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Wrestling with Moses: How Jane Jacobs Took On New York's Master Builder and Transformed the American City Paperback – February 8, 2011
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- Print length272 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherRandom House Trade Paperbacks
- Publication dateFebruary 8, 2011
- Dimensions5.19 x 0.59 x 7.97 inches
- ISBN-109780812981360
- ISBN-13978-0812981360
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“[A] winning account . . . dramatically described . . . [Anthony] Flint looks at a seminal struggle of twentieth-century city planning, one that involved two giants with utterly differing views of how cities should look and develop.”—The Boston Globe
“[This book] shows how these mythic characters shaped each other’s work and reputations. . . . If there’s such a thing as beach reading for the urban studies set, it’s Wrestling with Moses.”—San Francisco Chronicle
“Lively and informative . . . Wrestling with Moses is about those who fought back against the power broker and in so doing helped set the stage for the city’s revitalization.”—The Wall Street Journal
“Well told . . . one of America’s greatest David and Goliath stories.”—The Hartford Courant
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The Girl from Scranton
As the rattling subway train slowed to a stop, Jane Butzner looked up to see the name of the station, its colorful lettering standing out against the white-tile station walls as it flashed by again and again, finally readable: Christopher Street/Sheridan Square. As the doors opened, she watched as a crowd poured out, moving past pretty mosaics to the exit.
She had moved to New York from her hometown of Scranton, Pennsylvania, and had joined her sister, Betty, in a small apartment in Brooklyn a few months before. She was hunting for a job, but the morning's interview had concluded swiftly, so she'd decided to explore her new city. She darted out before the doors slid shut and made her way through the turnstile and up a set of stairs to the street. Without knowing it, Jane had alighted in the heart of Greenwich Village, the place she would call home for decades to come.
As she emerged, she immediately noticed that the streets ran off at odd angles in all directions. She saw storefronts with awnings shading cluttered sidewalks, kids chasing one another in front of a grocery, delivery trucks stopping and starting their way up the street. Walking north on Seventh Avenue, she saw the skyscrapers of midtown in the distance and, when she turned around, the cluster of tall buildings in the financial district to the south. But in this spot most buildings were two or three stories, and few were higher than five or six. They were simple: no grand entrances, no soaring edifices. She gazed at shopwindows full of leather handbags and watches and jewelry, strolled past barbershops and cafés, and ran her fingers over the daily newspapers stacked high in front of shelves inside filled with candy and cigars. Everywhere she looked she saw people-people talking to one another, it seemed, every few feet, among them longshoremen headed to taverns at the end of their shifts, casually dressed women window-shopping, old men with hands clasped on canes sitting on the benches in a triangular park. Mothers sat on stoops watching over it all. Everyone looked, she thought, the way she felt: unpretentious, genuine, living their lives. This was home.
Arriving at her Brooklyn apartment that evening, Jane described the wonders of the neighborhood she had seen, concluding simply, "Betty, I found out where we have to live."
"Where is it?" Betty asked.
"I don't know, but you get in the subway and you get out at a place called Christopher Street."
Jane had moved to New York City in 1934. Armed with a high-school diploma, a recently acquired knowledge of shorthand, and the wisdom of a few months working in the newsroom of a Scranton newspaper, she hoped to break into journalism. She knew it wasn't going to be easy to succeed in a business dominated by men; her assignments in Scranton had been limited to covering weddings, social events, and the meetings of women's civic organizations with names like the Women of the Moose and the Ladies' Nest of Owls No. 3. It was the thick of the Great Depression, and any job was difficult to come by.
Her older sister, Betty, twenty-four, had warned her. Betty had come to New York a few years before with hopes of finding work as an interior designer, but was now grateful to have a job as a salesgirl in the home furnishings section of the Abraham & Straus department store. The headstrong Jane came to the big city anyway, joining her sister in the top floor of a six-floor walk-up in Brooklyn Heights, a neighborhood of Greek and Gothic Revival mansions and Italianate brownstones at the edge of the East River, overlooking Manhattan.
Within weeks of arriving, Jane realized that breaking into journalism was going to take time and that, in the meantime, she'd need to support herself. She began poring over employment agency listings looking for any clerical position she could find, and soon settled into a routine. Each morning she would walk from her apartment building, across the Brooklyn Bridge, and into lower Manhattan, where most of her interviews took place. The rest of her day would be spent exploring the city; she would invest a nickel for a subway ride and get out at random stops. She had been to New York only once before, as a girl of twelve, and now, at eighteen, she was drinking in the sights and sounds of a metropolis that could not be more different from Scranton.
Greenwich Village seemed to capture all the promise of moving to New York City for the young bespectacled girl from eastern Pennsylvania. As soon as she could, Jane brought her sister to Greenwich Village. Betty shared her enthusiasm for the neighborhood, and they quickly found an apartment on Morton Street, just south of the Christopher Street subway station. Morton Street was a classic Greenwich Village lane, running four blocks from east to west from the Hudson River, bending at a forty-five-degree angle in glorious violation of the orderly street grid of the rest of Manhattan. It was lined with petite trees, front-yard gardens, iron fences, and stately rows of four- and five-story brownstones and town houses.
Their neighbors there ranged from truckers and railway workers to artists, painters, and poets, including Jackson Pollock, Willem de Kooning, and e. e. cummings. The White Horse Tavern, which for decades had been a gathering place for the bohemians of Greenwich Village, stood just around the corner on Hudson Street.
As excited as they were to be there, money was tight. After paying the rent, Jane and Betty had so little to spare that they resorted to mixing Pablum, a nutritious but notably bland cereal for infants, with milk for sustenance.
Their father's advice proved to be wise counsel in this time: that while the girls should pursue the careers of their dreams, they should also learn a practical skill to fall back on. The degree from the Powell secretarial and stenography school in Scranton gave Jane enough of an edge in the barren job market that after months of searching, she finally landed a job as a secretary for a candy manufacturing company. She would serve in similar clerical positions at a clock maker and a drapery hardware business in the years that followed. In her off time, she worked toward her dream career, honing her journalistic skills.
On those afternoons exploring the city after job interviews, and in her off-hours once she started working, she had begun writing down her observations of the city. In time she began to work them into articles. Early on she noticed that every few blocks of the city seemed to have a specialty trade-a little economy all their own. She sought to learn everything she could about these trades, striking up conversations with the shopkeepers and workers pushing racks of furs down the streets, and the leather makers in the deep back rooms into which she peered. Buckets of flowers on the sidewalk would prompt her to probe into the cut-flower trade; wandering through the diamond district on the Bowery on Manhattan's scrappy Lower East Side, she familiarized herself with the intricate system of jewelry auctions.
Immediately upon arriving home from work, she would toss her handbag on the sofa and settle in front of her manual typewriter in her room and write. After a while, she began to submit her pieces to popular magazines of the day. Much to her surprise, she arrived home one evening to find an envelope from an editor at Vogue who wanted to publish a story she had written on the fur district. The editors liked her plainspoken style and keen observations and wished to retain her as a freelance contributor. They proposed that she write four essays over the next two years, for which they would pay her $40 per article, a slightly better rate than the $12 per week she was making as a secretary. Her career as a writer in New York City had officially begun.
Her early journalism reflected an eye for the detail and the drama beneath the quotidian. A 1937 piece on the flower market in lower Manhattan, titled "Flowers Come to Town," began with a typical flourish:
All the ingredients of a lavender-and-old-lace love story, with a rip- roaring, contrasting background, are in New York's wholesale flower district, centered around Twenty-Eighth Street and Sixth Avenue. Under the melodramatic roar of the "El," encircled by hash-houses and Turkish baths, are the shops of hard-boiled, stalwart men, who shyly admit that they are dottles for love, sentiment, and romance.
She went on to describe in detail the 5:00 a.m. arrival of orchids, gardenias, peonies, and lilacs from Connecticut, Long Island, and New Jersey that were then meted out into buckets for sale by retailers. She considered the city's voracious demand for cut flowers and foliage-200 million ferns, 150,000 roses a day from just one grower in a season. It made sense when she thought about it: office reception areas, wedding receptions, society functions, and funerals all needed flowers. It was a big market, but the competition was fierce; she noted how the merchants adopted a set of rules to maintain a level playing field, such as agreeing not to open hampers in the flower market until 6:00 a.m., at the sound of a gong. She was fascinated not only with the mores of the city but with the way systems seemed to self-organize to prosper.
In another article, Jane wrote about the diamond district, which in the 1930s was centered on the Bowery across from the entrance to the Manhattan Bridge, on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. She described how the dealers in their beards and hats jotted down notes on the cut stones, rings, necklaces, and lockets that pawnbrokers had sent for display at auction, then made their bids with silent gestures or by squeezing the auctioneer's arm. "Upstairs, in the small light rooms over the stores, diamonds are cut and polished and set or re-set, and silver is buffed. The doors and vestibules to the rooms are barred and there is no superfluous furniture, just the tools and tables where the skillful workmen sit with leather hammocks to catch the chips and dust of diamond and metal," she wrote. "Silver is polished against a cloth-covered revolving wheel . . . All the sweepings are carefully saved to be refined and the silver recovered. The walls and ceilings are brushed and the old oilcloth coverings and work clothes of the men are burned to extract the silver dust. Even the water in which the workmen wash their hands is saved. A small room where silver is polished may yield to a refiner hundreds of dollars worth of metal a year." Outside, meanwhile, is the "lusty tumultuous life of the lower East Side"-the rumble of the elevated subway, "Chinamen from Mott Street," exotic aromas, and bums on the curbstones.
In those first years in New York, Jane worked forty hours a week, typing, filing, and taking dictation. All the while she continued to scout the far reaches of the city, writing for Vogue as well as other periodicals. On one outing she turned her attention to manhole covers, decoding their cryptic inscriptions in order to map the underground rivers of electricity and gas lines, the tributaries of brine to chill the storage areas of produce markets, and the pipes carrying steam to heat skyscrapers. Her account of this subterranean maze, which showed how urban life was made possible by what was underneath, appeared in a New York magazine called Cue, which primarily published theater and restaurant listings. She also wrote feature stories for the Sunday Herald Tribune.
She began to range beyond purely urban subjects, writing about the way fishing boats operated in Chesapeake Bay, the pagan origins of Christmas, and the decorative buttons on military uniform sleeves (originally meant to keep soldiers from using them to wipe their noses). She even tried her hand at short stories, in one piece depicting the decapitation of James Madison in a creative rewriting of American history-"bump, bump, bump" went the founding father's head on the floor, she wrote. An editor at Reader's Digest deemed the piece "too gruesome for us," and apparently other editors reacted in a similar fashion. Jacobs experimented with science fiction, too, writing a story about fast-growing plants with fantastical intentions that similarly went unsold.
But writing about the city remained her passion. She often went up to the rooftop of her apartment building and watched the garbage trucks as they made their way through the city streets, picking the sidewalks clean. She would think, "What a complicated great place this is, and all these pieces of it that make it work." The more she investigated and explored neighborhoods, infrastructure, and business districts for her stories, the more she began to see the city as a living, breathing thing-complex, wondrous, and self-perpetuating.
As she approached her fourth year in New York, Jane began to reconsider her opinion on higher education. It had become clear to her that she needed a boost to get a full-time job as a journalist. From a young age she had rebelled against what she viewed as the insipid curriculum of the Scranton schools, and scorned her teachers, whom she considered dim-witted. She was known to stick her tongue out when teachers' backs were turned and to challenge her teachers routinely. When a fourth-grade teacher claimed that cities formed only around rivers with waterfalls to provide electric power, Jane pointed out that Scranton had a waterfall but it had nothing to do with powering the city or the economy of the place. Another teacher asked her students to promise to brush their teeth every day. But Jane's father had just told her never to make a promise unless she was absolutely certain she could keep it. So she refused and urged her fellow students to do the same. The teacher kicked her out of the classroom, and Jane wandered along empty railroad tracks on her way home for lunch.
Now, in 1938, she used money from her parents to enroll at Columbia University's School of General Studies, more than a hundred blocks north of Greenwich Village, which had open enrollment for "nontraditional" students-those who had interrupted their education or needed to attend part-time. The school's lack of a set curriculum appealed to Jacobs.
At Columbia, she signed up for courses in any subject that interested her-chemistry, geography, geology, law, political science, psychology, and zoology. Before long she was enjoying school for the first time, feeding her curiosity about how the world worked. By 1940, with good grades and a pile of credits to her name, she was poised to earn a degree not from the School of General Studies, which was open to all, but from Barnard, Columbia University's distinguished college for women, the equivalent of Radcliffe at Harvard. To do so, however, she would have to take a few mandatory courses. Citing her lackluster high-school record, college officials told her she couldn't waive the requirements. Jane walked away in a huff and never looked back.
"Fortunately, my [high school] grades were so bad they wouldn't have me and I could continue to get an education," Jacobs said later-an education in the real world, that is. From that point on, Jacobs would scoff at academic credentials, rebuff universities seeking to give her honorary degrees, and refuse to be called an "expert" in print.
Product details
- ASIN : 0812981367
- Publisher : Random House Trade Paperbacks; NO-VALUE edition (February 8, 2011)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 272 pages
- ISBN-10 : 9780812981360
- ISBN-13 : 978-0812981360
- Item Weight : 7.2 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.19 x 0.59 x 7.97 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #290,982 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #101 in City Planning & Urban Development
- #305 in Sociology of Urban Areas
- #3,928 in U.S. State & Local History
- Customer Reviews:
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About the author

Anthony Flint is author of "Modern Man: The Life of Le Corbusier, Architect of Tomorrow," a narrative nonfiction account of the father of modern architecture, published by New Harvest / Amazon Publishing http://www.apub.com/. He is also author of "Wrestling with Moses: How Jane Jacobs Took On New York's Master Builder and Transformed the American City" (Random House 2009) and "This Land: The Battle over Sprawl and the Future of America" (Johns Hopkins, 2006), and co-editor of "Smart Growth Policies: An Evaluation of Programs and Outcomes" (Lincoln Institute, 2009). A veteran journalist, primarily at The Boston Globe, he writes about architecture, urban planning and sustainability. He is a regular contributor to CityLab http://www.citylab.com/authors/anthony-flint/, part of The Atlantic magazine, as well as The Boston Globe, The New Republic, GlobalPost, Next City, Planning magazine, Planetizen, Citiwire, Architecture Boston, and many other publications; author of the blogs At Lincoln House at www.lincolninst.edu, This Land at Boston.com, and Developing Stories at the author's website www.anthonyflint.net. Currently a fellow and director of public affairs at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy (www.lincolninst.edu), a think-tank in Cambridge, Mass., he served as a policy advisor in the Office for Commonwealth Development, the Massachusetts state agency coordinating growth policy, and has been a fellow at The Rockefeller Foundation's Bellagio Center and The American Library in Paris, and a visiting scholar and Loeb Fellow at the Graduate School of Design at Harvard University. He is curator and speaker at TEDxBeaconStreet and TEDxTampaBay. On Twitter @anthonyflint and on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/anthonyflint.author. "Wrestling with Moses" won a Christopher Award in 2010.
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Jane Jacobs wrote for "Architectural Forum" when she was assigned to write about city planner Edward Bacon and how Philadelphia center city neighborhoods were being torn down for redevelopment projects. Bacon took Jacobs on a tour and proudly showed her much new construction. Jacobs asked Bacon "where are the people?" Jacobs began questioning urban renewal programs.
The Federal government policies known as Title I, following the philosophy of Le Corbusier that favored large and functional structures, favored razing poorer neighborhoods so new private development could replace them. A problem in New York City was the newly constructed structures were not necessarily better than what they replaced. No one ever asked the residents what they preferred. In East Harlem, relocating 50,000 people also came at the expense of 1,100 stores. Jane Jacobs noted the residents rejected their newer superstores and instead preferred the local smaller stores, now located further away.
Moses proposed constructing a road that would cross Washington Square Park. This was the park where Jane Jacobs took her children. This set up a clash between an urban renewal power, Moses, and a critic, Jacobs.
Moses held as many as 12 appointed public positions simultaneously. When legislation created a commission he wanted to control, he had the legislation created so he would be the obvious candidate to fill the important position within that commission.
Moses used a strategy of building projects quickly. By doing this, opposition to his ideas lacked sufficient time to organize against them. Moses had laws created to enable rapid construction that also provided him ease in condemning land.
Moses ran as the Republican nominee for Governor of New York in 1934. He called the incumbent Governor Herbert Lehman corrupt. Lehman won easily. President Roosevelt wanted Moses out of power and threatened to deny Federal funds to projects Moses directed. Moses leaked this to the press, who faulted Roosevelt for being involved in petty local politics. Roosevelt, Governor Lehman, and Mayor LaGuardia all felt this pressure and decided not to seek to remove Moses. Being able to defy the elected leaders and remain in power only Moses appear stronger.
Moses was known for being vindictive. He was also known for keeping tabs on Commission and Council members and blackmailing them for support in return for keeping quite on extraneous love affairs or drunkenness. Moses even ignored the law, causing Mayor LaGuardia to have the police make certain Moses didn't have something torn down that legally wasn't supposed to be destroyed.
In 1949, several members of Congress feared cities were declining. Title I of the Housing Act of 1949 sought to save cities by encouraging new private development. The primary means to build anew was to tear down existing low income and relatively cheaper to purchase neighborhoods. Mayor William O'Dwyer named Moses as Construction Coordinator, Chairman of the Emergency Committee on Housing, and Chairman of the Committee on Slum Clearance. New York received $70 million in Title I funds, compared to Chicago which received the second most amount of these funds at $30 million.
Many of the new developments that were constructed met the aims of the private developers. More profitable housing options for the upper and middle classes were built rather than housing for the displaced poorer residents. Even the housing that was created often cut corners in construction and were not as nice as expected. The displaced low income often could not afford for afford to move back into the new constructions and those who could afford them often were disappointed.
Walter O'Malley, owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers baseball team, noted most of the Dodgers fan base was moving further away from the Dodgers' stadium, Ebbetts Field. Many fans were moving into more distant Long Island locations. The stadium did not have a Long Island Railway (LIRR) stop and had only 700 parking spaces. Moses refused the Dodgers access to LITT. Moses instead wanted to build a new stadium in Flushing, where Shea Stadium eventually would be built. O'Malley decided to move the Dodgers to Los Angeles.
Moses proposed extending Fifth Avenue through Washington Park. This project called for destroying many Greenwich Village buildings. A new housing development Moses proposed for the area would destroy 130 buildings and displace 150 families.
Moses saw Washington Square Park as a decaying area with broken benches. He saw it as a target for urban revitalization. Area residents saw it as their park and sanctuary. Neighbors in 1935 formed the Save Washington Square Commission in reaction to Moses's plans. Moses threatened to cut off improvement funds if the residents continued resisting. He refused to meet with the group. In 1939, Moses submitted a second but similar plan. Moses again threatened to cut off New Deal funds. This divided the citizens group and they endorsed Moses's plan by a one vote margin. A splinter group continued opposing Moses. They gained thousands of signatures opposed the plan. This opposition was joined by a group of nearby New York University (NYU) students who feared for pedestrian safety. Manhattan Borough President Stanley Isaacs insisted that approval of the project would require the support of neighborhood voters.
Moses reacted by vilifying the neighborhood opponents as elitists who were stopping progress. Moses met with New York University officials to seek their support. Moses decided to play a waiting game to wear down the opposition.
Neighborhood groups began obtaining their own data on traffic counts. They did not accept the official city data. Opponents conducted letter writing campaigns to officials and newspapers.
Moses used the tactic of postponing public hearings shortly before they were to be held and then quickly called for them. He hoped this would minimize the number of people who objected from attending.
Jacobs decided her group would insist there be no vehicles allowed at Washington Square. They would not challenge the broad Moses vision, yet they would refuse to compromise on that one point. They would not agree to a two lane road instead of the proposed four lane road,
Lewis Mumford agreed with Jacobs's group. He saw it as commercial profit at the public expense. Members of the Village Independent Democrats, such as Edward Koch, supported Jacobs's cause. Both Congressional nominees endorsed Jacob's goals, including the eventual winner John V. Lindsay.
An alternative newspaper, the "Village Voice", wrote supportively on the neighborhood battles against Moses. Eleanor Roosevelt joined in support. Then, support began emerging form political power insiders. Secretary of State Carmine DeSapio, a leader of the Tammany Democratic Party organization and a Greenwich Village resident, spoke out for saving Washington Square. Moses realized he had been defeated once DeSapio was against him. From there, support for saving Washington Square increased to including Mayor Robert Wagner and Governor Averell Harriman.
Moses retreated and developed a new proposal in 1959. If Washington Park were to be closed to vehicles, he wanted the streets around the park widened to 80 feet with rounded corners. Instead, Mayor Wagner in 1963 cut off all vehicle traffic, including buses. This yielded 1 ½ more acres of parkland by eliminating the roads.
The location where Moses wanted to become Fifth Avenue south is now LaGuardia Place with a statue of Fiorello LaGuardia. Where the road would have continued south of Washington Park is where Bobst Library of NYU now stands.
Jacobs had a separate struggle with Moses. Moses sought to construct the Lower Manhattan Expressway. This was a project that worked well with the Federal government goals of creating superhighways according to the National Interstate and Defense Highways Act. Moses saw several highways connective Manhattan to its regions as important to maintaining Manhattan's economic and social vitality. He had the Cross Bronx Expressway built and sought to connect it to northern Manhattan. Moses proposed a Mid-Manhattan expressway running from the Lincoln Tunnel to the Queens Midtown Tunnel.
Father Gerard LaMountan was upset that this proposed expressway would mean the Church of the Most Holy Crucifix would be torn down. He turned to Jane Jacobs for help. Jacobs decided she could endure another fight when she saw he also had recruited neighbors and skilled organizers. There were religious and political leaders and understanding that La Cosa Nostra was not pleased to see its territory devastated. Bob Dylan wrote a song of support.
Herman Badillo wrote a report for the city claiming all displaced people would be provided with new housing. The opposition was not satisfied. Jane Jacobs stood up against making it easier to drive vehicles in New York City. She encouraged mass transit, foot transit, and bicycling. Moses argued for the need to act to avoid traffic congestion.
Moses let Jacobs and her associates win an initial victory at halting the project. Moses often used delays to his advantage and would wait for the opportunity to renew his fights for his proposals. Moses declared that Jacobs was an obstructionist.
Rep. John V. Lindsay opposed the project and was elected Mayor. Moses still fought, declaring that the SoHo neighborhood was blighted and should be destroyed. The growing historic preservation movement differed. Jacobs thus had new allies in people seeking to preserve the history of Lower Manhattan.
Mayor Lindsay faced a threatened strike of 200,000 city workers if he delivered on his promise to stop construction projects. Lindsay agreed to an open trench highway that would destroy 650 homes and 400 businesses, compared to the 2,000 homes and 00 business structures Moses had proposed. Jacobs and advocates pushed to kill the idea. Jacobs was arrested for protesting. The arrest galvanized support for Jacobs. Lindsay agreed to kill the proposal.
Governor Rockefeller reduced Moses's powers. Rockefeller agreed with killing the Lower Manhattan project as well as another Moses proposal for a bridge across the Long Island Sound. Moses remained a consultant but his influence was mostly gone.
Jacobs wrote several influential books on city planning issues. Moses retired soon afterwards.
Jacobs continued being upset at redevelopment plans that began with little or no public notification. She continued working to preserve parks and neighborhoods in the West Village against redevelopment. Rep. Lindsay joined with the neighborhood activists in protesting that not enough notice was given. Jacobs appealed to the press as well as to political leaders, and got their attention.
The plan to develop the West Village was led by James Felt, Chairman of the City Planning Commission, and developer J. Clarence Davies, Jr., Chairman of the Department of Real Estate and Director of Housing and Redevelopment Board (a descendant of one of Moses's previous commissions). Davies declared the West Village was blighted. They sought to diminish the neighborhood activists by creating a group, Middle Income Cooperators of the Village and its subsidiary, the West Village
Site Tenants' Committee. To support their plans, Roger Starr and his group, the Citizens Housing and Planning Council, also endorsed the redevelopment efforts. David Rockefeller gave his support.
Jacobs filed a lawsuit to stop the project. The Judge ordered that the blight designation be justified. He also ruled the city had not met public hearing requirements.
State Comptroller Arthur Levitt ran against Mayor Wagner for renomination as Mayor. Levitt supported stopping the West Village redevelopment plans. Wagner then also agreed to oppose the proposal and to increase citizen participation. Felt, noting the City Planning Commission is independent of the Mayor, continued pushing for the development. The City Planning Commission officially designated the West Village as blighted.
Felt tried to use the tactic of suddenly scheduling hearings. There was a secret sympathizer against the proposal working in Felt's office who always tipped off Jacobs as to when the meetings were being announced. Jacob successfully rallied people to attend.
The neighborhood activists determined that private developer David Rose Associates had already been chosen to build the redevelopments. The group discovered that the developers were supporting the community groups supporting development. They found they even used the same typewriter. The activists then obtained over 100 notarized statements from members of the pro-development groups stating they had been tricked into joining. Davies halted the efforts to redevelop West Village. Davies resigned his post within a month and Felt resigned two years later.
Jacobs, in her writings, would argue that city planning was an impossible task. She argued that neighborhoods had their own structures that shouldn't' be changed by city planners.
City planner Edward Logue denounced Jacobs's writing as "a plea for the status quo." Roger Staff responded that "if Jacobs had visited Pompeii and concluded that nothing makes a city so beautiful as covering it with ashes." Starr notes Jacobs's vision would do little to prevent gentrification from driving low income people out of the neighborhoods.
Jacobs joined movement for historic preservation, including fighting tearing down Penn Station. Her writings are heralded by many libertarians.
The author doesn't pretend to be impartial. Jacobs is clearly his hero and he presents her as the valiant underdog to the shadowy overlord. And, of course, he celebrates when she wins all three battles.
I read "Wrestling with Moses" simultaneously with "The Power Broker" on Moses and "The Death and Life of Great American Cities" by Jacobs. "Wrestling with Moses" s is the most lightweight of the three books. It is a light and easy read. Despite the less intense nature of the book, there are still valuable insights to be gained.
The first is the amount of momentum that can be acquired by someone like Moses. By the time Jacobs first opposed him, he had been the dominant personality in shaping the configuration of New York City for nearly three decades. He had developed an aura of inevitability.
Next, it is insightful to look at the tactics employed by Jacobs. Mostly she and her adherents relied on grassroots organizing and mobilization. But Jacobs was willing to slip into civil disobedience when required and was arrested on multiple occasions as a result.
Lastly, it is interesting to note the story of Jane Jacobs as developer. Following the defeat of Moses' urban redevelopment plan for Greenwich Village, Jacobs and other local residents formed an organization to build housing that they thought would fit better within the context of their neighborhood.
One of their proposed buildings was eventually constructed, but as the costs rose, various building features had to be eliminated. The architectural critics panned the final result and many Village residents were unhappy with the resulting rents. Jacobs fell prey to the same issues that trouble many developers. Even the best-intentioned developer can't avoid the pressure that the marketplace imposes.
One weakness of the Jacobs versus Moses premise is that nowhere in the book do Jacobs and Moses come face to face. Indeed, they probably never met in life. However, we are given two humorous stories of their distant interplay.
Publisher Bennett Cerf sent an advance copy of "The Death and Life of Great American Cities" to Moses for his review. Moses returned it with a note reading, "I am returning this book you sent me. Aside from the fact that it is intemperate and inaccurate, it is also libelous. ... Sell this junk to someone else."
On the other side, Jacobs and her husband Bob received an advance copy of "The Power Broker". They lay in bed, trading sections back and forth, alternating between horror and amusement over the depth of Moses' duplicity laid bare for the first time.
If you have the time, either "The Death and Life of Great American Cities" or "The Power Broker" is worth the effort. But if time doesn't permit, then "Wrestling with Moses" is a fine introduction to the urban planning antipodes represented by towering personalities of Jane Jacobs and Robert Moses.





