Document text
Downtown Ashland. A tourist waits at an intersection. Impatiently, she punches the traffic button — bam, bam, bam. The countdown for pedestrians crossing in the other direction continues: 9, 8, 7 … 0. What did punching the button accomplish? On a recent sunny afternoon, in less than one hour, 25 adults walked to one of four crosswalks on Main and Pioneer — the street that leads to and away from the Shakespeare festival — and pushed a traffic signal button. Asked “What do you believe happens when you push the button?” all answered in a lighthearted way. “It does something up there,” one woman answered as she pointed to the overhead traffic signals. “I guess I don’t really know,” she concluded, laughing. All the replies were friendly: “It lengthens the time but doesn’t change anything.” “It entertains you while you’re waiting?” “Well, I never thought about it — the sign just says to push if you want to cross.” “I think it helps — in some way.” “Really, I think that probably nothing happens.” Eight pedestrians were convinced that, “If I push the button, the light will change.” Six believed that the pedestrian walk symbol would appear, and one person was certain “It’s a psychological ploy.” Who is correct? What happens when you push the button? Ashland’s consulting traffic engineer, Kimberly Parducci of Southern Oregon Transportation Engineering, explains: “Ashland’s traffic pattern is programmed to create a smooth progression through town — a steady flow of traffic on Main Street to avoid stop-and-go traffic. “The cycle is set downtown, which begins where Main and Lithia diverge into one-way streets ending at Helman. Pushing the button downtown does nothing — during the day.” However, she added, from midnight to six in the morning, pushing the button allows a pedestrian to communicate with the system and receive a quick walk symbol and green light. Outside of the downtown area, when traffic is light, pedestrian-friendly buttons can change the cycle when activated. “Most people don’t know they should start crossing the street only when the walking man flashes. You are not supposed to step off the curb once the numerical countdown begins. That’s only to let you know how much time remains after you’ve begun crossing,” said Parducci. Another friendly recent addition to Ashland’s traffic system is a result of a $28,000 Community Development Block Grant. The city worked with Disabled United Direct Empowerment (DUDE), a group dedicated to equal information access for the visually impaired. Bill Belew, an active member of the group, said that the grant was used to install approximately one dozen audible pedestrian signals along Siskiyou Boulevard and Ashland Street between Maple and Tolman Creek. “In order to activate the audible signal, the button must be held for four seconds,” Belew explained. “Walk sign is on Mountain Street,” says the signal voice. “This locater tone provides information,” stressed Corinne Vieville, president of DUDE and a member of Ashland’s Transportation Commission. “Now the person can make a responsible decision whether she will cross the street or not.” Pedestrians have priority in crosswalks, but many people do not know how to use them. One example happened recently: A driver stopped at a crosswalk downtown when he spotted a man standing on the corner. The man may have been waiting for a friend or taking in the scenery. “Are you crossing the damn street or not?” yelled the driver. According to Oregon law, a driver is expected to stop when a pedestrian is in the crosswalk. And the pedestrian must be safety conscious. “So many people do not even look up as they step into the street. Before stepping off the curb, make sure any vehicle is a safe distance away — 150 feet from the crosswalk,” Parducci suggests. “The pedestrian should not expect the driver to slam on his brakes,” she adds. Pedestrians and drivers share safety responsibility, but it was not always so. “In the 1890s, pedestrians dominated the roads, and cars were the rare, tentative interlopers,” according to Clive Thompson in a December 2014 Smithsonian article. “When they stepped off the sidewalk, they did it anywhere they pleased.” In 19th century Britain, the speed limit was 4 mph, says Tom Vanderbilt in his book “Why We Drive the Way We Do.” A flag-holding man ran in front of the car to “warn citizens of the oncoming menace.” When the Model-T Ford became affordable and fast at 45 mph in the early 20th century, it became a lethal killing machine. By the early 1920s, two-thirds of deaths in cities the size of Ashland and larger were attributed to auto accidents. Roads went from pedestrian-ruled to vehicle-ruled through huge advertising campaigns. “Auto manufacturers used the snobbery of city-dwellers against them and it worked,” writes Clive Thompson. The word “jay” meant country bumpkin. “If you were run over, it was your fault, not the motorist’s.” You were a jaywalker—unsophisticated, a clod. By the 1930s, roads belonged to autos. In Ashland, the road belongs to both. Jan Boggia, formerly risk manager for the city of Mountain View, Calif., has lived in Ashland since the 1990s.