Note: this is a guest post contributed by Committee member Ajey Pandey.
I’ve taken to spectating Melrose’s Planning Board meetings, which are increasingly battlegrounds for new five-ish story mixed-use buildings with retail space on the ground floor. People call it “gentrifier architecture,” and I’ve called it “LEED chic,” but the insider term is “five-over-one.” It’s the cheapest way to construct new buildings that meet code in 2022. My neighbors often dislike these developments. They call them ugly, they worry about traffic congestion, and they complain that they change the character of Melrose. And every time they raise these points in public comment, I think about the children I don’t have.
But First, Let’s Talk Traffic
Five-over-ones are typically built for something called “transit-oriented development.” The idea is that if you live in an area served by public transportation (like Melrose), you won’t need a car—you can manage 99% of your transit by foot, bike, or public transportation options. By building less parking in these areas, you can build more housing, and that housing can often come at a (relatively) lower price point. It’s the hand of capitalism helping address our region’s housing crisis—which is exactly why it was a key feature of the bill filed by the Baker-Polito administration that created the “MBTA Zoning” requirements you have heard about in the news lately.
I understand that it’s hard to imagine how anyone would live in a city like Melrose without a car. But you don’t have to imagine that life—let me tell you about mine.
I live at 119 West Wyoming Ave—it’s that brick apartment building across from the Lincoln School. I used to have a car when I lived with my parents in Franklin, but I sold it before I moved here. I take the Commuter Rail to work—I go to Reading, but the train also gets to North Station in fifteen minutes. The Wyoming Hill station is a five-minute walk from my apartment, Downtown Melrose is a ten-minute walk, and the Oak Grove station is a twenty-minute walk. If I bought an e-bike and stowed it in my building’s bike parking, I could bike to Oak Grove in five minutes, or bike to Cambridge in a half-hour—while wearing patent leather shoes and a blazer. I could even e-bike through the winter—most come with fenders and lights, and I have winter coats. I call a ride-share service about two or three times per month, and I borrow my parents’ car two or three times per year. I make minimal compromises on my mobility, and in return I save literally hundreds of dollars per month on gas, parking, car payments, and insurance. A car-free life is possible—in fact, if you move into a transit-oriented building and still need a car, you’ve probably made a mistake. We can help people avoid those mistakes.
A Car-Free Fatherhood
I understand that it seems simple to live car-free as a bachelor, but a car-free fatherhood is very much in reach, too.
For the price of a battered old Honda, you can purchase a brand-new cargo e-bike—the archetype being the Urban Arrow. The front end of the Urban Arrow has been stretched out into a large tub, which can be filled with whatever fills your fancy. By default, it has bench seats for small children, complete with seat belts, but you can also carry groceries, suitcases, a mini-fridge, a moderately limber adult, or a block party’s worth of beer. They come with rain shields, too! Cargo e-bikes are often delivery vehicles in cities—if I needed to move something truly big, I would rent a UHaul van once or twice per year. And even if you don’t spring for an e-bike, you can stick a child seat on a regular bike. A lot of parents in Melrose do that already, and I’m sure they’d be happy to talk about it if you ask.
Eventually, my hypothetical child would grow out of a bike passenger seat. At that point, they would join the roving gangs of children riding mountain bikes through Downtown. I consider their presence a city-planning success, because I lived the alternative as a teenager. Growing up in Franklin, all my friends were a car ride away. If I wanted to see my friends, I had to ask my parents. So often I didn’t—I just texted my friends, played video games, or scrolled through social media.
A pro-family city needs to give children and teens the opportunity to meet their friends without a car, because the alternative is spending all their time online, elevating their risk of anxiety, depression, video game addiction, and many of the other negative mental and physical health impacts associated with excess screen time. Transit-oriented development allows two-car families to become one-car or no-car families, in the same way they allow young adults to sell their cars entirely. A well-designed transit-oriented area should not increase traffic congestion. In fact, it should reduce traffic congestion, as residents on less-dense streets can safely bike the five or ten minutes into downtown instead of driving.
But that requires a more proactive approach to stop drivers from doing 40 miles per hour on streets like West Wyoming Ave.
Changing the Character of Melrose
The complaints about traffic are annoying, but they’re nothing compared to the architectural complaints. My neighbors think five-over-ones are ugly—too tall, too angular, too much glass and steel instead of the wood and masonry of our architectural heritage. But that old architecture was not built for heritage. The Victorian brownstones of Back Bay and the brick row houses of the South End and Beacon Hill were made of local masonry because that was cheap in the era of New England mills. They become architectural heritage after a century of decay followed by expensive renovations.
My neighbors think five-over-ones look utilitarian, and they’re right. Like those old masonry buildings, five-over-ones are built for maximum housing for minimum price point. That’s why they’re five-ish stories, why they have angular siding, why they have flat windows. And that price point is important in a superheated real estate market, devoid of affordable housing stock.
So every complaint of building height reduces affordable housing stock. Every setback requirement reduces affordable housing stock. And every request for more parking or less massing reduces affordable housing stock.
And before you tell me these new rentals aren’t affordable, check Zillow for two-bedroom condos, which many consider minimum for raising a young family.
A starter home in 2022 is half a million dollars, and you don’t even get a yard.
I Cannot Afford Your House
I’m 25. I make $70,000 per year in the public sector. My parents covered my engineering degree at UMass Amherst. My credit score has just cracked 800, and I have saved $50,000 and counting for a starter home. I’ve done everything correctly with my money.
And yet I pay $1,750 per month for a one-bed—half my take-home pay—which passes for a deal around Boston. I said I moved to Melrose for a car-free lifestyle, but if I needed a car, I flat-out could not afford Melrose. I fantasize about a car-free fatherhood in part because I fear I have no other options. If I had a spouse in my income bracket, I could not afford your house and a child. Most people my age can barely make rent, much less swing a mortgage near Boston. If you bought your first home before Bush’s second term, the housing crisis doesn’t feel like a crisis, but if you’re my age, you’re running out of places where you can afford to start a family.
I understand the worry that five-over-ones will change the character of the city—of course it will—but so will inaction. If we let our commitment to Victorian architecture and ample parking impede more housing in Melrose, then this city will become the domain of old-timers and dual-income-no-kids professionals. The elementary schools in town will find their student bodies dwindle as young adults either move to Philadelphia or decide against having children for financial reasons.
It’s easy to reject new buildings if you already own your house. But when my neighbors grouse about architecture and streetscapes, I want to scream. These utilitarian, slab-sided, and sometimes (I’ll admit it) ugly buildings are my only hope at buying a home worth raising a family in. In resisting them, in trying to preserve the Melrose you remember, you weaken my chances of starting a family in the state I’ve known my entire life.
What a cruel fate to inflict on young adults.