In parks, as in fashion, New York led the way. In July of 1853, when the state set aside 778 acres in the middle of Manhattan Island to be used as "a public place," no American city had ever claimed so much private land for public use. The act forever altered Manhattan's developing grid of streets, and left the beloved Central Park as its legacy.

A century and a half later, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on the park's eastern border, is presenting "Central Park: A Sesquicentennial Celebration," an exhibition about its design and construction. Museum visitors can compare the park they see outside with the one imagined on the walls.

A great urban park should "inspire the imagination to experience the city differently and cause us to think differently about who we are," says Theodore Landsmark, president of the Boston Architectural Center. This summer, New York City's commemoration of Central Park's 150th anniversary will give visitors an opportunity to reflect not only on the history of the park, but also on the reason this visionary space continues to draw visitors and inspire the development of urban parks nationwide.

Central Park's designers, Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux, originally conceived of it as an idyllic refuge from the harshness of city life. Twenty years in the building, it reshaped a rocky, swampy area into a nearly unbroken landscape of lawns and wooded areas.

But by the 1960s and '70s, overuse and the rededication of park space to sports facilities, huge concerts, and political rallies all took their toll. The park was, in effect, a victim of its own success. Then, in the 1980s, a private/public partnership called the Central Park Conservancy began raising funds for its restoration. Three hundred million dollars and 23 years later, the group has revitalized the space as a haven for wildlife and tired city dwellers alike.

Over the years, the successful park has had many imitators. In Brooklyn, Chicago, and Buffalo it inspired movements for urban parkland. Boston even hired Mr. Olmsted to work on a six-mile string of parks and parkways known as the Emerald Necklace.

Today, as many urban spaces are being converted to parkland, the question of what city dwellers want from parks remains vital. In Boston, a proposed Rose Kennedy Greenway - 27 acres of land above a newly built tunnel and under an elevated central artery - has the city divided over how best to develop the long sliver of land.

Some say that Olmsted's original vision - rooted in the Romantic belief that nature would provide mental and spiritual refreshment - should remain the guiding principle. Simone Auster, president of the city's Emerald Necklace Conservancy, envisions a "green ring around the city," connecting the Greenway to the nine parks in the Emerald Necklace.

Others believe the Greenway should reflect 21st-century ideas and needs. Urban designer David Dixon, president of the Boston Society of Architects, argues that the Greenway must offer visitors other enticements, such as computerized fountains, skating rinks, and performances at night. "Passive entertainment no longer works in our culture. We need to offer reasons for people to choose to come into a public park."

Other debates center around funding. Some proposals for the Greenway, such as the Massachusetts Horticultural Society's "Garden Under Glass," would depend on raising private dollars. Though proponents defend using private funds for park revitalization, citing the Central Park Conservancy, a public/private partnership, as an effective model, critics suggest that such joint ventures undercut the democratic spirit of public parks and the system of paying for public works out of taxes.

"We have a very diminished concept of the public realm today," says Columbia University history professor Elizabeth Blackmar, coauthor of "The Park and the People." "We really don't know if the Central Park model will work for other parks."

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