The Story
The story starts in Philadelphia in 1996, when I left architectural practice for a job in city government. After about a year, I was so fascinated by government-the breadth, depth, and complexity of it all-that I enrolled in a graduate degree program in government administration. For two years, I took classes at night and on weekends while also managing a big job Monday through Friday. As soon as I started grad school, I began to notice regular moments at work when a little lightbulb would go on and I would think, “This is exactly like what we were talking about in class last Saturday!” Similarly, the program was for mid-career people, and often we brought our own real-life work experiences into the classroom as a way to illustrate the ideas we were reading about and discussing. For those two years, I was constantly amazed at how ideas helped me make sense of my job, and how my work experiences helped me better relate to the theory. It was one of the most engaged and productive times I have had during my working life, and I sometimes felt like I had a minor superpower, like the ability to see around corners. I left the city after four years to return to grad school full-time, and those lightbulb moments continued to happen as I studied large-scale urban redevelopment. I read hundreds of books and articles, and found many new ideas that helped me understand some things I had sensed, but had been unable to fully grasp while working for the city. After moving to the Twin Cities and getting back into teaching, I was disappointed to hear from some former students that much of the theory they had learned in grad school seemed to be of little value to them in their real jobs. Having had the opposite experience, I thought, what can I do to help—not just students but everyone engaged in city-building? This led me do a talk called “The Technician and the Philosopher,” followed by a panel called “Five Eggheads Talk Big Ideas,” which was so successful that my egg-headed colleagues and I brought it back two more times. The goal with these talks was to make theory fun and accessible, and it worked. Finally, a little over a year ago, as I was still chasing the high that comes with connecting ideas and experience in a useful way, I had the idea for a blog. Then I came up with a name, The Reflective Urbanist, suggesting the shifting back and forth between theory and practice.
The Theory
My theory was that theories and big ideas, if presented in the right way, could be interesting, useful, and fun, and could help us all become more effective in our city-building efforts. I knew from my own experience that I felt more engaged and productive when I was able to connect ideas and practice, and that if I could communicate theory in an approachable, interesting, and relevant way, I might be able to help other city builders develop that same appreciation. And I knew that I would need to use stories to make that connection, but that storytelling has its limits.
“Narrative fallacy” is a form of cognitive bias, which is why in qualitative research, one must use stories with care. This is because a good storyteller can use data to tell any story they want, whether or not it is true—just watch the news these days. But I also know that for 10,000 years, humans have responded to stories, not data, and I knew that I had some good stories was good at telling them. So, the foundation of the Reflective Urbanist would be good stories, mostly mine, mostly true, but sometimes more apocryphal, yet still true in a “meta” sense.
I had been thinking about writing another book for a while, but I began to think that short essays might be a way to get started, and that maybe I could collect them into an edited volume sometime in the future. I also thought that with all the content producers out there, whatever I did would have to be good, concise, and regular if it was to cut through the clutter and build a following. So, rather than thinking about a future book, I focused on producing a really high-quality essay program that would reach the broadest possible audience. I landed on the idea of a simple format where I would use a story people could relate to as a way to illustrate a useful theory or idea. Then I hit on “a story, a theory, and a lesson,” and started rolling it out. Including this one, I have posted 19 episodes since March—seven in the first week and one weekly ever since.
The Lesson
The first lesson for me was that my theory was correct, and that I was on to something. I know this because I have been getting incredibly positive feedback from so many of you.
In the category of what works, almost everyone likes the story-theory-lesson format, the short and concise presentation, and the mix of personal stories, history, philosophy, literature, film, and other cultural references. A number of you have echoed one listener who said, “I am most engaged when you bring a pop culture or literary reference to the theory section.” One of you said of the podcasts, “They are short and they left me wanting more, which must mean you are doing it right.” Many people have appreciated the humor in all the pieces, and almost everyone has commented on the high production quality of the podcasts. Flogging one’s Ph.D. can alienate people (whenever someone addresses me as Dr. Brown, I look around behind me to see who they are talking to), so I was particularly pleased to hear from one listener that, "Sometimes he really lets his PhD show, but it isn't off-putting." The same listener said they appreciated my public and private sector "’boots on the ground’ experience, rather than just writing from an academic POV.” I couldn’t ask for better validation that what I’m trying to do is working. I was also concerned that some younger audience members might have difficulty relating to some of the pop-culture references (like scenes from 40-year-old dystopic science fiction movies), but I have asked asked around and heard back from a few of you that I describe these scenes well enough that they work for people of all generations. (I do plan to get some Parks and Rec and Abbot Elementary references into future episodes, along with some more contemporary sci-fi.)
Some of you have also made some suggestions for improvements. One great and obvious idea is that I should offer a clearer introduction to the topic at the beginning of each post/podcast, so people have a better idea of where things are going before I launch into a strange story. I have been experimenting a bit, and some of you have also noticed that I have varied things slightly within the template. For example, after a couple of weeks where the primary stories were from film and literature, I heard “I want more Peter.” I also heard that several of the posts that were slightly more opinionated were also less powerful. I have worked to include a little bit of each of the things people seem to like in each post without overdoing it, and I suspect that will continue to be my primary challenge. I will do my best to rise up to it.
My thanks, and a request
I am a big believer in collaboration. As an architect, I was trained in the solitary genius model of creativity, but like many other architects and city builders, I have since learned that if you want to work on big, important, impactful, and cool projects, you must be willing to work on big teams with lots of people. As an extrovert, I find this not just easy but a lot of fun, and as far as I’m concerned, the more the merrier. But I have also learned that another part of me needs to maintain a private back shop for my own personal projects, where the product is mine alone, and from whence I can embark upon a solitary “hero’s journey:” An adventure through which I must live and die by my own sword.
Yet these personal projects are never really done alone, because even something like The Reflective Urbanist takes a village. I have many friends to thank for listening to me idea-casting over the past couple of years, offering suggestions from format to topics to logo to webpage design. Special thanks to the members of my kitchen cabinet, Kim, Ellison, Kris, Michael, David, Noah, Brian, Peter, Val, Jem, Jim, Bruce, Jim, my kids, and my lovely and patient wife Anna, who has been listening to me talk about this kind of stuff for nearly three decades. I want to thank Barbara for being my first paid subscriber—it was a very nice surprise and the shot in the arm I needed to get through the end of the season. I have a long way to go before I can quit my day job, but I did start doing the math, and I just need another 1,000 or so paid subscribers.
I always shop my ideas around with a lot of people, and it was a colleague and former student named Jem who, after listening to me explain my idea for a blog and reading a couple of draft posts said, “that sounds good, but why not record yourself reading it and make a podcast too?” It occurred to me then that if I wanted to reach the broadest possible audience, I should take Jem’s advice. So I took it as an opportunity to learn something new, which also happens to be a way for me to keep from getting older any faster than necessary. And believe me, creating a podcast is not as easy it sounds. It took months of trying different spaces, arrangements, and practice recordings to get the right combination of high audio quality and good “voice work,” as it is called in the trade. It takes a lot of work to make something look easy.
And this all leads to the amazing Sheila Vemmer of MC1 Communications. In addition to creating the webpage, Sheila has done all of the audio engineering and editing for the podcasts, selecting the music and adding in sound effects, including a flushing toilet, slamming doors, a whinnying pony, and even a clip of the late, great George Carlin. When we got started, Sheila would ask for guidance, and I would send along a few keywords and then say, “surprise me.” Now she doesn’t ask, and when I listen to the podcasts after they have been posted, I always end up laughing. Sheila is a huge part of the reason why The Reflective Urbanist podcast gets so many compliments, and this gets back to my original goal of putting out a “high-quality product.” If you need help with strategic communications, website and graphic design, podcast audio editing, or anything else, I can connect you with Sheila.
Thank you again for reading and listening to The Reflective Urbanist. I am taking the summer off, but I will be back in September with more stories, theories, and lessons, and some new things, like interviews, book reviews, and pieces about people who have influenced me and my thinking. But for now, I have two favors to ask: First, I have posted a link to a simple Google form survey with a few questions on my website—please take a few minutes to fill it out. Second, please spread the word and tell two other friends and colleagues to check out The Reflective Urbanist. Have a great summer!
He who loves practice without theory is like the sailor who boards ship without a rudder and compass and never knows where he may cast.
- Leonardo da Vinci