Tulsa Smart Growth Conference 1996

TULSA: OUR NEXT 100 YEARS
Mayor / AIA Conference on City Design
January 18, 1996
Charleston Mayor Joseph P. Riley Excerpt

Well, if we can sell it out there, is there a moral imperative? Is the pressure raised? Yes... You see, a city has to be a place where the heart can sing. When I was jogging early one morning and we were under construction of the Waterfront Park, we had finished the southern end, a pier, and rebuilt it like it originally was, with stones. And the park was under construction out there. I argued with the architects. I thought we needed a big rail around it, and they said, "No. People won't fall off. It'd be nice to have it flow out to the water, and people might sit on the benches or sit on the stones sometimes." So, one morning I was jogging by there, and somebody was doing, at sunup, just what they said. Sitting on one of the stones, relaxed and enjoying the extraordinary and inspirational beauty. Well, I knew the person. I kept jogging. I didn't want to bother him. His name was Clarence Hopkins. He was an epileptic. He rode a bicycle, swept up in front of a filling station, shined shoes. Lived with his mother. Mumbled kind of funny, and frequently had seizures on the street. People knew him and they would help him. If we put people on a ladder, (which we shouldn't do) but socio-economically, he would have been at the first rung or below, and I saw him a few weeks later and I said, "Clarence I saw you at the park the other morning. Do you go there often?" And he said, "Joe, I go down every day." And I said, "Well, why is that, Clarence?" He said, "It's so beautiful," and he said, "I really like it in the mornings when the sun's coming up and those big ships are coming in."

You see, Clarence Hopkins has never been anywhere other than Charleston. He's never been to the rocky coast of Maine. He hasn't been to this beautiful Heartland. He hasn't seen our purple mountain majesties or amber waves of grain. He hasn't seen the sun set in the Pacific. He's never left Charleston, and he never will. If he is to find beauty in his life, the only place he has to find it is in his city. If we harm our cities, we can leave. We can go on vacation. Send the kids to summer camp. Move out. Whatever. But the Clarence Hopkinses can't. They are so dependent upon us giving them a place of beauty and inspiration. When we had the grand opening for the Waterfront Park, I hadn't seen Clarence in a while and I asked around and found out he'd had a stroke. Found his family; arranged for transportation, a handicap van. They brought him in a wheelchair. The family couldn't really understand why all the fuss was made for Clarence. I didn't introduce him or embarrass him. He had that kind of peaceful look on his face that stroke victims have. He couldn't talk. His cap was a bit askew on his head, but I had him there for me. And I had him there for all of those with whom I had worked on that project as a reminder. A reminder to all of us why we do what we do.

The moral imperative is that we must build great cities of the world for the Clarence Hopkinses and if we do, we build great cities for everyone.