Vang: A love letter to the disappearing St. Paul skyways

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I’ve seen things I love slip away slowly, like water down a drain — so slowly I didn’t notice at first, until one day I looked up and it’s nearly gone. That’s what downtown St. Paul feels like now. Especially the skyways — those long glass veins that used to carry the heartbeat of this city.

When I say heartbeat, I mean the people. As someone who grew up in St. Paul’s Frogtown neighborhood, watching downtown St. Paul fade one light at a time — one shuttered café, one empty bench, one “For Lease” sign, one closed skyway after another is painful. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any quieter, it did.

The city of St. Paul recently shut down parts of the skyway, blocking access near three condemned buildings: the St. Paul Athletic Club, the Alliance Bank Center and the Capital City Plaza ramp. I used to work out in the St. Paul Athletic Club, grab lunch in the Alliance Bank Center and park my car in that Capital City Plaza ramp. Now all three sit abandoned because their owners stopped paying for basic expenses like heat, lights and security. The city had no choice but to call these buildings what they are: unsafe.

The news hit like a sad song on repeat. I can trace my life through those tunnels of glass and steel.

As a teen, I remember riding the bus with nothing but a few quarters in my hand to meet my best friend. We’d roam for hours through the skyway system because we didn’t have money to do anything else. We gossiped about boys and movies and frenemies and never got tired.

I remember ditching school, walking through the skyways alone, watching business folks in their suits and thinking: “One day, that’ll be me. I’ll wear designer shoes and eat fast food in the skyway on my lunch break. But first, I better stop skipping school.” As an impoverished Hmong refugee teen, everyone seemed so glamorous in the skyway.

In my early 20s, I worked in downtown St. Paul. I remember yelling from afar, “I voted for you!” to Skip Humphrey in the St. Paul Athletic Club skyway just days after he lost the governor’s race. He smiled.

I didn’t know then I’d spend most of my adult life working downtown. At the Pioneer Press. At Minnesota State Colleges and Universities. At Minnesota Public Radio.

So yes, it breaks my heart to see downtown St. Paul, and particularly its skyways, unloved. Some people say they suck the life off the streets, that they’re part of the problem, so we should let them die like dinosaurs. But I’m not one of them. I believe the skyway system still matters. They connect people to each other, to businesses, to warmth in the winter and cool air in the summer. They offer a simpler pathway for people who have accessibility limitations to get from point A to point B.

I get why folks want to shop and dine in the suburbs — I do that, too. But it doesn’t have to be one or the other. Come downtown for a concert and stay for dinner. Shop where it’s convenient, but don’t forget downtown is still here, still offering something special. For example, you can walk from the State Capitol to the History Center to the Science Museum in a single afternoon.

When I travel outside Minnesota and say I’m from the Twin Cities, people light up and say, “Prince!” — and now and then, someone even brings up the skyways with the same passion. They’re curious, excited and want to know more. That tells me our skyways are something special — something that sets us apart from every other Midwestern city.

And I know there are smart folks out there trying to figure out how to bring people back downtown. I know they love the skyways just as much as I do, and none of us want to see it turn into a silent maze of empty glass and steel.

But here’s one idea I think could help: creating skyway pop-up events and micro-markets. Let local artists, bakers, musicians, shopkeepers and cultural groups set up in empty corners. Fill the air with music and the scent of hot food. Let the skyways buzz again. Lunchtime concerts. Happy hour tastings. Local maker markets. Anything that reminds us that this place is still alive.

Sure, some shops are gone. But the ones that are left are awesome. Bookstores such as Subtext. Theaters such as the History Theatre. Restaurants such as Pimento Jamaican Kitchen. Breweries. Cozy coffee spots. And don’t forget beautiful walks along the Mississippi River.

We should be writing epic poems for downtown St. Paul and its skyways, not planning their funeral.