I handed in my name badge at the registration desk and took the escalator down to the lobby.

Outside, a cool and slightly overcast day was still in progress. I strolled up and down Main Street, Visalia for a while. Then I drove around the nearby neighborhoods. I was in no hurry to get back on the freeway.

Throughout the day-long conference, we'd been talking about the problems of regional planning and sprawl and environmental degradation in the Central Valley.

Driving Highway 99, south from Manteca, there's 144 miles of truck stops and shopping centers and subdivisions and junkyards.

But here was a mostly intact piece of pre-war small-town California. The bungalows are all different, a likely reflection, I thought, of the unique personality of each owner. The yards are nicely tended.

Downtown, there's are reminders of the town's economic heydey and history as a railroad stop and agricultural center. On one corner, preteen girls were arriving at a dance studio for what might have been the first class of the fall session. A few bars and restaurants were open, but not yet busy in this pre-dinner hour. People returned smiles and nods on the street.

It's not like the town is crowded or resistant to further development. There are vacant parcels in and around downtown.

During the conference, I'd been thinking that the political power of urban residents was key to preserving the Central Valley's economy and environment. That the extractive industries of mining, logging, grazing, industrial farming—and recently land development—had degraded the landscape and undermined its livability. Once urban residents are organized they'll support greenbelts, parks, natural areas, and better air and water quality.

Walking around Visalia's downtowns and neighborhoods, I can see urban residents' economic power is also essential. The small-scale recycling of capital—in small businesses and home improvements—is what makes towns and cities vibrant and special places to live. That's “smart growth.”