Former Massachusetts governor and presidential candidate Michael Dukakis survived roughly three ““ at times very nasty ““ decades in the political arena. Still, the congested streets of Westwood’s North Village were almost enough to do him in one winter night two years ago.
“So I’m coming up Kelton one night … and all of a sudden here was this car coming right at me,” Dukakis said. “A big, fat, black, shiny SUV.”
Dukakis, blinded by an apron-parked vehicle at the top of the hill, just barely dodged the oncoming car. The near-death experience inspired a change in Dukakis, turning the one-time Democratic presidential nominee onto the unlikeliest of roles: Westwood parking enforcer.
“When that kind of thing happens to you, and it’s all because someone’s parked illegally, it does something to you,” said Dukakis, now a professor at UCLA. “So at that point I said screw it, we need to do something about this.”
And so began a two-year push to ban apron parking in Westwood Village.
The campaign ““ led most visibly by Dukakis, who lives in Westwood each winter quarter ““ seems to be approaching closure this week, as parking enforcement is expected to begin citing cars parked between the sidewalk and the street along driveways.
Dukakis’ opponents have blasted the three-term governor for taking on a cause they say is too trivial for a major political figure on the national stage. Dukakis ““ who also recently tackled a graffiti problem around his Massachusetts home ““ disagrees.
“I don’t care who you are, and I don’t care what you’ve run for,” Dukakis said. “If I see stuff that bothers me, I pick up the phone and call somebody.”
For Dukakis, the effort to ban apron parking has not come without its nastiness. A blog, launched by a Westwood resident as a forum for supporters of apron parking, has filled with lowbrow personal attacks on the former governor.
“A total douche bag,” reads one blog post on Dukakis. “A meddling, midget, liberal douche bag.”
Dukakis, a life-long politician, says he’s developed a thick skin after decades as a prominent political figure.
“Some people are nasty, some people aren’t,” he said. “I wish we could channel their energy into some constructive solutions.”
The brains behind the ban
Professor Donald Shoup, another very visible proponent of the ban, is an academic with a fluffy, white, grandfatherly beard. He rides his 1975 lime-green Raleigh bicycle to campus, where he’s devoted his life to researching parking ““ a field some might dismiss as, well, bland.
So for most it comes as a surprise that Shoup is commonly lauded as a guru and a rock star by his large following of proudly self-proclaimed “Shoupistas.”
“I’m going to change my name to Shoup-dogg,” said the professor.
Shoup, one of the first academics to tap into parking research, warns that free parking hurts more than it helps.
Raising parking costs, Shoup says, would promote public transit, alleviate congestion and raise revenue for public works projects like fixing sidewalks and street cleaning.
“The idea of giving some of the most valuable land on earth for free parking just doesn’t add up,” Shoup said.
His ideas on parking have made him a hit on the speakers circuit. He has accepted roughly 40 speaking engagements in the past year, charging transportation groups, city officials and others interested in his market-based ideas an average of $5,000 per speech.
“And I’ve turned down a lot as well,” Shoup said.
As a former Westwood resident and current UCLA professor, Shoup said he felt obligated to take on apron parking ““ which if banned, he said, would make the village a safer, more accessible, more pedestrian-friendly area.
“Currently the automobiles are the real inhabitants of this neighborhood,” he said.
With an apron parking ban imminent and several parking-plagued cities across the nation taking notice to his ideas, Shoup keeps modest about his success.
“I’m not a rock star, I’m a parking rock star,” he joked. “I like to say “˜parking rock star’ is an oxymoron.”