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Austin visionary Chris Riley worked tirelessly for the urban movement

Austin visionary Chris Riley worked tirelessly for the urban movement

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When Chris Riley arrived on Saturday afternoon, the showdown on the giant chessboard was already in full swing. Loud laughter and a playlist by the Gipsy Kings emanated from the white gazebo in Wooldridge Square Park, where old friends played with knee-high chess pieces that could be moved with both hands.

Riley has put his wheelchair in a sunny corner. The warmth is doing him good.

“Hey, all right! How are you, man?” Riley said, beaming at the arrival of a chess buddy he hadn’t seen in years.

The night before, the former Austin city councilman and champion of the Austin urban development movement had met more than 100 well-wishers one after another at his home for what would be his last 60th birthday party. Riley welcomed the guests even after his tired body had gone to bed. His liver is in the final stages of cancer.

But here, the next day, in this small gathering of friends playing giant chess in Wooldridge, was a glimpse into Riley’s life’s work, an effort to make public spaces more people-friendly. And like Riley’s other causes, he hopes others will carry on the project after his death.

“It was so much fun to come here and set this up, and it just seems Really “If you do it,” Riley explained Saturday when I asked him, “Why giant chess?” He recalled how the spectacle of the oversized kings and pawns piqued the interest of people walking past the park or visiting the old library (now the Austin History Center) across the street.

“Once people see it, they say, ‘Yes, that’s Exactly what should be in this park. It makes perfect sense,” he said.

Riley started the giant chess games in the late 1990s, years before he became a member of the Planning Commission, where he worked on zoning, or a member of the City Council, where he pushed for protected bike lanes and more compact, transit-friendly housing. In the 1990s, Riley was a lawyer and lived a few blocks from Wooldridge Square — and was one of the few thousand residents in the downtown area that was home to more than 10,000 people in the 1950s.

“It was as if someone had detonated a neutron bomb or something. People were just gone,” Riley said. “I didn’t understand why that would be, because it seemed like a wonderful, wonderful place to live, all these old houses. Why wouldn’t people live here?”

He was particularly troubled by the desolate atmosphere of Wooldridge Square. Here, one of Austin’s first public parks – a popular site for women’s suffrage rallies in the early 1900s, the site where Booker T. Washington spoke to thousands in 1911 and later the launching pad for Lyndon B. Johnson’s 1948 Senate campaign – lay lifeless. Riley picked up trash in the park, but simply clean Green spaces didn’t bring people back. Wooldridge needed an attraction.

After Riley purchased the oversized chess set with $500 in donations, the Saturday games began in 1997 or 1998 and attracted a loyal following. When Riley joined the city council in 2009, however, it became more difficult for him to find time for giant chess.

He was still focused on the same mission: making public spaces more useful and inviting. But instead of playing music and bringing coolers of water bottles to Wooldridge Park, Riley pushed to tighten parking regulations downtown, make it easier to build garage apartments, and champion a plan for a whole network of bike lanes.

Even in a city that prides itself on its quirkiness, Riley was a bit of an oddity: the city council member who lived a car-free life.

“I remember Chris’ early campaigns in Austin,” Councilman José “Chito” Vela told the crowd at a happy hour at Riley’s house last Wednesday. “The bicycle-riding councilman. It was really so visionary, such a paradigm shift, to be like that, ‘Who is this guy?’

Leah Bojo, who served as a policy adviser to Riley and now works with housing developers, added: “10 to 15 years ago, everyone thought we were crazy … (but) Chris never wavered. He never stopped and said, ‘Oh, maybe they’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t do it.’ He just kept going and laid the foundation for this (urbanist) movement that couldn’t have been laid without that consistency and clear vision.”

I must note, however, that most Austinites still rely on cars today. Bus routes and bike lanes do not cover all the routes people need. And while the increasing number of high-rises has made downtown a vibrant home for 15,000 people—and counting—the cost of that housing is out of reach for many of us.

But in the decade since Riley left office, Austin has moved closer to his vision. Voters in 2020 approved $460 million for sidewalks and bike lanes, as well as a tax increase for a massive public transit expansion called Project Connect (though the latter is mired in legal battles). In the meantime, the City Council has updated its rules to allow more residential units on lots and increased parking requirements for developments citywide.

Riley, who grew up in Tarrytown, sees all of this as progress in Austin’s quest to be an inclusive, environmentally conscious place. And he noted that the rapid growth of Austin, a city whose population doubles every 20 to 25 years, is giving the city new opportunities to improve and make improvements we may see in our lifetimes.

“I had the opportunity to redesign the city and make it exactly what it wanted to be, right in front of me. It was just exciting,” Riley told me on Saturday. “Who wouldn’t be excited about that?”

As we spoke, the giant chess battle at Wooldridge Park’s gazebo continued. Riley talked about the work that still needs to be done – from designing more bike-friendly, pedestrian-friendly streets and sidewalk cafes to creating more affordable housing for more people.

“And the best part of all is that we have these young guys who are up to date, who understand it and who are motivated to keep working on all of this even after I’m gone,” said Riley, who is at peace with his impending departure, whenever that may come.

With the Austin skyline in front of him and a sunny afternoon of giant chess behind him, Riley wants the next generation to carry on playing.

Grumet is the Statesman’s Metro columnist. Her column, ATX in Context, contains her opinions. Share yours by emailing [email protected] or X at @bgrumet. Her previous work can be found at statesman.com/opinion/columns.