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Last week, when North and Northeast Portland community leaders publicly criticized the city's application to become a national "showcase community" for the redevelopment of old industrial sites, it was as if Portland was suddenly wearing torn pajamas during the evening-gown portion of a beauty pageant. It would be hard for the Environmental Protection Agency, the agency responsible for judging the showcase contest, not to notice. Both The Oregonian and the Skanner ran page-one stories on discontent coming from groups like the Urban League, the King Neighborhood Association and the Environmental Justice Advisory Group. The contest will select 10 model communities across the nation that have interesting ideas about redeveloping "brownfields"--contaminated urban sites with potential for redevelopment. The critics cited three main concerns with the city's application. First, they say the proposal favors redeveloping polluted downtown waterfront property owned by well-connected Portlanders like the Schnitzers, the Naitos and the Zidells over cleaning up smaller contaminated sites within poorer eastside neighborhoods. Second, although a previous EPA study grant of $200,000 is half gone, some of the promised actions--such as installing educational computer terminals at community sites in North and Northeast Portland--haven't happened. Third, environmental justice advocates cite a lack of communication between city officials and minorities. As one example, they cite that several key meetings were held on the west side--by invitation only. All this makes Doug MacCourt, the only City of Portland employee working full-time on the application, shake his head. MacCourt says the application does not ignore North and Northeast Portland, even though that area's enterprise zone is given only one paragraph while downtown projects get nearly a page of ink in the 10-page application. The focus on downtown development is intentional, say MacCourt and others. City Commissioner Charlie Hales says that during a recent meeting in Washington, D.C., agency officials were especially excited about Portland's plans to transform derelict industrial sites along the downtown waterfront into a mixed community of homes and businesses linked by streetcar. "We're not known for being an urban wasteland," says Hales. "In this beauty contest, in which the ugliest wins, we can't prove that we're dirtier than a town like Gary, Indiana. We can prove that we're a city that does thoughtful planning." Given that reputation, Hales says, it makes more sense to tout waterfront redevelopment over smaller cleanup projects at eastside gas stations and laundromats. As for the initial grant money, MacCourt admits that the projects in Northeast are unfinished. Of the $113,700 spent so far, city reports show that most of the money has gone toward organizing community discussions and generating reports. The rest has gone into developing the city's extensive Web site on brownfields. Finally, MacCourt doesn't understand the charges of miscommunication. He says the city has held dozens of meetings with community members and has worked closely with African-American business leaders like Sam Brooks, president of the Oregon Association of Minority Entrepreneurs, and Greg Allen of United Energy, a black-owned petroleum business. In hindsight, the only thing MacCourt can figure is that he worked too much with individuals--and not enough with leading African-American groups. He may have hit the nail on the head there. Misunderstandings over the brownfield program aren't unique to Portland. Environmental justice--the idea that poor and minority communities deserve a clean environment, too--has been a foundation of the EPA's brownfield program since its inception in 1995. Some cities, however, have viewed the program more as a way to get tax breaks or federal funds for pet projects. That's clearly the case with Portland. North Macadam--one of the developments in the showcase application--might turn into a giant parking lot without some kind of federal or city assistance, says Hales. Environmental justice advocates, however, warn about chasing traditional developments at the expense of pursuing less glamorous, more difficult projects in disadvantaged neighborhoods. "Brownfields aren't necessarily about big sites," says Vernice Miller, environmental justice director at the Natural Resources Defense Council in New York City. "It's not a program aimed at developing sites that are already attractive to developers. The bottom line is really about stimulating new economic activity in inner cities. We want to see communities become whole again." In Portland, the Urban League and other groups say they aren't opposed to the downtown projects; they're just trying to get equal consideration. Some, however, say they may have pushed too hard. After the scuttle erupted last week, the political fallout was immediate. Angela Wilson of the Environmental Justice Advisory Group was directed by her boss, City Commissioner Erik Sten, not to speak about brownfields to the press. No one at the Urban League was talking, either. The fear is that criticisms might hurt Portland's chances of winning the showcase contest, which will bring millions of dollars to 10 winning cities. Until last week, Portland had breezed through the contest, easily making a cut from 231 cities to 40 finalists in late October. "The goal is for Portland to compete effectively--not for us to fight among ourselves," says Hales. One of the eight judging criteria, however, is an "environmental justice" component, which asks the city to show how it can work with low-income, minority and other disadvantaged communities to develop former industrial sites. EPA officials seem to be waiting to hear from groups like the Urban League. "We don't know if the final application will have the support of the environmental justice community," says Sven-Erik Kaiser of the EPA. "If it does, that will make it more likely it will succeed." |
