Category: Regional Rail
Large-Diameter TBMs
Deep-level subway tunnels are usually built with tunnel-boring machines (TBMs), which can dig and create their own lining even under other infrastructure, such as older intersecting tunnels. But then deep-level stations require larger caverns, which are expensive to dig from the surface. Three-quarters of the cost of Second Avenue Subway Phase 1 is the three stations. As commenters Jim and Anon256 noted a year and a half ago, to avoid this problem, such cities as Barcelona pioneered the use of large-diameter TBMs, which have enough space to accommodate tracks together with platforms by their sides. This is especially useful for construction in dense city centers, where surface disruption must be minimized and demolitions of buildings that are in the way are expensive. I claim that this is the optimal construction method for both regional rail to Lower Manhattan and the North-South Rail Link in Boston.
In Barcelona, the internal diameter of the TBM used for Line 9, 11.7 meters, is enough to have both directions of a two-track line use one tunnel. With an internal horizontal slab, trains can be stacked so that each direction gets one track and one platform at a station, which looks about 4.5 meters wide in diagrams. Between stations, there is enough space for each of the two levels to have two tracks, allowing crossovers. The only required construction outside the tunnel is access points, which can be drilled straight down for elevators or at an angle for escalators.
While the cost of Barcelona Metro Line 9 is about $170 million per kilometer, more than three times the original budget, compared with $40-60 million per kilometer for most Spanish tunneling projects, it is still much lower than the cost of comparable projects tunneling under preexisting subway systems that have stations built by blasting caverns or cut-and-cover construction. In addition, the standards are relatively easy to adapt to the standards of American mainline construction, since the Line 9 trains are powered by catenary and are only ten centimeters shorter than the LIRR’s M-7s. Mainline catenary is energized at 25 kV and requires more clearance than low-voltage rapid transit catenary, but this adds only about half a meter to the total diameter: German standards call for 27 centimeters of clearance from 25 kV.
To allow two lines to meet at cross-platform transfers, there are two possibilities, both used by narrower-diameter TBMs (or older tunneling shields). One, used by the London Underground’s tube lines, is to have two parallel circular tunnels with numerous passages drilled between them. Another, used by some subway lines in Shanghai and Tokyo as well as by the Harlem River tunnels of New York’s Lexington Avenue Line, is to overlap the two circular tunnels, using a tunneling shield with a double-O tube (DOT) design. The DOT design is more complex and would also require any access point to either obstruct the platforms or go at the platform edges, but would create a wider platform allowing easier cross-platform circulation.
In Boston, regardless of which design is used, the North-South Rail Link involves three central stations in which two tubes (one feeding the Worcester and Providence Lines, one feeding the Fairmount and Old Colony Lines) meet: South Station, Aquarium, and North Station. Each should have a cross-platform transfer, in the style of the Hong Kong MTR: at Aquarium northbound Providence and Worcester trains should face northbound Fairmount and Old Colony trains and likewise for southbound trains, whereas at South and North Stations, northbound trains should face southbound trains. This way, people transferring between two points south of the link could transfer cross-platform at South Station, and people transferring between two points north of the link could transfer cross-platform at North Station.
A large-diameter TBM has enough space not only for crossovers, but for trains to switch what levels they’re on. With a design speed of 100 km/h, a curve radius of 500 meters, and a superelevation ramp lasting 2 seconds, it takes about half a kilometer for the track on the lower level to swerve sideways so as to no longer be directly under the upper-level track, climb to the upper level while the upper-level track descends, and then swerve sideways again so that both tracks are on the correct side of the tunnel to allow a cross-platfom transfer. There is space to do this between both pairs of successive stations. The portals could be constructed where convenient on the approaches to South Station and immediately north of the Charles, and the infrastructure for pairing lines at the north end with the two tubes could be done above or below ground, based on local tradeoffs between disruption and cost.
In Lower Manhattan, the problem is capacity. The system would involve a line from Atlantic Terminal to Jersey City or Hoboken intersecting a line from Grand Central to Staten Island. There is room for only one station, and some configurations, notably any in which the New Jersey end is at Exchange Place, require a cruciform station, without cross-platform transfers. Moreover, this station is at a site with much more intensive development than Downtown Boston, and close attention must be paid to capacity. This is why I bring up DOTs in the first place: London-style passages may not allow sufficient circulation of transferring passengers. The platforms would be obstructed with many escalators between the upper and lower levels since there is no room for Hong Kong’s three-station cross-platform transfers, and peak demand for egress to both street level and intersecting subways is also likely to be very high.
The optimal solution seems to be to have no real Lower Manhattan station beyond the platforms and access points. Most ticket-vending machines should be placed at street level next to the escalator and elevator banks, and the blocks above the station should be pedestrianized to allow for access from the middle of the street, avoiding the need for a mezzanine. The width and pedestrian volume of Lower Manhattan streets are such that it would be at good human scale.
The remaining capacity issue is sufficient space for escalators. There are four tracks in total, each of which is inbound from some direction, and at the peak there could be a 12-car, 300-meter long train with 2,000 passengers every 2 minutes per track. If all passengers are discharged and the trains leave the station empty in the morning peak, then the required capacity is 240,000 people per hour. This is in fact quite unlikely, even though there is only one Lower Manhattan stop: many Staten Islanders work in Brooklyn or Midtown, people from points north of Grand Central are more likely to get off the train at Grand Central than to stay on until Lower Manhattan, and there is a substantial volume of commuters between Brooklyn and points west or north of Manhattan, who would benefit the most from through running.
Factsheets by Kone and ThyssenKrupp suggest each meter-wide escalator has a practical capacity of 6,000-7,000 passengers per hour. If we assume half of a full train capacity’s worth of passengers get off at the station, not including passengers who transfer, then we need 120,000 passengers per hour, i.e. seventeen to twenty escalators. This can be done quite easily with two parallel circular bores, at the cost of restricted capacity for connecting passengers. With a DOT design with 8-meter wide platforms, it’s still possible to have an escalator bank at each end of each platform; the large separation between the upper and lower levels, about 6 meters, allows independent escalators at the end, though not anywhere else. The widest standard escalator is a meter wide at the step and requires a 1.6-meter wide pit (see above ThyssenKrupp link as well as brochures by Kone and Otis), enough for a three-and-one or three-and-two escalator bank at each end, giving twelve peak-direction escalators. Eight additional escalator banks in a one-and-one configuration (or perhaps four in a two-and-one configuration, which is a wider platform obstruction) can be placed roughly evenly along the upper-level platform, along with elevator shafts, escalators that only connect the two platforms, and access points to intersecting subway lines.
The advantage in both New York and Boston is that there’s no need to construct a station beyond those shafts and bores. The station mezzanine in this configuration is a street, most likely Broadway in Lower Manhattan and (according to prior North-South Rail Link plans) the greenway above the Central Artery tunnel in Boston. The station retail is ordinary street retail. Fare control is roving inspectors riding the trains or patrolling the platforms. It’s still a multi-billion dollar undertaking due to all the underwater access tunnels, but the cost per kilometer could be held down to normal first-world levels even while crossing the difficult infrastructure of Lower Manhattan and Downtown Boston.
Comparative Subway Construction Costs, Revised
Here is a list of subway projects in the last 15-20 years, in both developed and developing countries. It’s in addition to my initial lists for developed and developing countries, but includes projects mentioned in past blog posts not on those two lists. This is still not an exhaustive list, due to some cities for which I couldn’t find any information (Moscow), cities for which the information from different sources contradicts itself (Bucharest), and cities for which I couldn’t source numbers beyond Wikipedia (Osaka). My rule is that Wikipedia is an acceptable source for construction timelines and route length but not cost.
While the list is meant to be for urban subways, urban rail projects that are predominantly elevated are also included. As far as possible I have tried using PPP dollars adjusted for inflation to give 2010 dollars (2010 and not 2013, because when I started comparing costs that’s what I used). For core developed countries, because inflation rates are similar, I use American inflation rates, using the CPI (not GDP deflator: the two measures have disagreed for a while, and the CPI points to higher inflation). For other ones, I’ve tried focusing on more recent projects, including even some that are under construction, but I use actual inflation rates.
Bear in mind the data is only as accurate as my sources for it and my PPP conversions. Errors of 10-20% in each direction are to be expected: sources disagree on conversion rates, sometimes the years of construction are not made clear so deflating to the midpoint is not reliable, etc. Even larger errors sometimes crop up, for example if old cost figures are not updated after a cost overrun.
Explicitly, the rates I use today are C$1.25 = S$1 = US$1 = 3.8 yuan = 100 yen = 800 won; £1 = $1.50; €1 = $1.25; CHF1 = $1.65.
Singapore Thomson MRT Line: not yet under construction, expected to open 2019-21, S$18 billion for 30 km. This is $600 million/km, all underground. Included only as a lower bound of costs; costs can rise beyond budget but rarely come significantly under it.
Hong Kong Sha Tin to Central Link: a 1-km segment underground (not underwater) is £270 million, under construction with opening expected in 2018. After converting to PPP using Hong Kong’s conversion rate this is $586 million/km.
Singapore Downtown MRT Line: under construction since around 2008, to be completed in 2017; S$20.7 billion for 42 km: $493 million/km. This line is fully underground. This represents a 70% cost overrun already, announced after I previously reported the original budget of S$12 billion.
Budapest Metro Line 4: under construction since 2006, completion expected in 2014, 400 billion forint for 7.4 km. This is $358 million per km. The line is fully underground.
Fukuoka, Nanakuma Line extension to Hakata: construction expected to begin 2014 with line opening expected in 2020, ¥45 billion for 1.4 km: $321 million/km. I do not know for certain that the extension is fully underground, but this is likely, as the preexisting line is underground and the extension follows busy CBD streets.
Cairo Metro Line 3, Phase 1: opened 2012 with construction since 2006, LE4.2 billion for 4.3 km. This is $310 million/km. The phase is fully underground.
Kawasaki Subway: under construction, opening expected in 2018, ¥433.6 billion for 16.7 km: $260 million/km. The line is fully underground. Update: people in comments explain that the line was actually canceled; the link in this paragraph is just a plan.
Stockholm City Line: to open in 2017, 16.8 billion kronor (2007 prices) for 6 km of tunnel and 1.4 km of bridge: $259 million/km.
Sao Paulo Metro Line 6: construction due to begin in 2014; 7.8 billion reais for 15.9 km: $250 million/km. The line is 84% underground.
Sao Paulo Metro Line 4: construction began in 2004, first phase opened in 2010, completion expected in 2014; 5.6 billion reais for 12.8 km: $223 million/km. The line is fully underground.
Dnipropetrovsk Metro extension: under construction since about 2008, opening expected in 2015, €367 million for 4 km. After PPP conversion this is $214 million/km. It appears to be fully underground.
Malmö City Tunnel: built 2005-10, 9 billion kronor for 4.65 km: $212 million/km. This is a fully underground project.
Bangalore Metro Phase 2: to be opened by 2017, 264 billion rupees for 72.1 km. This is $164 million/km. I do not know what proportion of the project is underground; it does not seem to be large, as the extension of the phase 1 lines are all outbound, and only line 4 seems to have significant tunneling, about 14 km by pure Wikipedia eyeballing.
San Juan Tren Urbano: built 1996-2004, $2.28 billion (2001 figures, see PDF-p. 145) for 17.2 km: $163 million/km. The line is only 7.5% underground by direct inspection on Google Earth.
Lucern Zentralbahn: built 2008-13, CHF250 million for 1.32 km of tunnel: $151 million/km.
Hangzhou: I can’t find any ex post numbers, but in both 2005 and this year (Chinese) officials pegged the cost of future construction as ¥550 million/km: $145 million/km.
Sofia Metro Line 2: built 2008-12, €952 million for 17 km. After PPP conversion, this is $148 million/km. The line appears to be almost fully underground: the numbers here do not fully add up but point to 1.3-2.9 km above ground (7.6-13% of total line length) in one segment while Wikipedia’s line map shows only that segment with above-ground segments.
Thessaloniki: I can’t find any ex post numbers, but in 2005 the budget for the first phase, under construction to be opened in 2016, was €798 million for 9.6 km: $104 million/km. The second phase received bids last year and is expected to open in 2017, with an estimated cost of €518 million for 4.78 km: $135 million/km. Both phases are fully underground.
Vancouver Evergreen Line: under construction since 2012, completion expected 2016; C$1.4 billion for 11 km: $103 million/km. Only 2 km of the system, 18%, is underground, but Vancouver seems to have an unusually low underground construction cost premium.
Dubai Metro (lines 1 and 2): built 2005-11, Dh28 billion ($6.9 billion in PPP2010US$) for 75 km: $92 million/km. Only 13 km of the system, 17%, is underground.
Mexico City Metro Line 12: built 2007-2012, $1.8 billion for 26.4 km. After PPP conversion, this is $90 million/km. From a Google Earth overlay map, this line is 49% underground.
Seoul Sin-Bundang Line: built 2005-11, 1,169 billion won for about 18 km (sources disagree on whether it’s 17.3 or 18.5): $87 million/km. The line is 100% underground according to YouTube videos.
Bangalore Metro, Phase 1: built 2006-11, 8,158 crore rupees for 42.3 km: $93 million/km. Only 8.82 km, or 21% of the project, is underground. See above for Indian construction costs in a heavier-tunneling setting.
Helsinki Westmetro: under construction since 2009 with completion expected in 2015, €714 million for 13.5 kilometers: $66 million/km. The line is fully underground.
Seoul Subway Line 9: opened 2009, 900 billion won for 27 km: $43 million/km. The line is almost fully underground by direct inspection on Google Maps.
Barcelona Sants-La Sagrera tunnel: built 2008-11, €179.3 million for 5.8 km: $39 million/km. This project is intercity but fully underground.
Just from eyeballing the data, spliced together with the two older lists, the biggest correlation of each country’s construction costs is with the construction costs of other lines in the same country. When there is more than one project listed separately in a city – e.g. Seoul, Singapore, Sao Paulo – the projects have similar costs. This persists across different cities in the same country, judging by the similarity between Bangalore Metro’s Phase 2 cost and the Delhi Metro’s cost from a previous list and by the similarity between Hangzhou and Beijing’s costs.
Infrastructure and Democracy
Two stories, one recent and one older, have made me think about the undemocratic way the US builds infrastructure. The older story is California HSR’s cost overrun coming from scope creep; the biggest overruns were in the Bay Area, where power brokers from different agencies wanted separate territory at stations, leading to additional tunnels and viaducts. The newer one is Long Island’s reaction to the MTA’s developing proposals to add Metro-North service to Penn Station, sharing the East River Tunnels with the LIRR and Amtrak; the reaction is negative on misinformed grounds, but the misinformation often comes from official sources.
In both cases, there’s a democratic deficit in US local government that’s in play. Swiss infrastructure projects require a referendum, and involve detailed benefits announced to the public. In Lucern, a recent urban tunnel was sold to the public on the grounds that it would enable certain clockface frequencies toward the south and southeast, such as a train every 15 minutes to Hergiswil and an hourly express train to Engelberg; the full cost was included in the referendum. Even much larger projects, such as the Gotthard Base Tunnel, are funded by referendum. Nothing of that sort happens in the US, even when there are referendums on infrastructure.
I’ve begun to believe that California’s original sin with its HSR project is that it refused to do the same. Prop 1A was a referendum for what was billed as one third of the cost, $10 billion. In reality it was $9 billion and $1 billion in extra funds for connecting local transit; in year of expenditure dollars the estimated budget then was $43 billion, so barely a fifth of the project’s cost was voted on. The HSR Authority planned on getting the rest of the money from federal funding and private-sector funding. Prop 1A even required a 1:1 match from an external source, so confident the Authority was that it would get extra money.
In reality, at the time the proposition was approved to go to ballot, the financial crisis hadn’t happened yet, and there was no talk of a large fiscal stimulus. Although the stimulus bill gave California $3 billion, in 2008 the HSR Authority couldn’t know this source of money would be available, and yet it assumed it would get $17-19 billion in federal funding. Likewise, no private investor was identified back then, and promises of foreign funding have been inconclusive so far and again only come years after the referendum. Put another way, Californians voted without any information about where 79% of the budget for HSR would come from. The state is now scrambling for extra funding sources, such as cap-and-trade revenues. Since there is no real dividing line between on-budget and off-budget when 79% of the budget is undetermined, costs could rise without controls. An agency that had lined $43 billion in prior funding via referendum would be too embarrassed by any cost increase requiring it to ask for more money from any source; a large cost increase could make the difference between project and no project.
In the Long Island case, there was of course no referendum – East Side Access and Metro-North’s Penn Station Access were both decided by the commuter rail agencies and the state legislature. However, even subject to the legislative decisions, there has been very little transparency about what’s going on. The MTA has provided scant details about service planning for after East Side Access opens: total tph counts for each terminal, but nothing about off-peak frequencies, nothing about which LIRR lines would have service to which terminal, and nothing about the frequency of each individual LIRR line. A major change, the end of through-service from east of Jamaica to Flatbush Avenue, is not explicitly mentioned; one has to read between the lines to see that there’s no service planned to Flatbush Avenue, which is planned to be connected to Jamaica by shuttle service (and the shuttle service is still not going to offer urban rail frequencies or fare integration with buses and the subway).
In this climate, it’s easy for people to disbelieve that the agencies involved know what they’re doing, even when they are. Penn Station Access is unpopular among Long Island politicians, who view the East River Tunnels as their turf and do not want to share with Metro-North. The MTA and New Jersey Transit keep saying that Penn Station is at capacity without further explanation, and the MTA says it will add Metro-North trains to Penn; is it any wonder that state legislators see those two statements and, in the context of past cost overruns, oppose Penn Station Access?
When there is democracy – by which I mean not just periodic elections offering two parties to choose from, but a referendum process, transparency, and community consultations – people have an incentive to be informed. It’s possible to sway many people in one’s community and have a positive effect on local state services. Local politicians who are informed on the subject will be able to lead spending and planning efforts and can count on the support of informed voters. In contrast, when there is democratic deficit, being informed is far less useful, because decisions are made independently of what people think unless they are power brokers, or perhaps wealthy, power-brokering communities.
Alexis de Tocqueville observed as much when he visited the US two hundred years ago, when it was already far more democratic, for white men, than any European country: American farmers were more informed about politics than their European counterparts. Today, everyone in the first world has democracy and universal franchise, with a few exceptional countries that are worse-run than people give them credit for. But on the local level, some countries have done much more and get rewarded with a system of accountability to the voters, leading to better governance. The US is trading on an unreformed political system, in which the check on local officials’ power comes from neighboring fiefdoms rather than from the people.
The feudal character of local government in the US is leading to the usual exasperation with the system. But instead of turning toward democracy, transit supporters cheer as governments turn toward absolutism, increasing the power of the state at the expense of other stakeholders. California is reforming its environmental protection laws in response to abuse of the system by powerful communities; in reality, one of the state legislators involved in the effort recently left politics to work for Chevron. A reformer at Cornell recently proposed to improve transportation governance by “[putting] a bipartisan committee in a locked room.” Thomas Friedman cheers Chinese megaprojects as a way to achieve progress and sustainability; he says nothing about the more cost-effective projects done democratically in Europe, even though they involve some equally impressive edifices like the Alpine base tunnels. Throughout the transit activist community, including nearly every blogger and commenter but also the main activists on the ground, there’s a tendency to view any community opposition to a project as NIMBYism and to ask for changes that make it easier for the government to get its projects done, as in the Robert Moses era. Social democrats and neo-liberals are equally complicit in the march for not just centralization, which can be done with democratic checks, but also concentration of power in the hands of state officials.
Good infrastructure does not come from autocrats. Nothing comes from autocrats except more wealth and power for the autocrats, which may or may not involve infrastructure that is useful to the public. Undemocratic systems lead to a feedback loop in which the people have no incentive to be informed while the power brokers have no incentive to make sure anyone is informed, and this way it’s easy to spend $8 billion on a train station and approach tracks, without knowing or caring how many orders of magnitude this is more expensive than the average first-world rail tunnel. A good transit advocate has to advocate for more democracy, transparency, and simplicity in government operations, because decisions made behind closed doors are almost invariably made for the benefit of the elite that’s on the right side of those doors.
C-Shaped Lines
The ideal rapid transit line looks something like a straight line. It can have deviations, but on a map it will be more or less a line with a definitive direction. Most rapid transit lines are indeed linear, or failing that circular (to provide circumferential service) or L-shaped. In most cities there are just a handful of C-shaped exceptions: London has just one (the Piccadilly Line), Tokyo two (the Marunouchi Line and the Yokosuka-Sobu Line), Paris one (the RER C; Metro 2 and 6 should really count as a circle), Seoul one (Line 6). In contrast, in some cities, such as New York, there are many C-shaped lines. Since most people aren’t traveling in semicircles, it’s worth talking about reasons why cities may build lines that don’t have the most efficient shape.
Reason 1: water
Cities right next to a large body of water may have lines that double back. Chicago has the Blue Line, Toronto has the Yonge-University-Spadina Line, San Francisco has the Daly City-Dublin and Daly City-Fremont BART routes and the T-Third Muni route. If Boston extends the Green Line to Somerville, the Green Line will form a C. Tokyo’s Yokosuka-Sobu through-line is in this category as well. Usually, the transit operator doesn’t expect anyone to take the line for its full length; Toronto is planning a crosstown line bridging the far ends of the C. Such lines are C-shaped because they are really two interlined lines coming from the same direction.
Reason 2: two separate lines joined at the outer end for operational reasons
This can be similar to reason 1 in that nobody is expected to take the line along its full length, but here the joining occurs at the outer end. Singapore’s North-South Line and Vancouver’s Millennium Lines are both examples of this. In Singapore’s case this comes from an international boundary; in Vancouver’s it comes from the need to connect the line to the Expo Line so that trains can go to the maintenance yard, and it proved too hard to connect the lines at the inner end, at Broadway/Commercial. In both examples, what should really be two separate lines are joined by an outer loop that functions as somewhat of a circumferential, but the lines were not planned to provide circumferential service and are not good at connecting to anything other than the two joined lines. (Singapore built a separate circumferential, the Circle Line.) Arguably, the RER C falls into this category too, except the connection between the lines is too inner.
Reason 3: a half-formed circumferential
Hong Kong’s Kwun Tung Line is circumferential in the sense that it doesn’t serve Hong Kong Island, just Kowloon; partially because of water, it is C-shaped. New York’s G route used to be in this category back when it ran to Forest Hills, but in 2001 it was truncated to Court Square and became linear. Other lines in this category are hypothetical: if Paris’s Metro 2 and 6 count as C-shaped, then they fall into this category; Boston’s busiest bus, Line 66, is vaguely C-shaped, acting as a circumferential in the southwestern arc from Harvard to Dudley; and if New York builds Triboro RX then it will fall into this category, too. In this case, usually another reason, or a pure ridership concern, is what prevents completing the line as a full circle, but the line is configured to be useful for interchanges. The Kwun Tung Line is useful for end-to-end trips, but the other hypothetical cases aren’t: Triboro RX would be useful for short trips, but to get from the Bronx to southern Brooklyn, the D is much faster.
Reason 4: administrative boundaries
In regions without much intergovernmental cooperation, administrative boundaries can be as sharp as coastlines. Everything proceeds as in reason #1, but this time the inefficiency is entirely preventable. This specifically affects New York and SEPTA Regional Rail. Morally, New York’s north-south lines should connect the Bronx with Brooklyn and the east-west lines should connect Queens with New Jersey. But because New Jersey is administratively separate, the Queens lines loop back into Brooklyn, creating some awkward shapes on the F, the R, and especially the M both before and after its recent combination with the V. (Some Bronx-Brooklyn lines are also awkwardly shaped, but this is because of water). Likewise, SEPTA Regional Rail barely goes into New Jersey, and only in Trenton; PATCO, serving Camden, is separate, and as a result, while the system had the R# designations, the R5 and R6 were C-shaped and the R7 and R8 self-intersected, helping ensure there was not much suburb-to-suburb ridership.
Reason 5: aberrations
In some cases, such as the Marunouchi Line or Singapore’s self-intersecting Downtown Line, there’s no apparent reason, and in that case the two branches combine to form a C-shaped line for essentially random reasons. Maybe the ideal route through city center is one that connects two branches in the same direction; maybe there is more demand to one direction than to the other.
Of the above five reasons, it is reason 4 that is the most angering. Jersey City and the hill cities to its north have as long a history of ferry-oriented New York suburbanization as Brooklyn. But because of administrative reasons, they never got as much rapid transit, stunting their development. New York’s subway plans never really made any use of the Hudson Tubes, and even the unrealized plans for a North Jersey subway network made surprisingly little use of existing infrastructure. The result: 12 km out of Manhattan, at the same distance as Flushing, New Jersey only has Bogota, Rutherford, and Hackensack; 20 km out, at the same distance as still fairly dense Cambria Heights, New Jersey has Paramus and Montclair.
It’s of course too late for New York to do things right, but for a city just beginning to build a subway network, it’s important to make sure that lines are straight and hit developing suburbs in all directions, so that they can develop as high-density transit-oriented communities, and not as low-density auto-oriented ones.
Construction Costs and Perceptions
While looking for South Korean cost data for a major update of my construction costs posts, I stumbled upon a newspaper article excoriating Seoul’s extravagant construction, comparing it unfavorably with the US. Per Joong-Ang, the US neglect of infrastructure is a form of frugality that South Korea should imitate; the National Mall’s poorly maintained, weedy lawns are treated as something to admire. Moreover, Seoul subway construction is more extravagant than in the Washington Metro:
I got on a train at the Smithsonian Metro station. All the stations there have the same architectural styles. They are the 1976 creation of American architect Harry Weese. High ceilings and open spaces are their trademarks. They are known for their practicality. But they are very modest compared to the subway stations of Seoul. The platforms are dimly lighted. It’s hard to read a book there. The walls are concrete, with none of Korea’s flashing signboards. The architecture is very quiet.
After I returned to Seoul, I got on the subway at Guryong Station in Gangnam District, southern Seoul. Marble proliferates at the entrance. A public table is covered with glass. Every day, about 3,600 people use the station, which cost 55 billion won ($51.2 million) to build.
Of course, in reality, Korean construction costs are a fraction of American ones. Guryong Station is an infill subway station in a dense urban neighborhood, opening about a year after the rest of the Bundang Line; it cost about $75 million in 2010 PPP dollars. The US sometimes builds at-grade infill commuter stations for more than that, and those do not have marble entrances or glass tables (update: New York Avenue in Washington is another example of more expensive US infill, this time an elevated station). Building just the shell of an infill subway station on the 7 extension simultaneously with the rest of the extension was estimated at $500 million. Similarly, the Sin-Bundang Line, a driverless rapid transit line, cost 1,169 billion won, about $1.4 billion, for about 18 km; the line is described as “largely underground,” fully underground, and its city terminus is under a dense secondary CBD. In contrast, in Washington, the suburban Silver Line, with very little tunneling, is $6.8 billion (in 2009-2018 dollars) for 37 km. $183 million per km versus about $80.
There are two takeaway lessons from this. The first is that to gauge whether something is cheap or extravagant we need to know the normal range of costs and compare, rather than looking at the quality of construction. Seoul may build very extravagant-looking stations, but it builds them cheaply for some reason.
The second, more important lesson is that people perceive costs the way they perceive local corruption. The US is indeed the world’s most expensive country to build transit in, which Americans can easily believe since they do not trust their government very much. At the opposite corner, Switzerland is quite cheap: a rejected mountain tunneling project in Neuchatel was CHF 850 million for 17 km, and a recently completed urban tunnel in Lucern was CHF 250 million for 1.32 km; accounting for the Swiss franc’s 87% overvaluation relative to PPP, these are $28 and $121 million per km respectively. And as far as I hear from Swiss commenters, the Swiss are proud of the success of their public transportation system. Indeed, Swiss levels of trust in government and institutions are very high.
In contrast, in cheap countries where people do not trust the government, people do not readily accept that construction costs are low. When I talk to Spaniards who are not railfans, they talk about corrupt and extravagant infrastructure projects, and do not believe that both high-speed rail and subway construction costs in Spain are so low. (It doesn’t help that Barcelona’s L9/10, despite still being about average-cost, went over budget by a factor of over 3.) This is no different from the Joong-Ang attitude toward Korean costs: the government self-evidently doesn’t work, and so a $75 million infill subway station is self-evidently a boondoggle.
The situation in the opposite corner – high trust/low perceptions of corruption, high costs – exists as well, in Singapore. The sixth MRT line, soon to begin construction, is S$18 billion for 30 km; the PPP exchange rate between Singapore and US dollars is about 1:1. The line is automated and fully underground, but about half of it is under very wide arterial roads and portions of it are in undeveloped rather than built-up land; it shouldn’t cost this much. The fifth line, currently under construction, is cheaper, S$12 billion for 40-42 km, but still much more expensive than the non-Anglophone average.
And yet, although Singapore’s not far behind Japan in its construction costs, I doubt Singaporeans are as willing to consider their construction practices expensive as Americans, Britons, and Japanese are. I know for a fact that international commentators who hold Singapore in high regard for its efficient government would not be willing to think of it as an expensive-construction country.
All this makes good transit activism somewhat frustrating, in that people will not usually recognize efficient government in absolute numbers. Percentages, certainly – people understand cost overruns and (much less common) cost underruns, and as we’ve seen in Canada people can compare different technologies. But absolute numbers are not as well-understood, and neither are international comparisons of the same technology, where cost differences revolve around questions of project management, contracting practices, labor rules, and details of geology and surrounding infrastructure; people have only recently begun to think in terms of per-km costs in New York, and in the rest of the US I have not seen such thinking. When a transit agency proposes a project, people automatically think it’s expensive, and some will also say it’s necessary, regardless of whether it actually is either. I don’t think reactions to Second Avenue Subway at $5 billion would be materially different from what they were when Phase 1 alone grew to $5 billion.
The upside is that in budget negotiations, the amounts given to transportation are based on absolute shares of the budget rather than on the needs of specific megaprojects, which means that lower costs would translate to more projects built for the same budget. People might not notice that costs have gone down, and might still complain that every subway line is a boondoggle, but more lines would be built and more people would ride those lines. Just the perception of government competence would not change.
Branching
S-Bahns and similar systems have two defining features. One has been hashed to death on this blog: they reuse legacy rail lines, allowing urban rapid transit to extend arbitrarily deep into suburbia. The other, common also to many other transit technologies, is that they branch extensively, allowing them to run many services on the outer ends, where there’s no demand for rapid transit frequency, while interlining to produce high frequency in the center, where there is.
Since branching is a service planning decision independent of technology, any technology could branch. The branching-friendliest technology is subway-surface: the central subway segment has higher capacity measured in trains per hour than the outer surface segments, and this requires branching. For examples, consider the Boston Green Line, Muni Metro, the Frankfurt U-Bahn, and SEPTA’s Subway-Surface lines. However, even when the entire line is rapid transit, branching is useful to ensure higher service where there is higher demand, and infrastructure improvements will typically focus on boosting capacity in the center. For example, the RER A has moving-block signaling allowing 30 peak-direction trains per hour in the center, but fixed-block signaling on the branches, which do not need such capacity.
Even when rapid transit is built separate from both light rail and mainline rail, branching is useful for lines going into the suburbs or even outer-urban neighborhoods. This is practiced in both New York and London, both of which have extensive branching. Observe further that in both cities, the lines reaching farthest out – the A in the Queens-bound direction and the Metropolitan line in the west – are also the most highly branched.
It’s the opposite situation that is weird. When lines do not branch, there must be a strong outer anchor, or else trains need to run empty outside the center. The alternative is short-turns, and if there’s no space for this, the resulting service patterns can be awkward. Shanghai, which has little branching, runs Line 2 in two segments, a central segment with higher frequency and longer trains and an eastern one with lower frequency and shorter trains; trains do not run through. Beijing has a similar awkwardness with the split between Line 1 and the Batong Line, and Toronto has a split between the Bloor-Danforth line and the technologically incompatible Scarborough rapid transit. (The Sheppard line suffers from the same problem today, but it has the excuse that it was planned to continue west to the Spadina subway rather than stub-ending at Yonge.) Paris has little branching on the Métro as well, but the Metro only serves inner parts of the metro area, many lines have strong outer anchors (for example, La Défense on Line 1), and two others providing some of the farthest-out service branch. The RER branches much more heavily, as befits a suburban system. Tokyo has little branching on the subway proper, but the subway is for the most part inner-urban, and lines continue to the suburbs along commuter lines, which do branch.
In North America, this configuration has been common across a variety of new-build systems, especially ones that should have been S-Bahns. BART does this the most extensively, but the Washington Metro is also highly branched for its size, MARTA branches, the light rail systems branch once more than one line is built, and so on. BART in particular imitated the service planning aspect of commuter rail perfectly, and is an S-Bahn in all but the cost of extending the system further.
The problem with any branching is that it reduces frequency on the branches, potentially scaring away ridership. When a single rapid transit line splits in two it’s rarely a problem, and when city-center service splits into suburban services even more is easy to justify. I think the main issue in urban or inner-suburban cases is that with typical rapid transit frequencies (3-minute peak service or slightly better, a peak-to-base ratio of 2:1 or somewhat less) the trunk has about 5-minute off-peak service, and if it splits into two branches, this means 10-minute service on the branches. If the branching occurs early enough that dense neighborhoods with short-distance travel demand are on branches, it may be too little. In addition, if one branch has much more demand than the other, then it’s usually hard to match frequency on each branch to demand, since it requires trains to be unevenly spaced.
The issue is that branch frequency, 10-15 minutes, is in the transition zone between urban show-up-and-go frequency, where schedules do not matter, and suburban frequency, where they do. It’s perhaps less relevant in small cities with small enough transit systems that even 10-minute service is considered very good, but in large cities, people expect more, creating somewhat of an inner-urban metro envy effect.
That said, 10-minute suburban and outer-urban service can be done clockface, making the average wait much smaller. It is done on the RER A in the midday off-peak, with three 10-minute branches, and could be done with two 10-minute branches quite easily. Likewise, it could be done for 15-minute branches (the RER B already does this); the two A branches in New York have close to 15-minute frequency each, and if New York City Transit’s service planning considered it as a factor instead of focusing more on headway management it could ensure predictable schedules at Ozone Park and the Rockaways.
Nobody Likes Riding North American Commuter Rail
In New York, two neighborhoods at the edge of the city have both subway and commuter rail service: Wakefield and Far Rockaway. Wakefield has 392 inbound weekday Metro-North boardings, and 4,955 weekday subway boardings. Far Rockaway has 158 riders (an average of boardings and alightings) and 4,750 subway boardings. Although both Wakefield and Far Rockaway are served by the 2 and A, which run express in Manhattan, those trains make many local stops farther out – in fact the 2 and A are the top two routes in New York for total number of stations – and are much slower than commuter rail: the 2 takes 50 minutes to get to Times Square while Metro-North gets to Grand Central within 25-30 minutes; the A takes about 1:05 to get to Penn Station, the LIRR about 55 minutes.
Vancouver, whose commuter rail service runs 5 daily roundtrips, all peak-hour, peak-direction, has a weekday ridership of 10,500. The Evergreen Line, duplicating the inner parts of the commuter rail service, is expected to get 70,000.
Caltrain, a service of intermediate quality between Vancouver’s peak-only trains and New York’s semi-frequent off-peak electrified service, has an intermodal station at Millbrae, which is now BART’s southern terminal. Millbrae has 5,970 BART exits per weekday versus 2,880 Caltrain boardings. And BART takes a circuitous route around the San Bruno Mountain and only serves San Francisco and the East Bay, while Caltrain takes a direct route to just outside the San Francisco CBD and serves Silicon Valley in the other direction.
The MBTA provides both subway and commuter rail service, with several intermodal stations: Forest Hills, Quincy Center, Braintree, Porter Square, Malden, JFK-UMass. In all cases, ridership levels on the subway are at least 30 times as high as on commuter rail. Rapid transit and commuter rail stations are close together at the edge of the Green Line’s D line, a former commuter line; the line’s outer terminus, Riverside, gets 2,192 weekday boardings, while the nearest commuter rail station, Auburndale, gets 301.
Across those systems and several more, such as Chicago’s Metra and Toronto’s GO Transit (no link, it’s private data), the commuter rail stations located within city limits, even ones not directly adjacent to a rapid transit station, usually get little ridership (there are some exceptions, such as Ravenswood on Chicago’s UP-N Line). The suburban stations beyond reasonable urban transit commute range are much busier.
Of course, this is just a North American problem. In Japan, where commuter rail and urban rapid transit are seamlessly integrated, people ride commuter rail even when the subway is an option. Consult this table of ridership by line and station for JR East lines in Tokyo: not only would any investigation of ridership on the main lines (e.g. Tokaido on PDF-page 1, Chuo on PDF-page 8) show that their ridership distribution is much more inner-heavy than in New York and Boston, but also stations with transfers to the subway can have quite a lot of riders. Nakano on the Chuo Line, at the end of Tokyo Metro’s Tozai Line, has 247,934 daily boardings and alightings, comparable to its subway traffic of 133,919 boardings.
Although my various posts about commuter rail industry practices focus partially on operating costs, this is not directly what makes people choose a slower subway over a faster commuter train. Rather, it’s a combination of the following problems:
1. Poor service to microdestinations. Rapid transit gets you anywhere; North American commuter rail gets you to the CBD. For people in Wakefield who are going anywhere but the immediate Grand Central or East 125th Street area, Metro-North is not an option. Station spacing is too wide, which means the choice of destinations even from a station that isn’t closed is more limited, and trains usually make just one CBD stop.
2. Poor transfers to other lines. The transfers usually require paying an extra fare and walking long distances from one set of platforms to another.
3. High fares. In the German-speaking world, and in Paris proper, fares are mode-neutral. It costs the same to ride the RER as the Metro, except for a handful of recent Metro extensions to the suburbs that postdate the RER, such as to La Defense. In Japan, JR East fares are comparable to subway fares, though there are no free transfers. In North America this is usually not the case: it costs much more to ride commuter rail than to ride a parallel subway or light rail line.
4. Low frequency. This is partly a result of low ridership based on the previous factors, partly a tradition that was never reformed, and partly a matter of very high operating costs. With low enough off-peak frequency (Wakefield and Far Rockaway are served hourly midday), commuter rail can achieve cost recovery similar to that of subways, and in some cities even surpass it. People who have no other options will ride hourly trains.
None of those problems is endemic to mainline rail. They’re endemic to North American mainline rail culture, and in some cases to labor practices. It’s all organization – it’s not a problem of either electronics or concrete, which means that the cost to the taxpayers of fixing it, as opposed to the political cost to the manager who tries to change the culture, is low.
The electronics and concrete do matter when it comes to building extensions – and this is where the ARC Alt G vs. Alt P debate comes from, among many others – but even commuter rail systems that do not need such extensions underperform. For example, Toronto does not need a single meter of commuter rail tunnel. Philadelphia, which already got most of the concrete it needs and partially fixed the microdestination problem, gets somewhat more commuter rail ridership in areas where people have alternatives, but frequency on the branches is still pitiful and inner-city stop spacing outside Center City is still too wide, leading to disappointing ridership.
Another way to think about it is that infrastructure should be used for everything, and not segregated into local transit and railroad super-highways that aren’t very accessible to locals. There are eight tracks connecting Manhattan directly with Jamaica, but the four used by the subway are far busier than the four used almost exclusively by suburbanites. Something similar is true of the Metro-North trunk, and some MBTA and Metra lines – the commuter rail infrastructure is redundant with rapid transit and gives very high nominal capacity, but in reality much of it is wasted. In this way, the mainline rapid transit concept including the Paris RER, the Germanic S-Bahn, and the Japanese commuter rail network, far outperforms, because it mixes local and regional traffic, creating service that everyone can use.
Are Forecasts Improving?
In response to my takedown of Reason, specifically my puzzlement at the estimates of inaccuracy in traffic forecasts, alert reader Morten Skou Nicolaisen sent me several papers on the subject. While there is past research about traffic shortfalls, for example this paper by Flyvbjerg (hosted on a site opposing the Honolulu rapid transit project), Flyvbjerg’s references are papers from twenty years ago, describing mostly subway projects in developing countries, but also rapid transit and light rail projects in the US built in the 1970s and 80s. Unlike Flyvbjerg, who posits that planners are lying, the authors of the papers he references have other theories: currency exchange rate swings, the challenges of underground construction, inaccurate forecasts of future economic growth, outdated traffic models based on postwar road traffic models. See section 6 of Walmsley and Pickett, and sections 3.3 and 4.2 of Fouracre, Allport, and Thomson (see also the range of costs for underground construction in developing countries in section 3.3).
The question is then whether things have improved since 1990. Since the first study to point out to cost overruns and ridership shortfalls in the US was by Pickrell, the question is whether post-Pickrell lines have the same problems, or whether there are better outcomes now, called a Pickrell effect.
The answer, as far as ridership is concerned, is very clearly that ridership shortfalls are no longer a major problem. See recent analysis by Hardy, Doh, Yuan, Zhou, and Button; see specifically figure 1. Cost overruns also seem to be in decline and are no longer big, although a multiple regression analysis finds no Pickrell effect for cost, just for ridership.
In particular, there is no comparison between projects from 30 years ago, most of which are underground, and present-day developed-world high-speed and urban rail lines.
Peak Factors and Intercity Trains
In contrast with Reason’s fraud, CARRD’s Elizabeth Alexis makes a more serious criticism of the XpressWest plan: there is a prominent peak in travel from Southern California to Las Vegas on Friday afternoon and Sunday afternoon, and this means that there will be a lot of ancillary costs associated with peaks, such as extra rolling stock with low utilization rates. More ambitiously, she compares it to commuter trains’ peaks, and uses this to argue that commuter rail-style subsidies may be required. The reality is quite different – intercity trains just cost less to run per seat than local trains, and although the Southern California-Las Vegas travel market may have a stronger peak than most, the difference with high-speed services around the world is (at most) one of degree and not kind.
First, let’s look at how much actual peaking there is between Southern California and Las Vegas. XpressWest’s Environmental Impact Statements include an analysis of current travel patterns (as of 2004) and a ridership projection. This is contained in the ridership forecast in appendix F-D. Table 16, on PDF-page 55, claims that present auto traffic on Friday is 2.03 times as high as on other weekdays and 1.48 times as high as on the average day, including both low-use days and the weekend peak. On Sunday, the numbers are 2.53 and 1.84 respectively. The ridership projections assume that the annual-to-Friday ridership ratio will be 236 (the annual-to-weekday ratio on urban transit systems in the US appears to be about 300). Of course, it is unlikely that traffic is evenly distributed on the peak days – most likely it clusters in the afternoon peak.
However, the same is true, if only slightly less prominently, on existing HSR. For some evidence of this, read SNCF’s proposals for HSR in the US, linked on The Transport Politic, which explain that by rotating trains for maintenance during weekdays SNCF can have near-100% availability for the weekend peak. On PDF-page 195 of the California proposal, it says,
To cater to weekend traffic peaks, train maintenance operations are scheduled to take place between midday on Mondays and Thursday evening and at night.
By timing maintenance in this way, approximately 80% of the fleet can be available in the week (between Monday noon and Friday noon) and as much as 98% at weekends.
This does not mean the peak-to-base traffic ratio on the TGV is 98:80. It is normal on local and regional trains to have both more capacity available for the peak and more crowding. On the TGV all passengers must reserve a seat, but SNCF can instead institute peak pricing. For a random example, I tested Paris-Lyon tickets on October 10th (a Wednesday) and the 12th (a Friday). In both cases, frequency is hourly in the morning and early afternoon and half-hourly in the afternoon peak – but the fare was €25-30 on Wednesday versus €60-89 on Friday beginning at 5 pm. And with only two intermediate stops, both quite far from Paris and in very small towns, the LGV Sud-Est is not a good commuter route. Routes with significant high-speed commuter traffic are different: in the off-peak most Paris-Tours trips require a transfer, and there are only two direct TGVs before the afternoon peak, at 7:34 and 1:40 again on 10/10, and two direct low-speed intercity trains; in the afternoon peak, this rises to half-hourly direct TGVs and additional low-speed trains, and the fare on the two most expensive peak TGVs is €59 versus €15-20 in the off-peak.
In contrast, let us now look at the subsidized local services, both in France (for comparability with the TGV) and in the US and Japan (where schedules are easy to obtain). In Japan, we can use Hyperdia to find the peak-to-base ratio; three heavily used lines in the Tokyo area that I specifically checked – Yamanote, Chuo Rapid (to Tachikawa), and Tokaido Main (to Odawara) – have about twice as much inbound frequency in the peak hour, 8-9 am, than in the afternoon and evening off-peaks. In the US, BART, which is similar in function to European commuter trains, runs 24 trains per hour through the Transbay Tube and the central San Francisco subway at the peak, 16 in the midday off-peak, and 6 in the evenings and on weekends. New York’s subway schedules show a peak-to-midday ratio of about 2, with slightly reduced traffic in the evenings and on weekends. Paris runs 30 tph in the peak on the RER A (in the peak direction) and 20 on the RER B, and 18 and 12 respectively in the midday off-peak; this makes for a lower peak-to-base ratio than on the TGV, but does not lead to profitability.
Elizabeth’s problem with running strongly peaked HSR is that it would have a lot of empty trains, and this by itself would require subsidies. This sounds reasonable, but the actual difference between the profitability of intercity and local trains is not seating utilization. Taiwan HSR had 46% seat occupancy in 2009; it made a profit before interest. The Sanyo Shinkansen averages about 35 actual riders per car (compare car- and passenger-km on PDF-page 19); the 16-car sets that run through from the Tokaido Shinkansen average 83 seats per car, and the 8-car sets that run exclusively on Sanyo average 71. I do not know the seating occupancy on Japanese commuter trains, though it likely averages well over 100%, but in New York, subway cars average 28 passengers, a seat occupancy of about two-thirds. For an alternative measure, taking seating capacity into account, New York subway cars average about 1.5 seats per linear meter, versus 1.4 on the Sanyo Shinkansen.
Nor is the issue a difference of fare – PDF-page 18 of the Sanyo factsheet establishes an average fare of about $0.20 per passenger-km – and unlike on the TGV, fares do not vary based on time of day. Just the operating expenses of the New York City Subway are $0.21 per passenger-km. Those on Sanyo are far lower, judging by JR West’s profitability after depreciation and interest. Something else here is going on: intercity trains can control costs better, perhaps because they have less legacy infrastructure and labor to deal with, or perhaps because faster trips mean that the trains and their operators are more productive.
Of course any operator should strive to reduce the peak-to-base ratio, and doing so can result in meaningful gains in productivity. Vancouver’s busiest bus, the 99-B, benefits strongly from a bidirectional peak; it has not eliminated the peak, but by avoiding unidirectionality, at least the reverse-peak buses don’t run empty.
For XpressWest, it means it is strongly favorable to go after the Las Vegas-to-Los Angeles market, which the Victorville terminus ensures the trains will not serve at all due to passengers’ different responses to transfers at the origin and destination end. So far its plan is to just wait for California HSR to open a Palmdale-Los Angeles link; it has Victorville-Palmdale as a second phase, with plans to either run through-trains to Los Angeles and San Francisco or (worse, and unlikely) make people transfer at Palmdale. This is not enough, and although California is committed to building through Palmdale, it may not have enough money for it; the current budget is $15 billion to complete Bakersfield-Palmdale-Sylmar, which requires $9 billion in outside, presumably federal funding.
At the risk of heresy, let me propose that XpressWest build a medium-speed link, above ground, through Cajon Pass. High speeds are not possible anyway because of the grade, so they might as well compromise on other design standards, build curves of radius 1 km (146 km/h with the currently proposed cant and FRA waiver-free cant deficiency, 160 km/h maximum with unambitious European cant and cant deficiency, 200 km/h with tilting trains and high cant) and not 4 km, and keep everything above ground.
The risk of cost escalation is still higher than for building in the I-15 median north of Victorville, because environmental and geological work may sow that a tunnel is needed in any case. But given that XpressWest can make a profit on Victorville-Las Vegas alone, why not spend a few millions on studying Cajon Pass, and if it proves affordable then build to San Bernardino and if not then not? Independently of what California HSR does northwest of Los Angeles, a route to San Bernardino is already enough to make XpressWest independent of traffic congestion, reduce the need for a large parking lot in Victorville, and raise the number of Las Vegas-to-Los Angeles travelers from zero to small. And beyond that, electrifying and double-tracking Los Angeles-San Bernardino and running through-service cannot be done under present FRA regulations, but is feasible given enough waivers and then the project would provide bidirectional service.
Connecting New Jersey to Manhattan, Redux
This post responds to arguments made by Brian in comments regarding how to connect New Jersey regional trains to Manhattan, in addition to the present tunnels to Penn Station; Brian argues for leveraging the Staten Island Railway, including the North Shore Branch, since a Staten Island-Manhattan tunnel should be built anyway.
In my post about the various options for connecting New Jersey to Lower Manhattan, all four alternatives I looked at featured a tunnel across the Hudson from the Hudson County waterfront to Manhattan, differing only in the location of the portals and the route used to get to the New Jersey portal. There are in principle other options, and I’d like to explain why they’re less feasible, and conversely why a connection along the lines I suggested should be one of the top two priority trans-Hudson projects, together with an additional tunnel pair to Penn Station.
First, because Lower Manhattan is the second most important business district in the region, as well as a subway hub, it deserves some connection. More than that, it deserves a connection from as many directions as possible, same as Midtown, and it deserves a connection earlier rather than later. The longer it takes to build a direct commuter rail line to it, the more it will decline in favor of other business districts, which with the exception of Midtown are much harder to serve with transit. It’s likely that if the LIRR, the Pennyslvania, the Lackawanna, the Erie, and the New York Central had all managed to build commuter lines to Lower Manhattan, instead of relying on the subway and the Hudson Tubes for the final connection, Lower Manhattan would not have lost out to Midtown so readily; Midtown would remain more convenient for commuters from Uptown Manhattan, the Bronx, and Queens, but not for commuters from Long Island or New Jersey.
Because of those principles, we get that a connection from the Erie lines to Lower Manhattan is critical. Once we accept that the major New Jersey lines, or groups of lines, need to be connected to both Manhattan job centers, it becomes best to gear the Lower Manhattan connection to the Erie lines, which are the northernmost in New Jersey and therefore wouldn’t intersect a Lower Manhattan connection to another line. The ARC solution of looping trains around Secaucus and connecting them to Penn Station is a fine first step but is inadequate afterward: a Lower Manhattan connection from the Erie lines would intersect the other lines at Secaucus, allowing a transfer, but a connection from any other direction would not allow a transfer from the Erie lines to Lower Manhattan.
On top of this, the cost involved in building such a connection, along any of the four alignments I proposed, is a tunnel across the Hudson, some extra tunneling on the Manhattan or Jersey City side (the farther south the alignment, the more Jersey City and the less Manhattan tunneling is needed), and of course a station in Lower Manhattan. This is quite bare-bones in the sense that any other connection to Lower Manhattan has to incur the same costs of a tunnel across water, and a Manhattan station. Concretely, this means it’s easier to tunnel from Jersey City or Hoboken to Manhattan than from Staten Island to Manhattan, and as such this would be built first, becoming the initial connection from New Jersey to Lower Manhattan.
I waver on whether this should be done before or after four-tracking the North River Tunnels. The tunnels are still extraordinarily busy at rush hour, and even state of the art signaling will only buy a few years before traffic matches the new capacity; moreover, Lower Manhattan-bound commuters can already transfer to PATH at Newark Penn cross-platform or at Hoboken, either of which is more convenient than transferring at Penn Station. On the other hand, people can also get to the southern edge of Midtown on PATH, and direct Lower Manhattan service can justify diverting some Morris and Essex trains from the mainline. It buys at most a few more years of breathing room, but it adds more destinations that can be reached by train, whereas a Midtown solution just adds capacity to an existing destination.
But, now, what of a future Staten Island connection? If a Staten Island-Manhattan tunnel is built, along the straightest alignment, bypassing Brooklyn, then it could provide a second connection from New Jersey to Lower Manhattan. This is the brunt of Brian’s comment: it would require using the bridge from Elizabeth to the North Shore Branch, which is active, and for another access point a new bridge from the mainline to Perth Amboy, but even building the latter bridge costs much less than new tunnels. Here is a map of the alignments.
The problem with using this for through-trains from the Jersey Shore and the Raritan Valley Line, the lines that connect best to Staten Island, is speed. The distance to Grand Central through either Staten Island and Lower Manhattan or the Northeast Corridor and Penn Station is about the same; the distance to Lower Manhattan is several kilometers shorter and one transfer fewer than via Secaucus, but once one connection to Lower Manhattan exists, a secondary connection would have to be justified based on demand to all job centers, of which Midtown is the biggest.
But now the Staten Island connection would have a much lower average speed. It is curvier, independently of all other considerations. The tunnel from Staten Island to Manhattan should also be lower-speed, to reduce the required bore diameter and save money. Since there is no good reason for intercity trains to use this connection – the Perth Amboy connection leads to no intercity line, and the North Shore Branch connection would require building a new junction to the Northeast Corridor, which would be both expensive and curvy – there is no reason to optimize for speed, unlike the case for the Northeast Corridor. So the choice is between one line where express commuter trains could do 160 km/h except maybe in the last few kilometers into Manhattan, and one where they’d do 100 or charitably 130.
On top of that, there are more stations in Staten Island, and also more local demand. Part of it is just bad operating practices in New Jersey – there should be more local stops in Elizabeth – but Staten Island has far more local demand, and so dropping local stops to make it easier to run express trains is less justified. As of 2000, the latest year for which the census data is readily available, Staten Island had 53,000 Manhattan-bound commuters. The relevant intermediate cities on the Northeast Corridor and North Jersey Coast Line – Newark, Elizabeth, Linden, Rahway, Carteret, and Woodbridge – had 10,500 between them. The corresponding numbers of Brooklyn-bound commuters are 29,000 and 1,500, respectively. It makes sense to keep the current stop spacing on the trunk line between Newark and Rahway, or add just one or two stops, but it makes none to not fit a North Shore Branch service with many local stops, which would then slow down longer-distance regional trains.
While the North Shore Branch can’t be widened except with many takings, the Staten Island Railway mainline could conceivably be four-tracked to allow overtakes, and this would make it a more competitive route. But if there is money for that, there is probably money to six-track the remaining four-track gap between Newark Airport and Linden, allowing full separation of local commuter trains, express commuter trains, and intercity trains on the Northeast Corridor except for segments on which the speeds are similar (Newark-New York) or ones where traffic is low enough to fit on existing tracks (south of Rahway).
The problem is really that the North Jersey Coast Line doesn’t have enough traffic to justify two highly separated branches, one through Staten Island and one through the Northeast Corridor. The split I proposed in my regional rail posts is much smaller – trains are only split east of Penn Station, after they begin overlapping with the Morris and Essex Lines, and so it’s possible to time transfers in such a way that people from Long Branch can board any train and be at their destination with just one additional easy transfer. At most this may justify a few peak hour runs; otherwise, even if the Tottenville-Perth Amboy bridge is built, timed transfers at Perth Amboy are almost as good and avoid reducing frequency on each branch too much.