Growing up an Army brat in small, Southern, military towns we lived by the creed that most military families followed then and probably still do today- “Why leave the base if you don’t have to?” It was a safe yet sheltered existence. Besides the occasional visit to the Putt-Putt, a day outing at a nearby lake, or yearly family vacation,  I rarely remember leaving the base. Most of the towns didn’t have much to visit- a small, declining Main Street but certainly not a downtown. On family road trips when we passed through a big city I would press my face against the backseat window in amazement at the reflective-glass towers rising from the earth. The blue and bronze reflections looking futuristic and other-worldly.

While not intimately familiar with urban life, the pop culture of the time contributed to my fascination. The intros to shows like Streets of San Francisco and Starsky and Hutch featured shots of dramatic, urban skylines mixed with the grit and sexiness of life on the streets . The Jeffersons were moving up to a deluxe apartment in the sky (I was probably the only ten year old obsessed by the lives of a successful, black dry cleaner, his loving yet over-emoting wife, and their sassy, one-line tossing maid) and no matter how big that week’s problems were on Good Times, it always worked out for the Evans family. Outrageous, funny, and characters culturally unfamiliar to me didn’t hurt.

The earliest and most profound city influence on me and many generations was Sesame Street. With the theme “Sunny Days” playing while groups of multicultural kids laughed and ran through the graffiti-laced streets, the big city was the fun place to be. Throw in amazing urban sets and characters that could only exist in the city and I felt like I was missing out living in a small town. What kid didn’t want to live in a trash can?

A move to Los Angeles finally gave me an up close look at urban life albeit accidentally. On a trip to see a punk show in a neighborhood bordering downtown, we took a wrong turn and ended up near skid row. Back then downtown Los Angeles was a white-collar work zone by day and an apocalyptic wasteland at night. It was Escape from New York in Los Angeles before Escape from Los Angeles had been made (take my word, just watch the NY version). As we stopped to figure out which one-way street we needed to get to where we were going, trash blew down the street and half-clothed men wandered up to ask for money.  A man lay under a sheet of cardboard in a nook of a storefront. There wasn’t a kid or normal person in sight. Who the hell would live down here? TV had lied! It took a trip to Chicago years later to readjust my perception of urban life.

As an adult I still enjoy the chaos and larger than life aspects of a big city downtown but it’s hard to beat the pace and quaintness of a small town downtown. Big city downtowns (at least ones west of the Mississippi) seem to cater to the tourist or night-time visitor while smaller downtowns are aimed toward local residents. Although that premise is changing, even in Los Angeles. Both large and small seem to be struggling to find a good settling point and cater to both. And both still draw me towards them, I’m still the kid with his face pressed against the window.

 

Just listen to the music of the traffic in the city
Linger on the sidewalk where the neon signs are pretty
How can you lose?
The lights are much brighter there
You can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares
So go downtown

-Petula Clark “Downtown”