The new realities of post-COVID parking at the Minnesota State Capitol

It’s hard to tell these days whether or not the Minnesota Legislature is in session. Technically it is, except for the House, but it’s complicated and you can read a whole 1,500-word column on this topic and come out little-the-wiser. (Thank you for your service, Peter Callaghan.)

One thing’s for sure about going to the State Capitol: compared to six years ago, it’s easier to park your car. One blessing in disguise around the COVID aftermath is that, with the majority of government staff  at home, demand for parking is down. This is important because where you park is a badge of honor among State Capitol denizens. Proximity to power forms a hierarchy that comes with rank and/or seniority, and there are few more obvious displays of this power than car storage. 

This is probably one reason why state capitol areas have a bad urban design track record, offering acres of parking and poor land use. A video last year by urban journalist Ray Delahanty (aka City Nerd) ranked all 50 state capitols in terms of urban quality; St. Paul landed 10th from bottom. Delahanty’s video describes how the damage done by the government campus “is mitigated a bit by the I-94 spaghetti that blocks it off from downtown [but that the Minnesota Capitol area]  really demonstrates the corrosiveness of bad state capitol urban form.”

By contrast, great state capitol areas — Delahanty calls out Sacramento and Boston — are surrounded by destinations, neighborhoods, walkable streets and quality public space. I am partial to Madison, myself, but St. Paul’s Capitol area leaves a lot to be desired on all of those fronts (at least if you value public spaces that actually attract people).

The worst capitol areas are plagued by parking lots, often a challenge for state government because, for one thing, they’re almost always seasonal enterprises. (There are only nine full-time legislatures in the U.S.) For months they lie dormant, then burst into hyperactivity when sessions begin. Politicians, staff, lobbyists, constituents, and advocates of all stripes descend on the state capitols with their cars, all demanding convenient parking. 

Likewise, because they’re based on geography, political assemblies are inherently dispersed, with  officials coming from all corners of the state. (Fun fact: the best way to traverse the 400 miles to St. Paul from District 1, up in Kittson County, is to fly.) This is partly why the quest for parking has been a generational endeavor for politicians, staff, and the Department of Administration officials who oversee facilities. For example, before COVID, building a new $66 million parking ramp was a key Department of Administration request, but that has died down in an era when most state workers stay home most of the time. 

I reached out to both the state Department of Administration and Capitol Area Architectural and Planning Board (CAAPB) staff to ask whether parking policies have changed in the post-pandemic era, but the answers seemed vague.

Erik Dahl, CAAPB executive secretary, is working on a “rule making process,” complex legal administration, to “update parking standards” in the area. According to Dahl, they are trying to encourage “the gradual return of workers at lower SOV split [and] seeing reduction of surface lots in favor of a structured approach, and increased use of transit.” In addition, CAAPB has been looking at “eliminating parking minimums, if the market demonstrates how car storage or mobility is handled with an innovative approach.”

Meanwhile, according to an Administration spokesperson, there are about 1,400 parking spaces currently on hiatus due that might one day return. According to communications director Julie Nelson, with lower daily demand, they have also  released 600 parking spots from daily contracts, converting them to meters or flexible arrangements.

On the ground, the most marginal surface parking lots around the Capitol have disappeared. Both Lot C and Lot X are now at least temporarily absent. (Lot X is part of the mystifying “Sears Site” situation, currently mothballed after being renovated as either a reality program production studio or the backdrop for a seasonal outdoor asian market.) Lot C, on the other hand, has been removed and subsumed by the demolition of the historic Ford Building, something of a historic preservation travesty along University Avenue.

That said, there are still plenty of surface ramps and garages to be found around University and Rice. In addition to the three large public, multi-story ramps, you’ll find lots Q, W, U, K F, and H waiting to take your money and offer your car temporary refuge. (This is not to mention the guarded lots for highest levels of staff and elected officials.)

Post-commuting plan needed

After a century of increasing demand, it would seem that there’s finally enough parking around the Capitol. I would hope this fact would help decision makers pivot to a different model of development in the area, one predicated on density and inter-connection rather than far-flung commuting. 

Indeed, if you look at the Capitol area plans, especially the (high quality) 2040 Capitol Area Comprehensive Plan, that’s the idea. Theoretically, the future of the Capitol area should be more integrated into the surrounding community, with more restaurant and commercial establishments to support the public space, filling into the old acres of surface asphalt.

That said, conflicting post-COVID trends make that reality hard to envision. Even more than downtowns, the Capitol area suffers from a lack of density and vitality. One state worker recently  told me about how, on returning to work after months away, they found that the coffee and vending machines had been removed. For most of the year, the Capitol area offers a lunch vacuum, at least for those unwilling to walk 2/3 of a mile into downtown.

This is a common catch-22 regarding  returning to the office. For people who actually go into work, there’s often little reward other than quietude. Thus many people go into the office to get away from people, precisely the opposite of the normal office rationale centering on networking and propinquity. This leads to a self-reinforcing cycle: fewer daily workers leads to fewer amenities, disinclining people to return to “in-person” work, leading to fewer amenities and so on. With government workplace tending  toward deference to employee demands, the already sparse State Capitol area in St. Paul has become a commercial desert. 

Of course, given the unpredictability of government these days, everything I’ve just written could turn out to be completely wrong. One of President Donald Trump’s first orders in office reads thus: “Heads of all departments and agencies in the executive branch of Government shall, as soon as practicable, take all necessary steps to terminate remote work arrangements and require employees to return to work in-person at their respective duty stations on a full-time basis.”

It’s difficult to believe this will actually occur, or that the rationale might be anything other than to demoralize federal staff, but it does illustrate the fragility of our assumptions about the future. In other words, stay tuned. Maybe government parking lots will make a comeback.

Bill Lindeke

Bill Lindeke is a lecturer in Urban Studies at the University of Minnesota’s Department of Geography, Environment and Society. He is the author of multiple books on Twin Cities culture and history, most recently St. Paul: an Urban Biography. Follow Bill on Twitter: @BillLindeke.

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