a site plan carefully to preserve existing wetlands in their natural state and to keep intact existing forest stands that were of high wildlife value (Starkey 2008). The 45-acre Hampton Lakes development was coded as a greenfield development based on low levels of surrounding development at the time of its construction. The land was zoned for industrial use in an area that was transitioning from agricultural and industrial uses to suburbanization. Prior to development, the site had a small wetland with a cypress tree in the location intended for the town center; permission to fill the wetland was granted based on developers contributing to a wetlands mitigation bank (Chiaramonte 2008). As noted for Celebration, the communities reserved land for conservation, recreation, and open space. Parks and recreation lands made up an average of 15 percent of land uses within the six communities, as will be presented in the findings for Variable . Lands in this category include undevelopable wetlands in addition to land for active and passive recreation. In some cases, these areas preserved fragments of original habitat, whereas in others, notably Baldwin Park, conservation areas were created anew on remediated areas. Lands in these unpaved, minimally developed uses provide positive environmental impacts, such as for absorbing rainwater and providing some wildlife habitat; however much of the areas are kept in managed lawns for which the environmental benefit is controversial (e.g. see Robbins and Sharp 2003). Reviewing the six cases in this study, results show that the preponderance of development, 85 percent of the acreage, was on agricultural greenfield land. Land histories showed that the break-up of large tracts might include land sales for conservation as well as for development at various stages in the pre-development and development process. Regulatory processes required developers to survey and enumerate the environmental impacts as well as anticipated future traffic impacts, however, in each case, approvals and permits were obtained. Permits for environmental impacts were granted with requirements for mitigation. The parcelization of formerly large tracts of agricultural land shows that the protection of the "fragile hinterland" as described in New Urbanist Charter is not being realized. The developments poorly satisfied standards put forth by Ross et. al (2006, 15) for "sprawl-free"

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greenfield development: protection of sensitive regional resources from development; fiscal neutrality to existing residents; high-density development; integration of multi-modal transportation; and promotion of social integration and diversity through affordable housing choices, thus offering a place to "intercept migrants en route from rural areas to large cities."

5.2.6 Variable 6: Distance to Nearest City

Distances to the nearest city point were tabulated for each development to estimate proximity to the nearest city center and to attendant density of employment, commercial, and cultural activities. Developments were an average of 9.2 miles from the nearest city, as shown in Table 5-7. The only location considered readily proximate to a city using the four-mile limit adopted was Baldwin Park, which was 3.5 miles from the city center; therefore Baldwin Park received a score of 1 while the others received zeroes. Another calculation showed developments averaged 3 miles away from the nearest limited access highway, indicating greater accessibility to a limited access highway than to a central business district. Without exception, each community was located closer to a limited access highway than to the city center, suggesting that considerations of highway access for automobiles might be crucially important in the site selection process for developers. Mass transit service was not available within any of the communities as of February 2016. For developments in the Greater Orlando area, the nearest bus service was a 3-mile walk from Avalon Park's town center, approximately a one-mile walk from the town center of Baldwin Park, and a 1.2 mile walk from the center of Celebration. Bus service was altogether absent for Longleaf and Hampton Lakes in the greater Tampa area. At West Park Village, the nearest bus stop was 0.9 miles from the retail center. Site selection for Celebration was heavily influenced by locations of existing Interstate (4) and company plans for adding roadways to serve Disney theme parks (Ross 1999; Frantz and Collins 1999). For the developers of Longleaf, the widening of State Road 54 and construction of the Suncoast Parkway were important in their decision to develop because they would improve commuting prospects for would-be residents. A year 2000 news article reported, "A road network that makes Longleaf accessible to the work centers of Pinellas and Hillsborough is one of the key factors that the Starkeys hope will put it in the right place at the right time" (Stark 2000). As the same developers progressed from developing Longleaf to starting the 2,500-acre

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Starkey Ranch development on the remaining large piece of family land, the importance of highway infrastructure to location was also noted as crucial. An article from 2008 reported: "The economics of Florida real estate remain shaky, but the Starkeys say they're banking on their location near Gunn Highway and the Suncoast Parkway, two of Pasco County's busiest commuting routes into Hillsborough and Pinellas counties. 'When you look at our location in Tampa Bay, we're really an 'A' location,' Trey Starkey said" (Wiatrowski 2008). The findings demonstrate that ready availability to interstates or turnpikes was as important for developers using New Urbanist styles to build internally pedestrian-oriented communities as for conventional developers. Siting was heavily dependent on either existing or imminent infrastructure and reflected potential to draw from a wide commuter shed that extended far beyond the idealized narrow bounds of a self-sufficient village.

5.2.7 Variable 7: Proportion of Mixed Land Uses

To gain an approximation of the extent to which the residents in a development might readily access a variety of locations important to daily life from their residences, land uses for parcels within and surrounding each development within a one-mile buffer were analyzed. The one-mile buffer was chosen to be more expansive than the quarter-mile ideal standard for walkability and to encompass neighboring land uses that a resident might access by a short car ride as well as by bicycling. The 2010 time frame was chosen to reflect land uses after developments were completed and occupied. Analysis consisted of tabulating and comparing total land uses according to zoning applied for tax purposes to parcels within the buffered area. Land in parks and conservation uses were dominant, comprising a mean of 33.1 % of the land area within the study communities and the one-mile buffer (See Table 5-8 and Figure 5-9). This figure reflects attainment of the New Urbanist goal for establishment of a range of parks and recreation areas to be shared in common by residents. In addition, the ample proportion of land in parks and conservation uses reflects the sale of land for parks by developer landowners in conjunction with or preceding real estate development (in the cases of Avalon Park and Longleaf). In addition, regulations requiring set-asides of conservation areas to protect environmentally sensitive areas contributed to the bounty of park land, especially for Avalon Park and Celebration. Land in this category also included land for both active and passive

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recreation, including golf courses that were prevalent adjacent in the neighborhoods surrounding West Park Village. Residential uses made up the next largest use, with an average of 24.4 %. The lowest proportion of residential land was found at the largest site, Celebration, where 11.2 % of land was categorized as residential, to a high of 46.4 % at Baldwin Park, which was partially ringed by existing neighborhoods at the time of its conversion from military base to development. The next highest proportional land use within the one-mile area was for agriculture, taking up an average total of 12.7 % of the land, all of it reflecting agricultural uses outside of the community. The figures show the continuing presence of agricultural land proximate to the developments, with at least some agricultural land zoning occurring in the buffer for all cases except for Baldwin Park, which fell within Orlando's city limits. The highest proportion of agricultural land surrounded Longleaf, the former ranch in rural Pasco County, followed by Celebration in Osceola County, which was also converted directly from agricultural use. Making up the fourth most dominant use was the "Other" category, which includes lakes, roads, utility corridors, and submerged lands. Just under 11% of land fell into this category. Land in use for government, institutional and educational purposes averaged 10.6%. Baldwin Park, where some federal holdings remained after the revitalization as well as adjacent to the development, had the highest proportion, at 23.9% Celebration had the lowest percentage at 5.2 %. Land in this category includes a large number of schools that were located within or adjacent to the New Urbanist communities. Every community contained or was adjacent to, at minimum, an elementary school. Commercial land uses comprised an average of 7.3% of the area within the communities and their one-mile buffers for the year 2010 data. Commercial land use accounted for a high of 12.8 % for land within and around Celebration to a low of 0.9 % at Avalon Park. The results show a low level of commercial land use within and immediately surrounding the communities, indicating residents are unlikely to be able to readily engage in a full range of commercial activities close to home. The relatively higher proportion of land in commercial use at Celebration demonstrated the developer's commitment to establish a retail center at the outset as well as the existence of a large commercial center located adjacent to the development near the Interstate 4 corridor. At Baldwin Park, which had 12.1 % of land zoned for commercial use, the

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higher proportion of commercial uses reflected input from participants in planning processes who favored retail and commercial land uses within the community. Industrial land uses averaged only 1.1 % of land area around the communities, with a high of 7.4 % at Hampton Lakes, which was zoned for industrial land use before development, to a low of zero for West Park Village. To evaluate the balance between land uses most supportive for jobs and commerce relative to those for residential uses, a ratio was computed for combined commercial and industrial land uses relative to combined residential and park or recreation uses (See Table 5-9). Higher values indicate greater presence of commercial and/or industrial land uses relative to residential and park/recreation, and thus a greater mix not only of land uses but of employment options, while lower values indicate the predominance of residential and park/recreation uses more consistent with "bedroom communities." (Land for schools, which support needs for residents to provide schooling for their children while also producing jobs, was not included in the calculation. Land for agriculture, which also provides some jobs, was also left out of the calculation.) A ratio of 1 would indicate an even split between the zoned areas of commercial plus industrial to residential and park/recreation uses while a ratio of 0.5 would indicate twice as much residential plus park/recreation land as land devoted to commercial and industrial purposes. Interpretation of the results should bear in mind that the ratios measured areas of land in various uses without consideration of difference in intensity or rents for different land uses; no effort is made to adjust for the variations in intensity of land use or rents for commercial or industrial land uses relative to residential uses. However, consistent application of the measures yields comparative results across communities and offers some insights into the extent of achievement of mixed land uses. This ratio was used to assign a locational sustainability score for mixed land use to each community. Results indicate that attainment of mixed land uses is generally low. Ratios ranged from the highest, most diverse, result of 0.29 for Baldwin Park to the lowest, least diverse ratio of 0.01 for Avalon Park (See Table 5-8). At Baldwin Park, residential and park uses accounted for 3.5 times more land area relative to land area zoned for commercial and industrial uses internally and within the one-mile buffer. The next most diverse land use ratio was found at Hampton Lakes, which scored 0.26. At approximately 40 acres, this was the smallest community, therefore

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surrounding land uses were more influential in the ratio computation. Celebration's score of .25 indicates that land uses for residences and parks accounted for four times the land area of uses zoned for commerce and industry. Longleaf's ratio was lower at 0.12, followed by West Park Village at 0.02 and Avalon, with a ratio of 0.01. In the last set of communities, commercial and industrial uses were substantially overshadowed by residential and park land uses in 2010. An average of only 8.4 % of land across communities fell into either commercial or industrial zoning designations across the communities. For communities overall, the mean ratio was 0.15, indicating that on average, six times more land area in the developments and surrounding buffers was devoted to residential and parks/recreation land uses than to commercial or industrial uses, indicative of an auto- dependent, "bedroom community" status. The developments were low in a mixture of land uses that could offer employment or a variety of shopping venues. While mixed uses are emphasized in the rhetoric of New Urbanism, attainment of this hallmark New Urbanist ideal was not found, marking the communities as more similar to bedroom communities than to the sought-after urban villages, which would necessitate a greater mixture of establishments to provide jobs and serve standard retail needs along with housing. Based upon the proximity of schools within and, more commonly, immediately adjacent to the developments, the communities did provide good conditions for school aged children to travel to and from schools by walking or bicycling. However, prospects for wage earners and shoppers to do the same appeared limited. The struggle to attract and maintain viable businesses was noted (Chiaramonte 2008; Frantz & 1999). While a systematic survey of businesses was not conducted, site visits revealed many businesses that were specialty or boutique enterprises, along with offices for professional services in the larger developments. At Hampton Lakes, availability of "live-work" zoned buildings did provide for residents to operate a business on the ground floor while maintaining a residence above. One community had a grocery store within its boundaries and another had one immediately adjacent. Coffee shops were present at all communities except Longleaf in 2008, which had a coffee shop that went out of business. While commercial and industrial land uses were limited, the communities excelled at offering residents expansive park and common areas via the generous green spaces within and surrounding the developments, averaging more than a third of the land within the one-mile buffer.

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In conclusion, the composition of land uses in the developments offered residents conditions for optimizing domestic life within neighborhoods engineered for social interactions with fellow residents by way of small residential lots, narrow set-backs, front porches, and ample green spaces for recreation. In addition, ready access to schools enhanced the setting for families with children. Comments from residents and developers emphasized the appeal of sociability in these places. In touring West Park Village, planner and West Park Village resident Ray Chiarmonte noted a spacious green that he said became "Halloween central" (remarks 2008). Homeowners associations, which were in effect at every community, sponsor regularly planned social, civic, and recreational events to enrich the lives of residents. However, a low diversity of job-producing land uses existed in 2010, suggesting residents would be likely to remain dependent on automobile transportation.

5.2.8 Index Results

Results for all variables were combined in an index. Each of the seven variables was given equal weight in computing the aggregated locational sustainability scores for each community. The maximum attainable score for each variable other than the land use ratio was 1. For the land use diversity ratio, values higher than one were possible; however actual scores were all lower than 1. A score reflecting total adherence to ideals of locational sustainability as defined for this study would be 1.0 or higher (with a number above 1 accounting for a greater proportion of mixed land uses). Scores averaged 0.38, showing poor attainment of locational sustainability overall. Baldwin Park had the highest locational sustainabilty rating, with a score of 0.85, followed by West Park Village, 0.53. Other scores fell below the 0.50 mark, with Avalon Parks scoring 0.31 and Hampton Lakes scoring 0.27, followed by very low scores for Longleaf, 0.18, ending with Celebration, with the lowest score of 0.15. A rating was assigned for the summary outcome, with a score of .80 or higher rated as "High," a score of .50 -.80 rated as "Fair, " a score of .4 - .6 rated as "low," and a score lower than .40 rated as "very low." Accordingly, Baldwin Park was rated as High, West Park Village was rated as Low, and all other developments were rated as having a Very Low Locational Sustainability score.

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5.2.9 Summary of Locational Sustainability Findings

In summary, the spatial analysis for locational sustainability found the majority of communities to rate poorly, while being somewhat varied in relation to the existing urbanized fabric of the region into which they were constructed. The sites for New Urbanist development sites spanned a variety of locations: a brownfield redevelopment site (Baldwin Park), a small greenfield site on industrially zoned land in an area undergoing conversion from rural to suburban land uses (Hampton Lakes), a suburban site (West Park Village), two large greenfield new town locations (Avalon Park and Celebration), and a greenfield site on the leading edge of suburban sprawl (Longleaf). The three greenfield sites built on agricultural land, constituting half the developments by number and the preponderance of land area affected, could be argued to clearly exhibit sprawl at the urban-rural fringe. The clear exception was the public-private redevelopment project, Baldwin Park. Measures for locational sustainability developed as proxies for auto dependence revealed that communities did not exhibit conditions likely to reduce auto dependence for residents nor afford residents the ability to access the full spectrum of daily needs, including employment, within a one-mile radius. The one-mile radius is four times the range of the idealized quarter- mile or five minute walk routinely cited as the goal for walkability (Ewing 1999). With the exception of Baldwin Park, all sites were outside of municipalities and more than five miles distant from a city center. Apart from Baldwin Park and West Park Village, locations tended to be isolated or at the urban-rural fringe and distant from city centers. The communities appeared more characteristic of bedroom communities than of self-sufficient villages depicted in New Urbanist rhetoric. based on the predominance of residential land uses and distances from urban areas. The variables show that the communities tend to be loosely knitted into the surrounding urban fabric, spatially and in terms of governance, making them poorly positioned to achieve New Urbanist goals of strengthening vitality of existing urban areas.

5.3 Racial and Ethnic Composition of Residents

Research Question 2 asks: What racial and ethnic characteristics apply to the populations residing in the New Urbanist development and how do these compare to the MSA within which the community is located? In other words, who are these places for?

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Use of census data reveals the racial and ethnic composition of residents in the New Urbanist communities for comparison to the composition of residents within the wider community in which it is located. Computing the means for all 2010 census blocks within or intersecting each community, results were obtained as shown in Table 5-11. Scores were assigned for Population Diversity based on racial and ethnic composition compared to the MSA averages for % White Not Hispanic. A Very High score was assigned if the development fell below the % White Not Hispanic for the MSA; if the score was within 5 points of the MSA average, a rating of High was assigned; for scores within 10 points of the MSA average, a rating of Medium was assigned; scores within 20 points were assigned a rating of Low, and scores more than 20 points higher than the %White Not Hispanic were given a rating of Very Low. The analysis found that racial and ethnic diversity in the New Urbanist communities was generally quite low compared to figures for the MSAs to which the communities belonged and to the state average. Avalon Park stood out as an exception across all categories except for blacks. The average percentage of white, not Hispanic residents was almost 75% for the New Urbanist communities and intersecting census blocks, versus the statewide average of 57.9%. Across all communities, black residents were disproportionately absent, with an average of only 5.15 % versus a statewide average of 16% and an average of 16.6% in the Orlando MSA and 11.83% in the Tampa MSA. The exception was for residence by Asians. New Urbanist developments and intersecting census block groups did exhibit higher diversity for residency by Asians than their MSAs in five of six New Urbanist communities (all except Longleaf in rural Pasco County) than for MSAs. In the Orlando MSA, racial and ethnic diversity is greater than the state as a whole, with 53.3% of the population falling into the white, not Hispanic category compared to 57.9% statewide. Avalon Park reflected the most diversity of all six communities, even above the Orlando MSA average for % Asian, Hispanic, and multi-race, with a white, Not Hispanic percentage of just over half, at 51%, giving it a Very High rating. However, the percentage of black residents at Avalon Park was only 9%, compared to the Orlando MSA average of just over 16 %. Baldwin Park showed less diversity than the MSA average in all categories except for Asians, with a black population of less than a quarter the MSA average, and a Hispanic population of half the MSA average. The rating for Baldwin Park was Very Low. Celebration

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was even less diverse, with lower diversity across the board in all categories and an overall population 82 % white and not Hispanic; it was rated Very Low. The Tampa MSA had higher proportions of white, non-Hispanic residents than the Orlando MSA. Of the New Urbanist developments there, Hampton Lakes rated most diverse, rated as High based on having a slightly higher percentage of population %White Not Hispanic. It had three times the MSA average percentage of Asians, and a higher proportion of multi-racial residents than the MSA, but was less diverse for Blacks and Hispanics than the MSA as a whole. West Park Village and its intersecting census blocks had a higher percentage of Asians but lower proportions of other ethnic and racial groups than the MSA, rating as Medium for diversity. Longleaf had the highest percentage of white, non-Hispanic residents of all communities at 90 %, with all other ethnic and racial groups underrepresented, and its rating was Very Low. In summary, all but one New Urbanist development, Avalon Park, had a lower percentage of non-Hispanic whites than the MSA to which it belonged, meaning that most of the developments failed to meet New Urbanist goals for providing places for a racially and ethnic diverse population. Presence of on-site affordable housing promotes social diversity in a community. Developers who build on-site housing expand opportunities for residents of lower income levels to take up residence, putting into practice the social justice goals of New Urbanism to counter "increasing separation by race and income" by distributing affordable housing throughout regions. A number of scholars (e.g. Talen 2008, Robbins 2008, Keil 2007) have criticized New Urbanists for failing to match rhetorical goals for social inclusion stated in the Charter of New Urbanism. Talen (2008) views improving affordability as the most important policy issue facing New Urbanism. Of the larger study cases that were subject to a DRI that required a plan for affordable housing, Avalon Park, described by its developer as "the poor man's Celebration," was found to most willingly include on-site affordable housing. This was achieved through both rentals and moderately priced homes. In contrast, Celebration fought on-site affordable housing and met the state requirement by contributing $300,000 to a county fund for off-site housing subsidies (Frantz and Collins 1999). State officials initially sought for Disney to include houses costing less than $100,000 within the development, but Disney argued that enough affordable housing was already available elsewhere in the region and Osceola County officials deferred to Disney's

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viewpoint with the state then conceding (Frantz and Collins 1999). Osceola County also approved the settlement. Frantz and Collins (1999, 75) noted that for a development project costing $2.5 billion, the $300,000 for housing subsidies was "a mere pittance." Both Disney and Osceola County would benefit from higher price points on homes, which would yield more profits and property taxes; meanwhile, county housing officials noted that Disney employees who could not afford to live in Celebration were among those lining up to request housing subsidies (Frantz and Collins 1999). West Park Village was the other development subject to a DRI. The amended DRI did not require designation of affordable housing, but mirrored language from the original DRI (Hillsborough County 1998, Exhibit A, 12): "If feasible, the developer shall utilize Multifamily Housing Revenue bonds issued by the Florida Housing Finance Agency and/or the County Housing Finance Agency for some rental housing within the project." Baldwin Park was exempt from a DRI after successful passage of a state law exempting closed military bases from the DRI process. The remaining developments were too small to require a DRI and were not subject to its requirements for affordable housing. With the exception of Avalon Park, which exhibited greater racial and ethnic diversity across all categories except Blacks, the New Urbanist communities were not successful in serving diverse populations. This finding is consistent with the general failure of developers to include on-site affordable housing and critiques that housing affordability is a weak point for New Urbanism (Keil 2007, Talen 2008).

5.4 The Role of Collaborative Planning

Research Question 3 asks: What is the relationship between locational sustainability and the nature and extent of collaborative processes accompanying development? In other words, can processes of collaborative engagement leading up to development result in planned developments that exhibit greater measures of sustainability than similar developments created without use of collaborative planning processes? This question probed for differences in development processes for the New Urbanist communities compared to the prevailing rational comprehensive planning method (RCPM) that was conventionally followed consistent with Florida regulations in existence at the time. The archival research uncovered information to construct the development histories for the study

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communities and a rubric was applied to determine whether collaborative planning was influential. To be considered influential, two conditions were required: 1) public participation had to exhibit iterative interactions of diverse stakeholders in formal processes, and 2) deliberative processes involving the participants had to have a demonstrated and substantive effect on outcomes. Effects could be influential at either pre-development stages or during development, with particular attention paid to any collaborative impacts upon site selection. Results were then compared to sustainability ratings. The summary of findings is presented in Table 5-12 alongside results from the Locational Sustainability index and Population Diversity ratings. For most of the communities, planning processes were found not to exhibit "citizen based participatory planning and design" called for in the Charter of New Urbanism (Congress of the New Urbanism 1996). Collaborative planning was found for only two cases, Baldwin Park, which had the highest locational sustainability rating of all the study communities yet a low population diversity rating, and Hampton Lakes, which had a medium locational sustainability rating and a low population diversity rating. To provide further insight into development processes in effect, findings from archival research for each case will be summarized.

5.4.1 Avalon Park

The development of Avalon Park took place within the bounds of the growth management review process in effect at the time, following the rational comprehensive planning model (RCPM) that incorporates routine opportunities for citizen comment and public hearings. The record does not show that alternative collaborative processes characterized by iterative processes involving diverse stakeholders were instrumental in any of the development phases, from proactive stages of site selection to master planning for the development. Rather, the process was carried out by the developers, who also complied with state regulations to conduct a Development of Regional Impact (DRI) study. As with many development projects in this period, Avalon Park spawned vigorous public reaction and opposition. The project received in-depth press coverage and was described as controversial (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993). Opposing the project were environmental organizations including the Sierra Club, as well as City of Orlando's planning director, who

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expressed concerns about traffic. Among the project's supporters was the New Urbanist design firm of Duany Plater-Zyberk, which had been engaged to create the master plan. The hearing for the development order lasted eight hours after heated testimony from supporters and detractors, ending in a 4-3 vote in favor of approval. Testimony included "impassioned pleas" from citizens who argued Avalon Park would act as a magnet for growth, create traffic congestion, and impair the Econlockhatchee River (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993a). Testifying in favor of approval were Andres Duany, one of the members of the architecture firm DPZ, and JohnDeGrove, a former state planning official and a chief architect of the state's Growth Management Act of 1985. Duany and DeGrove argued for the project as a model of Smart Growth (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993b). The County Attorney warned that rejection of the development project would "send a signal to large developers that Orange County is not a good place to do business" (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993). Ultimately, approval of the contested project fell to a vote by the board of county commissioners who were empowered to approve or deny the development order for the project. In approving the DRI, elected officials pointed to particular conditions within the DRI they said were responsive to concerns about the project's impact, such as the deep setbacks established for protection of the river (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993). Controversies about the project may have had informal influence resulting in a second purchase of riverine lands by the St. Johns River Water Management District and Orange County. However, the development order permitted further development if state approvals were not obtained, and the developer noted intentions to proceed with development if the public lands purchase was not approved. Ultimate location of the project in an area confined to the west side of the river, leaving environmentally sensitive lands on the east side undeveloped, was a consequence of the successful real estate transaction. Neither site selection nor development design was affected by collaborative planning processes.

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5.4.2 Baldwin Park

The development of Baldwin Park incorporated extensive public involvement over a span of years through both master planning and more detailed design planning phases, exhibiting the characteristics of collaborative planning as defined for this study. Under direction of the City of Orlando, formal public input came through public-private partnerships as well as structured meetings. After the Orlando Naval Training Center was placed on the list for federal base closures in 1993, Orlando's mayor formed a Base Reuse Commission to study options for reuse of the base lands, acting as the Navy's agent (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). The Commission consisted of 150 business and government leaders and was supported by a Mayor- appointed city staff member and a private consulting firm, paid by the Department of Defense (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). The firm inventoried base assets and liabilities and the commission conducted 174 public meetings to solicit input on land reuse options leading up to creation of a base reuse master plan. Some citizens favored conversion of the base to an open space; others proposed creation of a standalone neighborhood (Molnar 2014). The master plan presented in 1995 proposed creation of a walkable neighborhood, with schools, shops, and businesses, reflecting the same New Urbanist principles that were being incorporated into plans for the nearby Disney town of Celebration, which had its grand opening in 1995 (Frantz and Collins 1999). A major difference was that Baldwin Park was an infill project that integrated into an existing urban fabric of surrounding neighborhoods. Another set of 100 public meetings took place in the next phase of detailed planning. In one series of meetings, participants were polled for their preferences for home styles, pedestrian areas, transit options, commercial land use, offices, streetscapes, signs, parking, and more using visual preference surveys (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). Results were revealed at an all-day workshop during which participants sketched out ideas on paper. The vision that came from these meetings was “the overwhelming desire to link the property with surrounding neighborhoods, provide public access to lakes, form a network of green throughout the project, create a vibrant main street, and disperse automobile traffic through a gridded street network” (EPA 2006). Rick Bernhart, who was an Orlando City planner during the creation of Baldwin Park, noted that the citizen input emphasizing a pedestrian focus was instrumental in shaping the plan that was ultimately taken to developers (Molnar 2014). Master planning shepherded by the city was completed before developers were selected. The resulting plan called for creation of a

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community with a variety of home types in a walkable, mixed-use setting that connected to existing neighborhoods (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). Glenda Hood, Orlando's Mayor throughout the base decommissioning and rebuilding, emphasized the role of citizens in directing the plan (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006, 3), "Everything about Baldwin Park is what the citizens wanted: the quality of the homes, the mixed-use approach with businesses, schools, residences and recreation contained in the acreage, and the job and tax generation it will bring to our community in the future." As the planning and building proceeded, the city continued to hold monthly public meetings in cooperation with the developer (EPA 2006). The depth and influence of public involvement through the entire process was questioned, however, mostly after-the-fact, including in an award-winning expose by the Orlando Sentinel. An Orlando Sentinel newspaper editorial (2001) argued that a lack of public scrutiny led to an overly generous taxpayer support for Baldwin Park. Despite the array of public meetings, the Orlando Sentinel's view was, "[S]ome key decisions benefitting the project's developer were made without coordinated public debate or scrutiny" (2001). The newspaper argued that "robust public debate, rather than piecemeal presentations, could have aired all the concerns and weighed them against the cost of giving the developer so many breaks." The editorial writer laid blame with the mayor, the city council, and the media for lack of sustained attention through the development process. The focus of the editorial critique was upon the financial package that the city offered Pritzker, consisting of the "attractive" sales price for the property, the impact fee exemptions, low-interest loans, and tax-free bonds, which were estimated to be worth $40 to $50 million (Brassfield 2002). The Orlando Sentinel noted that the decisions "weren't made in secret, but they drew little attention." The newspaper concluded: "It isn't enough to have public discussion about a project just at the outset, as the base redevelopment had in its earliest stages. Every stage of decision-making should be done in a bright public spotlight so that citizens can be confident about how their taxes are being used and their interests are being protected." In summary, collaborative public involvement was important in the foundational planning for Baldwin, involving a diverse set of stakeholders and citizens in formal planning processes, and influencing the type of community that resulted. Even so, critics charged that the

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extent of collaboration was not sustained throughout to apply to financial decisions affecting taxpayers. The siting decision was moot given the nature of the project.

5.4.3 Celebration

Public involvement in the siting and development of Celebration was absent, based on archival research findings. Celebration was planned by the Disney company with oversight from local and state authorities in the complex process described in Chapter 3. During a time when the Disney corporation was venturing into major development projects in the US and overseas, the Disney company had begun consideration of how to develop its Osceola County holdings. By 1987 Disney has consulted with a variety of master-planning firms (Ross 1990). A number of options were considered, including an upscale shopping mall, and themed golf course villages. However, after extensive company research and visits to both historic and greenfield new towns, executives settled on a neotraditional concept (Ross 1999; Frantz and Collins 1999). Disney announced its plans to develop the Osceola County site in 1991, then called the "Osceola Multi-use development." The Disney Development Company (DDC), a wholly owned real estate development subsidiary ushered through the master planning and permit acquisition portion of the development before Disney reorganizations created The Celebration Company (TCC). After making the decision to develop its Osceola lands for real estate, the Disney corporation was successful in de-annexing the lands slated for real estate development from the RCID (Ross 1999). Had the development remained within the RCID, the new permanent residents would have become voting members of the district. Instead, land use regulation now fell to Osceola County and state and federal agencies (Frantz and Collins 1999). After de- annexation from RCID, the land became subject to Florida's growth management regulations as well as to county codes. At this point, public sector interventions were required under Florida's historic 1985 Growth Management Act (Frantz and Collins 1999). Under this state law in effect at the time of development of Celebration, a comprehensive plan was required to be written, with review and public hearings by a technical review committee, planning and zoning board, and county commissioners. Also under the state law, development of Celebration required preparation of a development of a regional impact (DRI) review, required for developments affecting multiple counties (Rubino and Starnes 2008). Among other requirements, DRIs

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mandated provision for affordable housing, encouraging on-site provision but also allowing for mitigation by contributing funds to provide for off-site affordable housing (Rubino and Starnes 2008). The Disney company's fulfillment of statutory growth management requirements was managed by Disney executive Tom Lewis, who was well versed in the law due to prior terms as secretary of two state agencies, the Florida Department of Transportation (FDOT) and the Florida Department of Community Affairs (DCA), which oversaw DRI review and statewide comprehensive planning (Frantz and Collins 1999). In total, 16 federal, state, and local entities were party to the review (Frantz and Collins 1999); however, Disney had secured an agreement to streamline review, whereby Osceola County retained the final say on most elements (Frantz and Collins 1999). In 1993, the Osceola County commission approved the comprehensive plan and issued the development order for the "Celebration Development of Regional Impact" (Frantz and Collins 1999). Siting for Celebration was a company decision, and the company retained the right to rearrange locations of land uses within the Celebration boundaries as its plans proceeded (Frantz and Collins 1999). By law, the development review process entailed required public hearings, duly channeled through the Osceola County commission in open meetings. This public body approved development orders in accordance with the law, with little public controversy available in the public record. Accounts of stakeholder involvement in the development of Celebration focus on business interests of area landowners and the economic interest of Osceola County in gaining tax revenues (Ross 1999; Frantz and Collins 1999). Osceola County approved formation of the residential and enterprise Community Development District (CDD) at a meeting at which no public comment was taken; in fact, the item was not placed on the agenda for prior notice (Frantz and Collins 1999). Inasmuch as they are set up prior to occupancy, public involvement is not a factor in deciding whether to employ this financing model that relies heavily on a stream of capital from a community's residents and business owners. Ross (1999) describes Celebration residents more as "customers" than "citizens." In summary, planning for Celebration occurred through the RCPM, apart from collaborative planning processes, with governmental entities being cooperative partners in the

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process, in keeping with the pattern for Disney development. Being initially master-planned by Disney itself, the nature of development could be controlled to conform to what would be considered desirable for the larger Disney enterprise before leaving construction phases to the new wholly owned subsidiary.

5.4.4 Hampton Lakes

A government-sponsored collaborative planning effort that took place in the years preceding the development supported both the location and the mixed-use development style for what became the Hampton Lakes at Main Street project. Public participation was instrumental in the formation of the special area plan for the "Northwest district," of which Hampton Lakes was one actualization. The city-county planning department devised a plan for citizen participation that began with workshops to gather citizen input on visioning, after which planning staff analyzed data to extract and prioritize issues, recommend solutions, and present plans in a public setting (Hillsborough County 2008). The planning effort was intended to craft a blueprint for controlling growth with stated purposes to protect quality of life and natural resources specific to a particular bounded area. These "community and special area studies" for "livable communities" were incorporated into the County comprehensive plan as they were developed through a process of "extensive public involvement" (Hillsborough County 2008). The livable communities project was sponsored by the state from 1998 to 2000 and was implemented for five municipalities statewide. Orlando also participated and received state support for planning of Baldwin Park. The special area plan for the district within which Hampton Lakes at Main Street was developed was the Northwest Plan, which covered a 35-square-mile area from upper Tampa Bay to Odessa (Hillsborough County 2008). The plan was developed with input from New Urbanist architect Andres Duany, with the Miami firm Duany Plater Zyberk, who was hired as a consultant (Ripley 1999). The overall plan for the Northwest emphasized principles of New Urbanist/traditional neighborhood development, including mixed uses, pedestrian orientation, transportation options, and diverse housing. The plan espoused a vision of "well-defined, vital communities with a sense of place," to be created "through a development option that features the creation of traditional neighborhoods and town centers while preserving large interconnected greenways system and natural resources." The Northwest Plan endorsed this "alternative

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community form" supporting mixed-use neighborhoods and higher density town centers, while also permitting conventional suburban development (Hillsborough County 2008, 26). The plan endorsed the "evolution of existing suburban areas into economically vital mature mixed-use communities" (Hillsborough County 2008, 28). The plan encouraged development of neighborhoods that were pedestrian oriented, in which "activities for daily living should occur within walking distance," with a "broad range of housing types and price levels" to encourage diverse occupation, common green spaces to define and connect neighborhoods, and "safe, beautiful streets" conducive to informal gathering (Hillsborough County 2008, 28). The plan called for "flexible and innovative transportation options" with new developments to form continuous local street networks and to create enough density to support mass transit. Part of planning was to identify necessary civic infrastructure to support town centers and neighborhoods, with financing to be through "equitable assignment of fiscal responsibility between private and public sectors" (Hillsborough County 2008, 26). A result of the master planning effort, property values would be stabilized at the neighborhood and community scale, the plan stated (Hillsborough County 2008, 26). The plan noted that "market forces" would "affect housing type and density without compromising the neighborhood structure" (Hillsborough County 2008, 26). It also called for a minor realignment of the Urban Service Area to include areas for development including Hampton Lakes at Main Street. Unique to the Northwest Plan was fast-track permitting and density bonuses for development of "town centers" (Ripley 1999). The plan allowed for a maximum of 9 units per acre (Hillsborough County 2008), which was an increase over previous densities. The Northwest plan report displayed "conceptual examples" of desired outcomes, which featured a master plan for Hampton Lakes at Main Street as one of 10 site plans provided on a background map as "visual illustrations of the concepts embodied in the Northwest Community Plan" with their locations marked on the map (Hillsborough County 2008, 3). In summary, the New Urbanist concepts in the Hampton Lakes at Main Street project as well as its location were neatly aligned with the Northwest plan, making its approval a fulfillment of the community- based planning effort and therefore a positive factor in the permitting process, even though revised zoning to support the community plan had not yet been implemented. At the outset of the community planning effort, one outspoken civic association president who regularly engaged in development review proceedings lauded the county-wide effort as a

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"positive step" (Manion 1999a). News coverage of the process shows that members of neighborhood associations and civic groups as well as development representatives were active in the formation of the various specific area plans both formally and (Manion 1999b; Howard 1999) and informally (Aderhold 2000). Based on press coverage of plans, political involvement by various actors concerned both substance and process. Reports on the community based planning process documents strong participation in special area plans adjoining the Northwest that had higher populations in existing subdivisions and scattered rural dwellings. For these more established areas of Lutz and Keystone, discussion covered topics including density, zoning, lot sizes, housing mixtures, and road improvements (Manion 1999). The sessions elicited a range of input, including contradictory stances from residents about road widening (Manion 1999) as well as differences about density and transfer of development rights in sometimes "heated hearings" (Aderholt 1999). Densification, a central plank of New Urbanism, was often opposed by existing neighborhood residents. Archival research did not turn up mention of resident stakeholder involvement in the Northwest plan that encompassed the Hampton Lakes area. An article was found describing presentation of the plan by Duany Plater Zyberk and input from a commercial property developer (Ripley 1999). Archival research therefore failed to identify actors vested in the particular site apart from development consortia. However, the Northwest plan in particular was singled out for recognition by the state for its contributions to sustainability (St. Peterburg Times 2000), indicating support and involvement from government sector at a high level. It should be noted that at the time of development, adjacent subdivisions did not exist, so directly affected residents were few; the project is located approximately two miles from a horse racing track and adjacent land uses consisted of industrial and warehouse sites, with no residential housing within a mile of the project site at the time the project was proposed (Google Earth historical imagery). The formulation of the community and special area studies took place from 1998 to 2000, during which time development proceeded under existing rules. During this period, residents in one area, Keystone, sought approval for an ordinance that would have limited commercial and subdivision rezoning until the plan was finished; county commissioners did not adopt the proposed ordinance, opening the way for rezonings that increased density and expanded the urban service area (Ripley 1999). In 2000, the plans were approved by the state Department of Community Affairs (Howard 1999).

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One citizen participant in the planning effort, writing in a guest newspaper editorial, charged that developers influenced the plans' outcomes behind the scenes, undercutting the stated collaborative nature of the process. He charged that developers "show up but do not participate" in workshops, instead waiting until county commission meetings to weigh in (Aderholt 2000). There, he said, developers "complain that they have been left out of the process, the material was too confusing, or the workshop members did not listen to them" (Aderholt 2000). The writer charged that important parts of several agreed-upon plans were removed from final plans by commissioners in response to after-the-fact lobbying by developers (Aderholt 2000). He charged that developers viewed continued a rapacious quest to locate parcels upon which to develop, comparing them to hungry wolves who viewed "our many square miles of rural home sites and open space as juicy areas to be devoured," with parcels at intersections, or at least 20 acres in size, as prime targets (Aderholt 2000). (Hampton Lakes would fit this description.) Implementation of all the special area plans rested on three elements that were also subject to political effects: 1) incorporation of necessary amendments into the county comprehensive plan, including for rezoning; 2) development and approval of land development regulations (LDRs) consistent with the plan, and 3) a capital improvements plan to support financing of infrastructure (Hillsborough County 2008). At the time developers were seeking permits for Hampton Lakes at Main Street, the implementation steps had not occurred; therefore developers had to initiate rezoning to permit the mixed-use, high-density development, which was approved without any noted opposition (Zink 2002). Whether overall community-based planning effort produced plans that would help to curb sprawl was contested. By its conclusion, the community-based planning effort had lost the favor of the civic association president who had initially supported it. She argued that the effort in effect had created a fast-track for development. While stating support for the concept of "livable communities," she saw a need to revamp the program and to "include a way of evaluating the outcome" (Ripley 2001). The special program had granted greater authority to local governments over land use issues than was typical at the time, allowing comprehensive plan amendments and DRIs to be approved at the local as opposed to the state level (Ripley 1999; Ripley 2001). Thus, the community-based planning process had an effect on the regulatory process, possibly resulting in ushering in higher densities and project approvals that might not otherwise have occurred. A review of the community plans shows considerable variation in the

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make-up and specificity of the plans, indicating genuine and diverse involvement in their formulation versus across-the-board solutions for the 22 different areas. The Hillsborough County community-based planning effort took place during a boom in development during which growth management issues were much-discussed and contentious public issues (Howard 1998; Carino 1999; Thorner 1999; Aderhold 2000). The process was a short-lived alternative to the adversarial development approval process typified by a contest between project supporters and project opponents. The scale of development is reflected in a report that found for 1998, an average of 900 residential permits were being issued per month by Hillsborough County (Carino 1999). Thus, the community based planning effort occurred within the framework of ongoing contests that involved residents, often organized in neighborhood associations and civic groups, as well as developer representatives including builders and lawyers and economic boosters (Carino 1999). The surge in building, mostly for residential subdivisions, made Hillsborough County a pacesetter within the state for capital investment, topping all counties in 1998; concurrently, government faced difficulty providing services such as schools and roads (Carino 1999). Contested topics reported in newspapers included annexations, rezonings, consideration of changes to the boundaries of the urban service area (e.g. Hollingsworth 1998), impact fees, environmental impacts, and a consideration of a County light rail system (Roth 1999). Citizen concerns tended to resist high density and rezoning, while developers and large landowners supported such changes. Newspapers also weighed into the discussions, offering editorial commentaries (e.g. Tampa Tribune 1998). The Tampa Tribune (1998) editorialized that measures were needed to curb "costly, chaotic sprawl." The community-based process did appear to have an influential effect on the outcome of the Hampton Lakes at Main Street development, with higher-density, mixed-use zoning occurring than existed in the previous zoning and comprehensive plans. Only sparse details of the extent of participation by various stakeholders in the government-sponsored planning process for the Northwest Plan itself were discovered, although the archival search found the New Urbanist planning firm Duany Plater Zyberk to have instrumental in the early master planning (Ripley 1999). Whether or not a plan for Hampton Lakes would have been developed or permitted without the organized community-based planning effort was not determined. As with Baldwin Park, the collaborative process was subject to criticism for its flaws of transparency.

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Fulfillment of the most far-reaching and visionary innovations--such as establishment of light rail for transportation-- was subject to larger forces. As of 2016, light rail was still not in effect in the Tampa Bay area.

5.4.5 Longleaf

The record does not reflect public collaboration in the siting or development of Longleaf. Master planning was carried out by Trey and Frank Starkey through the Starkey Land Company. The 568-acre development did not trigger thresholds for a DRI review, and was subject to approval by Pasco County Commissioners. Longleaf was approved in November 1997, when land was rezoned from agricultural zoning to a master planned unit development district (Forgrieve 1997). The developers agreed to build a road connecting the new subdivision to an adjacent one, in accordance with county guidelines striving to connect neighborhoods, to the protest of residents in the neighboring development. Apart from the road controversy, the archival search did not reveal formal or informal contributions to the siting or planning by a wider set of stakeholders than those chosen by the developer. In summary, planning for Longleaf was conducted privately and in accordance with conventional review and permitting processes in place at the time. An oral history interview given by Frank Starkey (Starkey 2007) reveals the extensive planning process that took place for the much larger second development, the 2,500-acre Starkey Ranch tract that was eventually sold to the Connecticut investors in 2013 for $54 million (Kinsler 2013). Formulation of the plans was done in a systematic private exercise by the Starkey Ranch company, beginning with visioning and formulation of a mission statement before land use planning began. The oral history from Frank Starkey provides insights into the tensions between sustainability aspirations and economic exigencies faced by the Starkey Ranch developers. Frank Starkey (2007, 24-25) related the mission statement that the family company developed: "To maintain a family legacy of foresight and partnership with the land, balancing environmental, social and financial stewardship." Elaborating on the mission statement, he said: It kind of comes down to the three-legged stool of financial, social and environmental stewardship. It is interesting, in the past six months I‘ve been to a number of seminars or presentations on development regulations and I‘ve read articles [in] Urban Land Institute magazines, talking about that three-legged stool. Environmental sustainability, economic sustainability, social sustainability—

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people have different terms for those three things but basically that‘s kind of the three things that everybody is talking about now. So on the environmental side we're planning a significant new chunk of conservation land. On the social side we're planning a New Urbanist built form, which inherently fosters authentic community. On the financial side, we‘re balancing all of that in a way that is economically beneficial to us, but also sustainable.

A consulting firm led the design charettes. At two milestones, first the completion of the proposed town center and then after creation of the master plan, the plans were presented to the public, using town hall facilities at Longleaf. Each time, more than 100 people turned out (Starkey 2007). Frank Starkey (2007, 29) described the process: We didn‘t really have meetings. We had a public presentation after we did a design charrette–– there's that word again–– for the Town Center neighborhood, which is from here to Gunn Highway, basically. We had a public presentation that we just opened up to the general public. And after we got our master plan done and were getting close to submitting the original DRI application, we had an open house and invited the general public. We never really had formalized meetings with the adjacent landowners; our main adjacent landowner is SWIFTMUD [Southwest Florida Water Management District]. They own the majority of our perimeter.

Although the developers did provide opportunities for public review of plans, in the development of the plans for the Starkey Ranch, as with Longleaf preceding it, was not a result of a collaborative enterprise involving multiple stakeholders empowered to shape the plans.

5.4.6 West Park Village

Development of West Park Village was initiated as a business venture, with plans formulated by planning and development company staff before being presented for governmental review. The project followed the conventional rational comprehensive planning model (RCPM) for development, with public involvement taking place during the formal processes for development review, via comments and at public hearings. Approvals for the West Park Village required amendments to the existing DRI, which already had been amended four previous times (Hillsborough County 1998). At West Park Village, formal public participation did not occur collaboratively in the planning and development phases of the project beyond the requirements of county and state mandated review processes, and participation was limited to a reactive as opposed to proactive

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stance. Informally, the plans received support from residents in the more conventional neighboring West Chase developments after developers invited homeowners associations to preview the plans for West Park Village, which would introduce a "downtown" of commercial and retail establishments convenient to their purely residential neighborhoods, according to a regional planning official (Chiaramonte 2008). Won over, the residents lobbied local County commissioners to support the rezoning (Chairamonte 2008). Commissioners voted unanimously to approve the amendments to the development order. As with other planned developments having a homeowners association and CDD, substantive participation in the development of the community arises after the fact when residents purchase their home or business within the community and is confined to issues pertaining to property maintenance and amenities. West Park Village residents are governed by the CDD, and decision making on issues such as deed restrictions and decisions on development of commonly held amenities are weighed and voted on by the board of directors of the CDD who are elected by residents. Participation may be vigorous but is confined to concerns affecting the parochial bounds of the community. West Park Village was a variation on the much larger West Chase project.

5.4.7 Summary of Collaborative Planning

In summary, review of the planning processes for the six communities showed that collaborative involvement was restricted to two special cases where special government planning efforts engaged varied stakeholders in collaborative planning, at great effort and public expense. At Baldwin Park, a public-private partnership initiated the development; at Hampton Lakes, the resulting development was an actualization of plans that were part of a larger, state-sponsored "Livable Communities" demonstration project initiative that offered a temporary alternative to the RCPM. For the other cases, there was no apparent advantage to developers to engage in "citizen based participatory planning and design."

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5.5 The Impact of New Urbanism

Research Question 4 asks: What was the impact of New Urbanism on the siting and development of the communities? This question can be broken down into related sub-questions: First, was the expression of New Urbanist principles intended from the outset or was it adopted later in the development process, and what could be found about the impetus for development and whether development motivations extended beyond economic returns? Second, was New Urbanism instrumental in permitting and approvals? Case by case, what obstacles could be found associated with adoption of a New Urbanist style, or, conversely, were special privileges conferred? Based on the high moral ground claimed by New Urbanist theorists, was the position of New Urbanist developers apparently separate from "growth machine" (Molotch 1993) politics? A final point of exploration for case studies was could be found in the archival record about what Daniels (1999) calls "givings"-- financial and infrastructure support provided by government to aid private property development, contrasted with "takings" of private property that are more often raised in public discourse. Findings about these questions will be reported for each community. See Table 5-13 for a summary of results.

5.5.1 Developer Position and the Role of New Urbanism and Impetus for Development

In examining these questions, it is important to first explicitly examine the related matters of the position of the developer, the relationship between the developer and New Urbanism in theory and practice, and the impetus for development. As a movement, New Urbanism is guided by its Charter outlining principles and goals. New Urbanists are formally organized under the aegis of the Congress for New Urbanism which sponsors conferences and offers a forum discussion, including on its website (www.cnu.org). Adherents of New Urbanist principles include urban planners, architects, academics, community-oriented non-profit leaders, and developers. In practice, a specific set of actors plan, finance, and develop particular sites that may be labeled as New Urbanist, independent of whether the developer explicitly espouses a New Urbanist stance or advocates for New Urbanist principles. For this study, developments were considered to be New Urbanist based solely upon their listing in a comprehensive guide

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published in 2008, the Directory of New Urbanism (Steuteville 2008). The listing coincidentally captured developments in effect prior to the economic recession. The listings were not dependent upon membership of developers in a New Urbanist organization, nor did it mean the developments themselves were evaluated under a certification system such as that administered by the US Green Building Council, which certifies buildings under its Leadership In Energy Efficient Design (LEED) program, or other programs such as the Florida Green Building Coalition. Thus, claims associating developments with New Urbanism could be made loosely and without objective criteria. The extent to which New Urbanist theory informed the development of the communities was tempered by the complex sets of actors concerned through the stages of the development process. Only in the case of Longleaf was the same entity entirely charged with management throughout the process; coincidentally, the Longleaf development team was also unique in that partner Frank Starkey was an avowed New Urbanist, who later went on to teach and consult as such. In other cases, development occurred through transitions of management, with varied roles played by different managers through stages of land acquisition, entitlement and permitting, capitalization, master planning, and actual construction. The extent to which the entities had reason to espouse New Urbanist views or apply New Urbanist practices varied. In short, the development process was not formally accountable to fulfillment of New Urbanist principles. The archival research found that the developers consisted mostly of investor groups, many of which changed in composition over the long course from planning to construction. The only public-private partnership was for Baldwin Park, which ultimately sold the property to a firm for development, and the only business that had a historical stake in the land was at Longleaf. In all cases, return on investment mattered as properties were prepared for speculative sale on market, as opposed to being financed through alternative processes suggested by Alexander (2005), such as land trusts or private loans from investors of by "patient capital." Regardless of any lofty set of principles, the developments were business propositions.

5.5.1.1 Avalon Park. At Avalon Park, development began after the Flag Development Company acquired 10,000 acres of land in east Orange County in 1989. Information was not discovered regarding impetus for initial land sale of the rural property. However, the purchase follows an established pattern of purchases of agricultural land by real estate development

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companies in Florida (Carr and Zwick 2007). Other purchases made by the Flag at the time were also of agricultural lands with plans for major real estate developments (Verrier 1999 June). Impetus for development was apparently a business decision for return on investment. In 1990 Flag hired the well-known New Urbanist firm of Duany Plater-Zyberk (DPZ) for master planning for a project then conceived to encompass 9,400 acres and to provide for 25,000 homes (Graham 1990). Flag's president touted the plans as central Florida's first example of a new town to be built with an emphasis on environmental protection (Graham 1990). Thus, New Urbanism was part of the discourse surrounding this new town development from the start. In 1995, Flag merged with group Kahli and Associates, led by former Zurich accountant and investment banker Beat Kahli. Kahli, along with other German and Swiss investors, brought capital for the Flag projects in Pasco and Orange counties that had received approvals but were financially foundering in the recession of the early 1990s (Verrier 1999). In a 1999 interview, Kahli described himself as a "green developer" based on the company's conservation sales of environmentally sensitive lands along the Econlockhatchee River (Verrier 1999). These occurred in two separate transaction, together comprising 6,544 acres and selling for $24,963,097. At the time of the second sale, in 1995, however, Kahli was quoted saying that if the conservation sale for Avalon land was not approved by local and state governments, his company was prepared and financially ready to proceed with its full development plans (Snyder 1995); thus the "green developer" status was apparently contingent upon circumstance. In 1998, Kahli became CEO and president of Avalon Park Group and began development of Avalon Park (Verrier 1999), following the New Urbanist principles already in place. Kahli toured Florida New Urbanist communities including Seaside, Celebration, and Haile Plantation to gather ideas for Avalon's plentiful parks, interconnected villages, and houses with rear garages (Verrier 1999). Thus for Avalon Park, the New Urbanist brand was foundational and consistently applied. The adoption of New Urbanist principles was crucial to the approval of the large-scale and contested project along the ecologically important river harboring rare and endangered wildlife. Developers submitted a DRI study, which documented that the project would have significant regional effects upon wetlands, floodplains, vegetation, water resources, schools, housing and employment balance, and roadway traffic (East Central Florida Regional Planning Council 1993).

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At the time of development, the area was served by two 2-lane rural roads, and the development order noted that servicing the project would require “extensive roadway improvements.” The DRI traffic analysis was customized to include expectations that because of use of the traditional neighborhood development planning style, the proportion of automobile trips outside the community would fall below the usual rates. Analyses provided by the developers noted that among the regional impacts expected from the use of TND planning was the “general reduction of automobile traffic” resulting from a pedestrian emphasis, mixed land uses, and links to external bus transit (East Central Florida Regional Planning Council 1993, 10). The development order (Orange County 1993) was granted on the assumption that traffic would consist of 35 to 41 % internal trips, a projection deemed as “liberal” and “novel” within the same document. The DRI noted, "because of the remoteness of the project, drivers will need to travel long distances to satisfy a trip purpose off site, so there is an incentive to remain on site” (East Central Florida Regional Planning Council 1993, 80). The project fell outside of the urban service area (USA) for Orange County, an area specified to accommodate forecasted future growth for a 20-year planning horizon, and for which publicly funded infrastructure could be approved. Avalon Park was located in a rural zone calling for one housing unit per 10 acres. Use of a New Urbanist/TND style was invoked as a counter-argument to criticisms that the new town project violated growth regulations. Approval of the project necessitated rezoning and relocation of the urban service area (USA). Following the approval of the development order, the county's urban service area was expanded to allow water and sewer service to Avalon Park (Wellons 1993). The use of TND guidelines was specified in the DRI and a TND zoning type remains in effect for the area. The DRI report noted, “Traditional Neighborhood Development (TND) is intended to result in the creation of a pedestrian oriented community characterized by relatively high densities, and a mix and integration of uses that will create distinctive town and village centers with supporting neighborhoods. This will allow each town and village to be as self sufficient as possible in terms of satisfying daily human needs. The ideal objective would be a well balanced combination of work places, shopping places, and living places, such that everyone living within such a community would only have to leave for medical care, entertainment, sophisticated shopping, out of town business and tourism,” the report stated (East Central Florida Regional Planning Council 1993, 9).

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Among those critical of the project was the City of Orlando's planning director Richard Bernhart, who later become a leader in overseeing city's role in planning for Baldwin Park. Bernhart voiced skepticism about the traffic analysis (Wallis 1993). Arguing on behalf of approval was a leading figure in Florida growth management policy, John DeGrove, who was working as a consultant for Flag Development Company (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993). The project received in-depth press coverage and was described as controversial (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993). The hearing for the development order lasted eight hours after heated testimony from supporters and detractors, ending in a 4-3 vote in favor of approval. Testimony included "impassioned pleas" from citizens who argued Avalon Park would act as a magnet for growth and impair the Econlockhatchee River (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993). Testifying in favor of approval were Andres Duany and JohnDeGrove, who argued for the project as a model of Smart Growth (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993). The County Attorney warned that rejection of the development project would "send a signal to large developers that Orange County is not a good place to do business" (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993). In approving the DRI, elected officials pointed to particular conditions within the DRI they said were responsive to concerns about the project's impact, such as the deep setbacks established for protection of the river (Lebowitz and Wellons 1993). Permitting of the Avalon Park project could be seen as an instance where New Urbanism was used as a form of exceptionalism to garner approvals, cemented by the strength of the County Attorney's pro-economic development advice. As for "givings," substantial public money supported infrastructure for Avalon Park, an estimated $114 million to subsidize road building (East Central Florida Regional Planning Council 1993, 91) with additional funds for school construction. In addition to supporting infrastructure for Avalon Park, state and county funds supported the land acquisitions totaling $24,963,096 for 6,544 acres to establish the Hal Scott Regional Preserve and Park. In summary, for Avalon Park, the adoption of a New Urbanist style of development was crucial in winning development approval to construct a large-scale, highly contested project outside of the areas intended for growth in county plans. Among pro-development influences were the urgings of influential spokespersons employing the discourse of "Smart Growth ." With approval came substantial public spending, to develop infrastructure for the development as well as to purchase conservation lands on portions of the most environmentally sensitive lands, which garnered the developers just under $25 million.

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5.5.1.2 Baldwin Park. At Baldwin Park, development occurred as a public-private enterprise, with initial city-sponsored public leadership overseeing master planning before a hand-off to a developer for construction. The impetus for construction was economic. Both the Navy and local elected and business leaders were eager to adopt a plan that would generate revenues to replace the economic impact of the military base shutdown. In approving the base reuse plan, the Department of Defense reported that the proposed redevelopment of the Naval properties "responds to local economic conditions" and "promotes rapid economic recovery." Even while editorializing that the city of Orlando's financial arrangements for the sale and development of Baldwin Park had amounted to "largesse" for the developer, the Orlando Sentinel acknowledged that concerns over the economic loss caused by the base's closure, which the newspaper described as being "as serious as a hurricane," fostered overly eager acceptance the redevelopment plan (Orlando Sentinel 2001). Urban Land Institute fellow William Hudnut predicted that within a 30-year period, Baldwin Park would yield "hundreds of millions in new property tax dollars for schools and local governments" (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006, 16). Federal guidelines for decommissioned bases give priority to a hierarchy of entities to propose reuse plans, from native Americans to federal, state, and local other government agencies (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). In the case of the NTC, proposals came from to federal and state governments and a university, which gained use of several buildings and land. An appeal by the Orlando Coalition for the Homeless to use the site for transitional housing and mental health treatment, however, was rebuffed by the Base Reuse Commission as "inconsistent with the city's reuse plans" and the city brokered the alternative establishment of a $5.5 million trust fund paid for by the developer (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). In other locations, decommissioned bases have been converted to public parks, and this idea was also tendered in Orlando (Molnar 2014). None of these options would generate the desired revenues. The city's broad-based Base Reuse Commission oversaw master planning, supported by Mayor-appointed city staff member Tom Kohler and a private consulting firm, paid by the Department of Defense (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). The firm conducted the many public meetings leading to the master plan; it was during this process that New Urbanist concepts were adopted. Subsequent detailed planning continued to elicit ideas from participants

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that emphasized actualization of New Urbanist goals for design, including choices for styles for buildings and streets, publicly accessible green spaces, and street connections to the surrounding neighborhoods. A shift in management then occurred when the city formed a the seven-member NTC Advisory Board to develop the design plan, form a business plan, and oversee selection of a development team in a competitive process (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006). The city remained involved, carrying out financial and legal arrangements to swiftly enable development by the Pritzker Realty Group. Among the study cases, Baldwin Park was the only development for which selection of a New Urbanist style occurred by popular demand. Planning for Baldwin Park took place during the same time frame as the Disney Company was launching its Celebration project. Unlike Celebration, which was planned by corporations and which drew residents attracted to the neotraditional town from far-flung locations, Baldwin Park was both planned and populated by mostly local residents. Thus, implementation of New Urbanist principles could be seen as fulfillment of Orlando residents; or, more precisely of the subset of Orlando residents who participated in the planning exercises. As seen in the composition of residents, however, Baldwin Park is home for only a subset of the racial and ethnic groups comprising the area. No obstacles particular to use of New Urbanist principles was found. Benefits included extensive publicity for the project that doubtless helped to recruit buyers and accolades to the city from respected planning organizations, such as the Urban Land Institute. The public "givings" for Baldwin Park accorded with the power of the city as the public sponsor. The city assisted with financing by waiving development impact fees, variously estimated at $13.5 million (EPA 2006) and $33 million (Schlueb 2005). Some critics charged that the city support was too generous (e.g. Orlando Sentinel 2001; Tracy 2001b) amounting to a "sweetheart deal," (Schlueb 2005). Urban Land Institute fellow William Hudnut (Baldwin Park Development Company 2006, 16) defended the public financial support as necessary for the project to take place, and noted that the city's investment was matched by a commitment of the developer "to spend tens of millions on demolition, remediation, and infrastructure before a single parcel could be sold to builders." The city of Orlando also eased regulatory requirements for the development. The city sought and received state approval for exemption from the rigors of a Development of Regional Impact (DRI) review through a measure passed by the Florida Legislature in 1994 that exempted

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base redevelopments (Ross 1999). In addition, in 1998, the city passed Florida's first "form based code," the Baldwin Park Planned Development Ordinance, which allowed flexibility in regulatory compliance with zoning, parking requirements, density, set-backs, and other elements that would otherwise have created obstacles for the New Urbanist design principles calling for narrower-than standard streets, higher densities, and mixed land uses (Geller 2010; Ross 1999). For Baldwin Park, adoption of a New Urbanist style arose from popular support. The choice of style appeared to have little bearing on the politics or finances of the project. Baldwin Park's developer received substantial financial support from the City of Orlando through waived impact fees and a DRI exemption, estimated to be worth in excess of $55 million.

5.5.1.3 Celebration. Disney announced its plans to develop its long-held lands at the Osceola County site in 1991, then called the "Osceola Multi-use development" (St. Petersburg Times 1991). The Disney Development Company (DDC), a wholly owned real estate development subsidiary ushered through the master planning and permit acquisition portion of the project before Disney reorganizations created The Celebration Company (TCC), which followed through with actual development. The largest and most storied development, Celebration, was launched by a wholly owned real estate development subsidiary of the Disney company (Disney Development Company) before hand off to a new subsidiary company, The Celebration Company (TCC) once entitlements were obtained and construction was underway. For Celebration, the adoption of a New Urbanist style took place after other options were rejected. During a time when the Disney corporation was venturing into major development projects in the US and overseas, the Disney company had begun consideration of how to develop its Osceola County holdings. By 1987 Disney has consulted with a variety of master-planning firms including the New Urbanist firm Duany Plater-Zyberk (Ross 1990). A number of options were considered, including an upscale shopping mall, and themed golf course villages. However, after extensive company research and visits to both historic and greenfield new towns, executives settled on a neotraditional concept (Ross 1999; Frantz and Collins 1999). While the ensuing development garnered a great deal of press attention for its neotraditional style, the choice of style was secondary to the decision to build a residential community in order to satisfy regional development goals for Disney. According to observers (Ross 1999; Frantz and Collins 1999), Disney's initiation of the real estate development that

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became Celebration satisfied timely and pressing strategic needs for the Walt Disney Company, foremost, to secure environmental permits and expand roads to allow expansion of its nearby, lucrative theme parks (Ross 1999; Frantz and Collins 1999). Another impetus for development of Celebration was reaping returns on land that was acquired at an average cost of $180 per acre (Ross 1999) at a time when the company was under pressure to boost returns to restless shareholders. "First and foremost, the development was planned to maximize the value of 10,000 acres of company land," according to one observer (Ross 1999, 5). While press reports focused on the Disney company's venture into a neotraditional community development as a "model of urbanity," strong economic drivers were at play. A New Urbanist style did not appear to create obstacles for Celebration. Benefits of adopting the style included a great deal of press attention for its neotraditional style, which helped to generate intense interest among would-be home buyers. Public "givings" for Celebration were extensive, estimated at $500 million for transportation improvements (Ross 1999). In the negotiations surrounding development of Celebration, Disney entered into agreements that secured entitlements for future environmental impacts to Disney lands, including expansions of Disney theme parks, in exchange for purchase and long-term protection of mitigation areas that would be protected and restored as wildlife preserves (Ross 1999). The environmental agreement provided a 20-year grace period during which most environmental impacts would be considered to be mitigated. The agreement was approved by the state environmental agency and the South Florida Water Management District along with other Osceola development transactions. Obtaining the environmental permits was "of enormous value to the company," at a time when Florida legal requirements were hampering developers, according to a former Disney official, Charles Adams (quoted in Ross 1999, 279). The planned new town would help to justify expansion of roads in the area to the benefit of Disney's enterprises as well as those of other area landowners. Disney executive and former state DOT secretary Tom Lewis assembled a public-private partnership across three counties to gain approval and financing for a new 14-mile roadway (Osceola Parkway), an extension of the central Florida Greeneway tollroad connecting the Florida Turnpike to Disney's theme parks, and construction of three new interchanges for Interstate 4, at a collective price tag estimated at $500 million (Ross 1999). "'The strategic value of getting the road network in place to accommodate the Walt Disney World resort's future expansion was of tremendous value to the company,'" said

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Charles Adams, former TCC director of business development, (quoted in Ross 1999, p. 280- 281). "[T]he Disney regional plan, of which Celebration is a cornerstone, was actually based around upgrading auto access to the theme parks," asserts Ross (1999, 35). Proposing a residential community aided in seeking approvals because the "concurrency" provision of Florida's growth management law required that adequate infrastructure be in place prior to development. Disney was able to use plans for Celebration, as opposed to still-secret plans for the future Animal Kingdom and Blizzard Beach theme parks, to generate estimates of daily trips needed to justify building of new roads (Ross 1999). At Celebration, Disney continued its historic pattern of success in influencing governments at various scales to achieve its company objectives. The experience of top executives helped to coalesce support among large area property owners to adding significantly to roadways in area at great taxpayer expense. The impact of New Urbanism appeared to be tangential to its success in employing the local growth machine. Celebration's developers received public sector support for road infrastructure estimated at $500 million.

5.5.1.4 Hampton Lakes. A group of Tampa investors of which a law firm was a principal investor (Zink 2002) launched the development plans for the 45-acre Hampton Lakes project, employing a land developer and a residential developer (Zink 2002; Chiaramonte 2008). The developers apparently pursued the project as an investment opportunity, with multiple investors taking part (Chiaramonte 2008). The principles of New Urbanism were highly influential in laying the groundwork for the approval and development of Hampton Lakes at Main Street. These principles were foundational in the Northwest Plan community visioning effort that took place in the years just preceding the development. The resulting plan supported both the location and the mixed-use development style for what became the Hampton Lakes at Main Street project. The planning effort was intended to craft a blueprint for controlling growth with stated purposes to protect quality of life and natural resources within a 35-square-mile area bounded at the south by upper Tampa Bay (Tampa Bay Times 2000). "Community and special area studies" were incorporated into the County comprehensive plan as they were developed through a process of extensive public involvement (Hillsborough County 2008).

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The overall Northwest Plan was developed with input from New Urbanist architect Andres Duany, with the Miami firm Duany Plater Zyberk, who was hired as a consultant (Ripley 1999). The overall plan for the Northwest emphasized principles of New Urbanist/traditional neighborhood development, including mixed uses, pedestrian orientation, transportation options, and diverse housing. The plan espoused a vision of "well-defined, vital communities with a sense of place," to be created "through a development option that features the creation of traditional neighborhoods and town centers while preserving large interconnected greenways system and natural resources." The Northwest Plan endorsed this "alternative community form" supporting mixed-use neighborhoods and higher density town centers, while also permitting conventional suburban development (Hillsborough County 2008, 26). The plan endorsed the "evolution of existing suburban areas into economically vital mature mixed-use communities" (Hillsborough County 2008, 28). The plan encouraged development of neighborhoods that were pedestrian oriented, in which "activities for daily living should occur within walking distance," with a "broad range of housing types and price levels" to encourage diverse occupation, common green spaces to define and connect neighborhoods, and "safe, beautiful streets" conducive to informal gathering (Hillsborough County 2008, 28). The plan called for "flexible and innovative transportation options" with new developments to form continuous local street networks and to create enough density to support mass transit. Part of planning was to identify necessary civic infrastructure to support town centers and neighborhoods, with financing to be through "equitable assignment of fiscal responsibility between private and public sectors" (Hillsborough County 2008, 26). A result of the master planning effort, property values would be stabilized at the neighborhood and community scale, the plan stated (Hillsborough County 2008, 26). The plan noted that "market forces" would "affect housing type and density without compromising the neighborhood structure" (Hillsborough County 2008, 26). In spite of the Northwest Plan, the developers faced zoning and financing obstacles in trying to putting the mixed use project into effect, despite the intentions of "fast track" permitting (Ripley 1999). Even though the project site had been selected as one of multiple areas that could be targeted for compact, mixed-use development in the Northwest Plan, both the zoning and the comprehensive plan in effect for the area at the time of development called for industrial land use, so developers had to seek rezoning, which was obtained in 2002 (Zink 2002). The project

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was privately financed, and developers obtained bank financing with difficulty as bankers accustomed to financing residential developments consisting of single family homes were reluctant to lend for a mixed-use project (Chiaramonte 2008). Benefitting the developers was a realignment of the Urban Service Area to include areas for development including Hampton Lakes at Main Street, which took place as part of the Northwest Plan. Additionally, unique to the Northwest Plan were density bonuses for development of "town centers" (Ripley 1999). The plan allowed for a maximum of 9 units per acre (Hillsborough County 2008), which was an increase over previous densities. At Hampton Lakes, New Urbanism as manifested in the Northwest Plan was influential in setting forth a master plan that promoted acceptance of mixed use zoning, even though the zoning was not actually implemented ahead of the project. Benefits included a realignment of the urban service area to include the project and density bonuses, which can also be viewed as the in- kind public sector "givings" for this project.

5.5.1.5 Longleaf. Longleaf was developed by a family owned real estate business and remained in family ownership through planning, construction, and marketing phases. Longleaf and Baldwin Park were the only cases in which the land developers had longstanding connection with the land being developed, or in which a developer was an avowed New Urbanist practitioner. Plans for Longleaf followed other real estate ventures by Starkey family members, including the upscale 287-acre Aristida subdivision located a few miles from Longleaf, which Trey Starkey developed with a partner prior to forming the partnership with his brother Frank (Verrier 1997). In addition, Trey Starkey designed and permitted a dirt mine covering 238 acres on the ranch (Verrier 1997). Conversion of the family ranch to real estate was portrayed as bittersweet but also as inevitable (e.g. Verrier 1997). Jay B. Starkey Jr., who remained in ranching through 1997, when he was awarded the state's top honor for agricultural land stewardship (Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services 1997), noted that the profitability of ranching was challenging, especially as real estate values and taxes rose (Verrier 1997). He stated support for his sons' development plans: "I've always thought that if it's going to be developed, it must be done in a way that is going to benefit future generations and protect the environment as much possible.... "I think they're doing a good job, sticking their necks out to do something that's

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different." (Verrier 1997). In the oral history interview (Starkey 2007, 23), Frank Starkey said, "...I think, at the end of the day, it‘s hard for him to see it happen. But he‘s pretty pragmatic too and understands—I think if he had a choice he would have left it all alone." New Urbanism was influential on the style of the development, and was prominently mentioned in press reports (e.g. Verrier 1997; Forgrieve 1997; Stark 2000). Frank Starkey, who received an architecture degree from Rice University was described as a "fervent believer in New Urbanism" (Verrier 1997). He obtained a research grant to study best uses of the Anclote River Ranch in 1993, which was foundational in planning for Longleaf " (Verrier 1997). In an oral history interview, Frank Starkey discussed New Urbanism at length, presenting it as an alternative development form that was more responsive to increasing costs for land, materials, and energy and increased regulation of land development than conventional suburbs (Starkey 2007). New Urbanism is better suited to the denser future development that will be needed in the future, he said (Starkey 2007, 21): You can‘t just take a six hundred-acre subdivision, at three units to the acre and make it ten units to the acre and have it still work. You have to change the form. I think New Urbanism is the answer to changing that form. There also needs to be a change in the transportation patterns, which is directly tied to our energy consumption and New Urbanism is the best answer to that. In remarks to a tour group in 2008, Frank Starkey said, "What people will accept and what they can afford will be higher density" (Starkey 2008). Frank Starkey (2007, 22) said employing a New Urbanist approach at Longleaf would allow for residents to have vital contact with two worlds: the natural world, where a child could "have a patch of woods where you run into frogs and the trees, and you know when a tree falls," as well a neighborly community where the same child could find neighbors to play with on a regular basis. "Longleaf and New Urbanism, for me, has been an opportunity for me to present the best of those two worlds to future generations." Longleaf was created as an initial venture for New Urbanist development with future development of the larger ranch property in mind, Frank Starkey said (2006, 24). "[W]hen we started Longleaf one of the major goals there was to figure out how to do New Urbanism. To learn about it and do a test run, on a number of levels, for the rest of the ranch. It was really kind of a dress rehearsal for the main corpus of the ranch development." In the larger planned Starkey

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Ranch development, Frank Starkey saw a better chance for fuller attainment of certain New Urbanist goals because of the larger scale that was more of the size of a new town; plans that were in development before the land was sold included shared use facilities for a county park and a school, as well as support for a large commercial center adjacent to the Starkey Ranch development. (Wiatrowski 2008). Frank Starkey's involvement in New Urbanism included serving as Chairman of the Board of The Seaside Institute and becoming the first "Developer in Residence" at the University of Miami’s school of architecture, where he delivered guest lectures, including a series on “Reinventing Real Estate Development” in 2010 (University of Miami 2010). Frank Starkey founded a real estate and development company specializing in infill and redevelopment opportunities in Florida locations (http://formbasedcodes.org). At the time the Longleaf project was announced, adopting a New Urbanist style was something of a financial risk, Frank Starkey stated (Verrier 1997). The developers expected the project to appeal to a segment of buyers seeking an alternative to conventional subdivisions in the fast-growing corridor stretching from north of Tampa. The developers were aware that some homebuyers would pay a premium for a New Urbanist home (Burney 1999); however, the Starkeys also saw development in a New Urbanist style as a calculated risk in the Pasco market. Longleaf was "second generation," following Seaside and Celebration, but also in an area where it was untried (Starkey 2007). The New Urbanist style was an advantage for easing regulatory approval and was well- received by local government officials, including the county zoning administrator, who stated, "I really feel it's a good concept, and I'm excited to see how it will be developed at Starkey." The mixed-use component of Longleaf, although small, was portrayed as a means of reducing sprawl (Forgrieve 1997); even as developers conceded the development was largely a commuter project (Starkey 2007). The project was unanimously approved by County Commissioners (Forgrieve 1997). Residents from the only neighboring subdivision who objected to linking a road from their development to Longleaf (as was called for in county policy) expressed opposition to this element of the plan, with a reported 60 people were present when the project was voted on; however, commissioners stood behind connecting the road. At Longleaf, benefits of adopting a New Urbanist style appear to have been twofold: to satisfy aims for improved land stewardship over long-held family lands, and to test viability for

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development of a much larger New Urbanist venture in the future (which eventually sold for $53 million). No permitting or development obstacles were found; however, the unconventional style may have slowed the pace of sales in the rural area where New Urbanism presented a unique new face. No particular public "givings" were noted that could be directly tied to Longleaf, although the construction of the Suncoast Parkway was a boon for improving access to and from the Tampa area. Later enhancement to the arterial road directly serving Longleaf benefited that development as well as the larger Starkey Ranch.

5.5.1.6 West Park Village. The development of West Park Village was a continuation of the larger West Chase development initiated by a Tampa-based conglomerate and continued by successive real estate development firms as ownership of the development changed over time. Developers reported that their decision to adopt a New Urbanist style for the final phase was founded on market research that supported offering a new type of housing development to appeal to an estimated 30 percent of the home-buying public who would pay a premium for the benefits of living in a neotraditional development. The choice of a New Urbanist style would offer home buyers in the already expansive West Chase development another option for the last remaining land in the master-planned subdivison. West Chase executives took note of the commercial and popular success of Celebration . At the time the decision was made to use a New Urbanist style at West Chase, company executives had toured Celebration and discovered that homes there were selling at a premium of 10 percent over conventional homes of similar sizes (Chiaramonte 2008). Challenges as well as benefits attended the selection of a New Urbanist style for West Park Village. The existing Development of Regional Impact approval was modified to allow more intense development, including two- and three-story retail buildings approved in the modified development order. The changes added density to building entitlements and complexity and challenge to the development relative to a more conventional subdivision. In order to introduce the narrower streets, zero lot lines, alleys, live-work structures, and other features of New Urbanist planning, developers had to obtain 30 exceptions to standard county development rules (Chiaramonte 2008). Public sector "givings" consisted of the allowance for great density than originally permitted. In December 1998, Hillsborough County commissioners approved the changes,

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which added almost 775 additional housing units, as well as additional 88,000 square feet of commercial and office space to the already-permitted development approvals (Hillsborough County 1998). Infrastructure improvements for West Park Village included reconfiguring a collector roadway and adding a curb cut. The developer assumed cost for installing a traffic signal and for instituting a traffic monitoring study as well as a study to lay plans for a future roadway connection (Hillsborough County 1998). Major roadway costs were satisfied from earlier phases of development, when, under terms of the original DRI, the developer designed and constructed a road to serve the development and connect Pinellas County and northwestern Hillsborough County, paying costs for a "fair share" amounting to $5,634,543 (Hillsborough County 1998). To summarize, the relevance of New Urbanism to the overall development varied greatly from site to site. In the cases of Avalon, Baldwin, Hampton Lakes and Longleaf, adoption of New Urbanist style was fundamental decision from the start, whereas for Celebration and West Park Village, it was not. At Avalon Park, New Urbanism was central to permitting, with claims of reduced auto travel instrumental in approval of the DRI; a claim that was questioned at the time and which is not supported by the locational sustainability findings. At Avalon Park, New Urbanism conferred a privilege of exception that overrode existing comprehensive growth plans. Some building challenges were noted due to selection of a New Urbanist style, at Hampton Lakes and West Park Village, where zoning issues and difficulties with codes required redress. Problems at these sites in Hillsborough County is ironic given the existence of the Northwest Plan intended to encourage a New Urbanism and mixed use development. Unlike in Orange County, which adopted a city-wide "form based" New Urbanist code at the time Baldwin Park was being developed, Hillsborough County's regulatory processes were not fully engaged in support of New Urbanism in spite of having completed the Northwest Plan. As for public "givings," extensive support from the public purse was found. It is especially important to observe that these public sector supports were generous even for sites with lowest locational sustainability. However, it is not possible to link New Urbanism to the developer's success in obtaining public support for infrastructure. No analysis was made to compare the relative success of other conventional subdivisions in garnering public monies for infrastructure. The case histories do suggest that New Urbanist developers participate fully in workings of the "growth machine" to gain legal and financial support for their projects. Across

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the board, the developments were business operations intended to return a profit, notwithstanding New Urbanist rhetoric emphasizing goals for community-building to benefit a metropolitan region. 5.6 Chapter Summary

This chapter presented results of the mixed methods study of New Urbanism in practice at six Florida communities. The findings show generally poor and patchy fulfillment of sustainability outcomes for the New Urbanist communities studied, with no single community scoring well for both locational sustainability and racial and ethnic population diversity. From a regional perspective, the communities were generally found to be poorly connected, to be housing a high proportion of non-Hispanic whites, and to be serving as bedroom communities not so different from the suburbs to which, based on New Urbanist theory, they are intended to offer a sharp contrast. The spatial analysis found generally poor locational sustainability for these new communities, with most communities built in or near the urban-rural fringe in unincorporated sites with exurban or suburban housing densities. The exception was Baldwin Park, built on a brownfield infill site through a public-private partnership. Four of six communities were built on greenfield sites, resulting in conversion of approximately 7,000 acres of agricultural land. An analysis of land uses within the communities and a surrounding one-mile buffer found that residential and park lands dominated, with land in job-producing commercial and industrial uses limited to an average of 8.7 percent of area. Overall, results suggested that conditions to enable the New Urbanist goal for reduced auto dependency were not present. Furthermore, access to highways appeared to be an important factor in siting than proximity to nearby urban centers. Ethnic and racial composition of the communities tended to be generally quite low compared to surrounding geographies, with low representation of blacks in every community and higher proportions of non-Hispanic whites in all communities except Avalon Park. Resistance to on-site inclusion of affordable housing was also noted at most communities, with Avalon Park presenting an exception and demonstrating that a more inclusive approach to housing choices could be associated with greater social diversity. Collaborative planning that influenced the development processes occurred for the two cases where special government planning efforts were in effect. These occurred at Baldwin Park,

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which rated well for locational sustainability but poorly for population diversity, and Hampton Lakes, which had low locational sustainability but high population diversity. The extent to which New Urbanism was essential to the planning and development process varied. New Urbanism was integral to the planning process from the start at Avalon Park, Baldwin Park, Hampton Lakes, and Longleaf, while being chosen at later stages for Celebration and West Park Village. Selection of a New Urbanist style was pivotal in permitting for Avalon Park, helping to override violations of the existing comprehensive plans. Developers at Hampton Lakes and West Park Village experienced some challenges in financing and code compliance related to New Urbanism. Developers were found to have benefitted from public sector support, notably financing for road infrastructure.

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Table 5-1. Rural or urban population density in year 2000 and locational sustainability score

Locational Community Rural or Urban Sustainability Score Greater Orlando Area Avalon Partially Urban .5 Baldwin Urban 1 Celebration Partially Urban .5 Greater Tampa Area Hampton Lakes Rural 0 Longleaf Partially Urban .5 West Park Village Urban 1 Mean .58 Source: US Census Bureau 2000

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Table 5-2. Housing densities for New Urbanist developments and surrounding census block groups for year 2000 with locational sustainability scores

Locational Housing Community Category Sustainability Units/Acre Score Greater Orlando

Area Avalon Park 0.22 Suburban 0.66 Baldwin Park 2.17 Suburban 0.66 Celebration 0.12 Exurban 0.33 Greater Tampa Area Hampton Lakes 0.46 Suburban 0.66 Longleaf 0.28 Suburban 0.66 WestPark Village 0.98 Suburban 0.66 Mean 0.71 Suburban 0.6 Source: US Census Bureau 2000 data processed by Theobald (2005)

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Table 5-3. Location within or outside of city limits and locational sustainability score

Within/outside city Community Inside = 1, Outside = 0 limits Greater Orlando Area Avalon Outside 0 Baldwin Inside 1 Celebration Outside 0 Greater Tampa Area Hampton lakes Outside 0 Longleaf Outside 0 WestPark Village Outside 0 Summary Score 83% Outside

Source: "Par_city_lm 2007," Florida Geographic Data Library

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Table 5-4 Presence of Homeowners Associations (HOAs) and Community Development Districts (CDDs) within study communities and focus of formal civic scope

Governance Modes Focus of Formal Development Jurisdiction Present Civic Scope Orlando Area unincorporated Avalon Park HOA inward (Orange Co.) Baldwin City of Orlando HOA, CDD, City mixed unincorporated Celebration HOA, CDD inward (Osceola Co.) Tampa Area unincorporated Hampton Lakes HOA inward (Hillsborough Co.) Longleaf unincorporated (Pasco) HOA, CDD inward unincorporated West Park Village HOA, CDD inward (Hillsborough Co.)

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Table 5-5. Location within or outside or Urban Service Area and locational sustainability score

Locational Within/outside Community Sustainability Score Urban service area Inside = 1, Outside = 0 Greater Orlando

Area Avalon Inside 1 Baldwin Inside 1 Celebration Outside 0 Greater Tampa Area Hampton lakes Inside 1 Longleaf Outside 0 WestPark Village Inside 1 Summary Score 66% Inside Sources: "Urban Service Area," Orange County GIS, "Urban Srv Poly,"Tampa Bay Regional Planning Council

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Table 5-6. Greenfield or infill development, locational sustainability score, and acreage

Infill = 1, Community Infill/Greenfield Greenfield = Acreage 0 Greater Orlando

Area Avalon Park Greenfield 0 1860 Baldwin Park Infill 1 1100 Celebration Greenfield 0 4900 Greater Tampa Area Hampton Lakes Greenfield 0 40 Longleaf Greenfield 0 568 WestPark Village Infill 1 225 Summary Score 66% Greenfield 7,368

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Table 5-7. Distance to nearest city or town and locational sustainability score, and distance to nearest limited access highway

Locational Distance to Distance to nearest sustainability nearest limited Community city or town (miles) score (<4 mi. = access highway 1; <4 mi.=0) (miles) Greater Orlando Area Avalon Park 13.7 (Orlando) 0 3.6 Baldwin Park 3.5 (Orlando) 1 2.16 Celebration 8.5 (Kissimmee) 0 0.5 Greater Tampa Area Hampton Lakes 13.3 (Tampa) 0 4.2 5.4 (New Port Longleaf 0 5.8 Richey) WestPark Village 10.6 (Tampa) 0 1.8 Summary Score Mean = 9.2 miles Mean = 3.01 miles Source: Google Earth

Table 5-8. Land uses within New Urbanist communities and one-mile buffer, year 2010

% Acres Gov., Gov., Acres Acres % Acres Inst., or Inst., or Acres Acres % Parks Parks & % Acres Total Community % Ag. Ag. Comm. Comm. Ed. Ed. % Ind. Ind. % Res. Res. & Cons. Cons. Other Other Acres Greater Orlando Area Avalon Park 6.6 549 0.9 76 16.3 1365 0.0 0 23.8 1995 46.6 3897 5.8 487 8366 Baldwin Park 0.0 0 12.1 689 23.9 1360 2.5 143 46.4 2645 4.3 248 10.8 617 5701 Celebration 15.5 1795 12.8 1488 5.2 605 0.1 13 11.2 1294 39.7 4599 15.5 1797 11590 Greater Tampa Area Hampton Lakes 7.3 191 5.9 154 16.0 421 7.4 195 26.4 695 23.1 607 13.6 357 2630 Longleaf 38.5 1988 4.0 207 1.4 71 1.2 63 18.6 961 25.8 1330 10.6 547 5166 WestPark Village 3.2 100 2.0 62 1.2 37 0.0 1 43.4 1341 45.7 1411 4.4 136 3087 Total acres 4623 2674 3859 414 8931 12091 3940 36540 % Acres 12.7 7.3 10.6 1.1 24.4 33.1 10.8 100 Source: Florida Department of Revenue, county shapefiles from FGDL 226

Table 5-9. Land use diversity ratio derived from proportions of land in commercial and industrial uses relative to residential, parks, and conservation uses, 2010

Land Use Development Selected Land Use Categories Diversity Ratio % Residential & Ratio Comm + % Commercial Parks and Ind. /Residential + and Industrial Conservation Parks and Cons Greater Orlando Area Avalon Park 0.9 70.4 0.01 Baldwin Park 14.6 50.7 0.29 Celebration 13.0 50.9 0.25 Greater Tampa Area Hampton Lakes 13.3 51.0 0.26 Longleaf 5.2 44.4 0.12 WestPark Village 2.0 89.1 0.02 Mean 8.4 55.5 0.15 Source: Florida Department of Revenue, county shapefiles from FGDL

Table 5-10. Locational Sustainability Index summary results

Rating for Housing Density Ratio of non- Urban (1), Inside (1) distance to Mean Inside (1)/ Infill (1)/ in community and residential to Rank and Partially /Outside (0) nearest city aggregated Development Outside (2) Greenfield surrounding residential land Qualitative Urban (0.5), Urban Growth in miles rating (0 - City Limits (0) census block uses within one Rating or Rural (0) Boundary (<4 mi. = 1; 1) groups, hu/acre. mile buffer > 4 mi = 0)

Orlando Area Avalon 0.5 0 1 0 0 0.22 0.01 0.31 Very Low (#3) Baldwin 1 1 1 1 1 2.17 0.29 0.85 High (#1) Celebration 0.5 0 0 0 0 0.12 0.25 0.15 Very Low (#6) Tampa Area Hampton Lakes 0 0 1 0 0 0.46 0.26 0.27 Very Low (#4) Longleaf 0.5 0 0 0 0 0.28 0.12 0.18 Very Low (#5) WestPark Village 1 0 1 1 0 0.98 0.02 0.53 Low (#2) mean 83% Urban mean = 0.71 Centrality 83% 66 % inside 66 % distance = median = very or Partially hu/acre mean = 0.15 mean = 0.38 Measures unincorporated UGB Greenfield 9.2 miles, low Urban (Suburban) 83% > 4 mi.

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Table 5-11. Racial and ethnical composition of census block groups within and surrounding New Urbanist developments and Population Diversity Ratings

% White Population Census % % % Multi- White, not Population Asian Black Hispanic % Hispanic Multi-race not Diversity Geography Asian Black race Hispanic Hispanic Rating Florida 18,801,310 454,821 2.4 2,999,862 16.0 4,223,806 22.5 472,577 2.5 10,844,722 57.9

Orlando MSA 2,134,411 84,852 4.0 344,820 16.2 538,856 25.2 69,102 3.2 1,136,863 53.3 Avalon 14,018 981 7.0 1,270 9.1 4,354 31.1 582 4.2 7,202 51.4 Very High Baldwin 6,593 409 6.2 304 4.6 697 10.6 130 2.0 5,064 76.8 Very Low Celebration 7,532 241 3.2 115 1.5 847 11.2 171 2.3 6,167 81.9 Very Low

Tampa MSA 2,783,243 80,879 2.9 329,334 11.8 452,208 16.2 72,675 2.6 1,879,437 67.5 Hampton Lakes 2,119 187 8.8 127 6.0 253 11.9 78 3.7 1,496 70.6 High Longleaf 1,655 34 2.1 25 1.5 71 4.3 28 1.7 1,493 90.2 Very Low West Park Village 3,582 164 4.6 162 4.5 411 11.5 118 3.3 2,752 76.8 Medium Mean for New 5.3 5.2 13.4 2.8 74.61 Urbanist Cases Source: " Cenblk2010_Aug11," FGDL, 2010 US Census Bureau

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Table 5-12. Presence of collaborative planning in New Urbanist communities and associated Locational Sustainability and Population Diversity ratings

Influential Locational Population Collaboration Sustainability Diversity Present (any Rating Rating stage) Collaboration Collaboration Development noted pre- noted during development development Orlando

Area Avalon Park No No No Very Low Very High Baldwin Yes Yes Yes High Very Low Celebration No No No Very Low Very Low Tampa Area Hampton Yes No Yes Very Low High Lakes Longleaf No No No Very Low Very Low West Park No No No Low Medium Village

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Table 5-13. Role of New Urbanism and public sector support for development.

Obstacles from New Benefits of New Development Role of New Urbanism (NU) Urbanism Urbanism Public Sector "Givings" Orlando Region NU style pivotal in approval of Land conservation sales $24,963,096 for development order for project 6,544 acres. Public-private partnership inconsistent with growth Development order for road building & schools worth at least Avalon Park guidelines. None found. approval. $114 million (Orange County 1993, 91).

NU endorsed in public planning Waived impact fees of $13.5-$33 million; process prior to selection of a Strong government DRI exemption (in-kind "giving') est. at Baldwin Park developer. None found. (city) support $40 to $50 million (Orlando Sentinel).

14-mile Osceola Pkwy; 3 Interstate NU style adopted after plans Extensive media exchanges, $500 billion est. value (Ross Celebration underway. None found. exposure. 1999). Tampa Region

Mixed use aspects of NU were Difficulty with private Hampton Lakes integral to plan at outset. financing. Density bonuses Density bonuses. Retention of family- Developer stated new NU style held lands; pilot for enabled development consistent subsequent larger No direct "givings" found (Suncoast Longleaf with preserving sense of place. None found. development. Parkway loosely associated). Higher density development NU style chosen for last phase allowed; supported West Park of master planned development by surrounding Village to capture niche market. None found. neighborhoods. Density bonuses.

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Source: "ua_2000" shapefile, Florida Geographic Data Library, 2000 data from US Census Bureau

Figure 5-1. New Urbanist sites in greater Orlando region in relation to US Census Bureau Designations for Urban Areas for year 2000.

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Source: "ua_2000" shapefile, Florida Geographic Data Library, 2000 data from US Census Bureau

Figure 5-2. New Urbanist sites in greater Tampa region in relation to US Census Bureau Designations for Urban Areas (UA) for year 2000.

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Source: "bg_2000" shapefile from Theobald (2005), processed from 2000 data from US Census Bureau

Figure 5-3. New Urbanist sites in greater Orlando region in relation to housing densities for year 2000.

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Source: "bg_2000" shapefile from Theobald (2005), processed from 2000 data from US Census Bureau

Figure 5-4. New Urbanist sites in greater Tampa region in relation to housing densities for year 2000.

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Source: "par_city_lm_2007," shapefile from Florida Geographic Data Library

Figure 5-5. New Urbanist sites in greater Orlando region in relation to city limits.

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Source: "par_city_lm_2007," shapefile from Florida Geographic Data Library

Figure 5-6. New Urbanist sites in greater Tampa region in relation to city limits.

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Source: "USA" shapefile, Orange County GIS department

Figure 5-7. New Urbanist sites in greater Orlando region in relation to Urban Service Area.

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Source: "Urban_Svc_Poly" shapefile, Tampa Bay Regional Planning Council

Figure 5-8. New Urbanist sites in greater Tampa region in relation to Urban Service Area.

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Figure 5-9. Land uses within New Urbanist communities and one-mile buffer, year 2010.

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