Every town in the US with a historic area, whether real or
recreated, likes to replace their plain Jane concrete sidewalks with brick.
It’s an expensive undertaking that’s also tough to maintain. Just think of all
the times you’ve seen a missing brick in one of these walkways.
Simple concrete slabs rarely disappear, though they may
crack thanks to vandalizing tree roots or dimwitted contractors. Trees in urban
areas are often planted in spaces too small for the root ball. A healthy tree
will ultimately remedy the problem and bore underneath the paving, then slowly
expand and lift everything above it. Bricks are easier to lift than slabs of
concrete, but both will ultimately give way.
It is true that brick has an advantage when it comes to
trees, though. It can be a permeable surface that allows water to reach the
roots. In the Netherlands, brick is used in both walkways and streets to allow
the constant rainfall--- think Seattle, only with more wooden shoes--- to soak
in rather than drain off. The appeal of this is obvious: much of the
Netherlands is built on reclaimed land that’s below sea level. All that runoff
has to be pumped up and into one of the many canals that are, in turn, pumped
into the diked rivers. It’s much easier to just let a lot of it percolate into
the soil. Their bricks are set in a sandy base that’s tamped down with what
looks like a jackhammer that someone forgot to remove the protective cap from.
Once the sand is thoroughly packed, a team of workers moves in to carefully
place the bricks flush against each other, all the while cutting the bricks
with what must be the world’s strongest powersaw blade so that there are no
gaps at all. It’s a labor-intensive task that you won’t see too often in areas governed
by cost-conscious (a polite way of saying cheap) politicians.
Our version of brick sidewalks tends to be a choice between
“good-enough” and “cheating”. The “good-enough” model is that the bricks are
set haphazardly on soil (not necessarily sand) that’s been vaguely smoothed
over. The undulating surface will worsen over time as seeping water erodes the
uneven subsurface.
The “cheating” method involves setting the bricks in
concrete. Any gaps are filled with concrete, so little brick-cutting is
involved. Unfortunately, concrete tends to crack and crumble as the bricks
expand and contract with the changes in the weather. That means the bricks will
start to loosen and, inevitably, pop loose.
For someone with trouble walking or with vision impairments,
loose or missing bricks can be a tripping hazard. If that person is elderly, a
sudden fall is potentially dangerous. An undulating surface can be just as
hazardous, as a brick’s edge might pop up just enough to trip someone.
| A brick sidewalk in Old Town Alexandria. Notice how it undulates towards the top of the picture. This one is actually in decent condition. Photo by author. |
That permeability that’s so advantageous in the Netherlands
can backfire spectacularly in the US. Some cities made the mistake of burying
the bases of traffic signal poles underneath their brick sidewalks. Sure, it
looked a lot better to have those unsightly metal bolts out of sight, but the
water percolating through the brick rusted those same bolts. That’s why some
cities such as Alexandria in Virginia are taking the wise precaution of
replacing old, partly buried signal poles with new ones. Collapsing traffic lights
are upsetting to both tourists and voters.
So given these problems, why are brick walkways so popular? Blame
it on skewed priorities when it comes to preserving our historical sites. In
the early 20th century, Colonial Williamsburg was rebuilt from ruins
while colonial dwellings in Old Town Alexandria were rigorously preserved
through the creation of one of the first historic districts. New urbanism
developments such as Kentlands in
Maryland emulated the colonial motif, right down to the brick walkways. By
contrast, Native American burial mounds such as the Ocmulgee
Old Fields in Georgia that are thousands of years older remain under threat
of highway construction. The prevailing culture in the United States prizes the
colonial aesthetic above all else.
So is there an alternative to dangerous, ill-constructed
brick? Happily there is: stamped concrete. This surface is smoother than brick thanks
to its inherent uniformity with as little as a 15%
cost premium over regular, bland concrete. It spreads out like a regular
slab, only with a stamping process to create a pattern. This pattern can mimic brick,
if that’s what floats your colonial boat, right down to the color. That’s
really the cool part: the concrete’s color doesn’t come from paint, but from a
sort of dye that’s added into the mix prior to pouring. That means the color
doesn’t flake off.
Yes, there are some negatives. As with any material, stamped
concrete can crack if not poured properly. It’s always amazing to me how few
contractors understand that expansion joints have to be put in between slabs. A
single giant slab is doomed to crumble.
Another drawback is public perception. Some preservation
purists will insist on using real brick because it’s what the colonists
used. Never mind that those lovely brick sidewalks and streets were either
unpaved or lined with planks in the actual colonial era. It’s the perception,
however erroneous, that counts with these folks.
The bottom line is that any municipality of developer that
wants to improve the ambiance of a given area should think twice about using
brick as anything other than the façade of a building. As a paving material, it
is costly and labor-intensive. Stamped concrete can look just as good, be safer
to use, and last longer. Just be ready for some griping from a few purists.
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