In this Stuff You Should Know episode, hosts Josh Clark and Chuck Bryant explore Manhattan's famous grid system, covering how it functions, why it was created, and what was lost in its implementation. They explain the practical benefits of the grid's numbered streets and avenues, which make navigation straightforward, while also noting its exceptions and quirks that can confuse newcomers.
The episode traces the history of urban grid planning from ancient civilizations to colonial America, then examines the creation of Manhattan's 1811 Commissioner's Plan. Clark and Bryant detail how three commissioners of varying qualifications produced a plan that required massive landscape destruction and building demolition while providing almost no green space. The discussion presents contrasting perspectives on the grid—some critics view it as soulless and aesthetically lacking, while others praise its pragmatic design that enabled Manhattan's extraordinary growth into the modern metropolis it is today.

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Manhattan's grid system extends from Houston Street to 220th Street, consisting of 11 north-south avenues and around 200 east-west numbered streets. The layout enables straightforward navigation: street numbers increase northward, and Fifth Avenue divides east from west, with odd-numbered streets running west and even-numbered streets running east. This simple directional principle allows residents and visitors to navigate confidently, often without maps or smartphones.
The system has some quirks—Alphabet City uses lettered avenues south of 23rd Street, west-side avenues change names above 59th Street, and Midtown features unexpected additions like Lexington, Park, and Madison Avenues between Third and Fifth. Despite these variations, the grid's logical numbering system provides efficient navigation across Manhattan.
Notable exceptions disrupt the grid's precision. Broadway cuts diagonally across the entire system, creating unique intersections. Avenue name changes north of 59th Street and the insertion of additional avenues in Midtown complicate expectations of regular spacing and can puzzle newcomers.
Below Houston Street, Manhattan abandons the grid for an older, organic street layout shaped by early European settlers. These meandering roads reflect natural land features and create neighborhoods with distinct character. The grid's overall uniformity gives Manhattan a mechanical ambiance that some view as soulless, lacking the personality of older European cities with winding, organically-grown streets. While the grid grants navigational simplicity, it does so at the expense of architectural variety and organic charm.
Urban grid planning predates Manhattan by thousands of years, with civilizations across the globe adopting the grid as a rational way of building cities.
Josh Clark notes that at least 5,000 years ago, the Indus Valley civilization used grid layouts for Mohenjo-Daro, a planned city covering 750 acres. Shortly after, the Greeks embraced grid models, with Hippodamus becoming known as the "father of city planning" for his advocacy of grid systems—so influential that grids are sometimes called the "hippodamian plan."
Chuck Bryant adds that Spanish conquistadors institutionalized grid planning through the "Law of the Indies," creating colonial towns from Lima to Los Angeles with central plazas and surrounding grids, often at the expense of indigenous layouts.
Josh Clark explains that grid planning appeared in American cities before New York. William Penn designed Philadelphia with a spacious grid to avoid London's congestion, while Washington, D.C. adopted a unique grid using numbers, letters, and directional designations. While Chuck Bryant notes that D.C.'s grid can be confusing, Josh Clark points out that once understood, it provides precise, logical navigation.
In the 1780s, New York faced Revolutionary War debt and decided to sell vast publicly owned lands. The city needed these common lands surveyed and subdivided for effective sale and urban expansion. By 1807, the New York State Legislature granted three commissioners absolute authority to design the layout of New York's future streets. Given four years to plan over 13 miles of the island, they produced an 11-page report and map that would define Manhattan's structure for centuries.
The commission consisted of three men whose qualifications varied dramatically. Governor Morris, a Founding Father who wrote the Constitution's Preamble, led the commission but lacked surveying expertise and invested minimal effort. John Rutherford, Morris's nephew-in-law and a New Jersey landowner, appeared appointed through nepotism and was largely indifferent to the work. Simeon DeWitt, George Washington's former surveyor and New York's Surveyor General, was the only qualified member but couldn't stop the commissioners from adopting shortcuts and lazy approaches.
The commissioners' primary source was Casimir Gherke's 1796 map, borrowed without official acknowledgment. Gherke had surveyed the common lands into 500 five-acre parcels using a 66-foot chain grid and established three access roads: Middle (Fifth Avenue), East (Fourth Avenue), and West (Sixth Avenue). The commissioners adopted Gherke's exact dimensions—200 feet east-west and 920 feet north-south—and placed avenues identically, expanding only to 12 avenues and 155 streets rather than designing an original system.
Some modifications lacked clear rationale. Fifteen cross streets were widened from 60 to 100 feet at irregular intervals without documented reasoning. A particularly puzzling decision was widening 72nd Street rather than the already broader 71st, requiring unnecessary demolitions. Avenues were widened to 100 feet with inconsistent spacing—610 to 650 feet on the east side and 800 feet on the west—again without explanation.
The commission's report justified their plan as "attended with the least inconvenience," which critics argue referred to the commissioners' convenience rather than the city's future needs. Evidence suggests they largely rubber-stamped Gherke's survey without independent analysis or meaningful site visits, resulting in a plan that mandated demolishing about 40% of existing buildings while establishing a grid that was convenient for three men but imposed considerable inconvenience on everyone else.
Manhattan was once characterized by hills, marshes, creeks, and rocky outcroppings. Implementing the grid required massive leveling and filling operations that permanently altered the island's ecosystem. Around 40% of buildings were demolished in one of the city's largest eminent domain actions. Landowners waged lawsuits for approximately 60 years, though none successfully halted the plan's progress.
Despite statutory requirements to create public squares, the grid plan incorporated almost no meaningful green spaces. Only about 5%—400 acres—was designated as public space, with 240 acres reserved for a parade ground rather than recreation. The commissioners justified this lack by claiming the Hudson and East Rivers provided sufficient recreation space for New Yorkers.
Within forty years, it became clear the city desperately needed accessible green space. This recognition led to Central Park's creation as a corrective measure and influenced later projects like the High Line. The absence of significant green areas in the initial grid forced later generations to take extraordinary measures to restore balance between the built and natural environment.
Walt Whitman described the grid as "one perpetual dead flat," lamenting that right-angled streets were "certainly the last things in the world consistent with beauty of situation." Edith Wharton called Manhattan "rectangular New York, this cramped horizontal gridiron of a town without towers, porticos, fountains, or perspectives hide bound in its deadly uniformity of mean ugliness." Architectural critic Peter Markus considers Manhattan's grid one of the worst city plans of any major city in the developed world.
In contrast, Raphael Venoli calls the grid the "best manifestation of American pragmatism in the creation of urban form," highlighting its functional benefits. Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas, in 1978, describes Manhattan's grid as "the most courageous act of prediction in Western civilization," recognizing its capacity to accommodate urban growth.
Although the Commissioners' Plan of 1811 underestimated growth by 50 percent, the grid enabled significant expansion. The city's development proceeded unevenly—only by 1875 did more New Yorkers live above 14th Street than below, with about 40,000 vacant lots remaining unfilled.
The grid's imposition symbolized a broader colonial impulse to assert order and control over organic spaces. For Manhattan, the Commissioners' Plan marked a critical turning point, shifting New York from a more organic, harmonious pre-grid city to the rationalized, modern metropolis recognized today.
1-Page Summary
The Manhattan grid was established mainly north of Houston Street, extending up to around 220th Street in Manhattan. It consists of 11 north-south avenues, generally numbered but including Lexington, Park, and Madison Avenues in Midtown, and around 200 east-west numbered streets. The grid allows for straightforward navigation, thanks to its regularity.
Street numbers increase as you move northward, with lower-numbered streets like East First Street in the East Village and the upper limit reaching 220th Street in Inwood. Although technically, the Manhattan borough continues higher to 227th Street, and cross into the Bronx and the numbers continue to 263rd. For everyday navigation, Fifth Avenue serves as the dividing line between east and west side—odd-numbered streets run west, while even-numbered streets run east. This system provides a simple directional principle: knowing the parity of the street number and your position relative to Fifth Avenue suffices to orient yourself.
Alphabet City, south of 23rd Street in the east, uses lettered avenues (A, B, C, D). North of 59th Street, avenues on the west side—like 8th, 9th, 10th, and 11th—change names to Central Park West, Columbus Avenue, Amsterdam Avenue, and West End Avenue, respectively, while east-side avenues generally retain their numbers. In Midtown, between 3rd and 5th Avenues, the grid is interrupted by Lexington, Park, and Madison Avenues, making three avenues where one would expect only two.
The grid’s logical and repetitive street numbering, along with east/west indicators, enables residents and visitors to navigate Manhattan efficiently, often without the need for a map or smartphone. By understanding your cardinal direction and the numbering system, you can confidently traverse the city.
Despite its precision, the Manhattan grid has notable exceptions that can puzzle newcomers. Broadway, for example, cuts diagonally across the grid, disregarding right-angle alignments and creating unique intersections that defy the standard logic of avenues and streets.
Other disruptions occur north of 59th Street, where avenues on the west side abruptly change names, and east-side avenues remain numbered. The insertion of Lexington, Park, and Madison Avenues between Third and Fifth complicates expectations of regular spacing. Block sizes, while generally consistent, can also vary depend ...
Structure and Function of the Manhattan Grid System
Urban grid planning is a city design method with ancient roots, predating its iconic implementation in Manhattan by thousands of years. Civilizations across the globe, from the Indus Valley to colonial Spanish towns, have adopted the grid as a rational and orderly way of building cities.
Josh Clark notes that at least 5,000 years ago, the Indus Valley civilization was using the grid layout for Mohenjo-Daro, a city covering 750 acres. This ancient city stands as a testament to the use of highly organized urban planning long before modern examples like Manhattan.
Shortly after the Indus Valley, the Greeks took interest in the grid model. Hippodamus, a Greek thinker and mathematician, is renowned as the "father of city planning." He strongly advocated for grid systems in urban design. To this day, grids are sometimes called the “hippodamian plan,” honoring his role in city design history.
Chuck Bryant adds that Spanish conquistadors institutionalized grid planning through the “Law of the Indies.” Under this law, colonial towns—ranging from Lima to Los Angeles—were planned with a central plaza and a surrounding grid layout. The intention was to impose order and a sense of civilization, often at the expense of indigenous layouts. Clark reflects on visiting a small colonial town in Guatemala where the central plaza and grid layout were visibly implemented as part of this tradition.
History and Origins of Urban Grid Planning
In the 1780s, New York faced significant debt from the Revolutionary War. To address this, city leaders decided to sell vast publicly owned tracts of marshy, rocky, undeveloped land, known as the common lands. The city needed these lands to be surveyed and subdivided for effective sale and urban expansion.
Surveyors were tasked with mapping these common lands, transforming them into a network of parcels for development and revenue. This laid the groundwork for future urban planning in post-war New York.
By 1807, faced with a growing city, the New York State Legislature passed an act granting three commissioners absolute authority to design the layout of New York’s future streets and roads. This act, described as "an act relative to improvements, touching the laying out of the streets and roads in the city of New York and for other purposes," vested all decision-making power in these three men, whose decisions would shape Manhattan’s structure for centuries.
The commissioners were given four years to plan over 13 miles of the island, ultimately producing an 11-page report and a detailed map. Their decisions formed the backbone of the city’s modern grid.
The commission consisted of three individuals whose backgrounds and investments in the project greatly varied.
Governor Morris, a noted Founding Father and author of much of the Constitution, including the Preamble, led the commission. Although he had been a dynamic force behind the Erie Canal, Morris lacked any real surveying expertise and put little effort into the Manhattan grid plan, especially compared to his other public works.
John Rutherford, Morris’s nephew-in-law and a major New Jersey landowner, was seemingly appointed due to nepotism. He was indifferent to the work, often late to meetings and largely disengaged, reportedly even annoying Morris himself.
Simeon DeWitt, the only member with technical expertise as George Washington's former surveyor and New York's Surveyor General, appeared unable to overcome the practical shortcuts and lack of diligence displayed by Morris and Rutherford. Despite his professional background, shortcuts and minimal site engagement persisted throughout the commission’s work.
The commissioners’ primary source for their plan was Casimir Gherke’s 1796 map, which they borrowed from without officially acknowledging him.
Gherke’s original task was to survey the common lands for sale, not for urban planning. Using a 66-foot survey chain, he broke the land into 500 five-acre parcels, each with defined boundaries: 200 feet east-west by 920 feet north-south. He did this for efficient land distribution and sale, not city-building.
To facilitate access, Gherke established three 66-foot-wide roads running north-south, named Middle (now Fifth Avenue), East (Fourth Avenue), and West (Sixth Avenue). These roads were surveyed strictly for practicality in land access, not with an eye for urban design.
The 1811 commissioners adopted the very same dimensions for their city blocks: 200 feet east-west and 920 feet north-south, and placed the avenues nearly identically to Gherke’s map. Their only major change was to expand from Gherke’s three avenues to twelve running north-south and to lay out 155 numbered east-west streets, fundamentally extending Gherke’s system rather than designing a new one.
Some changes introduced by the commissioners lacked clear rationale and had questionable consequences.
Creation and Execution of Commissioner's Plan of 1811
The Commissioners' 1811 plan for Manhattan drastically reshaped the island's natural landscape and its society. The pursuit of order and growth came with steep environmental and social costs that reverberate through New York City's development history.
Manhattan was once a wild territory characterized by hills, marshes, creeks, swampland, and rocky outcroppings. To implement the grid plan, the commissioners directed a massive leveling and filling operation that erased much of this natural topography. Ponds and salt marshes were filled in, and the island’s unique ecosystem was permanently altered, with little or no consideration for integrating these features into the new city layout.
This transformation was not limited to the natural landscape. Around 40% of buildings, particularly those on common or established lands, were demolished to make way for the grid system. It was one of the largest eminent domain actions in the city’s history. Landowners waged lawsuits for approximately 60 years, contesting the destruction of existing properties and neighborhoods. Despite these prolonged legal battles, none were successful in halting or significantly altering the progress of the commissioners' plan, which continued heedless of objections and local losses.
The grid plan also ignored statutory mandates on public space. The 1807 law establishing the commissioners required them to create public squares, but left the size, form, and number to the commissioners’ discretion. In reality, almost no meaningful public gathering places or green spaces were incorporated into the plan. Of the original grid area, only about 5%—400 acres—was designated as public space, and 240 of those acres were reserved for a parade ground rather than recreation or accessible nature.
Smaller parks did exist, like Washington Square Park and a handful of promenades or slivers of green scattered throughout the city. However, these were minimal compared to the immense built environment that surrounded them. The commissioners justified this lack of dedicated parkland by claiming that the Hudson and East Rivers provided sufficient public recr ...
Environmental and Social Consequences of the Grid Plan
Walt Whitman is among the earliest critics, describing the grid as "one perpetual dead flat" and lamenting that "streets cutting each other at right angles are certainly the last things in the world consistent with beauty of situation.” Edith Wharton echoes this sentiment, calling Manhattan "rectangular New York, this cramped horizontal gridiron of a town without towers, porticos, fountains, or perspectives hide bound in its deadly uniformity of mean ugliness." Architectural critic Peter Markus goes so far as to say Manhattan’s grid layout is one of the worst city plans of any major city in the developed world, criticizing it for its design concerns and lack of aesthetic merit.
In contrast, some architects and planners see the grid as a triumph of practicality and vision. Raphael Venoli calls the grid the "best manifestation of American pragmatism in the creation of urban form," highlighting its functional benefits. Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas, in 1978, describes Manhattan’s grid as "the most courageous act of prediction in Western civilization," recognizing its forward-looking capacity to accommodate urban growth.
Although planners underestimated how quickly Manhattan would grow, the grid enabled significant expansion. The Commissioners’ Plan of 1811 projected growth that ultimately fell short of reality by 50 percent. The city’s development proceeded unevenly, with more New Yorkers living above 14th Street than below only by 1875, more than sixty years after the grid’s adoption. Even then, by 1875, about 40,000 vacant lots—half of the planned space—rema ...
Critical Perspectives on the Grid
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