Without really meaning to, the folks at the Irish Museum and Cultural Center are about to redefine Kansas City.

No, we're not talking shamrocks on the Board of Trade or Guinness in the fountains. It's bigger than that and less frightening. By setting up shop on the banks of Brush Creek, a mile east of Troost, the Museum is pioneering the eastern stretch of a beguiling new linear landscape.

Within five years, at least one urban architect believes this stretch will emerge as "the most aesthetically pleasing and culturally rich swath of real estate, not just in the United States but in the world." And he has a plan to accomplish it.

At this stage, given his organization's lack of authority to execute the plan, the architect in question chooses to remain anonymous. Given my own interest, he has elected to share its outline on these pages to begin building support.

He and his allies call their vision "The Brush Creek CultureScape" or among themselves, "The Scape." A man of some refinement, he bristles at the words "zone" or a "corridor." He envisions instead a seamless mesh of nature and urbanity like the world has never seen, stretching ultimately from the Shawnee Mission Museum in Fairway to the Blue River, gracefully erasing state lines and racial barriers along the way. Yes, he insists, a "scape."

CultureScape is more than just talk. Kansas City Parks officials have already approved an ambitious plan to jazz up Brush Creek from the state line to the Blue River. This includes ponds in the median of Ward Parkway on the western end and water gardens and festival grounds, plus, of course, the Irish Museum, on the eastern. Creek-side walkways would run the entire length of Brush Creek as they do now through the Plaza.

"That's the steak," the architect says of the physical improvements. "What we're proposing is the proverbial sizzle." A faithful reader of Ingram's, he has followed with some frustration the ongoing debate in our various forums about the positioning of Kansas City, about "connectivity," about bi-state cooperation, and, most painfully, about the very redemption of the city's national stature. "Civic leaders," he observes, "are overlooking the obvious."

Apologizing in advance for his colloquialism, he adds, "The answer ain't River-Crown-Plaza, whatever that means." To him, the obvious is the Brush Creek CultureScape.

Not being a native of these parts, the architect may have a keener appreciation of both the existing aesthetics of Brush Creek and of the culture surrounding it. As he observes, people will drive an hour or two for a good bookstore, an independent movie house, a first class museum, and live theater. Defining the CultureScape as any area within a safe, easy walk of Brush Creek, he declares "The Scape has them all."

The architect cites things that we might not think of like the Barnes and Noble on the Plaza, "the grandest book store west of New York." He mentions Bloomsday in Crestwood and Rainy Day Books in Fairway. Of the latter, he says, "Through their author visits, they generate more culture than any other organization in KC." I asked him if Hillary Clinton's upcoming visit to plug her book Living History constitutes culture. "It's fiction, isn't it," he jibes a bit cattily. "That counts." More seriously, he observes that anyone who draws a 1,000 people to a cultural event "on the Scape" contributes to the overall ambiance.

In his mind, "culture" includes the new Cinemark Theaters on the Plaza, "the best mainstream movie house in the Midwest" and the Tivoli in Westport. "How many cities have a triplex art theater?" As to museums, there is of course the Nelson, "peerless when complete," the "stunning" Kemper, and his sneaky favorite, the Toy and Miniature Museum on the UMKC campus. "Has anyone seen this place," he gushes. "There should be tour busses stopping here." He enthuses about the Unicorn Theater in Westport, Shakespeare in the Park, and the Midwest Repertory Theater, also on the UMKC campus.

And then of course there are the campuses: UMKC, Rockhurst, the Art Institute and all their attractions. There are Stowers, MRI and Saint Luke's. 'The Life Sciences, dear, this is where it's all happening." And how to overlook the sheer "creek-side grace" of the Kauffman Foundation, the Kauffman Gardens, and the Conservation Department's Leaning Center. "It's a waste of money," says the architect about the Learning Center, "but it is passably pleasing to the eye."

The challenge now, he argues, is to package the CultureScape and sell it as one entity. The trick here is simplicity. He envisions two kinds of tickets: a one day pass for, say, $20; and a one year pass for, say, $1,000. A pass would yield free admission to every venue on the CultureScape--movies, theaters, museums, concerts, speakers, boat rides, jitney-like "Scapemobiles"--and a standard 10% discount at every participating merchant.

At a minimum, he expects all hotels, restaurants, and bookstores to participate in the discount program. High tech scanners will register each admission, and CultureScape will reimburse the venues their share of receipts. The merchants pick up the discounts and pay to advertise as well. Interactive kiosks along the Creek will post the daily schedules in a compressed fashion and announce other useful information. "Civic leaders are too quick to tax," the architect argues. "This thing will finance itself."

As a unifying first step the architect would like to take the utterly baffling, five-mile, five-name stretch along the creek--Shawnee Mission, Ward, Volker, Swope, Blue--and rename it the "ScapeWay." Then he hopes to invite in an environmental artist like Cristo to "reinvent" it in some memorable but functional way.

Given the many and competing organizations involved in plotting Brush Creek's future, his just being one, he understands that CultureScape will need a small, powerful working board--"Kempers, Halls, that sort of thing"-- to pull it all together.

He also wants Emanuel Cleaver on the board. 'This whole thing is due to his foresight," he claims. 'Plus," he says, "only Cleaver can pull the plug on the moribund jazz-baseball thing and bring it to the Scape where it can find a heartbeat." In time, too, he would like the city to build its next convention center where the old ice house stands now, between Troost and Paseo along Brush Creek.

There is no denying the man his vision. "Let Indianapolis keep the NCAA,' he says. "We'll keep the Nelson. San Antonio has taco stands along its river. We have the Plaza." He adds emphatically, "The CultureScape will be the number one urban attraction between New York and San Francisco." And he means it.

As to the city's other attractions, these, he believes, need to package themselves. Were it within his bailiwick, he would design "a Missouri Trace" running from the River and intersecting with the CultureScape at Mill Creek Park. The Trace would likely have bluish identifiers, distinct from the earthy sage tones planned for the Scape, but complementary.

"Partnering maybe, but not tam- pering," says the architect. "One cannot violate the integrity of the Scape.

Jack Cashill is Ingram's Executive Editor and has affiliated with the magazine for 25 years. He can be reached at jcashill@yahoo.com. The views expressed in this column are the writer's own and do not necessarily reflect those of Ingram's.