Anneli Xie
SOC 225: Urban Studies and Policy
2018/11/20
SOC 225: Urban Studies and Policy
2018/11/20
Public Spaces under Urban Capitalism:
The Contradiction of Third Places and Cosmopolitan Canopies
The Contradiction of Third Places and Cosmopolitan Canopies
Somewhere in-between the privacy of
home and the formality of work lies the relaxation of the third place. A term
coined by American sociologist Ray Oldenburg (1999), if home is the first place
and work is the second, the third place is where to escape the former two.
Vital to building strong communities and maintaining a sense of belonging,
third places are social levelers where a diversity of people gather to
converse, relax, and enjoy the company of strangers and acquaintances alike.
Built on neutral ground, they are accommodating and accessible,
with a low profile in decor, yet with potential to build a playful mood through
usage. Traditional examples of third places include coffee shops,
bars, public parks, and community centers,
but as American cities continue to sprawl and become more racially
segregated – and as technology and globalization continues their rapid
development – third places are, while becoming more important than ever,
quickly disappearing. Simultaneously, the blasé of living in
segmented identities in an urban environment has given way to what Elijah
Anderson (2004) calls a “pervasive wariness of strangers,” that make
us “guard [our] own public space.” In order to get away from this
well-ingrained behavior, Anderson has sought out what he calls “cosmopolitan
canopies:” places where diverse peoples emerge and through observing others,
are “encouraged to treat [them] with a certain level of civility.” (2004:15) Similarly to Oldenburg, Anderson argues that the cosmopolitan canopy is vital
to foster interaction between peoples, and through the humanizing experience of
a heterogenous surrounding, foster community through cross-cultural
interaction. (2004:28)
In this paper, I will investigate how the city of Boston, MA, has attempted to solve the disappearance of third places and cosmopolitan canopies by actively seeking them out myself. Drawing on my own research, using participant observation carried out in North End’s Caffe Vittoria and Central Rock Gym, Watertown, I will argue that both Oldenburg and Anderson’s vision of the public space – as third places and cosmopolitan canopies – is highly optimistic, and that most places in an urban capitalistic society, although seemingly fitting on a superficial level, will fail to meet the criteria to be classified as either.
It is 1:28 pm on a Thursday when I enter the silver doors of Caffe Vittoria. “Anywhere you want,” the waitress smiles at me. Located on 290-296 Hanover Street in the heart of North End, occupying three floors and open from 8am to midnight, the coffee-shop has an asserting presence on the street – making it a well-known spot for tourists and locals alike. I place myself by one of the only tables with less than four chairs, which also happens to be one of two square tables placed in the very back corner of the ground floor of the café, and order a cappuccino. In front of me are a dozen of round tables, with 4-5 chairs next to them; and all around me are vintage grinders, decaying coffee machines, and Italian art deco posters of coffee. To my right are two men dressed in business attire, discussing a construction matter. By the counter, the waitresses are chatting in Italian. By the window, a man is reading a book in solitude. I can hear the bustle and see the steam of the espresso machines working on my order, and a couple of minutes later, my cappuccino is placed on the table as the men besides me leave; and their business conversation is exchanged for a group of curious tourists that enter, replacing the Bostonian dialect with accents hard to place. As time passes, this transition seems almost natural. Caffe Vittoria simply never stands still. Coffees and pastries come flying out from behind the counter, served by the smiling waitresses gossiping in-between work; metal chairs clank as they are bumped into each other, their users expressing hasty “I’m sorry”’s and sharing a nervous laughter as they do; and as the afternoon draws closer, the place slowly crowds. I overhear an adult daughter yelling at her gray-haired father for never being there, observe the loving gazes of teenagers in love, and see a group of French tourists try cannolis for the first time. Soon it becomes clear that Caffe Vittoria is not like most other cafés in Boston. Here, the atmosphere isn’t hostile and aloof to match the efficiency of the teleworking Bostonian slaving away for the system, but rather relaxed and homely, as to accommodate for intimate conversation and the catching up between individuals that occurs in the heartfelt moment of now.
However, the longer I stay, the more I am starting to sense a disconnect. It seems as if Caffe Vittoria is trying too hard to be authentic, or, as their slogan echoes, to be “the Original Italian Caffé.” What started out feeling like Oldenburg’s definition of a third place – full of conversation and gatherings – is slowly starting to feel a little fake. I can’t help but notice the once smiling waitress’ angry glares at me and my receipt, still lying rolled up on the table underneath my long-empty cappuccino cup. I remember I don’t even know how much I owe because the menu didn’t have prices – something that has the potential to be discouraging to low-income families as asking for the cost of everything can be difficult and stigmatizing. The ambiance feels more planted on un-neutral ground – one where I can’t come and go as I wish; the decorations feel tacky – as if they encourage pretension to those working there; and the mood is no longer playful. The shared laughter amongst chair-dragging customers doesn’t move on to further discussion, small talk, or getting to know each other; and instead backs are turned as individuals only engage with the group that they came to the café with.
So, I turn to my own home away home: the rock climbing gym. Home to 30,000 square feet of climbing, Central Rock Gym, Watertown (CRG Watertown) is located in a renovated warehouse in western Watertown. A chain with 15 different locations, CRG welcomes climbers of all ages and levels, and is home to many of the collegiate climbing teams in the area. Apart from independent climbing, the chain also offers climbing technique sessions, yoga and fitness classes, community nights, kids’ climbing teams, and hosts multiple competitions throughout the year. In this way, CRG fosters a cohesive community as their members are invited to partake in events and share their interest in climbing with their fellow peers; and to me, this gym has been home in many ways over the past year. Not only has climbing, as a sport, brought me so much joy and confidence, but it is also through climbing that I have made most of my friends. Climbing with ropes require a lot of communication and trust in your partner, and bouldering (ropeless climbing) is one of the more social sports I have ever observed. The climbing community has always struck me as overly welcoming, with people eager to help, assist, and cheer you on – even if I don’t necessarily fit the dominant demographic of climbers, being neither white nor male.
It is a Thursday night when I scan my card by the front desk and head toward the climbing walls. The atmosphere here is as always: indie music is blasting from the speakers – and on top of it, encouraging shouts of “Come on! You got this! Keep it tight!”; the staff is laughing behind the front desk; and chalk dust is being spread everywhere. The gym is crowded, with at least three people in every wall section looking at what to climb next. To my right is a woman observing the moves of a climber on the wall, moving her hands in the air as if imitating the climbers’ moves. To my left are two young men discussing his way of solving the problem – or his “beta,” as we call it. One of them exclaims that he tried it differently, and failed, but that he wants to try the beta of the climber on the wall – “that seems to work.” As the climber finishes the problem and jumps down, the woman to my right puts her hands in her chalk bag and steps up to the wall; and the man to my left does the same. When they realize they want to get on the same problem, they both excuse themselves before gesturing “you go ahead,” to the other. After some hesitation, the woman laughs nervously and gets on. As she finishes the problem, she gets a fist-bump and a “Nice job!” from the man she previously had an awkward encounter with. Turning to another section of the wall, there are two women cheering on a third one on the wall: “Come on! You got this!” echoing from the mats. The woman on the wall falls off, shaking her head. Her friends on the ground exclaims “You totally got that! You were soooo close!” before giving her some suggestions: “What if you heel-hook on that hold?” When she tries again, and finishes, she is met with “that was awesome,” both from her friends, but also a man that has come up to the mats and observed her climbing while she was on the wall. He chimes in on the compliments and then asks her how she solved the crux of the problem.
In this way, CRG Watertown fosters a friendly environment in which the “pervasive wariness of strangers” (Anderson) seems gone – even though it is a diverse environment with people of all ages, abilities, and races – as strangers are unhesitant to interact with each other. People seem to feel like they are on level ground, where they can cheer each other on, and both give and ask for advice: showing a “certain level of civility” (Anderson) as they take on the role of both teacher and student – and as they enjoy each others company. The climbing gym belongs to no one, but once inside, is home to many; and perhaps, that’s the problem. CRG is open to the public but used mostly by its community members. In order to gain access to the full facility, a day pass of $22 is required – a quite hefty price to go climbing for a couple of hours. As a result, many users have opted for the membership, landing at $75/month, which gives full access to any of the chain’s locations and free admittance into any of the fitness classes or community nights. For a routined climber, the membership price makes sense, but for someone just starting out and not going to the gym as much, $75 is a lot. CRG is thus, although diverse on the surface, an expensive service – making it inevitably exclusive; especially since climbing is not a necessity, but rather a source of entertainment – and in reality, not that diverse, because all members share the common denominator of being climbers. On top of that, CRG is hard to get to without a car. Far away from bus stations and the T, and deep into the suburban sprawl of the Greater Boston Area, getting to the gym on a bike or on public transit is almost unthinkable.
The idea of third places is comfortable and reassuring; we need spaces where people can meet as people (rather than as segmented identities.) However, after further examination, they seem hard to come by. Even though accommodating and accessible for some, most public places will never be fully leveled. There will always be visible (and invisible) stigma shuffling people away already on the outside – socioeconomic factors such as the hidden prices on the menus of Caffe Vittoria and the blatantly expensive day pass and the location of CRG Watertown, being three examples – or segregating people while on the inside, with difference in accents, race, gender, and age, become more defining. By studying the phenomenon of third spaces, we can further improve their capacity to actually fulfill a role as spaces for everyone. However, in order to get there, the uneven distribution of resources that exists in today’s capitalistic society must be diminished. Society simply needs a makeover in values and beliefs; and until then, the idea of third spaces will only remain for those who have the privilege to access them.
Anderson, Elijah. 2004. "The Cosmopolitan Canopy." The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science. 595: 14-30.
Oldenburg, Ray. 1999. The Great Good Place: Cafes, Coffee Shops, Bookstores, Bars, Hair Salons, and Other Hangouts at the Heart of a Community. New York: Marlowe & Company. Chapters 1-2.
In this paper, I will investigate how the city of Boston, MA, has attempted to solve the disappearance of third places and cosmopolitan canopies by actively seeking them out myself. Drawing on my own research, using participant observation carried out in North End’s Caffe Vittoria and Central Rock Gym, Watertown, I will argue that both Oldenburg and Anderson’s vision of the public space – as third places and cosmopolitan canopies – is highly optimistic, and that most places in an urban capitalistic society, although seemingly fitting on a superficial level, will fail to meet the criteria to be classified as either.
It is 1:28 pm on a Thursday when I enter the silver doors of Caffe Vittoria. “Anywhere you want,” the waitress smiles at me. Located on 290-296 Hanover Street in the heart of North End, occupying three floors and open from 8am to midnight, the coffee-shop has an asserting presence on the street – making it a well-known spot for tourists and locals alike. I place myself by one of the only tables with less than four chairs, which also happens to be one of two square tables placed in the very back corner of the ground floor of the café, and order a cappuccino. In front of me are a dozen of round tables, with 4-5 chairs next to them; and all around me are vintage grinders, decaying coffee machines, and Italian art deco posters of coffee. To my right are two men dressed in business attire, discussing a construction matter. By the counter, the waitresses are chatting in Italian. By the window, a man is reading a book in solitude. I can hear the bustle and see the steam of the espresso machines working on my order, and a couple of minutes later, my cappuccino is placed on the table as the men besides me leave; and their business conversation is exchanged for a group of curious tourists that enter, replacing the Bostonian dialect with accents hard to place. As time passes, this transition seems almost natural. Caffe Vittoria simply never stands still. Coffees and pastries come flying out from behind the counter, served by the smiling waitresses gossiping in-between work; metal chairs clank as they are bumped into each other, their users expressing hasty “I’m sorry”’s and sharing a nervous laughter as they do; and as the afternoon draws closer, the place slowly crowds. I overhear an adult daughter yelling at her gray-haired father for never being there, observe the loving gazes of teenagers in love, and see a group of French tourists try cannolis for the first time. Soon it becomes clear that Caffe Vittoria is not like most other cafés in Boston. Here, the atmosphere isn’t hostile and aloof to match the efficiency of the teleworking Bostonian slaving away for the system, but rather relaxed and homely, as to accommodate for intimate conversation and the catching up between individuals that occurs in the heartfelt moment of now.
However, the longer I stay, the more I am starting to sense a disconnect. It seems as if Caffe Vittoria is trying too hard to be authentic, or, as their slogan echoes, to be “the Original Italian Caffé.” What started out feeling like Oldenburg’s definition of a third place – full of conversation and gatherings – is slowly starting to feel a little fake. I can’t help but notice the once smiling waitress’ angry glares at me and my receipt, still lying rolled up on the table underneath my long-empty cappuccino cup. I remember I don’t even know how much I owe because the menu didn’t have prices – something that has the potential to be discouraging to low-income families as asking for the cost of everything can be difficult and stigmatizing. The ambiance feels more planted on un-neutral ground – one where I can’t come and go as I wish; the decorations feel tacky – as if they encourage pretension to those working there; and the mood is no longer playful. The shared laughter amongst chair-dragging customers doesn’t move on to further discussion, small talk, or getting to know each other; and instead backs are turned as individuals only engage with the group that they came to the café with.
So, I turn to my own home away home: the rock climbing gym. Home to 30,000 square feet of climbing, Central Rock Gym, Watertown (CRG Watertown) is located in a renovated warehouse in western Watertown. A chain with 15 different locations, CRG welcomes climbers of all ages and levels, and is home to many of the collegiate climbing teams in the area. Apart from independent climbing, the chain also offers climbing technique sessions, yoga and fitness classes, community nights, kids’ climbing teams, and hosts multiple competitions throughout the year. In this way, CRG fosters a cohesive community as their members are invited to partake in events and share their interest in climbing with their fellow peers; and to me, this gym has been home in many ways over the past year. Not only has climbing, as a sport, brought me so much joy and confidence, but it is also through climbing that I have made most of my friends. Climbing with ropes require a lot of communication and trust in your partner, and bouldering (ropeless climbing) is one of the more social sports I have ever observed. The climbing community has always struck me as overly welcoming, with people eager to help, assist, and cheer you on – even if I don’t necessarily fit the dominant demographic of climbers, being neither white nor male.
It is a Thursday night when I scan my card by the front desk and head toward the climbing walls. The atmosphere here is as always: indie music is blasting from the speakers – and on top of it, encouraging shouts of “Come on! You got this! Keep it tight!”; the staff is laughing behind the front desk; and chalk dust is being spread everywhere. The gym is crowded, with at least three people in every wall section looking at what to climb next. To my right is a woman observing the moves of a climber on the wall, moving her hands in the air as if imitating the climbers’ moves. To my left are two young men discussing his way of solving the problem – or his “beta,” as we call it. One of them exclaims that he tried it differently, and failed, but that he wants to try the beta of the climber on the wall – “that seems to work.” As the climber finishes the problem and jumps down, the woman to my right puts her hands in her chalk bag and steps up to the wall; and the man to my left does the same. When they realize they want to get on the same problem, they both excuse themselves before gesturing “you go ahead,” to the other. After some hesitation, the woman laughs nervously and gets on. As she finishes the problem, she gets a fist-bump and a “Nice job!” from the man she previously had an awkward encounter with. Turning to another section of the wall, there are two women cheering on a third one on the wall: “Come on! You got this!” echoing from the mats. The woman on the wall falls off, shaking her head. Her friends on the ground exclaims “You totally got that! You were soooo close!” before giving her some suggestions: “What if you heel-hook on that hold?” When she tries again, and finishes, she is met with “that was awesome,” both from her friends, but also a man that has come up to the mats and observed her climbing while she was on the wall. He chimes in on the compliments and then asks her how she solved the crux of the problem.
In this way, CRG Watertown fosters a friendly environment in which the “pervasive wariness of strangers” (Anderson) seems gone – even though it is a diverse environment with people of all ages, abilities, and races – as strangers are unhesitant to interact with each other. People seem to feel like they are on level ground, where they can cheer each other on, and both give and ask for advice: showing a “certain level of civility” (Anderson) as they take on the role of both teacher and student – and as they enjoy each others company. The climbing gym belongs to no one, but once inside, is home to many; and perhaps, that’s the problem. CRG is open to the public but used mostly by its community members. In order to gain access to the full facility, a day pass of $22 is required – a quite hefty price to go climbing for a couple of hours. As a result, many users have opted for the membership, landing at $75/month, which gives full access to any of the chain’s locations and free admittance into any of the fitness classes or community nights. For a routined climber, the membership price makes sense, but for someone just starting out and not going to the gym as much, $75 is a lot. CRG is thus, although diverse on the surface, an expensive service – making it inevitably exclusive; especially since climbing is not a necessity, but rather a source of entertainment – and in reality, not that diverse, because all members share the common denominator of being climbers. On top of that, CRG is hard to get to without a car. Far away from bus stations and the T, and deep into the suburban sprawl of the Greater Boston Area, getting to the gym on a bike or on public transit is almost unthinkable.
The idea of third places is comfortable and reassuring; we need spaces where people can meet as people (rather than as segmented identities.) However, after further examination, they seem hard to come by. Even though accommodating and accessible for some, most public places will never be fully leveled. There will always be visible (and invisible) stigma shuffling people away already on the outside – socioeconomic factors such as the hidden prices on the menus of Caffe Vittoria and the blatantly expensive day pass and the location of CRG Watertown, being three examples – or segregating people while on the inside, with difference in accents, race, gender, and age, become more defining. By studying the phenomenon of third spaces, we can further improve their capacity to actually fulfill a role as spaces for everyone. However, in order to get there, the uneven distribution of resources that exists in today’s capitalistic society must be diminished. Society simply needs a makeover in values and beliefs; and until then, the idea of third spaces will only remain for those who have the privilege to access them.
References
Anderson, Elijah. 2004. "The Cosmopolitan Canopy." The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science. 595: 14-30.
Oldenburg, Ray. 1999. The Great Good Place: Cafes, Coffee Shops, Bookstores, Bars, Hair Salons, and Other Hangouts at the Heart of a Community. New York: Marlowe & Company. Chapters 1-2.