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콜린의 한국 팟캐스트: 도시에 대해 생각하시는 그래픽 디자이너 이예연 (이응셋)

이응셋으로 알려져 계신 그래픽 디자이너 이예연 씨는 이혜림 씨와 함께 <생각버스>라는 서울 버스에 대한 인쇄물 프로젝트를 하셨고 <더 버스>와 <버스로 서울 여행>이라는 책들을 쓰셨다. 요즘에는 다양한 지도, 도시, 동내, 책방과 여행에 관렬된 그래픽 디자인 일을 하고 계신다.  여기나 아이튠즈를 통해 다운받을 수 있다.

From my interview archive: public radio interviewer and podcast impresario Jesse Thorn

This year, I’m listening again to selections from the archive of long-form interviews I conducted on the public radio program The Marketplace of Ideas and podcast Notebook on Cities and Culture between 2007 and 2015.

There are the people who’ve had an outsized influence on your life, and within that group there are the people who, when you think about it, have had an even more outsized influence on your life than you’d realized. As I write this, I see that, for me, public radio host Jesse Thorn belongs in the latter group. I’ve long described him as the man who inspired me to get into the interviewing game, or at least my proximate inspiration, but now I wonder how many elements of my current life and career on the other side of the Pacific can’t, in some way, be traced back to him.

Still, Charlie Rose must also bear some of the responsibility. I watched him interview the Brian Grazers and Bill Bufords of the world almost every night during a long, strange winter break in college when UC Santa Barbara’s between-quarter dorm closure forced me to rent a room off campus. I’d found a small, wood-paneled one in a less than perfectly maintained house, with neither cable nor internet, way out in not the outskirts of Santa Barbara, but the outskirts of the town next to Santa Barbara. Getting there required a ten-minute walk through the pitch darkness (they don’t go in for streetlights out there, or even sidewalks) after getting off at the bus stop at the very end of the line — though, as usually the only rider aboard at that point, I could often persuade the driver to drop me off a little closer.

I got back so late every night because I worked an an evening announcer at a radio station — namely “Smooth Jazz Magic 106.3, the Sound of Santa Barbara,” which I had to say, in a “sir yes sir” fashion, at both the beginning and end of my every announcement. The job came my way because of the artist overlap between its playlist and the music show I’d been doing on KCSB, the public radio station based on my college campus: I never spun any Kenny G or anything (no Kenny G without Kashif, anyway), but I was and remain an enthusiast of, say, Acoustic Alchemy, the Rippingtons, Hiroshima, Steely Dan, and so on.

But despite hardly being a stranger to radio, I couldn’t figure out how to make the move into interviewing. I passed a year or two wondering before the fateful night I arrived at the Magic 106.3 studio, started scrolling through my Livejournal friends list (this being the final days of Livejournal’s popularity, at least in my non-Cyrillic-user circles), and saw that one of those friends had made a post recommending a handful of shows from the still-new medium of podcasting. The most enthusiastic of those recommendations was for an interview program called The Sound of Young America, hosted by a fellow twentysomething by the name of Jesse Thorn who’d initially created it as a radio show on KZSC, the campus station up at UC Santa Cruz, where he’d gone to college.

The very next day I began binging on The Sound of Young America, and from then on knew what I had to do: go back to KCSB, start an interview show of my own, and podcast it right away. At first I modeled The Marketplace of Ideas pretty closely on Jesse’s example, at least formally, arranging long-form interviews but doing them with economists and Japanologists instead of comedians and cartoonists. Only when I thought the show had found something like its own sensibility did I feel ready to invite Jesse himself on for an interview, a studio-to-studio tape sync between me at KCSB and him in his then-makeshift apartment recording facilities in what I called “Los Angeles’ beautiful Koreatown.”

Jesse, no fan of Los Angeles (although his hatred cooled over time to tolerance and has now seems to have become some feeling even milder still), already had a correction for me: “Koreatown is not beautiful.” (He preferred the descriptor “soiled.”) But Koreatown was beautiful to me, or at least exciting: having just a couple years before begun my self-study of the Korean language, I made a point of going there on my every trip down to Los Angeles in order to practice sounding out its many signs advertising body shops, barbecued meats, and acupuncturists. I would later move to Koreatown myself, and even, on Jesse’s advice, to the very same couple of blocks he recommended as “the only place in Los Angeles that feels like, you know, a city.” (Indeed, I happened to move into the same set of buildings he’d lived in when he made his own first move to Los Angeles.)

Before moving, though, I brought Jesse back on to The Marketplace of Ideas for a second remote interview, that time with filmmaker Adam Lisagor (then better known, for some reason, as “Lonely Sandwich”), his collaborator in a new venture called Put This On, a blog and video series “about dressing like a grownup.” That project also aligned well with my own interests, and for a time I would later write about men’s style books on its site. By then I was also writing Podthoughts, a weekly podcast review column which ran from 2008 until I asked for money, on Maximumfun.org, the site of Jesse’s rapidly growing podcast empire.

I came to know Jesse as an interviewer and still think of him primarily as an interviewer (and he has spoken lately of starting an interview podcast about interviewing), but that label doesn’t really capture the man in full. Though officially a public radio personality, he also presides over a kind of podcast-based media empire, a highly 21st-century operation that also puts on a variety of real-life events, the flagship being the twice-yearly MaxFunCon. When he announced the very first one, warning of the tickets’ probable priciness, I got so excited that I immediately posted to the Maximum Fun forums that money would be no object to my attendance, thinking it might set me back something like $150, $200 at the outside.

Then I found out that it would cost more like $900, and so have never attended a MaxFunCon. The people I know who do go tell me it might be too late: the cliques, though each is maximally open and welcoming (a part of the Maximum Fun ethos), have long since solidified, and the gathering’s history has coalesced into myth. In any case, I live in Seoul now, and though there’s a MaxFunCon West and a MaxFunCon East, MaxFunCon Asia has yet to materialize. I found the train similarly gone from the station when I arrived in Los Angeles hoping for the chance to hang out more with Jesse himself. Though I did manage to do the occasional bit of work for him, by that time he already had a wife, a tastefully decorated house, a couple of cars, the first of his kids, insurance, and many other elements of a life I can barely imagine, let alone relate to.

Even The Sound of Young America had undergone a rebranding into Bullseye, a change that alienated a few fans (just another chapter in the sometimes-contentious relationship Jesse has with that group), but never caused me to turn my back in the way that TheAuteurs.com became dead to me when it changed its name to MUBI. In the form of Bullseye, the show has risen to the status of a genuine National Public Radio program, which seemed like the goal even back when it aired as The Sound of America in only Santa Cruz and Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Now that Jesse appears to have hit it big, I do take some pride in having been a listener back when he spoke openly about struggling to keep the lights on.

For my part, I, a decade after first listening to The Sound of Young America, have just launched my latest podcast after a couple of years out of the game, a Korean-language interview show called 콜린의 한국, or Colin’s Korea. It may look as if I’ve swerved wildly off my initial path, but think of it this way: without Jesse’s example, I might not be interviewing, nor might I ever have lived in Los Angeles’ Koreatown, and so might not have felt prepared to live in Korea proper. Without the connections made by my own venture into podcasting, and through the writing I did for Maximum Fun, I might never have developed the kind of career that enables me to move to another country in the first place.

On the way to a wedding just weeks before crossing the ocean, I heard Jesse’s familiar voice come on the radio, Bullseye having finally clawed its way into the strangely difficult Los Angeles public radio market. (Nothing to do, I assume, with my confrontations of various Los Angeles public radio professionals at parties with unsatisfiable demands to know why they didn’t carry it yet.) He was delivering an “outshot,” a segment at the end of the show that features a personal cultural recommendation, on the late, lamented Free & Easy, one of the Japanese men’s style magazines I now make sure to pick up on my frequent trips to that country.

Free & Easy focused on three different styles: “Rugged Style,” “Trad Style,” and “Dad’s Style,” the last of which was the object of Jesse’s tribute. “Dad’s Style means the man who has his own style, who spends his days immersed in his interests with full intellectual curiosity,” he said, quoting Free & Easy‘s editor Minoru Onozato. “He also should do his best for his professional career. This is the style we idealize.” As much sense as it makes to hear an endorsement of Dad’s Style from someone who has attained dad status himself, the point, as I took it, was that anyone could develop such a life, no mater the details of that style, those interests, and that curiosity. The most useful examples need not be the ones that most closely resemble you.

Seoul Urbanism on TBS eFM’s Koreascape: Noryangjin fish Market, old and new

Each month I join Kurt Achin, host of Koreascape on Seoul’s English-language radio station TBS eFM, for an exploration of one of Seoul’s urban spaces. This month, along with Koreascape producer Jamie Lee, we pay a visit to the well-known institution of the Noryangjin fish market — or rather, to both of them. After beginning near downtown Seoul in the early 1920s, Noryangjin moved in the early 1970s into a  larger concrete complex just south of the Han River, and there became both a thriving commercial center as well as a popular tourist spot. In more recent years, as the old structure has shown its age, a government body built a shiny new building, albeit a more expensive one, for Noryangjin’s many fish merchants to move into, but not all of them have done so — and not all have wanted to. We ask those who’ve moved why they’ve moved, ask those who’ve stayed why they’ve stayed, and make sure to get one of them to slice up a fish right before our eyes (and for our enjoyable consumption).

Stay tuned for further explorations of Seoul’s architecture, infrastructure, and other parts of the built environment. You can hear our previous segments here.

An English interview about my new Korean podcast on Busan eFM

You may have noticed that I’ve started a new podcast in Korean. Called 콜린의 한국, or Colin’s Korea, it follows very much in the vein of my previous English-language podcast Notebook on Cities and Culture and its public-radio predecessor The Marketplace of Ideas. Each week I sit down somewhere in Seoul (and probably other cities in the future) for about an hour of conversation with a different guest, either a Korean or a Korean-speaking foreigner. We talk about the work they do, the place they do it in, and the various subjects to which those lead.

Korean-speakers can subscribe to 콜린의 한국 on iTunes, and if you want to know more about the project, have a listen to this fifteen-minute interview of me about it on Busan eFM 90.5, conducted by past Notebook on Cities and Culture guest Chance Dorland. We get into why I started it, who I’ve talked to so far, what I intend to accomplish with it, and whether I’ve incurred any harshness for being a non-fluent American getting into the Korean-language interviewing game:

콜린의 한국 팟캐스트: 미국 대도시에 대한 책들을 쓰시는 안나킴 작가님

안나킴 작가님은 <뉴요커도 모르는 뉴욕>과 <LA 도시 산책>의 저자이다. 여기나 아이튠즈를 통해 다운받을 수 있다.

From my interview archive: critics Clive James and James Wood

This year, I’m listening again to selections from the archive of long-form interviews I conducted on the public radio program The Marketplace of Ideas and podcast Notebook on Cities and Culture between 2007 and 2015.

Clive James called his first book The Metropolitan Critic, which always struck me as a decent job title, if a vague one. But only a vague title could capture the expansiveness of the man’s professional interests, which ranks high on the list of qualities I respect about him. James’ bibliography includes not just criticism but cultural essays, fiction, poetry, “unreliable memoir,” travel writing (to go along with his travel television), and more recently a series of columns in the Guardian called “Reports of My Death.” In that last, he writes on varying subjects in varying relation to one theme: his own passage from this mortal coil, which looked imminent on his cancer diagnosis seven years ago but now, thanks to an “experimental drug,” seems, at least to his readers, to recede further back into improbability with each passing year.

“I’m not terribly interested in originality,” James said once, or probably more than once. “Vitality is all I care about.” Though an offhand remark in an interview rather than one of his phrases wrought with famous care and delivered for laughs (such as his immortal description of Arnold Schwarzenegger as a “brown condom stuffed with walnuts”), it’s stuck with me: the word vitality may well sum up much or all of what I seek out in any given work myself. I suspect, though, that on average I go in for a more controlled, less exuberant variety of the stuff  than James does: I’ve never read or heard him express any enthusiasm for, say, J.M. Coetzee, though Coetzee did blurb James’ essay collection Cultural Amnesia — a favorite book of mine, and not just because it revealed our shared fascination with Chris Marker — as “a crash course in civilization,” I think approvingly.

And of course I also admire the vitality of James himself, which now manifests as a faintly embarrassed but robust instinct for survival, but which has also driven him to write so prolifically over such a wide range of cultural territory, to learn French, German, Italian, Spanish, Russian and Japanese, and to dance the tango now and again. It may have also played a part in the unsavory scandal that came to light in 2012, but you’ve got to take your yin with your yang. Not that I’d have suspected it in the least back when I interviewed him on The Marketplace of Ideas in 2009, ostensibly about his then-new poetry collection Opal Sunset but really about all the things I could possibly ask him about — and more to the point, all the things I could learn from him — in a mere hour.

But not everyone I know, and that includes other writers whose work I enjoy, think James deserves the time of day as a critic. As near as I can tell, they find him too frivolous, too unserious, too jokey, too concerned with his own writing style and too unconcerned with serious evaluative labor — the same charges often leveled at film critic Anthony Lane, one of the New Yorker writers whose work I never, ever miss. (When I heard another film critic I respect write Lane off for having “no theory of cinema,” I realized that was one of the main reasons I do read him.) While I never did get the chance to interview Lane, and not for lack of un-replied-to e-mails to his employer, I did get to interview another of my personal New Yorker A-listers: literary critic and occasional novelist James Wood.

“I sleep very poorly these days,” Wood wrote in a 2013 piece on his parents. “I lie awake, full of apprehensions. All kinds of them, starting with the small stuff, and rising. How absurd that I should be paid to write book reviews! How long is that likely to last?” Indeed, both he and James bear the mark of another time, one in which critics enjoyed a higher cultural profile, or at least could engage with a single book for three or four thousand words instead of having to crank out image-intensive clickbait on the problematic casting choices of the latest superhero blockbuster franchise at sixty bucks a pop. (Intriguingly, critics do seem to have retained their importance to the common reader and viewer, or more recently gained it, here in Korea, where they still go round and round the circuit of media and public appearances.)

But then, I’ve never really longed to become a full-time critic: my interest lies in the essay form itself, and throughout their careers writers like Wood, James, and in critic mode even Coetzee, have done their part to maintain that form into the 21st century. You could even argue, as no less a desired but never landed interviewee as Paul Graham did in 2004, that we’ve entered the Age of the Essay. Whatever their commercial viability, essays, critical and otherwise, have an appealing potential not just as treatments of single subjects but nexuses of a variety subjects — as, in a different way, do interviews, at least when done right. Wood, and even more so the still-vigorous James, covered a great deal of intellectual ground during our conversations. “Thank you for reading my book,” said the latter after we finished recording, and I told him any interviewer would’ve done the same. His reply: “That’s the first naive thing you’ve said all hour.”

This week’s city reading: Seoullo 7017 (“Seoul’s High Line”) edition

Seoul, a city ‘with no soul,’ builds its own High Line on an old overpass (Anna Fifield, The Washington Post) “Unlike the High Line, built on an old rail line on Manhattan’s Lower West Side, the walkway will connect with buildings — there are already bridges into an office tower and a hotel — and will have cafes and performance areas. There are even trampolines for kids — with fences to make sure they don’t bounce over the edge.”

Seoullo 7017, Mayor Park’s Cheonggye Stream? (Jon Dunbar, Korea Times) “The finished Seoullo 7017 will certainly breathe new life into the whole area, connecting Namdaemun and Malli-dong to Seoul Station and bringing in more foot traffic. But property values will inevitably go up, and we will likely see future ill-advised urban renewal projects in the area in an attempt to beautify or monetize the land and its buildings.”

A garden bridge that works: how Seoul succeeded where London failed (Rowan Moore, The Guardian) “Where the Garden Bridge would have been a cherry on the already rich cake that is the centre of London, the Skygarden aims to regenerate and connect places near the main railway station that have been fragmented by roads and railway tracks. The Skygarden, which will be open to all 24 hours a day, re-uses an existing structure – like the High Line – in the form of a 1970 motorway flyover that was no longer deemed safe for its original purpose. It is also part of a bigger set of ideas about taking a big, dense – sometimes ugly – city, one which was created without a great deal of concern for public space and pedestrian movement, and giving it qualities of walkability, neighbourliness, human scale and shared enjoyment of its places.”

Seoullo 7017: Urban Asset or Vanity Project? (Ben Jackson, Korea Exposé) “Mayor Park’s new elevated landmark tries so hard to tick all the boxes – natural oasis in the heart of the city, pedestrian route to promote walking, cultural venue, place of education – that it risks actually filling none of them. When the current lack of a traffic alternative or substantial measures to protect local residents and businesses are added to the equation, it’s hard not to conclude that the city government has misjudged the project.”

Seoullo 7017 – A Seoul Overpass Turned Pedestrian Sky Garden (Spooky, Oddity Central) “The name Seoullo 7017 is a nod to the two most important years in the structure’s existence – 1970, the year that the overpass was constructed, and 2017, the year of its transformation. It also features 17 walkways that pedestrian can use to access it from various areas of the city. Seoullo 7017 features 645 giant concrete pots, some of which are taller than an average-height person, containing 228 species of trees and flowers. It is also designed to be an “urban nursery” for trees, many of which will eventually be transplanted to other areas of the city.”

Man plunges to death from Seoul overpass-turned-park (Byun Hee-jin, The Korea Herald) “According to police, a 32-year-old man from Kazakhstan threw himself from Seoullo 7017, near Cheongpa-ro, west of Seoul Station. The elevated park, which opened May 20, has 1.4-meter high safety walls erected on both sides. According to police, the park had other visitors at the time of the incident. Citizens and the police sought to dissuade the man from jumping, but to no avail.”

See also (hear also?) my Seoullo 7017 sneak-preview urbanism segment on TBS eFM’s Koreascape.

콜린의 한국 팟캐스트: 로버트 파우저 교수님

아시아의 언어와 건축에 관심이 많으신 로버트 파우저 교수님은 <미래 시민의 조건>과 <서촌홀릭>의 저자이다. 인터뷰를 여기나 아이튠즈를 통해 다운받을 수 있다.

Korea Blog: Korea’s Dilbert-Era Loanwords

Lulled into a false sense of security by the simplicity of its alphabet, those students of the Korean language who don’t give up in frustration will sooner or later find themselves facing a variety of unexpected challenges of communication and comprehension. Nearly a decade after learning that deceptively easy writing system, I still often get unintentional laughs from Korean interlocutors myself, especially when I fail to recognize one of the many words they borrow from my own mother tongue. “What, you don’t speak English?” they jokingly ask, but in fact I don’t speak Konglish, that curious hybrid of Korean and English now so commonly heard south of the 38th parallel.

Rather than an oscillation back and forth between the local language and English, as in the Philippines’ “Taglish,” Konglish fills Korean grammatical structures with English loanwords. Often those latter replace existing Korean words: you now take pictures with a kamera instead of sajingi, enroll in a class of a certain rebel instead of sujun, and draw up a riseuteu instead of a mogneok. Owing to the difficulty of consistently pronouncing these Konglish words in the “correct” Koreanized manner when my adult language-learning brain stubbornly wants to pronounce them in American English as it always has, I tend simply to use the old words and accept the strange looks they draw as the cost of doing business.

Not that Koreans’ Konglish doesn’t draw strange looks from me. That goes especially for its outer reaches, a harbor for those faddish terms beyond the simple realm of cameras, levels, and lists which, long dead in America, turn out to have drifted across the Pacific to be reborn. Past decades saw attempts to purify the Korean language in the face of mounting “English fever,” but by the 1990s none could hold fast against the mighty tide of buzzwords from American media, business, and technology, with the result that millions of Koreans now walk around sounding like characters out of Dilbert. Here are but five of the many words that, seldom if ever heard in America in English anymore, see use each and every day as Konglish in Korea.

Read the whole thing at the Los Angeles Review of Books.

This week’s city reading: the strengths and shortcomings of Los Angeles’ evolving transit system

Ridership climbs, planning efforts lag as Expo Line extension marks first birthday (Christopher Hawthorne, Los Angeles Times) “The plan as it now reads doesn’t go far enough in allowing new density near the Expo Line; it is too timid for a city and region that have systematically underbuilt housing for more than three decades. To the extent that there are some good ideas in it, including modest challenges to rigid parking requirements and urban-design guidelines that pay attention to the needs of pedestrians, the more immediate problem is that it remains a mere proposal. It has been slowed by a familiar combination of paltry planning budgets at City Hall and opposition among many neighborhood groups to zoning changes that would allow denser housing.”

I Rode the Entire Metro in One Day. This Is What I Learned. (David L. Ulin, Los Angeles magazine) “It’s a stunt, of course it is, but if my original intent was to prove how small, how contained the system is—could you imagine riding New York, London, Paris in a single day?—the result is turning out to be the opposite, a way of confronting the vastness of the city, both in miles and communities. I feel a sense of wonder, revelation at the scope of the region, but also at how much territory I have been able to cover without a car.” (The LA Weekly’s Paul T. Bradley attempted a similar stunt, in service of a much different piece, four years ago.)

L.A. bus ridership continues to fall; officials now looking to overhaul the system (Laura J. Nelson, Los Angeles Times) “A recent survey of more than 2,000 former riders underscores the challenge Metro faces. Many passengers said buses didn’t go where they were going — or, if they did, the bus didn’t come often enough, or stopped running too early, or the trip required multiple transfers. Of those surveyed, 79% now primarily drive alone. In an attempt to stem the declines, Metro is embarking on a study to ‘re-imagine’ the system’s 170 lines and 15,000 stops, officials said.”

Los Angeles Looks to “Reimagine” Metro’s Lagging Bus Service (Dennis Romero, LA Weekly) “Metro’s board of directors recently decided the agency should embark on a two- to three-year process of reevaluating the bus system so that it better meets the needs of Angelenos. One idea is to reconfigure bus services so that they are better aligned with transit stops [ … ] This reimagining could also take up the idea of ‘micro-transit systems’ that circulate in particular neighborhoods like Northeast L.A., Koreatown or other densely populated areas.”

Visualizing LA Metro’s Ridership data, 2009 until 2016 (Lisa Schweitzer) “Credible explanations: a) new rail supply is moving passengers from the bus to rail so that we are having fewer bus transfers and thus, lower counts; b) retirements and aging has prompted less commuting by transit as well as car (egads, let’s hope not as that is a demand effect); c) gasoline prices are low so that more people drive; d) the introduction of Uber and Lyft (then Zimride, thanks for the info Kendra Levine) into the LA travel market means that people handle the last mile problem (or the entire trip) with those services instead of buses; e) fare increases; f) reduced overall bus supply; g) the routes need to be reconfigured; h) bus transit is an inferior good, so that we saw the highest possible usage during the worst of the recession, falling off as price-sensitive consumers at the lowest incomes leave the systems for other means; i) all that talk about fighting obesity and active transport hit home and more people started walking and biking; j) fare increases have forced bus riders to ride less.”

What makes people choose public transit? (Alissa Walker, Curbed) “Just how irrational are humans when it comes to transit? When asked how they preferred to get around, people surveyed for the study overwhelmingly said they liked driving their own car, specifically citing benefits like comfort and reliability. But driving was also cited as the mode most likely to experience delays: 70 percent of respondents said driving made them late at least once a month—higher than any other mode of transit. In comparison, only 61 percent of regular bus riders said their mode made them late.”

The Future of Transportation in Los Angeles (Blake Z. Rong, Road and Track) “The automobile has weaved itself into the history and culture of L.A., more than possibly any other locale except, perhaps, Stuttgart, Germany. Dive into Southern California’s past, and somewhere between the dismantling of the Red Cars mass-transit system and the first traffic jam on the Hollywood Freeway, it’s fun, fun, fun, ’til daddy takes the T-Bird away. But in this 21st century, with hydrogen, electricity, and a renewed interest in public transit—no doubt spurred on by the crushing traffic congestion—the gasoline-swilling car is no longer the only way to get around. You know what? That’s not a bad thing.”

The long, tortured journey to bring rail back to Los Angeles (Shelby Grad and Scott Harrison, Los Angeles Times) “Over the last three decades, L.A. County has built a new rail network largely from scratch. But it took decades to get there. After World War II, the region’s once-mighty streetcar services began to fade and building freeways became the top transportation priority. By the 1960s, planners began proposing new rail routes. But these plans faced numerous problems. Several attempts to get taxpayers to finance these rail networks failed at the ballot box. Here’s a history of the high and lows of L.A. transportation dreaming, from the pages of The Times.”

5 Metro Stations That Changed L.A. and 5 That Will (Neal Broverman, Los Angeles magazine) “Since 1990, L.A. has seen its rail network go from 0 to 100 miles of coverage. Not only has the boom changed traveling patterns in the County, it’s also affected land use. Metro also actively works to develop parcels they own near rail stations, hoping to make some green from developers and encourage dense, mixed-use projects near their stations, which ostensibly boost ridership. Twenty-six years after rail arrived in modern L.A., transit-oriented development has been a very mixed bag.”