The character of a place comes from more than its architecture, more than a single building or work of public art, no matter how famous.
The evidence of time and change give many cities a patina, a texture and variety that you can almost touch. Yet often, the most important qualities of a place — like character — are the hardest to define. For some, character can mean topography, old stone walls or the sense of connection one feels with neighbors.
For me, character is found in cities and towns with old-fashioned supper clubs and locally owned coffee shops. Think of Jax Cafe in Northeast or Cuppa Java in Bryn Mawr. These places feel authentic and original — local, not themed.
It's not just how they look, but what you can do there that matters — meet old friends, write, be alone in public yet feel unobserved.
Great cities offer many forms of character through their mosaic of neighborhoods. In our case, think Loring, Camden, West St. Paul, Cedar-Riverside and Powderhorn. Like characters in a play, each is distinct — with its own traditions. We may not relate to all of these neighborhoods, but together they create the whole.
Last spring, a local magazine ran an article about the best neighborhoods in the Twin Cities. It celebrated hip places like the North Loop and Lowertown, which have transformed themselves by becoming modern and opening lots of restaurants. It declared Cathedral Hill in St. Paul, downtown Wayzata and Uptown "irresistible" destinations.
Irresistible for some, but not for all. In fact, many Twin Citians feel out of place in such trendy and relatively expensive locales. Too many of us assume that a neighborhood that's alluring to millennials, creatives and the monied is alluring to everyone.
Such hype is elitist and misleading. Character and sense of place are much deeper than boutique restaurants, cool architecture and new stores. Sometimes it's the lack of wealth that builds character. The downtowns of both Duluth and Milwaukee have lots of character, partly because they weren't growing quickly during the postwar era of frenetic "updating."
Let's look at a few neighborhoods and examine their character — or lack thereof.
Linden Hills
Minneapolis' Linden Hills neighborhood is an obvious example of urban village character. It's a planner's model for scale, mixed use and density. Here, you can spend a summer evening sitting outside with an ice cream cone, going to a children's bookstore and getting around by bike. The houses are varied in size and style. Lake Harriet is nearby.
Northeast Minneapolis
If, for you, character means contrasts, then the Bottineau neighborhood in Northeast has loads of it. I lived there in the 1990s. Down the street loomed the graceful domes of the Ukrainian Orthodox Cathedral. One block north, there was a small corner bar (now Grumpy's). At 6 p.m., the bar was filled with older patrons, mostly men. After 8, everyone was under 30 and dressed in black. Just across University Avenue was the venerable Jax Café, old industrial buildings along the rail corridor, grain silos and community gardens. Bars and churches, industry and artists lived side by side here.
Missing in downtown
It's possible, although harder, to measure character in its absence.
In prosperous downtown Minneapolis, many buildings that lent the city architectural and accessible character have been demolished. Landmarks such as the Foshay Tower remain, but it's the smaller buildings — three to five stories tall, mostly built before 1930 — that are gone. They offered a harmony of architecture, sidewalk urbanity and cultural history. Today, downtown resembles a soaring office park, with showy executive lobbies where modest stores used to be.
A recent example of this is the Handicraft Guild Building at 10th Street and Marquette Avenue. Designed by William Channing Whitney in 1907, the Guild's small storefronts, setback portico and patterned brick make it one of the most character-rich buildings in the city. Founded as an early "makers' space" for women and a school for art teachers, the Guild helped to put Minneapolis on the map as a center for the arts and crafts movement.
Unfortunately, the building's 1913 addition, which faces Marquette, will be demolished for a residential tower. The smaller original building will likely become an event space — and a lobby.
City preservation policies deemed the addition by Hewitt & Brown as insufficiently "historic" to save. But maybe we are asking the wrong question. The problem is not the new tower or even the loss of one of our best small buildings. It's the demise of our few remaining affordable storefronts. Residential towers, parking ramps and office buildings do not create character of any kind. Mixed uses and small businesses do.
On the fringe
If there is character downtown, it's on the fringes, beyond the high-rents of the skyways. There are few small Asian restaurants downtown or in the North Loop because of rents. But you can find new vitality where they have moved — Eat Street along Nicollet Avenue S. and Central Avenue NE.
Also, Loring Park's side streets, such as Willow and Oak Grove, are among the city's most urbane. Their character results from buildings of varied size and age that come up to the sidewalk and shape the space of the streets. There are trees arching overhead, many students and residents of all ages.
Oak Grove Street evokes a faded elegance with old apartment walk-ups sited next to new high-end rentals. At the Oak Grove Grocery, one of the oldest in the city, you can find historic woodwork and a cast of characters behind the counter.
We spend massive amounts on public art and streetscapes like Nicollet Mall, but the character we're looking for is often found in the humble places that lend richness to daily life. It's rarely discussed in architecture and historic preservation circles. Yet, character is part of why we care so much about the places where we live and work. It's time to talk about it more.
Minneapolis writer Frank Edgerton Martin writes about urban design.
