All around her, things are moving -- things like rocks, which tumble down the hillside, and things like dirt, which streams into a muddy mess almost every time it rains. And then there are things like people, because people are moving, too; they can't seem to resist Judi Eurich's neighborhood, even though it's perched, precariously, on a Mount Washington cliffside that angles straight toward the Monongahela River.

Lake Fong, Post-Gazette Bob Eurich, 75, has been living in his William Street house on Mount Washington for 47 years. Click photo for larger image.

Monongahela, translated loosely, means "Bluffs are falling into the water." And now, as Eurich reclines with a novel on her elevated porch deck affixed to the house she's shared with her husband for 45 years, she seems about the last thing on her hillside standing still.

"Honey," said Eurich, 66. "I'm too old to move."

The front of Eurich's modest house lends the perspective of air travel. On the mornings she eats breakfast on her porch, she can peer into Heinz Field, across the confluence. She's at eye level with skyscraper tops Downtown. Those who've recently moved onto Eurich's street, essentially a cart path, wide enough for only one car, ignore the inconveniences. They want land that overlooks a kingdom.

Question is: To what extent should the city allow development on such hillsides? Downtown, in city office buildings which look like hobby shop miniatures from Eurich's porch, city planners and environmentalists and academics recently proposed a means for preserving the hillsides that both cocoon Pittsburgh with green and, sometimes, offer the most enticing property.

In a 13-page document recently issued to the Department of City Planning, the Hillside Committee suggested, in short, that many Pittsburgh hillsides have the greatest public value when undeveloped: Filled with green instead of buildings. Environmentalists who studied the issue cited obvious reasons: The removal of trees increases the likelihood of landslides, erosion and flooding. Economists added their own reasons: They suggest that Pittsburgh profits indirectly from green hillsides that long ago turned into the city's brand image. A University of Pittsburgh economist, in fact, said green space raises the value of abutting property.

During the coming months, the Planning Department expects to rework the intricate zoning ordinances, hoping to curb hillside development. By August, such changes could reach City Council. Of course, this notion frustrates the typical urban mind-set: build, build, build more, which is exactly what's being done on Eurich's street.

"This house is new," Eurich said, pointing to her left. "So is that one, there in the corner. Oh, God, so much [junk] going up."

She swirled her hands across the landscape as if tossing a pizza into the air. In front of her narrow street, trees still clutter the landscape. That's exactly how Eurich hopes it will remain.

"What's wrong with a little green space?" she asked.

That, it turns out, is a complicated question.

The power of green

"Right there," said Stephen Quick, a principal architect at Perkins Eastman. He pointed to a map, one of many in a 127-page binder, highlighting, by color, the city's topography. His fingernail traced an area called "The Saddle," a mostly wooded area tucked behind Sycamore Street.

That is Eurich's neighborhood.

"That," Quick said, "had been a highly contentious area. There's a lot of pressure to build there."

Quick was part of a team that included, among others, Carnegie Mellon University ecologist Tim Collins, University of Pittsburgh economist Stepher Farber and Allegheny Land Trust Executive Director Roy Kraynyk. The City Council's Hillside Committee used the findings of the team in its recommendations to the Planning Department.

A discussion about greenery begins with the environment, and, naturally, the hillside study indicated that denuded land would more likely allow for floods and landslides. Even so, those involved with the study wanted results that would appeal to bottom-line city planners and developers. They wanted to prove that green space was, in the end, a money-maker.

The economic importance of green space, Farber said, is difficult to measure. But if, for instance, a place barren of trees leads to soil erosion, and if that soil filters into the streams and rivers, and if, in turn, organisms are killed off by unnatural soil in the water, soon fish will disappear, and so, too, will the money that local fishermen spend. That's one example.

There's also the matter of what happens when buildings are built in difficult-to-access hillside areas. Eurich said she once saw a house on Sycamore Street burn to the ground because firetrucks, unable to navigate the narrow streets, couldn't get to the scene in time. Even in non-emergencies, researchers suggest, hillside houses exhaust more city resources; everything from garbage pickup to sewage removal becomes a challenge.

"There's more," Farber said. "It's reasonable to suggest that an open space of park or forest area would enhance property value within a half-mile by as much as 15 percent."

"And here's the other thing," Kraynyk said. "By doing this, you'll see an evolution of improved properties, because you're preventing excessive supply [of hillside property]. And if you cannot develop new sites, developers will buy the oldest sites, the dilapidated buildings, and redo them."

If City Council adopts the recommendations for better hillside preservation, and indications suggest that it will, developers will be required to meet strict standards before building on any land sloped 25 degrees or more. Development is already prohibited on slopes greater than 40 degrees. Moreover, the city will aim to protect visible slopes, areas that face the Downtown skyline. Several legal experts on the hillside research team have decided that these proposals, if implemented, are legally defensible.

"These hillsides are infrastructure, green infrastructure for the community," Kraynyk said. "They divide communities. They create character. They are a beautiful backdrop to the city's skyline. Without these green hillsides, we'd just look like a continuous, monotonous sprawl. We'd look like ... Cincinnati."

Building a case

It's counter-intuitive to argue against development in urban areas, especially in cities such as Pittsburgh, where 11 percent of the land slopes 25 degrees or more, and where some hillsides not only enable neighborhoods, but also define them. After centuries of hillside development here, even the names on a Pittsburgh map explain the topography: Polish Hill. South Side Slopes. the Hill District. Perry Hilltop. Observatory Hill.

Pittsburgh is one of the hilliest urban areas in the country. And some cannot understand why city planners would consider curbing development on the hillsides when new houses and apartments could potentially generate tax revenue, attract new residents and accentuate what is already the region's hallmark.

"The one competitive advantage this city has over other parts of the nation, it's got great hillside views," said Mark Masterson, a local urban developer. "I keep hearing that the new [hillside ordinances] will be much more stringent, and that's the wrong thing for Pittsburgh to do. I don't know why you'd make it more difficult to build there."

In some cases, the views of developers and the Hillside Committee overlap. Masterson, for instance, said hillside development, if approached carefully, needn't displace environmental goals. Hillside members stress that they do not advocate against all development. In some cases, it's even appropriate.

To help create clear boundaries between hillside neighborhoods and hillside greenery, for instance, the Hillside Committee recommended that developers, when building on slopes, find empty lots in existing residential areas rather than carve into uninterrupted wooded terrain.

"But we have to start thinking beyond just people in the development having a great view," city environmental planner Dan Sentz said. "We want to make sure the view of the site is considered as much as the view from the site."

Earlier this year, local developer Luke Desmone proposed a hybrid hotel and luxury apartment complex that would sit on the endpoint of Grandview Avenue, near the Monongahela Incline. An apartment complex of similar size -- 1000 Grandview, which crawls roughly one-third of the way down an otherwise green Mount Washington cliffside -- has drawn criticism for, as Sentz said, "diminishing the quality of the view." That's why Desmone, when conceptualizing his apartment -- the Edge, he calls it -- paid close attention to how it would fit into the landscape.

Though his apartment, like 1000 Grandview, will be built partly over the hillside, it will move in an easterly direction. "We want to blend into the hillside," Desmone said, adding, "I agree, conceptually, with much of what [the Hillside Committee] is proposing."

Developers such as Desmone and Masterson have, in recent months, attended community meetings about hillside development. At one, Desmone said, 72 of 80 people supported the Hillside Committee's recommendations. Masterson, in February, was part of a community meeting held to discuss development in "The Saddle," and he was surprised at the "opposition to development."

Said Lynne Squilla, president of the Mount Washington Community Development Corp.: "We continually think of progress as development and building. But the question is, Can we stop? Do we need to build everywhere?"