Land Matters: William H. Whyte, Meet Pokemon
In a preview of the November Land Matters column, Landscape Architecture magazine editor Bill Thompson, FASLA, asks, how far is too far when it comes to commercial activities in public parks?

When is it okay to flagrantly market a commercial product in a public park? That question stared me in the face on a trip to New York this summer. As my wife and I were walking down 41st Street, we spied in the distance the stately plane trees of Bryant Park—and, floating over them, what appeared to be an enormous yellow cartoon figure.

AP Photo/Kristie Bull/Graylock.com

“Pokemon!” exclaimed my wife, who recognized a character from the cartoon and video game series. I, on the other hand, was clueless. All I knew was that some huge toy balloon was looming over what, to me, is one of Manhattan’s sacred spaces. Bryant Park, you’ll recall, was the public space behind the New York Public Library that, in the 1970s, was a grungy open-air drug market. Then William “Holly” Whyte defined the vision that transformed it into one of the most vibrant urban spaces on the planet. Whenever I return to the park, I seem to feel Whyte’s spirit suffusing it, but this day, his unseen presence was blotted out by the Pokemon character Pikachu.

But even an old curmudgeon like me had to admit that having Pikachu bobbing over Bryant Park was fun. And boy, did it bring in the kids. They formed a line all the way around the perimeter of the park waiting to get into the various Pokemon exhibits in open tents and to watch live actors in bright costumes stage some sort of Pokemon show. On the other hand, the Pokemon presence forced the rest of us to make do with whatever space was left over. My wife and I just managed to find two folding chairs and sat down to eat our lunch.

Was Holly Whyte rolling over in his grave? I asked that question later that day when I dropped by the downtown office of Project for Public Spaces, which Whyte founded, and met with its directors. Kathy Madden thought Whyte would have been comfortable with a wide range of activities in parks, even Pokemon. Fred Kent disagreed, reminding us that Pokemon Day wasn’t an isolated occurrence. Just a few weeks later, the huge tent for the Olympus fashion show would take up the entire central lawn area for a full week.

“What would Frederick Law Olmsted have felt about these highly conspicuous partnerships, complete with logos, company names, and other commercial trappings?” wonders Phyllis Myers, editor of GreenSense, a newsletter on park funding. “To the extent that these public–private enterprises eliminate the differentiation between the commercial city and the naturalistic park, many people feel that something gets irretrievably lost.”

Yes, and how would Olmsted have reacted to the recent proposal to sell “naming rights” to some of New York City’s gardens and parks? What next, asked a coalition of community leaders, college professors, and others in an open letter to the mayor: Enron Central Park?

That’s not as far-fetched as it sounds. In Orange County, California, the bedroom community of Lake Forest recently agreed to name a city park after a shoe company. In exchange for $100,000, Etnies, a manufacturer of skateboard shoes and clothing, got naming rights to parkland adjacent to its corporate headquarters and will be permitted to stage skateboard competitions and to film commercials on the property, according to the Los Angeles Times. So watch out, reader. A corporate logo may be heading for a park near you.

J. William “Bill” Thompson
Editor / bthompson@asla.org

Please direct all comments on Land Matters to Landscape Architecture magazine editor Bill Thompson, FASLA. He can be reached at bthompson@asla.org.

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