March 7, 1946

"It's not about helping banks; it's about helping people. Because when credit is available again, that young family can finally buy a new home. And then some company will hire workers to build it." - President Barack Obama's Address to Joint Session of Congress, February 24, 2009

The true third rail of politics isn't social security, healthcare or the origin of the term itself, but rethinking the American dream. I mean, we not only have record foreclosures, but completely abandoned towns, and the measure for recovery success is still a "young family" building a new house? And what of we renters? Are we just too poor—or perhaps, more appropriately, too single—to own our own home? Are we somehow unfulfilled Americans until we do? Or is it just our duty to revitalize the downtowns, along with gays and empty nesters, renting and buying overpriced condos without a neighborhood amenity (such as a supermarket or pharmacy) in sight?

When Barack Obama met with his 27-year old speechwriter Jon Favreau (who owns a Dupont Circle condo furnished by Pottery Barn) last November to discuss the inaugural speech, they agreed to theme it around "this moment that we're in, and the idea that America was founded on certain ideals that we need to take back." Needless to say, we've certainly been in this moment before: eviction notices, families living in cars, abandoned pets. No, not just the Great Depression: for 1946 America, the quest for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness became synonymous with the search for a home. And while President Obama (or Mr. Favreau) might think that a new single-family home in the 'burbs is part of the American fabric, the reality is that in 1946, when America stood at the crossroads of the home ownership paradigm, many at the time—particularly, the Post-Standard editorial board—envisioned an American dream based in the city.

If we truly want to understand how one Syracusan can look at the Wilson Building and see a potential home for himself, while another, his car, look no further than the 1946 editorial pages of the Syracuse Newspapers. Loose lips may have sunk ships during the war, but in the months after, they had plenty to say about their neighbors (or lack thereof): single vs. married, childless vs. parents, veteran vs. civilian. Yes, that's right, put the images of ticker tape parades and the Greatest Generation aside, because one year after Victory Day, returning soldiers were being called out in letters to the editor for their favored status:

"To the editor of the Post-Standard:
I think it's time that war-workers and non-vets organized also - in self-protection and for the general improvement of the United States! With preferences and priorities on new homes, rentals, surplus goods, free medical care, civil service exams, etc. etc. etc. pretty soon one will have to be a veteran in order to enjoy the right to breathe." (The Post-Standard, August 5, 1946)

Once you start reading these remarks, it becomes clear rather quickly that the 1946 letter-writers were as "opinionated" as many in the syracuse.com comments section. To wit, single people have no right to live alone:

"There is over-consumption of our existing space....approximately 1,500,000 living units which were designed for two or more people are now occupied by only one person because of frozen rents. Everybody knows cases of this kind. The stenographer who used to live doubled up with another now has her own individual apartment. This situation is excellent for her and we do not begrudge it—but it certainly is over-consumption of space...If rents were increased no more than is fair to property owners, I predict that about a million added units of rental space would immediately be available for veterans and others...At least the single people, who move out, will be forced to double up with someone else." (Syracuse Herald-Journal, October 12, 1946)

Childless couples should be restricted to apartments:

"Why aren't some super-large apartment houses built for couples with no children so parents and children can have houses and flats with yards?" (Syracuse Herald-Journal, August 17, 1946)

Contractors shouldn't be allowed to build vets' homes:

"I am a veteran of better than two years with better than eighteen months in the South Pacific theater. I was in the battle of Okinawa and the rest of those battles up to and including the bombardment of the Jap mainland. I figure there are a lot more of you fellows who'd like to build your own home and can't get the materials...Why can't the state add a couple thousand dollars to the eight already backed by the federal government? Each veteran could build a real nice house for '$10,000 and by getting together with a few other "vets" he could get it built in no time and save giving the money to those contractors who have been so graciously taking veterans for sleighrides. I have seen some houses put up by contractors for veterans and must say tho they cost $7,500 I'd be ashamed to give more than $4,000 for them..." (Post-Standard, December 30, 1946)

What differs the letter-writers from the syracuse.com commenters is that rather than "I've got mine," it's "I want mine." In 1946, there was an unprecedented demand for housing. Returning soldiers—both to the Syracuse community and Syracuse University, on the GI Bill—caused the greatest need. Growing industries brought new workers to the area. As we know, the baby boom was well on its way. But materials were scarce, as was labor—in fact, General Electric was accused by the Syracuse Society of Architects of "paying wages well above standard rates" for the construction of Electronics Parkway that "discouraged [private home builders] to the point of withdrawing from production" (Post-Standard, August 8, 1946). (General Electric didn't exactly deny the accusation, but rather stated that their actions were perfectly legal.) Keeping a concerned—if not panicked—eye on the whole situation was the Post-Standard, who routinely published editorials about the crisis. When city leaders proudly announced a program to winterize summer cottages for homeless families, and then—in that unique Syracuse tradition, promptly forgot about it—the Post-Standard reminded them from their editorial page:

"What has happened to the campaign for signing up summer camps for winter occupancy by homeless Syracuse families?
And what about that proposal to convert abandoned schoolhouses into homes?
Since last week's blast by Syracuse builders at federal red tape and Mayor Costello's statement that he would accept whatever public housing could be obtained for Syracuse, little has been heard of these two plans to provide immediate rental space..." (Post-Standard, September 17, 1946)

On a weekly, if not daily, basis in 1946, the Post-Standard published editorials regarding the housing crisis, to the point of being called "hysterical":

"The Post-Standard has reiterated so often that the housing shortage is causing grave hardship in Syracuse that one of our realtor friends accused us the other day of being hysterical about the situation. 'Your editorials have made the mayor so jittery he doesn't know which way to turn,' he admonished us...The Post-Standard promises to keep hammering at housing until the homeless hundreds of Syracusans get some tangible relief." (Post-Standard, October 5, 1946)

While it is true that many of the families needed basic shelter (there were stories of converted silos, porches, and basements), most of them didn't just want a home, but a house—in the city:

"Have seen so much about the housing shortage, and heard it on the radio, that I wrote to the Syracuse Housing Authority, also G-E housing, saying I would lake a congenial couple into my home.

The first never replied, the G-E has no one interested at present.

Although we live about 16 miles from Syracuse, the road is entirely level and it is easily driven in 25 minutes. Most all the men from this locality work in the city.

As for my home, it's modern in every way, as much as anyone could ask for, lights, gas, bath, furnace, electric refrigerator, etc. Also boat for fishing on Oneida River. I wonder what the people in the city want?"—Farmer's Wife, Central Square. (Post-Standard, August 18, 1946)

"I have just read a letter from Desperate Evictee, of March 12, and am terribly disgusted with all such letters, when I have lived where I am for over seven years and made a living for myself, wife and 10 children, and can count at least five empty houses within two miles of here, as well as lots of others farther off. I see no reason why people should have to live in a park or any other vacant lot, if they would consider living in the country God made for them instead of tying themselves down to a cement sidewalk and paved streets.

Of course we have no stuffy shops here, close by, but we have plenty of clean, healthy work all the time, winter and summer, with lots of fresh air. So if anyone cares to come around here to live, I am sure they could find a place to live in. "—A Disgusted Reader, Lowville (Post-Standard, March 21, 1946)

While Central Square and Lowville might not be considered suburbs of Syracuse even today, there was an increasing trend of building what relatively few houses were constructed outside the city. It stands to reason that this was mainly because the undeveloped countryside was where the land needed for the thousands of houses was most plentiful. However, the Post-Standard monitored this situation, too, and insisted that the land was available in the city:

"Is Syracuse at last going to do something about stopping the undeniable trend to country living?

We've been harping on the subject for a good many years now, holding to the thought that the city could, by wise planning, offer families as much (and more) as any rural district.

We believe that if folks could get more light and air, more spacious surroundings and more seclusion in the city, they would prefer it to the country. There is plenty of land, not too expensive.

Why do we have to place houses side by side on 40 or 50 or even 60-foot lots? Why do we have to place them so close to the curb that automobile traffic noises and smells penetrate into homes? Why do we have to have yards so small that there is room only for a little grass, not for a garden and some fruit trees and a children's playhouse?

The answer is: We do not." (Post-Standard, March 7, 1946)

Yet as the months passed, and more letters and articles about homeless or soon-to-be-evicted families dominated the Post Standard pages, the conflict that would soon face the Syracuse (and American) city became apparent on the editorial page itself. On November 27, 1946, the Post-Standard featured two editorials about the housing crisis. The first reiterated the concern about housing being built outside city limits, and offered suggestions to abate this trend:

"About 773 homes were commenced in Onondaga county during the first 19 months of this year, with only 174 of them in Syracuse. The Post-Standard has been pointing out this trend for years, but we have apparently wasted tons of newsprint and gallons of ink with exhortations to city planners to do something to make living in the city as attractive as in the country.

It can be done easily if the real estate developers, the city engineers and other officials concerned with laying out new residential tracts would only study the reasons why so many families now prefer to build outside the city limits. The first consideration in most cases is more space, light and air for each home, with greater traffic safety. Yet the city continues its 1900 gridiron residential plan, with 40 and 50-foot lots in many areas.

Unless we are willing to let Syracuse become a community of obsolescent dwellings, we must give serious consideration to this problem, as well as to comparative tax costs between city and towns. For if Syracuse goes bankrupt while carrying 80 per cent of the county tax load, the entire area will suffer just as acutely as will the municipality."

One column to the right, on the very same page, the Post-Standard offered this additional editorial:

"We do not believe that placing the projected state housing on an E. Fayette St. site would depreciate other housing in the section.

In fact, from what we have seen of housing of the type, it ought to add to properly values.

It will be remembered that Gov. Dewey, while here during the political campaign, promised that the housing would have its own courts and playgrounds and would be developed to add to the beauty of the city, not detract from it.

The area picked for it is now a waste, with few houses on it and a garage or two scattered here and there in the area.

It would seem that attractive steel and brick apartment housing units would be an acceptable addition to the neighborhood. "

Now, perhaps the Post-Standard truly was suffering from histrionics at this point, which, according to the DSM-IV, is characterized by personality features such as "easily influenced by others," "rapidly changing emotions" and "believes relationships are more intimate than they are." Or maybe they were forty years ahead of the New Urbanism movement, envisioning a "broad range of housing types and price levels [to] bring people of diverse ages, races, and incomes into daily interaction, strengthening the personal and civic bonds essential to an authentic community." But if New Urbanism came about in response to suburban sprawl, and supposedly modeled on the urbanism of earlier cities, what does it mean if this idea of the mixed dwelling neighborhood in the earlier cities never came to pass?

COMING SOON: PART II
March 18, 1993 April 6, 2009
Revisiting Governor Dewey's Promise

February 18, 1990

I always feel a bit of a phony in these Downtown discussions. Truth is, I never really spent much time Downtown. As a child of the early 80s, downtown had by then failed under the '60s/'70s fad of urban renewal, and had moved on to the new fad of the time: Wacky Wall Walkers. Just like that infamous cereal toy , leaders would throw an idea at downtown, watch it stick for a minute or two, and then fall abruptly to the ground. (From the February 4, 1980 Post-Standard Progress Edition: "An encouraging sign...is the recent application by the city for federal funds to be used as a second mortgage on a privately financed proposal to convert the upper floors of Dorset Building on East Onondaga Street into luxury executive housing"—the very Dorset Building that was targeted for demolition by the city two years later in preparation for The Galleries.)

So my Fifth Avenue of Syracuse was never Warren or South Salina Streets, but the simple, mundane corridor of Fairmount Fair Mall. I grew up in Fairmount Fair—progressing from Irene Shop to Lerners, Kaybee Toy and Hobby to Waldenbooks, Fluf 'N Stuff to Great Games. When it first started to decline, I didn't care much because I, like all the other shoppers from the West Suburbs, had taken to admiring herself in the mirrored tiles of the new Camillus Mall. Yet as the already dim mall grew darker, I started to get a sense of what was happening. When my mom had to make a quick trip to one of the few remaining tenants, I opted to remain in the car. Curiosity got the better of me, though, and one afternoon I did accompany my mother inside. While she dropped her shoes off at Midtown Shoe Repair to be dyed, I wandered down the side hallway to the main corridor. By then 15 or 16 years old, I stood at the playground of my youth and saw this: shuttered gates, eerie silence, total darkness. I knew what I was looking at that day, and it was far more sobering than any afterschool special on the fragility of life.

On the bright side, there was plenty of free parking!

The only thing lazier than people who say more parking is the way to save a downtown is the argument itself. A downtown, by definition, is a tightly condensed area of buildings. Where, pray tell, would the suburban-sized parking lots be built in Downtown, that wouldn't, in essence, destroy Downtown itself? And yet parking—or lack thereof—is often the issue that is front and center in every debate regarding the revival of Downtown. On February 18, 1990, the Syracuse Herald-American posed the very same question that Sean Kirst recently did in his February 9 column: Can We Save Downtown? In the offline days of 1990, all answers were published in the paper as part of their "Sunday Soapbox" series. Despite the nineteen-year passage of time, the answers read very similar:

"Parking is terrible. Who would like to pay to park in a garage or risk getting a ticket at a meter when parking at malls are plentiful and free? Downtown should get rid of the meters and allow free parking." (1990)

"I'll tell you what would bring my family downtown: free parking. The parking right now is expensive, and it's confusing, and the chances of getting a ticket make everything even worse. If you want to know what would get people like me downtown, it's free and easy parking." (2009)

"Perhaps a free parking plan with new stores might attract some, but I doubt it." (1990)

"As long as cities value their real estate so highly that they can not offer free convenient parking then they will struggle and beg to get people to come downtown. City planners need to focus on easy, fast, free, nearby parking or they are wasting their time and taxpayer money on any other tease." (2009)

Four months after the 1990 article, the city did open two free (for up to two hours) parking areas Downtown: a free lot at South Clinton and West Washington, and the Sibley's garage. During the course of the summer, approximately 1200 people who parked in the lot or garage were surveyed by the city regarding the question of free parking and visiting Downtown. According to the study results published in the October 18, 1990 Syracuse Herald-Journal, 95 percent of the people that pulled into the free parking areas said that they would have been Downtown regardless of parking cost, as most were there on business. When asked about their shopping habits downtown, only 9 percent of the people said they avoided shopping Downtown due to poor parking. Two-thirds of the respondents said they didn't shop downtown because of a poor selection of stores.

"Public transportation to and from downtown should be inviting to families, students, seniors and all visitors. What about evening buses planned around concert, theater and event schedules?" (1990)

"Centro could go a long way toward solving that problem if there were inexpensive (maybe even free) perimeter parking lots/garages on all sides of downtown with easily available, convenient mass transit to all key downtown locations and the mess at Salina and Fayette was gone." (2009)

"If it is true that the Plaza cannot be saved, why not put a parking lot there? The trolleys could run a shuttle to the downtown shopping district from Midtown Plaza." (1990)

"I remember not too many years ago Centro had free rides within a certain area right around downtown. People could jump on any bus and ride for free within the immediate downtown area. So instead of walking from your car to your area of work you can ride for free." (2009)


At the time of the 1990 article, two Salt City Trolley buses had been circulating downtown on a Park and Ride route for almost three years, nearly empty. While the Salt City Trolley—or Salt City Folly, as opponents liked to call it— is really a story in and of itself (Common Councilor Robert Cecile quoted in an October 16, 1988 Syracuse Herald-American article: "The way I look at it the idea seemed very interesting and unique when we first proposed it...it might be one of those things you put up on the flagpole and wait and see if anybody shoots at it"— The Wacky Wall Walker Plan at its finest), one supposed purpose of the trolley was to act as a shuttle bus from a 480-car parking lot near Armory Square to the Downtown core area. For a $20 month pass, cars could park in the lot all day and ride the trolley for free. Any other riders picked up along the route could board for a 10-cent fare. Within the first year, 56,000 riders rode the trolley, at a cost of $3.48 per rider. An October 16, 1988 Syracuse Herald-American article determined that the city would have been better off financially if it had paid for the cab fare of every passenger ($2.48 along the same route). Yet despite Common Councilor Cecile's quote, the idea itself was not completely pulled from thin air. In February 1966, four thousand area residents were questioned by the Chamber of Commerce Mass Transit Committee regarding their transportation habits into Downtown, and nearly half stated that they drove in their own cars (Syracuse Herald-American, February 6, 1966). Of the fifty percent that took the bus, one of their biggest complaints was that it did not drop them in front of their workplace. The committee then looked into the possibility of creating a circulating bus route—running every five minutes, with up to six buses, so that "there would always be a bus in sight"—to transport riders from their downtown bus stop to their downtown place of employment.

And here I thought 2009 people were lazy.

Let's face it: as long as Downtown has the slightest hint of despair or decay, like the dying Fairmount Fair all those years ago, only the toughest of souls will want to venture its streets. Camillus Commons or Fayetteville Towne Center may be aesthetically depressing, but they don't make you feel the weight of the world at every turn. And isn't that what this is really all about? To read many of the suggestions at Sean Kirst's blog: ample free parking at every doorstep, eliminate the panhandlers and homeless, remove the Centro Bus Stop from sight, add a few national chain stores like the nondescript Gap—by the time this wish list is fulfilled, we won't have to worry about luring Cicero to Downtown Syracuse, as Downtown Syracuse will be Cicero.

As someone who doesn't currently live in Syracuse—and never appreciated Downtown when I did—I feel pretty confident in saying this: the problem with Downtown isn't parking, it's perspective. As a car-free city dweller for the past 17 years, the notion of not wanting to walk several blocks from a parking space to a store or restaurant seems incomprehensible. I walk about a mile to the supermarket each way several times a week, without a second thought. (Then again, perspective: I'm a healthy, able-bodied person, and I know that this would not be possible for many others.) I suppose if I had lived these past years in the Syracuse suburban neighborhood where I grew up— with its lack of sidewalks or anywhere to even walk to—the notion of walking "several blocks" might seem equally as inconceivable to me. (The unit of measure alone is unique to the city; otherwise, it sounds like it might as well be "several miles.")

And perhaps the most telling response of all:

In my opinion, downtown needs to have things that you can't find anywhere else. For example, when my husband and I go downtown, a couple times/month maybe, it is to see an IMAX movie, eat at Sakana Ya or the Dinosaur, or go to a special event, like the car show yesterday. If there was an IMAX theater next to a dinosaur bbq in Camillus or Liverpool, we'd go there instead. People are lazy and want to do the least work possible, including finding the easiest most convenient parking space and shopping/dining somewhere that is "easy" (ie: mall, suburbs etc) So it's all about having unique enough attractions that will force people to come downtown because they can't get it anywhere else, even though it may not be as "easy".

From my point of view, downtown already has things you can't find anywhere else. Can you find an 1893 building designed by Archimedes Russell in Clay or DeWitt? And as heartbreaking as Warren Street currently is, would Lemp Jewelers be Lemp Jewelers if it were located in a storefront between Panera Bread and Dick's Sporting Goods?

But if you don't perceive historic architecture as anything special, then you will never be convinced that Downtown offers something right now that isn't stocked at your local suburban shopping center. If you think Downtown should be rebuilt as a checkerboard pattern, red for buildings, black for parking, then you will never feel great sadness when reading news of another historical building set for demolition. The question isn't how do we save downtown, but rather, who deserves a seat at the table when the decisions are made?

Maybe this is why Downtown Syracuse has been always been shaped by fads and whimsy. Instead of slighting someone, city leaders just offend everyone. And thus a sense of community is born.

February 6, 2009

(Click to enlarge.)