Few realize how great the North Minneapolis riverfront is becoming


The Minneapolis riverfront has a well-deserved, excellent reputation. Thirty years ago it was a declining industrial area. Today’s downtown riverfront has transformed int a fascinating mix of residential and commercial vitality alongside a historic park centered on a waterfall. 

That process took decades of slow, tedious work building a mix of uses, all while maintaining public access. Today the proof of the riverfront concept lies in the fact that every single promotional video you’ll ever see of Minneapolis centers on shots of the old Mill District.  

But when it comes to the riverfront, downtown Minneapolis is an exception that proves a rule. Getting close to the river remains inconvenient, at best, in much of the urban core. Take the river gorge downstream of downtown, where you get to public “beaches” and walking paths only if you first descend down huge flights of stairs. And, yes, there’s a popular dog park that occupies the Dakota people’s most sacred space. But most of the time, outside of downtown the Mississippi River is seen from a distance.

All of that’s about to change, as two big projects are coming to fruition in North Minneapolis, an industrial area that’s been largely off the Twin Cities radar. 

A recreational trail opened this year, running north from downtown’s North Loop and connecting new space underneath a railroad bridge. And just to the north, the first trail of the ambitious Upper River Terminal redevelopment is now open to the public.  These two projects will transform the feel of North Minneapolis riverfront.   

Bike trail comes first

The first big new link is the bike trail that runs through Ole Olson Park, the public land along the riverfront. The new section of the trail runs about a quarter-mile, connecting the park trails closer to downtown to 26th Avenue North, where they run into active industrial land uses like a cement factory and a recycling shop. 

The freshly landscaped bike connection has an array of benches, viewing platforms and other street furniture accentuating the natural dynamics of the area. It’s long been one of the ironies of land use planning that industrial areas, often built along riverfronts, boast some of the best wildlife habitats in any given metro area. (St. Paul’s Pig’s Eye Lake is a great example of this.)

That rule holds true here. I saw a dozen species of birds flourishing along the Mississippi, all in the shadows of beeping trucks and piles of aggregate. In fact, the waterfowl are the main population making use of this land these days. It’s barely possible to bike along the trail these days without shooing dozens of pre-teen waterfowl out of the way, mother geese hissing intimidatingly nearby. I promise you it’s a great deal of fun.

It’s long been one of the ironies of land use planning that industrial areas, often built along riverfronts, boast some of the best wildlife habitats in any given metro area. Credit: Bill Lindeke

The second big investment is the impending Upper Harbor Terminal project, a development and amphitheater performance space that’s been in the works for seemingly forever. Here, too, a recreational trail connection is now up and running, though here it feels as if you’re traveling through an active 50-acre construction site. (Be warned: you are.) The completed bike trail is a joy to ride, and you can pause and marvel at the rusting glory of the old industrial elevator left as a centerpiece of the site. 

The performing arts center is slated to open next summer, and when it does, another key dynamic of the North Minneapolis riverfront scene enters the picture: active waterfront programming. That’s something else missing from the Twin Cities experience, mostly due to the laudatory public nature of our waterfront access. But apart from exceptional places like the chain of lakes park pavilions, there really aren’t waterfront cafés in the Twin Cities.

(The former Gabby’s/Psycho Suzi’s in Northeast Minneapolis, with an amazing waterfront patio, is the exception that proves the rule. Why is this site still empty? It could be the best place for leisure in the entire state.)  

Once the First Avenue-run Upper Harbor performance space gets off the ground, I imagine that active programming of the river will escalate dramatically. I’m excited for that, because I have attended waterskiing exhibitions near the 26th Avenue railroad bridge, or artistic boat festivals where both sides of the river (North and Northeast Minneapolis) offer excellent vantage points. It knits the city together in an amazing way.

A recreational trail opened this year, running north from the North Loop in Minneapolis and connecting new space underneath a railroad bridge. And just to the north, the trail through the ambitious Upper Harbor Terminal redevelopment has opened to the public. Credit: Bill Lindeke

New life for under-appreciated riverfront

Taken together, the North Minneapolis riverfront is poised for transformation. Apart from a one-mile stretch where you have to bike on the rather pleasant Second Avenue North bike lane, you can ride from downtown to the city limits and beyond along a beautiful riverfront trail. This is the part of the city, and part of the river, that people just aren’t that used to. It’s straight and flat and the two opposite banks are just far enough you can wave to people on the other side. That makes it into a delightful, underused public space.

A hundred years ago, according to the wonderful memoir of Frank Rog, a former Northeast resident (and subsequent mayor of Roseville), kids used to swim in the river all summer long, catching pigeons and playing. He wrote:

Our best swimming spot was under the middle of the Eighth Avenue Bridge. There was a sandbar out there; we had swings that hung from the rafters of the bridge, and you could do jumps and flips and twists from the underside of the bridge into the water. Also we played King of the Island on the sandbar; most of the time the strongest guy was king, but sometimes a bunch of guys would gang up on him and get him off.

The people from North Minneapolis (Jews) and from lower northeast Minneapolis (Poles and Russians) both claimed that spot for the bridge when both groups wanted to use it at the same time. Even if our group won, you still had to watch out for your clothes, because the other guys could get at them and throw them into the river when you weren’t watching.

I’m not sure I recommend that, but I assure you that most people in the Twin Cities are sleeping on the North Minneapolis riverfront. It’s already accessible in a game-changing way, and once the Upper Harbor Terminal gets rolling, I can easily imagine crowds here on a nightly basis. 

That’s a big deal for a city where the North Side has been an afterthought. The remarkable stretch of the Mississippi River north of downtown has long been under-appreciated, thanks to its industrial legacy. Prepare to have your mental map transformed, and get over to the North Minneapolis riverfront as soon as you can. 



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Another day, another politically motivated attack in the United States.

This morning’s shooting at a Dallas ICE detention facility – where a sniper killed two detainees and wounded another before taking his own life prompted me to revisit a question that’s been troubling me: Is political violence actually increasing in America, or does it just feel that way?

To explore this, I’ve conducted what I’ll call a methodological experiment.

Rather than relying on traditional datasets, I’ve used ChatGPT and Claude to construct a synthetic index of political violence in the US since 1945. Let me be absolutely clear: this isn’t conventional data. It’s data generated through language models, with all the limitations that implies.

The Methodology (and Its Limitations)

Here’s what I did: I asked both ChatGPT and Claude to generate lists of politically motivated violent incidents since 1945, then had them score each incident’s severity on a scale where 50 represents a “normal” level.

The models assessed both casualties and symbolic significance, and I used them to cross-check each other’s work. I then quality-checked the output myself and categorised perpetrators by political affiliation where this was clearly established.

This approach is, admittedly, unorthodox. Language models are trained on existing texts and may reflect biases in their training data. They might overweight highly publicised events or recent incidents that featured prominently in their training corpus.

The “data” we’re looking at is essentially a structured synthesis of what these models have absorbed about American political violence.

Yet there’s something intriguing here. These models have processed vast amounts of information about political violence – news reports, academic studies, government documents. Their output might capture patterns that traditional datasets miss, though it might also amplify certain narratives or blind spots.

What the Synthetic Data Reveal

With those caveats firmly in mind, the patterns that emerge from this exercise are concerning. The model-generated index shows a clear upward trend in political violence over the past decade.

Looking at the breakdown by perpetrator ideology (where clearly established), the data suggest that right-wing extremist groups have been responsible for the majority of incidents in recent years, though we cannot draw conclusions about today’s attack whilst investigations are ongoing.

The synthetic data align with some empirical observations. Princeton’s Bridging Divides Initiative recorded over 600 incidents of threats and harassment against local officials in 2024 – a 74% increase from 2022. The University of Maryland found that in the first half of 2025, 35% of violent events targeted U.S. government personnel or facilities – more than twice the rate in 2024.

The Charlie Kirk Assassination and Recent Patterns

The September assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk marked a particularly dark moment.

The incident followed numerous recent acts of political violence, including the murder of Minnesota Democratic state Rep. Melissa Hortman and her husband, and two assassination attempts on President Trump in 2024.

What the synthetic data reveal is not just increased frequency but a shift in patterns. While overall levels of physical political violence remained low in 2024 compared to years prior, acts of vigilante violence grew as a proportion of all reported incidents.

We’re seeing less organised group violence and more lone-wolf attacks – a pattern that’s harder to predict and prevent.

The Epistemological Challenge

When we use language models to generate “data” about social phenomena, what exactly are we measuring? We’re essentially extracting structured information from the collective corpus of human writing about these events. It’s aggregating distributed information, but through an AI intermediary rather than traditional data collection methods.

This raises fascinating questions.

The models suggest that right-wing extremist violence has been responsible for a fairly large majority of U.S. domestic terrorism deaths since 2001. But how much of this reflects actual patterns versus the way these events are covered and discussed in the sources the models were trained on?

The synthetic data are, in a sense, a mirror of our collective discourse about political violence. They reflect not just what happened, but how we’ve talked about what happened. That’s both a limitation and, potentially, a feature – understanding the narrative landscape around political violence might be as important as counting incidents.

An Experimental Tool

I’ve built an interactive app (using the AI coding tool Lovable) based on this language model-generated violence index.

Users can explore the synthetic data, examine patterns across different time periods and perpetrator groups, and understand the methodology behind it. Think of it as an experiment in using AI to structure historical information rather than a definitive dataset.

The value isn’t in treating this as gospel truth, but in what it reveals about how these events are recorded, remembered, and synthesised in our collective digital memory.

When language models trained on our civilisation’s text output show rising political violence, it tells us something – even if that something is as much about narrative as about underlying reality.

This morning’s tragedy in Dallas reminds us that behind every data point – whether traditionally collected or AI-generated – there are real victims and real consequences. Understanding the patterns, however imperfectly, is the first step toward addressing them.

Try the tool here.





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