From Private to Public, Our Parks Are Our Histories
Photo Credit to John Jekabson (c)1970
It has been a big year for parks. In the past twelve months of limited indoor activity, many people have rediscovered the joy of gathering in neighborhood and regional green spaces for leisure time, exercise, or a socially distanced hangout. The 52 parks and green spaces owned by the City of Berkeley have remained open to all, one of the few vestiges of relative normalcy. While many are well-known to both students and long-time residents as beloved places with many memories, they often have complex pasts, fraught with issues of development, financial struggles, and the challenges of ensuring equitable access to all.
The Berkeley parks system started off as a privately owned enterprise, with most walking trails and creeks falling under wealthy real estate. The city finally purchased the land for San Pablo Park in the building boom that began in the aftermath of the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. Although bought in 1907, development on the land didn’t begin until 1914, when the city became involved in the construction of playgrounds as a way to keep kids off the street.
Berkeley’s oldest park is nearly 13 acres and includes baseball fields, basketball courts, tennis courts, playgrounds, picnic areas, and a community center. The Berkeley Parks Department currently has plans for several renovations within San Pablo Park, including upgrades to the two playgrounds and the tennis courts, as well as the transformation of the Frances Albrier Community Center into a Care and Shelter facility.
While many of Berkeley’s parks were purchased by the city from private owners and real estate developers, others were obtained not through the city’s doing, but instead through the power of community organizing. The most well-known example is one of Berkeley’s enduring legacies, a tribute to the counterculture movement, free speech, social justice, and resistance: People's Park.
The story is one that has been documented far more than other park histories, and for good reason — it is one of the most highly contested plots of land in the Berkeley area, the site of a constant tug-of-war between the University on one end and students, residents, and community members on the other. In 1967, UC Berkeley acquired the property through eminent domain and notified the 200 residents living there that they would need to relocate. After demolishing the existing houses, the university ran out of funds to continue the development, and the lot remained empty for almost two years.
At this time, members of the surrounding community began to visualize a different future for the land, one centered around greenery, open space, and places for gatherings and playtime. Between April and May of 1969, hundreds of volunteers transformed the land from an empty dirt lot into a nascent park, complete with grass, flowers, walkways, swing sets, and even an amphitheater. However, local and state authorities, backed by Governor Ronald Reagan, viewed the spontaneous public enthusiasm for a community park on government owned land as a defiant act of lawlessness. On May 15, 1969, the events of “Bloody Thursday” would transpire: a fence was put up around the park, 300 city and state police in riot gear were dispersed to expel park volunteers and ensure no further entry, students and other protestors rallied to take back the area, and the following clash left one student dead and many more protestors wounded.
The struggle for People’s Park continues to this day. As many are aware, the University is currently moving forward with plans to develop new student housing on park grounds, which many community members vehemently oppose. In a rally to save People’s Park earlier this year, student and long-term resident protestors alike removed the chain link fence surrounding the park, marched several blocks up to the Berkeley campus, and dumped it onto the steps of Sproul Hall in a defiant statement against the impending development. Whether the University will be successful this time in their attempts to once again demolish the park remains to be seen, but one thing is certain: from fifty years ago to today, People’s Park has united the community in a way that apartment complexes and University housing cannot.
People’s Park isn’t the only green space born from protest. Situated in North Berkeley, occupying a six block strip of land between Milvia and Sacramento Street known as the Hearst Corridor, Ohlone Park remains another testament to the knowledge that community land is not given, but fought for.
Around the same time as the initial struggle for People’s Park, the land that would soon become Ohlone Park was the proposed site of a new BART track. Around 200 houses were bulldozed to make room for the new rail line, but Berkeley voters opposed the construction of an above-ground transportation system running through their residential area. Two weeks after Bloody Thursday, citizens, inspired by the community organizing that spawned People’s Park, gathered to proclaim that the Hearst Corridor be public land. They even named it “People’s Park Annex” before renaming it a decade later in honor of the Ohlone people of the Bay Area.
In 2019, Ohlone Park celebrated its 50th anniversary, put on by Friends of Ohlone Park. The park now includes a community garden, a mural honoring the Indigenous history of the land, playgrounds, and even a dog area. Speakers at the anniversary included Monica Arrellano, the vice chair of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribal Council, who rededicated the mural with a prayer in Chochenyo. Other speakers included Berkeley mayor Jesse Arreguín and mural artist Jean LaMarr, who both spoke of the importance of utilizing indigenous plants and preserving traditional ecological knowledge.
The desire for public parks is inspired not just by aesthetic reasons, but by clear humanitarian purposes. Studies have shown that access to green space is linked to both mental and physical health benefits, including stress reduction, improved concentration, and better air quality. It also has positive social benefits, such as crime reduction and economic stimulation. However, these benefits are not always equally distributed. In one study, urban neighborhoods with a higher proportion of people of color had less green space compared to neighborhoods with a higher population of white residents. In addition, neighborhoods with residents of color were more likely to experience further decreases in green space between 2001 and 2011.
The shrinking of parks and open space in favor of new development plays into a larger issue known as “green gentrification,” or the growing trend of building expensive real estate next to desirable green spaces, which then pushes out existing residents. Rachel Morello-Frosch, a professor in the ESPM department at UC Berkeley, says it’s imperative we consider issues of access on public land when determining what might be helpful development and what might be harmful. “There were activities that were considered okay and had been going on a for a long time, like drumming circles; and then new people come into the neighborhood and, all of a sudden, what used to be considered a great drumming circle that people loved on the weekends is now treated by the new residents like a nuisance,” she said in a recent interview. “Changing the rules on how parks are accessed and which activities are considered acceptable has to be a community-wide discussion. It can’t just be the new residents coming in and shutting out the long-term residents who’ve been living there a long time.”
For many, having access to green spaces is taken for granted. However, as so clearly evidenced by the struggle for Ohlone and People’s Park, that cannot always be the case. Parks and green spaces are essential to healthy communities — so why must they constantly be contested? Especially during this difficult time, when local parks serve as places of solace and an escape from social isolation, it becomes even more essential to acknowledge parks belong to everyone, not just to those who can afford to live near one that doesn’t face threat of development or financial burden. Our parks are the backbone of our community body, a place where people of all backgrounds can form relationships with the land and each other. It is high time we treat them as such.
