Christopher Mele - The Materiality of Urban Discourse - Rational Planning in The Restructuring of The Early 20th Century Ghetto
Christopher Mele - The Materiality of Urban Discourse - Rational Planning in The Restructuring of The Early 20th Century Ghetto
Christopher Mele - The Materiality of Urban Discourse - Rational Planning in The Restructuring of The Early 20th Century Ghetto
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The Materiality of Urban Discourse: Rational Planning in the Restructuring of the Early
Twentieth-Century Ghetto
Christopher Mele
Urban Affairs Review 2000; 35; 628
DOI: 10.1177/10780870022184570
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THE MATERIALITY
OF URBAN DISCOURSE
Rational Planning in the
Restructuring of the Early
Twentieth-Century Ghetto
CHRISTOPHER MELE
University of Buffalo
The author uses poststructuralist advances in discourse analysis to examine the ways the circula-
tion of symbolic representations and characterizations of the city are useful to understanding
urban restructuring. He defines the relationship between discourses about the city and the mate-
rial or spatial practices that transform the built environment, and then he examines how stake-
holders translate, adapt, and employ discourse about the inner city to facilitate changes in its
social and physical environment. The employment of urban discourses serves to define
urban restructuring as normal and beneficial, to legitimize the process of urban restructuring—
especially its accompanying social costs—and to facilitate a new place identity.
In the decade since its publication, urbanists have begun to address the pro-
cesses in which rhetoric, images, symbols, and representations that cohere as
AUTHOR’S NOTE: An earlier version of this article was presented at the Comparative Histori-
cal Symposium on Imagining Spaces, University of Buffalo, 9 April 1999. I thank Cindy Cooper,
Dennis Judd, and the anonymous reviewers for their suggestions on revisions and the Baldy Cen-
ter for Law and Social Policy for funding the research for this project.
URBAN AFFAIRS REVIEW, Vol. 35, No. 5, May 2000 628-648
© 2000 Sage Publications, Inc.
628
urban form and spatial practices. In its earliest formulations of urban spatial
processes, human ecology posed cultural sentiments and symbolic attach-
ments to place on par with economic competition (Park, Burgess, and
McKenzie 1925). The equivalent importance accorded to cultural and eco-
nomic factors was short-lived, however, as human ecology turned almost
exclusively to the analysis of competition over the resource of urban land.
The subsequent neglect of “nonrational factors,” including sentiments, iden-
tities, and shared meanings that characterize or represent place, figured in the
earliest critiques of human ecology’s economism (Alihan 1938). In the
mid-1940s, Walter Firey (1945, 1947) sought to rescue cultural factors from
the ecologists’ disregard. Drawing on empirical work in Boston, Firey
claimed that the “symbolic-sentiment relationship” in which social groups
formed longstanding allegiances to place exerted influence on “locational
processes that seem to defy a strictly economic analysis” (Firey 1945, 141).
Decades later, Gerald Suttles (1984) further elevated the significance of cul-
tural representations of place to ecological theory. Although commending
Firey for the consideration of symbolic variables, Suttles criticized the view
of culture as a residual category that was brought in to resolve exceptional
cases in which economic factors alone could not explain outcomes in land
use. “Amenities, aesthetics, social character and services” contribute to the
characterization of place, which, in turn, influences land-use decisions
(p. 287). Suttles appealed to human ecology’s origins in which cultural forms
were integral, rather than residual, to locational processes. Its analytical
power upgraded, the concept nonetheless remained imprisoned within a
human ecology framework that ontologically separates images, rhetoric, and
symbols from the more empirically verifiable market factors of land rents,
housing demand, and property values.
Poststructuralism and the “new urban sociology” (Gottdiener and Feagin
1988) approach the significance of cultural symbols, signs, and images to
urban spatial processes from a vastly different angle. Discourses and sym-
bolic representations, which frame collective meanings and attachments to
place, cannot be divorced from sociospatial practices but exist in relationship
with them (Foucault 1972). That said, rather than assume a crude functional-
ist coherence between cultural representations of the city and political eco-
nomic restructuring processes, the relationship between the symbolic and the
material must be problematized as a point of analysis (see Lofland 1991;
Bridger 1996; Mele 2000). First, the authorship or construction of place rep-
resentations must be recognized as complex and transitional. In earlier for-
mulations (Firey 1945; Strauss 1961), characterizations of place emerged
from within place over time and partly through consensus. They are said to
represent accurately a locale’s dominant features. More recent work has
problematized place images, symbols, and discourses about (rather than of)
the city, focusing on the integral role of the media, the state, and developers in
their production and subsequent manipulation (Gottdiener 1997; Zukin
1995). As such, the characterization of place reflects dynamics of power rela-
tions rather than an exclusively pluralist concurrence among locals. Second,
through their repeated expression and circulation within society, character-
izations of place form dominant themes that emerge from mutual references
and citations across sources (Hall 1997, 232; see Foucault 1972). These sets
of interpretive cues together form state-sanctioned knowledges, reputations,
parables, and popular legends that impart significance to certain kinds of
typifications of place over others. Finally, place representations are not tem-
porally fixed but shift in relation to transformations in dominant ideologies as
they pertain to the city.
Given these considerations, place representations have particular rele-
vance to political and economic processes of urban restructuring. Character-
izations classify and essentialize place, presenting it in symbolic forms legi-
ble to the visitor, the potential resident, the curious voyeur, or, in short, the
interested public. Widely circulated images, rhetoric, and symbols together
do not exist simply as descriptions but also as ready explanations of existing
social, economic, and political conditions and the potential for radical
changes in them. Prevailing images, rhetoric, and symbols culturally define
the parameters of the desirable and undesirable, the feasible and impossible,
and the legitimate and illegitimate as they pertain to a locale’s present cir-
cumstances and future possibilities. Although these characterizations are by
no means fixed or uncontested, they influence public disposition toward pre-
scriptive and proscriptive actions and policies that seek to remedy, improve,
or neglect an urban area’s existing social problems and overall condition.
Through historical analysis, it is possible to demonstrate the ways real
estate actors, state institutions, and community stakeholders engage prevail-
ing place characterizations in the selection and implementation of urban
restructuring practices (see Mele 2000). It is wrong to impute causality for
the forms of political economic restructuring, such as capital investment or
disinvestment in the built environment, directly from observations of domi-
nant discourses about urban places. It is possible, however, to examine how
stakeholders, driven by their own interests in neighborhood change, trans-
late, adapt, and employ prevailing symbols, images, and rhetoric about the
city to facilitate restructuring practices that portend dramatic changes in the
social and physical environment. In particular, the deployment of popular,
scientific, and state-sanctioned characterizations serves three related pur-
poses for the restructuring efforts of the real estate sector and state actors and
potential resistance by residents.
danger that exist within public discourse about “the ghetto.” In episodes of
renewal, the reinvention of place as alluring becomes essential to attract
higher forms of consumption and valorize property. Preferred place identi-
ties are constructed through embracing or rejecting elements of the neighbor-
hood’s past and present. Ideal neighborhood identities introduce and incul-
cate the real possibility of “neighborhood comeback” or “renaissance” to
targeted consumers (Gold and Ward 1994; Philo and Kearns 1993; Wright
and Hutchison 1997). Likewise, the persistent attachment to existing place
identities among residents may frustrate efforts to develop a desirable, mid-
dle-class image. A discursive onslaught that characterizes a locale’s present
circumstances as problematic and poses an alternative, “improved” future
encodes the commonplace activities of existing and maligned residents with
political meaning. The everyday cultural practices of locals become subver-
sive with potential symbolic and material consequences.
In the remainder of this article, I present a case study of the relationship
between discourses of social reform and rational planning and efforts to rede-
velop the immigrant working-class ghetto on the Lower East Side of New
1
York in the 1920s-1930s. These decades, sandwiched as they are between
the earlier immigrant epoch and the later state-interventionist New Deal era,
are characterized by their experimentation in ways of containing and solving
problems associated with the ghetto. Throughout the second half of the nine-
teenth century and in the initial decades of the twentieth century, cheaply
built tenements housed hundreds of thousands of immigrant newcomers, pro-
viding a somewhat lucrative economy for Lower East Side real estate specu-
lators and landlords. In the 1920s, locational shifts in manufacturing and the
rise of corporate services in Manhattan brought into question a sustainable
working-class housing market, highlighting its worst elements and, in effect,
demanding a resolution to the increasingly conspicuous differences between
the Lower East Side and the more modernizing sections of Manhattan.
The passage of the Immigration Act of 1924 further hampered the working-
class immigrant housing economy. When the number of new immigrants was
reduced substantially, the most glaring elements of the ghetto—the rapid rise
and fall of teeming ethnic and religious enclaves and the tenement system—
were laid bare. Density levels on the Lower East Side declined from 867 per-
sons per acre in 1910 to 536 in 1925 (Grebler 1952, 49). In 1928, the vacancy
rate for east-side tenements was estimated at 14%, and by 1930 it increased to
20% (Wasserman 1994, 100). Between 1910 and 1940, the area experienced
a 60% decline in population. As modern and more commodious garden
apartments appeared in newer neighborhoods in the city, tenements proved
glaring liabilities to their owners. In addition, the Lower East Side’s reputa-
tion among middle- and upper-class New Yorkers remained fixed on its
Since the early nineteenth century, the working-class spaces in the United
States have been characterized repeatedly as spaces of disorder, pathology,
and chaos and, simultaneously, as spaces of possibility, progressive transfor-
mation, and promise. Although this dual framework has remained remark-
ably constant throughout two centuries, both the content and social implica-
tions of discourses about the ghetto have changed. Characterizations of the
ghetto are time-bound conventions that consist of an array of images, symbols,
and rhetoric that cut across moral, cultural, aesthetic, and linguistic dimen-
sions. The pathology of the ghetto in the early twentieth century, for example,
was defined in relation to its architecture, the cultural habits of its residents,
and the leisure activities of working-class men, women, and children. The
promise of a future, improved postghetto conjured up idealized images of
orderliness, tidy households composed exclusively of related individuals,
and aesthetically pleasing parkways and streetscapes. The 1920s-1930s
movement to modernize the urban ghetto through its elimination and whole-
sale private redevelopment emerged from various and disparate sources,
including nineteenth-century social reformism and turn-of-the-century uto-
pianism and the new discipline of scientific and rational planning. In the sec-
tion that follows, those features of reformism, utopianism, and rational plan-
ning that constituted modernization discourse of ghetto improvement in the
1920s-1930s are examined. As will be seen, the social reform axiom that
urban social problems required spatial solutions remained resonant in newer
proposals to improve the ghetto. Yet the subject of nineteenth-century
reformism—the immigrant resident—is largely absent from these plans and
is replaced in both utopianism and rational planning by a focus on the neigh-
borhood unit. This shift in the focal subject of improvement discourse, I
argue, has significant implications for how urban development was to pro-
ceed on the Lower East Side.
Nineteenth-century social reform was fraught with inherently contradic-
tory ideologies and practices. Various progressives and social reformers
explicitly linked the problems of the immigrant ghetto to structural factors
such as the exploitative housing market, graft and corrupt political adminis-
tration, the exploitation of women and children in the labor market, and the
absence of educational and social programs (Hofstadter 1963, 2). Yet, the
link was tentative at best as explanations of social problems and solutions to
them rarely focused primarily on their structural causes. Reflective of an
underlying uneasiness with an expanding working class, social problems
within the ghetto were conceived and pronounced as lapses in individual and
community morals.
Reformers and reformist commissions often (mis)read local immigrant
practices, ranging from loitering in candy stores (Schoener 1967, 58) to dif-
ferent sexes sharing the same tenement room, as evidence of rampant devi-
ance. Reformers showed respect at times for the autonomy of immigrant cul-
tures they sought to uplift, and they also uniformly called for the ghetto’s
eventual dissolution through improvements to the built environment.
Housing reformers were critical of the practices of the real estate industry
that produced the tenement, yet they hardly contested the underlying logic or
the “right” of real estate entrepreneurs to profit in the housing market.
Instead, calls for improvements in the ghetto-built environment were articu-
lated as health and moral necessities: Ventilation would advance hygiene,
increases in the number of rooms would prevent prostitution and incest, and
an upgrading of cleanliness and comfort would deter drunkenness (Veiller
[1903] 1970, 90). The reformists’ obsession and meticulous detailing of
urban social problems and the immigrant lifestyle elevated awareness of the
plight of the ghetto poor among the general public and politicians alike. Jacob
Riis’s ([1890] 1971) How the Other Half Lives and similar accounts exposed
the harsh treatment in garment sweatshops and the reprehensible conditions
of the tenement apartments. Throughout the close of the nineteenth century,
reformers continued to campaign for better working-class living standards
and were successful in the passage of legislation that improved housing for
the immigrant working class. Reformers’ consistently posed spatial solu-
tions to the social problems of disorder, immorality, and chaos, and their
interventionist intentions rarely shifted away from core (albeit often contra-
dictory) concerns of restraining, uplifting, and transforming the immigrant.
The focus on the immigrant subject faded with the transition from social
reform to rational planning. As a result of successes in housing legislation
and increasing public interest in the future of the urban ghetto, the reform
movement itself was transformed with the advent of the twentieth century. As
Christine Boyer (1983, 60) has argued, nineteenth-century social reformers’
meticulous (if misrepresented) attention to the details of ghetto living and
their success in fostering the passage of housing and other forms of legisla-
tion helped bring about “the beginning of the idea that the American city
might be disciplined by the progressive development of human knowledge,
state regulatory mechanisms, and public welfare provisions.” In addition, a
professionalization of the study of the city was well under way at the close of
the nineteenth century. The passage of civil service laws led to a bureaucrati-
zation of the administration of services (Abu-Lughod 1999, 89). Career civil
engineers, architects, and social workers were appointed to newly founded
commissions and offices formed to scrutinize and improve transportation,
housing, health, and other services. The battle against urban vice was sub-
jected to a science of social problems, moving it away from the exclusive
domain of moral reformers. Reform investigative committees, such as the
Committee of Fifteen, were charged with the gathering of “hard” evidence of
vice, including the production of affidavits, estimates of the numbers of pros-
titutes and clients, and the exact geography of prostitution and gambling
(Wagner 1971, chap. 7). A conviction in the capacity to control the urban
environment led to new and often extravagantly utopian ways of thinking
about the city and its future. New York City’s rapid residential and commer-
cial expansion into the outer boroughs opened opportunities for planners and
architects to apply principles of efficiency and rationality to architectural
experimentation (see Plunz 1990).
captains of industry, and often social reformers who rarely acknowledged the
potential social costs of private solutions.
Lasker 1931). In the late 1920s, the target for new east-side tenants was the
former Lower East Siders who had entered the ranks of the middle classes.
Planners and real estate developers soon broadened the scope of potential
renters of upscale Lower East Side housing, however, to include all
white-collar workers employed in lower Manhattan. “Are not these the logi-
cal future residents of the East Side—these thousands of middle-class folk
who daily take a journey of ten to twenty-five miles in crowded subways?”
(Lasker 1931, 587).
Although the RPA, other organizations, and planners investigated the fea-
sibility of the futurist automotive-based community design for the Lower
East Side (Perry 1936), other groups of property owners, landlords, and
developers were readapting the neighborhood’s past walk-to-work appeal for
the modern era. Fred F. French, who had successfully employed the
walk-to-work residential concept in the development of Tudor City in the
midtown Manhattan office district, proposed a similar venture for the Lower
East Side. Approximately 14.5 acres of property were amassed to erect a pro-
posed $150 million Knickerbocker Village to house 30,000 middle-class ten-
ants (Wasserman 1994, 107). Although Depression-era economics forced
French to downsize, Knickerbocker Village was built, and it attracted lower-
middle- and middle-class white-collar workers from across the New York
region. Two mid-scale high rises, Ageloff Towers on Avenue A and 3rd Street
and Stuyvesant Apartments on Second Avenue and 10th Street, were con-
structed in the late 1920s. Although neither project was on the scale of what
ardent supporters of neighborhood modernization had in mind, both were sit-
uated on multiple lots and incorporated up-to-date apartment layouts. Rent
levels for Ageloff and Stuyvesant apartments were higher than those for sur-
rounding cold-water flats. In contrast to the surrounding tenements, clerks,
professionals, and other white-collar workers filled the buildings. Ageloff
and Stuyvesant, both privately developed, were but two examples of what
planners and developers had envisioned as a residential neighborhood for
office workers employed in the new skyscrapers of the Wall Street area, just
south of the district.
Rational planning discourse provided a restructuring template of a
hypermodern, futuristic Lower East Side that was well suited for large devel-
opers, speculators, and property associations. The template did not provide
for other, less grandiose forms of restructuring the built environment that
many individual landlords and small property associations viewed as feasi-
ble. Many landlords continued to operate tenements for low-income resi-
dents at a loss (save for a brief periods of demand brought about by short-term
housing shortages), others abandoned structures permanently (leading to
foreclosure and possibly demolition) or temporarily (e.g., board them up), or
Both rehabilitation and small block development fail completely to achieve the
full advantages to be derived from a program operated by a public housing
agency, with the power of eminent domain and large sums of money to spend.
They are predicated on the old method of building a city, and they fail to recog-
nize the stupidity of the past, the needs of the future, or the possibilities of exist-
ing opportunities. (Post 1938, 233-34)
As has been seen, certain elements of the real estate sector appealed to
rational planning edicts as the most plausible and profitable route to Lower
East Side development. Such appeals were an effort to solidify a uniform
restructuring agenda among developers and property owners and to rein in
nonconforming practices, such as tenement rehabilitation. In this case, the
deployment of discourse to facilitate massive redevelopment hardly trans-
lated into corresponding spatial practices. Striking variations in property
ownership meant that assembling the requisite number of parcels for
large-scale middle-class housing complexes was very difficult to orchestrate.
As evidenced by their diverse investment actions, most landlords remained
unconvinced of the possibility of a futurist, rationally planned Lower East
Side. Whereas property owners differed in their assessments of the future,
they demonstrated greater consensus in ridding the neighborhood of its past
and present image as a working-class immigrant ghetto. Demographic
changes after 1925 made the Lower East Side less a place for newly arrived
immigrants. Nonetheless, the Lower East Side retained its popular reputation
as an Old World neighborhood and the cultural urban center for numerous
ethnic and religious cohorts whose members no longer resided there. This
reputation was sustained by nostalgic attachment among locals and tourists
and strongly contested by redevelopment forces. The neighborhood’s immi-
grant identity also formed a countervailing discourse maintained by residents
resistant to neighborhood change.
Hordes of former residents, visitors, and tourists who frequented the
Lower East Side to observe religious practices, engage in rituals of remem-
brance, and buy ethnic goods and commodities perpetuated the neighbor-
hood’s image as an immigrant quarter (Wasserman 1990, 1994). Immigrant
institutions continued to operate and serve both locals and those who had
exited the neighborhood and wished to immerse themselves in a diverse cul-
tural environment. Although their readership was geographically dispersed,
Yiddish newspapers, for example, maintained their offices along East Broad-
way. Shoppers from throughout the city continued to frequent specialty
stores along Orchard Street, produce markets on Essex Street, and delicates-
sens on Second Avenue. After a day of shopping, eating, and remembering,
“spectators” left behind the tenements and cluttered streets and returned to
the relative comfort of their newer uptown homes. These pilgrimages rein-
forced attachments to memories of place, elevated the neighborhood’s sym-
bolic significance, and reinforced its ethnic, Old World character and reputa-
tion among the larger public. Indeed, the weekend onslaught of nostalgia
seekers and religious worshipers gave the feel of a vibrant neighborhood and
disguised the anemic residential housing market.
Nostalgia did little to profit the owners of tenements or to entice invest-
ment in local real estate from developers and financial institutions. The
neighborhood’s Old World image also made the prospect of attracting a sig-
nificant cohort of middle-class residents more difficult. The neighborhood’s
prevailing image—frozen as it was in an earlier time—was increasingly
unsubstantiated by the social and economic realities of a changing
Manhattan. Despite different paths taken to recapture the profitability of the
local housing economy, landlords, developers, lending institutions, and plan-
ners alike concurred that the area’s working-class presence, both materially
and symbolically, was a significant obstacle to renewal. The absence of con-
sideration of the housing concerns of immigrant working classes in rational
planning discourse proved invaluable to the real estate sector’s efforts at
displacement. Rational planning’s preoccupation with the urban future—
specifically, a modern, efficient city devoid of any traces of congestion and
disorder that characterized the working class present—provided an aperture
for speaking about or on behalf of existing residents. Absent the traditional
reformist concern with the improvement of the ghetto populace, these char-
acterizations were uniformly unflattering and dismissive. Portrayals of resi-
dents as adversaries to progress and modernity provided the basis of legiti-
mation for spatial practices such as residential displacement and
exclusionary zoning.
In their self-proclaimed roles as caretakers of the neighborhood’s future,
real estate organizations, slum committees, chambers of commerce, and
business elites began to concoct sharp distinctions between the Lower East
Side of the past (of the heroic, struggling immigrant) and the present (the
failed, undeserving ghetto dweller). Drawing on assimilationist rhetoric, a
narrative based on the contrast between previous residents (normal, success-
ful) and current ones (dysfunctional, unsuccessful) began to appear adjacent
to calls for middle-class residential development. The former immigrant resi-
dents, once chided for their base and uncivil ways, were now rehabilitated
and ennobled by virtue of their exodus from the Lower East Side. The depar-
ture of older immigrant groups from the impoverished ghetto signaled irre-
futable evidence of social mobility and success. Consequently, current resi-
dents who clung to arcane immigrant lifestyles constituted failures of
assimilation. By the late 1920s and early 1930s, those left behind were char-
acterized as the “marooned” and “the queer, the unadjusted, the radical, the
bohemian, and the criminal”—“the slum is the neighborhood of lost souls”
(Gries and Ford 1931, 31-32).
and their affiliated organizations turned out to protest the rezoning of a sig-
nificant portion of the Lower East Side. The East Side Tenants Union, local
settlement houses, the Lower East Side Public Housing Conference, and the
American Labor Party challenged proposed changes that ostensibly
excluded working-class housing and other land uses. Those who remained in
the tenements continued to demand decent housing conditions and combat
efforts that would further stigmatize and eventually displace the work-
ing-class community. As landowners and planners sought to redevelop,
rent strikes, an honored tradition on the east side, remained frequent
(Schwartz 1986). In the 1930s, as the Depression took hold on the city’s
economy, rent strikes were prevalent not only on the Lower East Side but
across the city (Naison 1986, 96).
CONCLUSION
“first-ring” suburbs. The sweeping aside of the old built environment and
remaining residents (characterized as failures of assimilation) would, it was
hoped, erase the neighborhood’s outstanding symbolic association with pov-
erty and ethnicity. The onset of the Great Depression, however, not only
placed nearly all urban development plans on hold, it also ushered in a period
of intensive and often contradictory state intervention in which the local and
national governments embarked on the construction of publicly subsidized
middle-class developments and low-income housing. As urban joblessness
increased and city coffers dwindled during the Depression, a futurist dis-
course premised on massive rebuilding was difficult to sustain. In short, the
utopian vision of the city as codified in rational planning discourse and pro-
mulgated in the restructuring efforts of Lower East Side planners, real estate
organizations, and large developers failed.
The failure of a comprehensive implementation of rational planning on
the Lower East Side suggests the importance of an empirical examination of
the relationship between prevailing discourses and place representations and
neighborhood restructuring efforts. Discourses about the city are fluid, not
fixed. As social conventions that cohere temporally and express dimensions
of power, they are subjected to competing discourses such as the countervail-
ing claims of residents. Hence, place representations prove instrumental to
urban restructuring insofar as one is able to document the ways in which dif-
ferent stakeholders employ such discourses. Such an approach specifies both
the possibilities and limitations for cultural forms to influence urban spatial
practices, moving one beyond a simple cultural framing of a political econ-
omy of neighborhood change.
NOTE
1. According to Ward (1989, 95), the term slum was used to describe areas within cities that
housed minorities whose assimilation into the mainstream of American life was
likely to be more difficult than that of earlier immigrants from northwestern Eu-
rope. . . . The initial American use of the term “ghetto” was associated with the settle-
ment of Eastern European Jews in northeastern cities towards the turn of the century.
Hence, ghetto is used to describe the Lower East Side during the 1920s and 1930s.
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