CITY SMART : Building a Dream City, Piece by Piece

I love cities.

Maybe that’s why Los Angeles keeps breaking my heart.

Each city has an individual rhythm, a unique symphony of sounds, sights, patterns and attitudes that defines it. The caffeinated modernity of Seattle. The ordered romanticism of Paris. The adrenal crush of New York.

But Los Angeles never measures up. Its gates, walls, super-streets and cul-de-sacs enforce a subtle segregation that betrays its claims of diversity.

And it breaks my heart.

I love cities. So I built my own--out of Lego.

Over many years and many thousands of dollars, a spare room at home has been transformed into a model of modern urban planning. All in plastic.

I began this city 18 years ago. The floor of my playroom was half covered by a city that could be considered perfect only in the mind of a 9-year-old. There were two police stations, a firehouse, an airport, a heavy-equipment yard and a circuit for car racing.

I added urban necessities such as stores, apartments, municipal buildings, schools and even a few abandoned warehouses.

I have spent 12 hours at a stretch working on a single building, only to realize that I had forgotten to eat all day. My wife regulates my time in the “Lego Room.”

People laugh when I tell them about it. But they usually stop laughing when they see it and sometimes spend an hour doting over the details, admiring the different views.

My city reflects my prejudices about urban life. It should be crowded, but not overwhelming. Buildings should be diverse, but complementary. The streets should be narrow, easy to walk.

Shaped like a giant C, it occupies most of three walls on a countertop. Its three districts are connected by an electric monorail. Heavy rail lines, buffered by plastic trees and flowers, cut through the downtown and harbor districts. Narrow two-lane streets wind through neighborhoods lined by blue cottages and white offices, the urban landscape recreated in 1/50th scale. This is where my money goes and a great deal of my soul too. Trained as a planner, I use the city as my laboratory.

A mixed-use building lines one block--stores at street level and apartments above--to cut down on auto traffic. The empty warehouses and failing cargo companies of the harbor district are being renovated into lofts, shops and restaurants.

I designed all of the buildings on graph paper, then prowled stores, catalogues and the Internet for parts to construct them. Lego Systems Inc., the Danish company that manufactures Lego, makes bricks in blue, red, yellow, white, black and gray, with some specialty pieces in pink, brown, green and dark gray. It also makes more than 1,620 different elements. So buildings can be as realistic and as detailed as imagination permits.

A church boasts three stained-glass windows that light up at night. The hotel lobby includes an automated teller machine. Gingerbread detailing accents the row of Victorian houses along the waterfront.

This is the kind of city I want to live in.

Someday, maybe, I will.