For years, urban planners have been redefining popular notions of city parks by converting unused, elevated rail lines into oases that offer a respite from the bustle of the city.

For the majority of its 51 miles, the Los Angeles River winds through the metropolitan area in a concrete flood-control ditch—a setting better suited for chase scenes in films like Grease and Terminator II than, say, a picnic lunch.

President John Quincy Adams broke ground on the 185-mile Chesapeake and Ohio Canal in 1828, spading the first shovel of dirt just across the District line.

In its recently released report on global inequality, Oxfam warned that the world is nearing unprecedented extremes of social inequality, and that power and privilege continues to be used to further skew the global economic system.

For what may be a brief moment in Los Angeles, planning is hot. Measure S, the slow-growth, anti-development initiative, failed at the ballot box but succeeded in one very big way.

There’s a lot to like about Chicago’s snazzy 606, the 2.7-mile greenway that slices through the Northwest Side, built on what used to be an elevated freight rail line.

Local aldermen want to curb gentrification along The 606 by making it more expensive to build homes along the trail.

Julian Sleath sounds as excited about The Bentway as his appointment to spearhead it.

Despite the bitter wind, Kim Wasserman showed me around La Villita Park. Occupying 21 acres in the middle of this city’s largest Mexican-American neighborhood, the park used to be a brownfield and illegal dump.

The 606 was a magnet for anti-gentrification demonstrations last year—and that was even before a report detailed just how sharply housing costs have spiked near the popular rail-to-trail pathway.