Chicago’s new homes are not built for the city
Chicago’s urban landscape has changed significantly in the past century. Between 1900 and 1992, the city itself increased sixfold in size, while the land used for agriculture decreased by 50%. With this urban growth came density and infilling — building up as opposed to building out.
Since then, homes have become increasingly larger. According to the Census Bureau’s annual housing survey, the average American home has increased almost 1,000 square feet since 1980, and that’s just the average home. With the advent of the McMansion and the industrialization of construction, more homes are reaching the 3,000- to 6,000-square-foot mark.
Though many of these houses are in remote or suburban areas, the palette for this kind of residential excess has infiltrated contemporary culture, instilling urban homeowners with a need for unnecessary and often impractical space.
As new-construction mansions become more common in Chicago, a glaring distinction grows between the old and the new. With their multilot areas and their three-car garages, Chicago’s contemporary mansions are homes that are built in the city, but not necessarily for the city.
De-densification
Density is a defining quality for many cities. In Chicago, even residential streets outside the concentrated downtown area are lined with courtyard buildings, three-flats and homes.
But Chicago’s density is declining, and some of the city’s most prominent neighborhoods have actually started to lose residents. Lincoln Park, once home to 102,000 people, barely housed 70,000 in 2020. Lakeview, once holding 124,000, was at 103,050 around the same time. North Center had decreased from 49,000 to 35,114, and nearby communities such as West Town and Bucktown had similarly fallen in scale.
These neighborhoods are becoming more expensive, and much of this de-densification may be due to a “spreading out” of sorts; wealthier people are moving in and are able to afford more space.
But there’s more to it than that. Previously, when a neighborhood in Chicago was in demand, builders capitalized, and the housing stock swelled. Chicago’s zoning laws, however, have changed, and while they allow for high-rise development in various downtown areas, they prohibit this same approach in neighborhoods. One thing is for sure, though: No matter how strict the zoning code is in residential areas, single-family homes are pretty much always allowed.
One theory, termed “the homevoter hypothesis,” speculates
that this is due to the control that homeowners have on urban development. Their interests have the most influence on local aldermen and, therefore, residential development. The good of the community and the city is not a factor in their agenda, which instead focuses on home value growth, and how to wield zoning changes in order to achieve it.
Anti-urban
There are huge problems with this that point to the suburbanization of the city. First, affordability. North Side neighborhoods already lack considerable income diversity. If a neighborhood is going to support a growing number of multilot homes, then most likely there will be few opportunities for those on the lower-income spectrum to live there.
Not only does this encourage the economic and racial homogeneity of certain areas in an already segregated city, but it also serves to contradict the very elements that make a city urban.
Public transportation, for example, takes a hit with the new urban McMansions. These homes often feature three- to four-car garages and are built for owners who can afford multiple vehicles.
Support for local business is additionally called into question. As families move in with seemingly unlimited resources, they have easier access to nonlocal stores. Fewer homes to a block also means fewer people within walking distance, changing the type of consumer who patronizes these local and likely independently owned businesses.
Poor quality, bad design
According to Sarah Williams Goldhagen in “Welcome to Your World,” in 1949, 70% of the houses newly constructed in the U.S. were built by only 10% of the country’s builders. Today, an even smaller percentage of builders are responsible for new-construction homes. Similarly, 85% of new construction is a collaboration between construction companies and private clients such as developers, who rarely consult a designer. This means that many buildings in the U.S., including those in cities, do not abide by urban design best practices; they don’t use local materials or consider the region’s climate or the site’s topography.
With buyers seeking space and amenities, developers are able to easily deliver. However, what’s constructed is often poorly built and badly designed. This is due to the industrialization of construction, which should mean that because labor is cheaper and the cost to build is considerably less than it used to be, homes are simply constructed more efficiently, more cost effectively and more skillfully.
However, the market has exploited this boom, while developers who understand that buyers prioritize interior elements build cheap, non-site-specific homes that are often oversized and overpriced.
The advent of cheap construction paired with pre-recession easy credit resulted in the notorious McMansion. Despite speculations that these massive homes would disappear with the 2007 economic decline, a 2017 Washington Post article presents Zillow data that indicates McMansion construction is increasing, an incline that represents a persevering desire for this kind of residential excess.
These urban mansions are failing on multiple levels. They do not respect context; they do not honor history. They consider only their residents, disregarding community and city.
Continuing to search for ways that the city can best serve us and our indulgences may be tempting,, if we have the resources. But ultimately, the city will prove incapable of accommodating anyone in any way if it ceases to be a city, which is precisely the position we put it in when we build gluttonous structures that repudiate urban living.
The suburbs, though problematic in their own right, exist for a reason. If we don’t appreciate the urban space for what it is — smaller homes, street parking, tiny yards — then we shouldn’t live in it.