Hansen: Harbor — a boulevard with no direction

The name itself falls short: Harbor Boulevard.

It doesn’t reach a harbor, and it doesn’t shelter anyone except the homeless.

The only thing it does well is harbor doubts about its future by reinforcing its past.

Geographically and culturally, probably no other street exemplifies the ramshackle growth of Orange County better than Harbor.

It is the north-south spine that splits the county. At 23.3 miles, it is the longest contiguous street with the same name. There are others that are longer, like Golden Lantern and Katella Avenue, but both change names about a half dozen times.

For better or worse, Harbor retains its namesake, evolving only as its zip code rises and falls. With few exceptions, it is now clogged with strip centers that change shape from graffiti-stained blight to high-end chain stores, mirroring the adjacent demographics.

From a planning perspective, each city segment reflects either the foresight or short-sightedness of its founders.

In other words, Disneyland’s Anaheim kept its vision. Fullerton controlled its downtown. But otherwise, that’s about it. Since World War II, tract housing and private development have shaped the intersections.

Which means that for more than 70 years, nothing substantially has changed.

Anchor malls and local shopping districts have now filled in the gaps, creating swaths of retail so long and overwhelming that you wonder how the businesses survive. Many don’t.

You can tell when the housing economics improved enough over the years in some areas, because developers risked the capital to revitalize the corner strip mall, usually with mauve colors, pleasing geometric accents and catchy marketing names.

This impulse to manufacture an impression rarely works because the design and livability of a place can’t be defined by its intersections and commerce. It needs a core and sense of connectedness to its other parts.

By way of example, the prouder each city is of its Harbor revitalization, the fancier and bigger its “Welcome to our city” median sign. Most are non-existent or hard to find. By comparison, none match the size or beigeness of Irvine’s sign off the 405, of course.

The point is Orange County was never planned holistically. Almost all cities were created using some kind of grid, dating to the beginning of civilization. That’s not the case at the county level, at least not here.

Harbor simply grew out of the dirt path of the 1769 Portolà expedition, the first Europeans to explore inland California. They came over the Puente Hills, down through La Habra and onto what would become North Harbor.

One would assume they actually made it to Newport Harbor.

Adding to this history, Harbor used to be called, inexplicably, Los Angeles Street through most of Anaheim and Fullerton. It wasn’t until road improvements were completed in the 1950s and ‘60s that the entire stretch was renamed Harbor Boulevard.

It now claims seven Orange County cities — Costa Mesa, Fountain Valley, Santa Ana, Garden Grove, Anaheim, Fullerton and La Habra — as well as Roland Heights, an unincorporated area in the San Gabriel Valley in Los Angeles County.

At the northern most point, in Roland Heights, are large, desirable homes that sell above $1 million. To the south, Harbor ends — fittingly — facing a small store that is going out of business.

Anyone who has traveled any length of Harbor can’t help but feel the effect of its randomness. Even in small doses, it’s too much.

In 2005, Anaheim native and singer Gwen Stefani mentioned Harbor Boulevard in the song “Cool.” She was talking about a past lover, and she said, “Remember Harbor Boulevard — the dreaming days where the mess was made.”

While she was talking about the failed relationship, the lyrics fit as a metaphor for Harbor.

It’s been said that Paris has the Champs-Élysées, New York has Broadway and Orange County has Harbor Boulevard.

Obviously, it’s not a compliment.

The difficulty for Orange County is there are dozens of Harbors: Beach Boulevard, Euclid Street, Ball Road or any major arterial suffers from the same over-reliance on poorly designed intersection shopping that no longer satisfies a diversified, millennial demographic.

One by one, intersection by intersection, city by city, each area needs to brace and plan for change.

Because adding new layers of veneer is not going to cut it.

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DAVID HANSEN is a writer and Laguna Beach resident. He can be reached at hansen.dave@gmail.com.