Boston grass isn't always greener

25 May 2001

The Supreme Court frowns on smoking grass. Here in Boston, we're not even sure we want you walking on it.

The latter point was made last week by two Fort Point artists, Lisa Greenfield and Jennifer Moses, who went out and laid grass along the Summer Street Bridge. It was an early-morning, covert operation involving a crew of 18 and about $1,300 in sod. Pedestrians on their morning commute from South Boston to downtown found themselves walking on turf instead of concrete. Many were puzzled, some were delighted; a few actually kicked off their shoes and luxuriated in the feeling of cool grass between the toes.

City officials pronounced themselves befuddled.

It may have seemed a silly lark. After all, as Mayor Thomas Menino is fond of noting, this is Boston, not Duxbury. We call two trees within 10 feet of each other a forest. Rats and squirrels are our wildlife and a few errant flowers sticking up between the bricks make a garden.

Still, as Boston wrestles with creating new open space and tries to figure out what to do with some of its existing open spaces, it's worth contemplating the role that grass plays in a city.

We don't think much of grass. Trees and bushes are OK, but grass is the disparaged alternative to the edges, arcades and other devices that landscape architects think make a space, in their words, "active."

When the John Hancock tower renovated the area around its building, it laid down granite pavers and large granite containers with trees and shrubs. When 28 State St. rebuilt its outdoor space, it put in brick, granite and a waterfall. In neither case could a blade of grass be found.

Just this week there were sneers mocking the so-called "greenway" that is proposed to replace the Central Artery.

And then, of course, there is City Hall Plaza. Having spent $7 million on plans, consultants and design teams, the Trust for City Hall Plaza has considered almost everything imaginable to fix the universally derided brick plain that is Government Center. But it still refuses to adopt the most obvious solution of all: pull out the bricks and plant some grass.

Grass and cities, it seems, just don't mix.

Yet if one considers Boston's most successful open spaces, they all involve grass. The Common, the Esplanade and the Public Garden are, of course, covered with grass, each acting as an oasis from the steel and concrete around them. Grass is also integrated into Boston's smaller open spaces, such as Copley Square, the Commonwealth Avenue Mall and Post Office Square.

But, as far as downtown is concerned, it pretty much stops there. Indeed, while the city has an aggressive tree-planting program, it does little in the way of grass planting. It is rare to find a sidewalk, for example, with grass edging.

Why is that? Even those who profess to support greenery are sometimes reluctant to support its increased use, for reasons that have to do with the peculiarities of city budgets.

When open spaces, roads and sidewalks are built, they are regarded as one-time capital expenditures. But maintenance for all of those things is funded out of the annual operating budget. Each year, maintenance-related expenses compete for funding against every other possible city need. In tight times especially, maintenance is usually shorted while - understandably - high-profile departments such as public safety and education are usually protected.

So while it may be more expensive to lay down granite when building a park, the maintenance required is relatively trivial. Planting grass, on the other hand, is cheap. But, with the costs of maintenance high and usually underfunded, green spaces quickly deteriorate.

The result? It's a lot easier to choose brick and granite over grass and flowers.

There is a solution to this: the cost of maintenance can be built into the capital budget, creating a fund that is used exclusively for that purpose. It's a rarely used device today, but, if the political will were there, it could become more widespread.

But right now the political will is not there because grass is belittled rather than valued. That's too bad. Concrete and stone are extensions of the buildings they surround; grass provides a counterpoint that softens the hard edges of the city. It humanizes a place that can often seem inhospitable.

Grass may be the most common of things. It should also be one of the most treasured.

With their exhibit on the Summer Street Bridge, the Fort Point artists made these points quite elegantly.

And neatly.

One week after they had laid out the grass, the guerilla-artists appeared again. They removed the sod and swept the sidewalk. The hint of green that had graced the bridge was gone as suddenly as it had appeared.

But the message, I hope, was heard.