A tale of two Green Lines: 10 years after ‘Central Corridor’ light rail transformed University Avenue

Ten years ago, the first Green Line light rail trip ran down University Avenue from downtown St. Paul to downtown Minneapolis. It traveled 10 miles down the old main street of central St. Paul, carrying with it a full load of passengers, aspirations, and fears for some of the city’s most diverse neighborhoods.

That was then. In a two-part series, I’ll examine how the Green Line progressed as a civic project for both transit and economic development. I’ll look into some of the top concerns from 2014, how the initial hopes have fared, and how they might improve in the future.

‘Central Corridor’ beginnings 

Here’s a quick refresher. The Central Corridor (as it was then known) was the first light rail transit project envisioned for the Twin Cities. In the 1980s, transit planners sketched a route that connected the Twin Cities downtowns with the large public university, running along University Avenue, the route of the major historic streetcar. For a litany of reasons, it didn’t get built…

Fast forward a few decades, Metro Transit eventually received state government funding to build light rail by 2004 — the Blue Line from downtown Minneapolis to the airport. Ten years after that groundbreaking investment, the Green Line finally went live.

Green Line planning and construction was a litigious, difficult slog. For one thing, University Avenue was torn up to traffic for over two years, making it very hard to access dozens of businesses. Meanwhile, a long-running public engagement process was resolved when, after firm community pressure, transit planners added three additional stops along the route, at Hamline, Western, and Victoria avenues. The compromise slowed the train’s speed but made it more accessible. When it opened in 2014, it seemed a game-changer for St. Paul.

Looking back after a decade, the Green Line reveals two distinct situations. For the first five years, before COVID-19, it was a smashing success, blowing past ridership estimates. Along with the Seattle’s Link (and Boston’s similarly named, century-old Green Line), it had the best per-mile ridership in the country, a testament to both planning and the demand for better transit in the heart of St. Paul.

Everything changed with the COVID pandemic. Transit cratered by over 90% and the Green Line has literally never been the same. Concerns over perceived and actual crime have dominated people’s experiences of the train. For a whole host of reasons, ridership is still 2/3 of its 2019 peak, and service frequency has yet to return. Looking back is not a simple story.

Economic results mixed

Ten years ago, the biggest community concerns about the project were gentrification. What effect would the train have on housing affordability and small businesses? Back then, many University Avenue businesses put signs in their windows reading “save our Asian businesses” or (in the case of the Midway Book Store on Snelling) “Who is John Galt? Light rail is Blight Rail!” 

(FYI, the bookstore is still in business.) 

“Ten years later, I want to say that the people who [were] against light rail, I don’t think their minds have changed,” said Va-megn Thoj, the executive director of the Asian Economic Development Association (AEDA). 

“Of course there are benefits,” Thoj continued. “For people who are dependent on transit, I think it’s a blessing and an improvement on the bus routes we had on University Avenue. But for the people who were against it, if you ask them, they would say that we went through a lot, for a number of years, and we really haven’t really received any of the benefits.”

AEDA is the largest business organization for Asian-American enterprises in St. Paul. Based at the corner of University and Western Avenues, it represents dozens of Asian businesses along the street. Since the debut of the train Thoj’s group has been most famous for putting on the Little Mekong Night Market, a popular array of Asian-American entrepreneurs that host a street fair once a year. 

Talking to him today, Thoj feels like the light rail hasn’t transformed his part of St. Paul. Like most people I talked to, he keenly remembers the disruptive construction years, and points to the persistent inequality. Parts of the line near the Minneapolis border have seen significant growth, but in the central swath of St. Paul, there’s been practically nothing.

“The promises were never delivered,” Thoj said. “Overall in terms of new businesses there has been none in this stretch of the avenue, from Frogtown and Rondo to the Capitol. I don’t think we’ve seen a whole bunch of net gains. I think that’s because there has not been as much investment between Lexington and Marion.”

In other words, the light rail has not been a silver bullet, alleviating inequality. When something this big goes through an area, it’s easy to see why people get their hopes up for generational change. The vacant lots are still vacant, and there’s no new money streaming in.

But the lack of a sea-change hasn’t been a loss. Many Asian entrepreneurs see some good coming out of 10 years of the train.  

“It especially helped the elderly; they cannot drive,” explained Gloria Wong, who owns University Avenue’s Sunrise Plaza mall complex. “They take the Green Line to shop here at the store, or come here to eat. They buy the to-go food. It gives us access to people who don’t want to drive or don’t have cars.”

Wong has owned Sunrise Plaza since 2016; a two-story building on University near Lexington station, the Plaza is a mundane-looking spot that happens to host a thriving set of Asian-American entrepreneurs. Among other things, you’ll find an adult day care, a small grocery, a bunch of home health care businesses, a hair salon, a Chinese restaurant, and one of the best Thai street food holes-in-the-wall I’ve ever seen.

Wong agrees that the Green Line was a problem during the construction period, but these days, she’s mostly upset by the ongoing increase in crime. Since the 2020 civil disturbance and COVID-19 pandemic, the lack of prompt police response to her calls is concerning. 

With her niece Sheng Amerson, who also manages the tenants, they say their personal behavior hasn’t been affected by the Green Line. Amerson says that, without on-street parking, she doesn’t shop along the street like she used to. But for tenants, the train helps more than it hurts.

“I would say it’s 50% back to normal since COVID,” said Gloria Wong. “We still have a lot of homeless people here, and people still come in and damage our property. Someone came in here and super-glued all the door locks.” 

Concerns about safety is a recurring theme when you talk to anyone about University Avenue and the train, though most people admit the problem is not because of the train. Instead, the situation is more of a vibe; the light rail becomes a lightning rod for a host of social ills. Things are getting better, most people told me, the community safety situation is far from ideal.

Over the long term, the train has been a boon for some businesses. Shannon Forney is the co-owner of Workhorse Coffee at University and Raymond. As a longtime Hamline-Midway resident, she remembers the promise of new transit from a decade back.

“It sounds hokey, but you could feel this buzz about the excitement and apprehension,” Forney said. “From our perspective it was excitement. I think that continued for a young business that was for sure helpful to be an early Green Line business.” 

With her partner, Ty Barnett, they’ve been running the small shop since 2016, all the while without on-street parking. The business is susceptible to the ebbs and flows of pre- and post-COVID. Like the Sunrise Plaza, the pandemic really upended their business and expectations.

“The pandemic hit and it’s been a steady slow slog since then,” Forney said. “The nonprofit community does not office here the way they used [to and] we shrunk our footprint in terms of hours we have on the menu.” 

Today, Forney compared it to a “which came first” game, where the customer or the business have to play the role of the chicken or egg. So far, nobody has cracked.

Post-COVID transformation

Looking back at the Green Line, my thoughts are also colored by this binary history. It’s impossible to think back to 2019 from the lens of 2024, before the difficult post-COVID years transformed both transit and society.

Through my eyes, in the St. Paul stretch, the patterns of riders reflect the working class diversity of St. Paul better than nearly any mainstream public space. Any given day on the Green Line you’ll see all sorts: people using mobility scooters, pushing toddlers in strollers, or lugging bags of groceries from one of the many University destinations.

This is not to mention unhoused people, particularly in early morning hours or late at night, carrying what few possessions they have to wherever they can find safe haven. Compared to the old 16 bus that begrudgingly crawled up and down University Avenue, 10 years of Green Line service has represented a massive upgrade in mobility for the city’s often transit-dependent working-class. 

In two weeks, I’ll look into how the Green Line might be changing in the future. One thing to ponder: Since 2019, the Green Line has only been running four trains an hour, an ongoing cut representing one-third of its original service. The agency is optimistic that frequency will improve in August, but in the meantime, stay tuned.

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