The Middle of Nowhere
Boston's convention center wants to be somewhere, but the neighborhood around it still lags
By David Scharfenberg
Globe Correspondent / December 14, 2008
Nearly five years after Messrs. Romney and Menino cut the ribbon on the Boston Convention & Exhibition Center, there is much to recommend the cavernous hall.
The building, cast in glass and steel, cuts a striking figure on the South Boston waterfront.
Management is aglow about a 2007 Convention Center of the Year award the complex won from an industry group.
And the roasted turkey sandwich served up in the food court is not half-bad.
But the $850 million complex, whatever its culinary triumphs, is still a work in progress.
Billed as the face of the new Boston, an economic engine par excellence and an ego boost for a city desperate to maintain its world-class status, the building is a bit isolated. A bit unrealized.
The publicly financed center has produced just half the economic benefits projected by city- and state-commissioned consultants: Hotel-room bookings lag, and conventioneers are spending far less on scallops and key chains than hoped.
And the building, which stirred hope of new life in the long-moribund Seaport District, still has the look of a shiny space station on a lonely lunar landscape.
Arthur Young, a chatty environmental consultant in town from San Francisco for the recent Greenbuild conference, said the windy warren of parking lots and exit ramps that ring the center just doesn't scream "Boston" to him.
"This could be Kansas City," he said. "This could be Dubai."
Of course the building is, in some respects, a victim of overheated expectations.
No single structure could be expected to lift the fortunes of an underdeveloped area like the Seaport District. And as decades of false starts on the waterfront suggest, the growth of a new neighborhood can take, well, decades.
Moreover, convention center officials suggest that consultants inflated the anticipated benefits to drum up political support for the project in the late 1990s, as consultants are wont to do.
But as critics are quick to point out, the center was sold to the public on the promise of those benefits - trumpeted by politicians and hotel developers and writ bold in the city's newspapers. And the taxpayers put up quite a bit of cash in the pursuit of a big payoff.
"It's just not what it was supposed to be," said Jim Stergios, executive director of the Boston-based Pioneer Institute, a conservative think tank that questioned the center from the outset.
But only the most dedicated Luddite could deny the pleasures of strolling among acres of consumer marvels at the center's sprawling shows.
At the Greenbuild event: environmentally friendly lighting, energy-saving roofing, and, in aisle 2800, solar-powered trash compactors.
The complex, to be sure, is no white elephant.
Run by the Massachusetts Convention Center Authority, which also operates the Hynes Convention Center, the waterfront building "puts Boston on the map as a desirable destination city for some of the largest conventions in the country," Mayor Thomas M. Menino said in a prepared statement. And the building's business has grown every year.
In 2007, the complex hosted 125 events, drawing 528,000 conventioneers who paid for 365,000 hotel room nights and generated an estimated $306 million in economic activity - half in direct spending on restaurants, cab rides, and hotel rooms and half in recycled dollars dished out by the waitresses, cabbies, and bellhops who benefit from conventioneers' largesse.
Big numbers. But the March 1997 report commissioned by the city and Commonwealth projected about double that economic impact: $764 million in economic activity and, by the fourth year of operation, 654,000 hotel room nights.
James E. Rooney, who took over as executive director of the convention authority in 2003, dismisses the report as foolish hyperbole.
"In the '90s, you probably won't find a consultant report that didn't tell a county, a city, or state government that [a convention center] is a good idea and you're going to get every event in the United States," he said. "It's ridiculous."
Rooney said he created his own business plan a year before the building opened. The complex, he said, is meeting targets.
"We're competing and we're winning," he said, calling the convention center one of the most successful in the country.
Officials are so bullish on the future, in fact, that they are discussing an expansion to accommodate larger events.
But the economic crisis gripping the country has cast some doubt on the growth plans. And with far-flung cities like Jackson, Miss., and Anchorage opening new centers these days, there are more than enough places for the American Urological Association to gather for its annual discussion of kidney ailments common and obscure.
Between 1989 and mid-2008, exhibit hall space at US and Canadian convention centers soared from 47.3 million square feet to 79.9 million square feet, according to Tradeshow Week, an industry publication.
Officials acknowledge the glut, but they insist a city as attractive as Boston has a competitive advantage. Anchorage, whatever its charms, cannot offer visitors an afternoon at Fenway Park or an evening in Copley Square.
Of course, the ball game and boutiques are some distance from the grand, rounded bow of the Boston Convention & Exhibition Center. And critics say the city might have done better to build closer to the urban core.
Eduardo Lozano, a Watertown-based architect who pushed for an expansion of the smaller Hynes center in the Back Bay, said the city lost an opportunity to set visitors rambling through its most attractive quarters - popping in and out of museums, theaters, and restaurants.
"Choice is an urban characteristic, a wonderful characteristic," he said. "This is what we enjoy, rather than sitting on an island, eating fruit and watching cockatoos."
But it is the rare American city that has a large convention center at the heart of its downtown. Indeed, a remote redoubt - sans cockatoos - is generally required for a structure as large as the Boston Convention & Exhibition Center, with its 2.1 million square feet of exhibit space.
There were practical considerations, too. City officials wanted to limit the displacement of local business, for example, and identify easily assembled lots.
The Seaport District, no longer a bustling port, filled the bill. And there was considerable excitement about a neighborhood with potential - excitement that still enlivens the city's civic and business leadership.
The arrival of the Silver Line and the Massachusetts Turnpike has improved access to the area. The Institute of Contemporary Art has added some cultural cachet. And a small army of young financial types is moving its fleet of Bose stereo systems and Keurig coffee makers into the Seaport District's new apartments bit by bit.
Moreover, developers insist they will make good in the next decade or so on long-discussed plans for the Fan Pier, Waterside Place, and Seaport Square developments - building acres of hotels, condominiums, parks, and retail shops.
"That convention center location, although it seems a little fringe at the moment, will be in the heart of it all in another five or 10 years," said John B. Hynes III, the developer behind the Seaport Square project.
But if the district takes off, can the convention center claim much credit?
Heywood Sanders, a professor of public administration at the University of Texas at San Antonio, who is perhaps the nation's foremost critic of convention centers, said the buildings generally have a marginal impact on their surroundings - pointing to anemic growth around those structures in New York, Atlanta, and Dallas.
"These things are not development boons or panaceas on their own," he said. "They are often a bridge too far."
Rooney, the convention authority director, said he has never viewed the center as a panacea, but rather as one piece of a larger public investment in the area - alongside the Boston Harbor cleanup and transportation improvements - that will help to energize the neighborhood.
"I would submit that if we look back on this area in 25 years, we'll say, 'wow,' " he said.
But Susan Silberberg-Robinson, a lecturer in urban design and planning at Massachusetts Institute of Technology, said the center could be an impediment to the sort of walkable neighborhood city planners would prefer.
"I think that the convention center as a building, as an object, is a good one - it's light, it's airy, it's got some nice detailing," she said. "It's got some insurmountable problems, though."
Her chief concern: The center is massive and inward-looking, with long walls and a rim of loading docks that do not encourage what she calls a "finely grained," human-scale community.
And with the Seaport District already developing a corporate-tourist feel, she said, the city will have to make a concerted effort to bring in affordable housing, cafes, and the other building blocks of a true neighborhood.
Kairos Shen, the city's chief planner, said the amenities are on the way.
City Hall is planning bicycle lanes, wider sidewalks, and trees for three of the area's major east-west thoroughfares: Summer Street, Congress Street, and Seaport Boulevard. A series of green spaces is also in the works.
And developers say retail shops and drugstores will come in time, presenting a livelier face to the doctors from Duluth and programmers from Pittsburgh flocking to the convention center.
The verdict on the center - as economic stimulus, neighborhood anchor, symbol of a city - may be a decade or two away.
But for now, the center is a lonesome, if busy outpost.
"We built a great big box," said the Pioneer Institute's Stergios. "And now, we're stuck with it."
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