CITY OF AMBITION FDR, LA GUARDIA, AND THE MAKING OF MODERN NEW YORK MASON B. WILLIAMS Dedication For Alexis Epigraph In another few years, New York will have eight million people. It will do more than one-sixth of the business of all of the United States. As war tears the vitals out of the great cities of Asia and Europe, the countries of the world must look to New York as the center of progress, international culture, and advance. Maybe this ought not to be so; maybe the country ought to be centralized. But I know that is not happening. You will see that New York has collectivized great masses of its enterprise. I am not arguing whether this is good or bad. I am merely pointing out that it must be so: eight million people crowded together do this automatically. . . . New York’s relations with Washington will be even closer than New York’s relations with Albany. I don’t know whether this will be a good or a bad [thing]; but I know that it will be so. —Adolf A. Berle, Jr., 1937 These men certainly had tremendous advantages, one working with the other to accomplish similar purposes. —Reuben Lazarus, 1949 CONTENTS Cover Title Page Dedication Epigraph Introduction PART I: FOUNDATIONS 1 Beginnings 2 A Season in the Wilderness 3 The Deluge PART II: THE NEW DEAL 4 “Jobs Is the Cry” 5 The New Deal’s “Lost Legacy” 6 From Fusion to Confusion 7 New Dealer for the Duration PART III: WAR AND POSTWAR 8 The Local Politics of Foreign Policy 9 The Battle of New York 10 “I Hope Others Will Follow New York’s Example” Epilogue Acknowledgments Notes Photo Credits Index Illustrations Praise for City of Ambition Copyright INTRODUCTION T oday, many New Yorkers take the FDR to get to La Guardia. If their journeys originate in Manhattan north of 42nd Street, they may pass beneath Carl Schurz Park en route to the Triborough Bridge, which will carry them over the sites of the old Randall’s Island Stadium and the Astoria Pool before depositing them on Long Island. If they leave from south of 42nd Street, they may cross under the East River by way of the Queens-Midtown Tunnel, entering the borough of Queens not far south of the Queensbridge Houses and passing within a few blocks of William Cullen Bryant High School. These and many similar structures are physical remnants of a time when the federal government under Franklin Roosevelt met the greatest domestic crisis of the twentieth century by putting unemployed men and women to work on public projects largely designed and carried out by local governments. In New York City, Roosevelt’s partner was Mayor Fiorello La Guardia. Other monuments from this time remain lynchpins of the city’s infrastructure: the Lincoln Tunnel, Henry Hudson Drive, the Belt Parkway. Countless more, stretching from Orchard Beach in the Bronx to the Franklin D. Roosevelt boardwalk on Staten Island’s south shore, have become part of the landscape within which life is lived in New York. In a city whose favorite amusements have long included putting up and pulling down, these projects have endured. And yet if the physical legacy of the New Deal still pervades the city, the history that produced it is only dimly understood. The public works projects of the 1930s stand today as mute testaments to an era of tumult and creativity, and to a conception of government which reached its apotheosis in interwar America and which shaped New York City profoundly—but whose history, obscured in turns by ideology and neglect, is too little known.1 This book is an account of the relationship between two of the most remarkable political leaders of the twentieth century: Franklin Roosevelt, the thirty-second president of the United States, and Fiorello La Guardia, the ninety- ninth mayor of New York City. The products of starkly different personal backgrounds and reform traditions, they rose in counterpoint through the ranks of New York politics before coming together in the 1930s to form a political collaboration unique between a national and a local official. Sworn in as the executives of America’s two largest governments at the depths of the Great Depression, they kept the nation’s biggest city together during one of the most trying periods in its history and helped to establish the course of its politics in the postwar decades.2 It is also a study of how government came to play an extraordinarily broad role in a quintessentially market-oriented city—of how the public sphere, embodied physically in the structures and spaces built up and carved out in the 1930s, was forged. This story has its roots in the Progressive Era, which marked the beginning of a decades-long debate over the ideal relationship among “individuals, society, and government.”3 In a modern, interdependent society, what rights did each of these groups possess, and what responsibilities? And how could collective action be deployed in the interest of social progress? Particularly in urban politics, the Progressive Era witnessed the introduction of a new set of policy approaches meant to improve the quality of life, mitigate the social costs of capitalist urban development, and render government more efficient and effective. A crucial moment in this history came in the 1930s. During that turbulent decade, Franklin Roosevelt and his Democratic Party chose to channel the resources of the federal government through the agencies of America’s cities and counties. Fiorello La Guardia’s coalition of reformers, Republicans, social democrats, and leftists rebuilt New York’s local state, chasing the functionaries of the city’s fabled Tammany Hall political machine from power and implanting a cohort of technical experts committed to expanding the scope of the public sector. As depression gave way to war, the experience of total mobilization politicized market transactions, allowing grassroots activists and political leaders alike to make fair employment and fair prices a central part of city politics. THE BOOK’S TITLE, borrowed and adapted from Alfred Stieglitz’s famous photograph of the lower Manhattan skyline, suggests its principal theme. New York in depression and war was a city of decidedly public ambitions: if Stieglitz’s skyscrapers captured the ebullient commercialism of the early twentieth century, the New York of the thirties and forties was, as one of its sons has recalled it, a city of “libraries and parks.”4 It was also a city of municipal markets and public radio, of neighborhood health clinics and free adult education classes, of model housing, of bridges and tunnels and airports intended to integrate the five boroughs and to link the city to the metropolitan region and the wider world. Under La Guardia’s leadership, the city built a physical infrastructure in which commerce could thrive and the interdependent processes of urban enterprise function efficiently. It also expanded the provision of public goods and services, envisioning these programs as means of lifting or mitigating constraints which impeded the happiness of individuals, families, and communities as they went about their lives—constraints such as unemployment, poverty, high prices, poor health, inadequate housing, a shortage of educational and recreational opportunities, and a stifling urban environment. During the Second World War, it sought to afford city dwellers protection from high prices and rents and to make available useful information to help them navigate consumer markets. These efforts were linked ideologically by the core belief that government should act as the mechanism by which the great productive energies and scientific and technological advantages of the age could be channeled to produce social progress. They were linked operationally by their self-conscious reliance on government as a technology of public action.5 This is, then, a history of “public economy”—a history of the ways in which government acted to produce wealth and shape the distribution of wealth in a society whose bedrock commitments include a separation between property and sovereignty, at a particular moment in time. That history took shape against the immediate background of the Great Depression and the Second World War, both national crises which forced Americans to search for new means of collective action. It was formed within the context of a broad shift in the American political landscape, as the lineaments of the American federal system, the relation between local and national authority, were being renegotiated. At the time Roosevelt came to power, politics for many Americans remained primarily a local affair, with the municipality occupying a central position it would forfeit in the second half of the century. Even at the New Deal’s high tide, the political scientist Samuel Beer recalled, New Deal reformers recognized the “great change in public attitudes” involved in their efforts to “persua[de] people to look to Washington for the solution of problems. . . .”6 Yet under the influence of economic and social integration, the development of new forms of media, and such profound shocks as the two world wars and the Great Depression, American politics was also undergoing a process of nationalization. Local governments remained in many ways the strongest entities in the American governmental system (in their operational capacity and infrastructural presence, if not in their potential legal and fiscal authority). And as the Progressive reformer Frederic Howe had written a generation earlier, they were the governments primarily concerned with “the elevation of the standard of living, with equality of opportunity, with the uplifting of life, and the betterment of those conditions which most intimately affect mankind”—central concerns of American politics as it developed since the late nineteenth century.7 Yet the national government, long a powerful (if unseen) presence in the American governmental system, was entering more fully and more visibly into what had been the domains of state and local governments, ushering in an age of “cooperative federalism” characterized by shared national, state, and local responsibility.8 The equation was further complicated by the makeup of the New Deal coalition, which numbered a few genuine national state builders but many more men and women who endeavored to share political authority across the federal system. This was as true of Roosevelt, who valued American localism and sought to preserve and utilize it, as it was of the southern Democrats who ruled Congress and used the structures of American federalism to defend the low-wage regional economy and the system of racial discrimination which was inextricable from it. Under these conditions, it is hardly surprising that major shifts in national politics, such as those embodied in Roosevelt’s New Deal, should implicate local governments, feeding back into local politics in powerful and sometimes surprising ways.9 The story of Roosevelt and La Guardia’s relationship is the story of how these two political leaders maneuvered amidst the constraints of a system in flux, how they worked creatively to exploit that system’s potentialities, and ultimately, how decisions taken at the national level reshaped the political landscape at the local level. Roosevelt and his administration, confronting the paramount problem of inadequate state capacity, responded by leveraging the particular strengths of the American polity—and local governments, with their infrastructural capacities and traditional responsibilities in public welfare and public health, represented one of these strengths. La Guardia became a major figure in the New Deal project because the New Dealers, finding few other options, designed programs that utilized local states for auxiliary capacity at a time when the national government’s reach was exceeding its grasp. As a result, state and local governments played a vital role in some of the New Deal’s greatest achievements: its bold and vigorous response to mass unemployment and its extensive contributions to the public wealth. We tend to think of American federalism as a zero-sum game: power asserted by the federal government comes at the expense of state and local authority;
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