What is distressing in all of this, however, is not the

bickering but the total lack of intelligent public discourse

over the stadium proposals from the perspective of urban
planning. This is partly by design. AEG, for example, has
refused to disclose the exact location of the proposed
stadium site and has yet to complete a formal design.

Hahn has not exactly pressed the company to do so. The

assumption seems to be that all development is good
development, that anyone willing to invest large sums of
money in a decrepit downtown neighborhood should be
greeted with heads bowed in appreciation--or at least get a
supportive pat on the back.

Such an attitude toward a pro- ject that would have a

significant effect on the physical shape of downtown would
be understandable if a big development company could be
trusted to create an original, thoughtful alternative to the
kind of sports-retail-entertainment centers that are
sprouting all over America. But AEG's proposal is nothing
more than a generic formula--one unlikely to spark the kind
of urban renaissance that its planners have promised.

Downtown Los Angeles, meanwhile, has been searching

for a new identity since the mid-1920s, when its importance
as a vibrant urban center first began to fade as the city
expanded westward. Its revival will require the highest
levels of planning, and an injection of bold, new ideas.
Anything short is unlikely to turn around an area known
largely for its dilapidated buildings and empty parking lots.

The stadium proposal should be understood as part of a

much bigger plan, all of it currently controlled by AEG.
The first phase, Staples Center, was completed in 1999.
Last fall, the city approved the second phase of
development, a 40-acre retail, entertainment and housing
complex just to the north of Staples. It would include a
7,000-seat theater, a 1,200-room hotel, several blocks of
retail along Olympic and Figueroa and 800 units of
housing. (AEG has yet to set a date for groundbreaking on
this phase of development.)

The football stadium would cover roughly 20 acres just to

the east of the retail complex. And although the developer
has refused to disclose its exact location, most reports place
it between 11th and 12th streets around Hope Street. AEG
has unveiled a very preliminary stadium design by the L.A.
office of Seattle-based NBBJ Architects.

Nonetheless, the thinking behind the plan is relatively

clear-- and somewhat predictable. It embodies the kind of
"pedestrian- friendly" planning formula that has become
the norm among major developers in recent years. In a
nutshell, the idea is to create instantly the kind of vibrant
street life that exists in older, denser and more traditional
city centers. The tactics are simple enough: Replace large,
monolithic structures with a more varied, small-scaled play
of forms and build lots and lots of retail along the street.
That pattern is already visible in the design of Staples
Center, whose ground level includes offices, a restaurant
and shops, which wrap around its base from Figueroa to
11th Street and are intended to give the structure a more
human scale.

It is the development's second phase--the retail and

entertainment complex--that is meant to provide the glue
that will transform the area into a buzzing urban hub.
Anchored by a vast pedestrian plaza, which faces Staples to
the south, the complex would essentially be an open-air
mall. Surrounded by parking structures, stuffed with a mix
of chain restaurants and stores, it recalls recent
developments, such as the Grove at Farmers Market in the
Fairfax district of L.A. and Pasadena's Paseo Colorado.

Not surprisingly, AEG has vague plans to include even

more retail space along the stadium's base.

The emphasis on shops and public space has obvious

political benefits. It gives the public the impression that the
developer is concerned about the kind of quality-of-life
issues that have become a common theme in contemporary
politics. And the conventional wisdom is that such
developments are a significant improvement over the kind
of enclosed, air-conditioned malls that became the norm
only a few decades ago.
But the impact such a development would have on the
surrounding urban fabric is more dubious. Sports retail-
entertainment complexes are largely introverted, self-
contained organisms. As such, they are unlikely to spur the
kind of broad revitalization that the developers have
promised. This is especially true of the football stadium.
No amount of retail shops will disguise what it actually is:
an enormous void that, the developer admits, will remain
empty 320-plus days a year.

There are other options. The most obvious would be to

renovate the existing L.A. Coliseum, a landmark structure
at the edge of Exposition Park. One of the city's oldest
historic districts, the area was originally designed as a
series of monuments set around a formal Beaux Arts park.
It includes the 1920s-era Armory building-- currently being
transformed into a science school by the Santa Monica-
based architectural firm Morphosis--and the Natural
History Museum, which is in the midst of hiring an
architect for a major expansion.

Renovating the Coliseum stadium would not only bolster

such redevelopment efforts, it would add another element
to what is slowly becoming a more genuinely rich and
democratic public forum. It would also serve to strengthen
the identity of an existing community of mostly lower-
middle-class homes.

The more essential problem, however, is not where the

stadium should go, but how such decisions are made.
AEG's decision to build the stadium near Staples has
nothing to do with urban planning issues but with the logic
of corporate tie-ins. It is intended to guarantee that, after
paying the price of admission to a football game, visitors
could then wander out and buy a T-shirt and steak dinner at
an AEG retail mall or see a show at the AEG theater.

That experience might be slightly less disturbing if AEG's

proposal were more daring. The robber barons of an earlier
age were often driven by greed. But they were also apt to
promote bolder, more original visions. The original
"Miracle Mile," for example, which was conceived by the
realtor A.W. Ross, was an architectural response to L.A.'s
nascent car culture that was radical for its time. In New
York, Rockefeller Center was more than a money-
generating office complex; it became a symbol of
capitalism's relentless drive. Whatever the motive--a sense
of civic pride, outright vanity or fear of death--these
developers were driven to reach beyond the average and the
mundane.

Thus far, AEG's plans for downtown have yet to show such
ambition. They are safe, formulaic, somewhat soulless.
They embody an age of corporate gigantism in which
decisions are made by committee, and the only real concern
is the bottom line.

If these corporations insist on offering up tired old formulas

as the future of our cities, then it is the government's
responsibility to hold them to a higher standard. Hahn
could begin by acknowledging that effective city planning
requires more than just spending bails of money. He could
stand up to developers who try to strong-arm the city into
accepting gargantuan urban proposals even before they
have been adequately thought through.

Of course, some developers will tell the city to get lost. So

what? No development at all may be a better option than
selling off the city's soul.