Governing Middle-Sized Cities: Studies in Mayoral Leadership 9781685857196

Citation preview

B-FMrev

12/8/09

12:04 PM

Page i

GOVERNING MIDDLE-SIZED CITIES

B-FMrev

12/8/09

12:04 PM

Page ii

B-FMrev

12/8/09

12:04 PM

Page iii

GOVERNING MIDDLE-SIZED CITIES Studies in Mayoral Leadership

edited by

James R. Bowers Wilbur C. Rich

b o u l d e r l o n d o n

Published in the United States of America by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. 1800 30th Street, Suite 314, Boulder, Colorado 80301 www.rienner.com

and in the United Kingdom by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. Gray’s Inn House, 127 Clerkenwell Road, London EC1 5DB www.eurospanbookstore.com/rienner

© 2000 by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Bowers, James R. Governing middle-sized cities : studies in mayoral leadership / James R. Bowers, Wilbur C. Rich. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-55587-895-5 (hc : alk. paper) ISBN 978-1-55587-870-2 (pb : alk. paper) 1. Mayors—United States—Case studies. I. Rich, Wilbur C. II. Title. JS356.B68 2000 352.23'216'0973—dc21 99-056088

British Cataloguing in Publication Data A Cataloguing in Publication record for this book is available from the British Library.

Printed and bound in the United States of America

The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z39.48-1992.

B-FMrev

12/8/09

12:04 PM

Page v

To Irene S. Rubin—my mentor, teacher, and friend—and Richard F. Fenno Jr., whose work has always inspired me —J. R. B.

To my special aunt, Mary Bell Wiggins, for the love she has given me and my siblings —W. C. R.

B-FMrev

12/8/09

12:04 PM

Page vi

B-FMrev

12/8/09

12:04 PM

Page vii

CONTENTS

Preface

1

Introduction James R. Bowers and Wilbur C. Rich

Part 1

2

3

5

6

1

Mayors and Their Leadership Environments

Kane Ditto and the Leadership Environment in Jackson, Mississippi Charles H. Moore Mike Peters and the Legacy of Public Leadership in Hartford, Connecticut Clyde D. McKee

Part 2

4

ix

9

27

Mayors and Contemporary Urban Issues

John Logie and Intergovernmental Relations in Grand Rapids, Michigan Rex L. LaMore and Faron Supanich-Goldner

49

David Fischer, Race Relations, and Political Incorporation in St. Petersburg, Florida Platon N. Rigos, Ambe Njoh, and Darryl F. Paulson

65

William A. Johnson Jr. and Education Politics in Rochester, New York James R. Bowers and Paul C. Baker

81

vii

B-FMrev

12/8/09

12:04 PM

Page viii

viii 7

CONTENTS

Richard Arrington Jr. and Police-Community Relations in Birmingham, Alabama Huey L. Perry

Part 3

8

9

10

11

12

13

Mayors and Economic Development

J. Christian Bollwage and Economic Development in Elizabeth, New Jersey Daniel Schulgasser

121

David Rusk and the Politics of “Slow Growth” in Albuquerque, New Mexico Mark A. Peterson

137

A. J. Holloway and Casino Gambling in Biloxi, Mississippi Sharon D. Wright and Richard T. Middleton IV

151

Patrick Ungaro, Brownfield Redevelopment, and Revitalization in Youngstown, Ohio Frank Akpadock

167

Charles Box and Regime Politics in Rockford, Illinois Keenan D. Grenell and Gerald T. Gabris

181

Vincent Cianci and Boosterism in Providence, Rhode Island Wilbur C. Rich

197

Part 4

14

103

Conclusion

Mayoral Leadership in Middle-Sized Cities James R. Bowers and Wilbur C. Rich

References The Contributors Index About the Book

217

225 241 243 249

B-FMrev

12/8/09

12:04 PM

Page ix

Preface

Governing Middle-Sized Cities: Studies in Mayoral Leadership is based on two simple beliefs: that mayoral leadership is important to sustaining and revitalizing cities and that in the study of mayoral leadership mayors of middle-sized cities have been grossly overlooked. In acting on these beliefs, this volume examines how mayors of middle-sized cities use leadership as a governing tool to sustain and revitalize their cities. It does so through twelve original case studies, each focusing on a single mayor. Each chapter provides a brief background sketch of the middle-sized city over which the mayor presides, places that mayor’s leadership style and skills within the context of some existing or new conceptual framework, illustrates the mayor’s leadership as it applies to a specific area of sustainability, and discusses the effectiveness of that mayor’s leadership and suggests lessons learned from it.

■

Intended Audience

This book is intended for both scholarly and student audiences. For the former, our hope is that Governing Middle-Sized Cities fills an important void now evident in the urban literature on mayoral leadership. The dominant trend is to present in-depth case studies of single mayors (e.g., Martin Gruberg’s Case Study in U.S. Urban Leadership and Wilbur Rich’s Coleman Young and Detroit Politics); concentrate disproportionately on big-city mayors (e.g., Leonard Ruchelman’s Big City Mayors: The Crisis in Urban Politics); or explore primarily

ix

B-FMrev

12/8/09

12:04 PM

Page x

x

PREFACE

the racial politics and the winning electoral coalitions of mayors of color (e.g., George Peterson’s Big-City Politics, Governance, and Fiscal Constraints and Marcus Pohlmann and Michael Kirby’s Racial Politics at the Crossroads). In this book we hope to bring balance to these prevailing trends by emphasizing the often overlooked mayors of middle-sized cities, examining these mayors in actual cases of governing, and making comparisons upon which existing theories of mayoral leadership and urban governance can be expanded and built. The primary scholarly focus of this volume is clearly leadership. But urban scholars interested in redistributive change also will find this book interesting. Eleven of the twelve case studies address, at least in part, the theme of redistribution. Chapters 2, 3, 8, 10, 11, 12, and 13 concern some aspects of developing an economic base for redistributive resources. Chapters 4 through 7 touch upon the theme of redistributing power in urban bureaucracies. Governing Middle-Sized Cities is constructed as well as a supplement to the main textbooks in undergraduate and graduate survey courses on urban politics and government. To promote its use in these classes, this book is organized to correspond as closely as possible to both the standard urban politics textbooks and many of the key topics discussed in such courses. In presenting the book in this manner, our purpose is to provide those who regularly teach courses on urban politics and government with well-conceived and welldeveloped case studies to use as extended examples of essential aspects of urban governance. By emphasizing the role of mayoral leadership in these case studies, our hope is to facilitate instructors’ ability to stress the importance of local chief executives in advancing the sustainability of urban America.

■

A Single Voice

To further enhance the book’s academic and educational attractiveness and to make it more than a collection of idiosyncratic case studies, the contributors generally have employed a common format. With their acceptance and support, we have engaged in editorial rewrites of the case studies to ensure that they speak with a single voice and fit tightly together as a single book. We have also included opening and closing chapters that first introduce and then pull together the lessons learned from the case studies. *

*

*

B-FMrev

12/8/09

12:04 PM

Page xi

PREFACE

xi

More than three years have passed since we first met each other in Toronto at the 1997 Urban Affairs Association’s annual meeting. Since that chance meeting and our decision to team up and produce this volume, a number of people have provided assistance. Huey Perry of Southern University–Baton Rouge and a contributor to this book deserves recognition for encouraging Bowers to ask Rich to undertake this project with him. Dan Eades, executive editor at Lynne Rienner Publishers, also deserves credit and acknowledgment. From the very beginning, Dan has been a steady and supportive partner throughout the entire process of developing and completing Governing Middle-Sized Cities. He has shown particular skill as a “therapist” in counseling Bowers through his first effort and baptism in editing a book of this nature. We would like to recognize and thank Lin Mocejunas and Susan Fanelli for their diligent and often tedious work editing and typing our revisions to the chapters. Rich would like to thank Anthony Affigne. We also thank the anonymous reviewer who took time to read and comment on the manuscript for Lynne Rienner and us. And we thank our contributors for their hard work and patience in preparing their chapters and responding to our multiple requests for revisions. On their and our behalf, we recognize and extend our appreciation to the twelve mayors whose leadership stories are told in the case studies and to all the individuals who took the time to be interviewed so that the stories could be told. —James R. Bowers Wilbur C. Rich

B-FMrev

12/8/09

12:04 PM

Page xii

B-1

12/8/09

12:05 PM

Page 1

1 Introduction James R. Bowers and Wilbur C. Rich

■

The Overlooked Mayors

Ask almost anyone to make a list of mayors, and the list will inevitably name big-city mayors such as New York’s Rudy Giuliani, Philadelphia’s Ed Rendell, and Chicago’s Richard Daley. The list also might include Detroit’s Dennis Archer, Cleveland’s Michael White, and Seattle’s Norman Rice. Certain to be absent from the list would be mayors of middle-sized cities. There are, however, some well-known middle-sized cities. Peoria, Illinois, has long been considered the heartland of American public opinion. New Orleans is known for the Mardi Gras. Memphis is remembered for Elvis and Sun Records. But the mayors of Peoria, New Orleans, and Memphis are not nearly as famed as the cities over which they preside. Instead, they serve in relative obscurity. Some mayors of middle-sized cities do achieve local and statewide prominence. For instance, Erastus Corning was mayor of Albany, N.Y., for nearly thirty years and successfully ran a highly organized political machine that made him an important wielder of political power in New York state. He served in both of these roles longer than Chicago Mayor Richard J. Daley. Yet much less is known about Corning than his big-city counterpart. The obscurity and anonymity of middle-sized cities and their mayors are evident in the scholarly urban literature, which displays a clear preference for studying big city mayors (e.g., Persons 1993; Peterson 1994; Savitch and Thomas 1991; Teaford 1990). In one of the few truly comparative studies of mayors found in this literature—

1

B-1

12/8/09

12:05 PM

2

Page 2

GOVERNING MIDDLE-SIZED CITIES

J. Kotter and P. R. Lawrence’s 1974 study—the only middle-sized cities included were New Haven, Conn.; Rochester, N.Y.; and Toledo, Ohio. In an effort to discover the best and worst mayors since 1960, M. G. Holli (1997) surveyed 160 urban scholars and found no mayors of mid-sized cities on the list. There have been some notable exceptions to the literature’s focus on big-city mayors. The body of scholarly work that political scientist Huey Perry has amassed on Birmingham, Alabama, Mayor Richard Arrington is one (e.g., Perry 1997, 1992, 1990a, 1990b). Another is J. Svara’s work on facilitative mayoral leadership in council-manager cities (e.g., Svara 1987, 1990). Such exceptions to the contrary, because of the general inclination toward studies of bigcity mayors, an important component of urban America is escaping critical review. Middle-sized cities, though, are subject to the same forces of economics and urban decline affecting their big-city counterparts. They, too, struggle to sustain, stabilize, and revitalize themselves. It should come as no surprise, then, that there are lessons to be learned from studying these cities and the mayors who have presided over them. One purpose of this volume is to discover just such lessons. In focusing on mayors of middle-sized cities, another goal of this volume is to disabuse journalists and urban scholars of the notion that these mayors are merely lesser-known incarnations of big-city mayors. In the musical My Fair Lady, Professor Higgins asks, “Why can’t a woman be more like a man?” The same often is asked of and assumed about mayors of middle-sized cities: Why can’t they be more like mayors of large cities? Some are, but most are not. Mayors of middle-sized cities are often a different breed of politician, with fewer resources yet in a better strategic position to lead than their big-city counterparts. The difference in scale between big and middle-sized cities is one reason mayors of the latter cannot be more like mayors of the former. Big cities, because of their size, have a range of resources not available to middle-sized cities. Media coverage in the major market of the state, a large delegation to the state legislature, a large bloc of city voters important for winning statewide office, and the economic centrality of any big city to a state’s economic vitality are all resources or circumstances unique to big cities. Middle-sized cities are likelier to experience more limiting regional media coverage, fewer state legislators able to influence state urban policy, a smaller bloc of voters capable of impacting statewide elections (particularly gubenatorial elections), and the general inability to effec-

B-1

12/8/09

12:05 PM

Page 3

INTRODUCTION

3

tively distinguish themselves from other middle-sized cities throughout their states on even the nation. Although their small scale affects the resources available to middle-sized cities to promote their sustainability, their size also presents opportunities for quality mayoral leadership absent in big cities. Given medium-sized cities’ smaller and more geographically compact populations, their mayors possess the opportunity for a sustained relationship between their communities and themselves that is more intimate than that ever experienced by a president, governors of all but the smallest and most sparsely populated states, or big-city mayors. This close proximity to the inhabitants of their cities creates for these mayors opportunities to aggressively engage in leadership. It can be argued that when mayors of middle-sized cities exercise strong and vigorous leadership, they and their cities are better able to weather and mitigate the negative forces threatening their sustainability than are mayors who lead less energetically or big-city mayors who are less approximate to their cities. Through properly executed leadership, then, mayors of middle-sized cities may be able to chart a course for urban renewal in ways not open to big city mayors.

■

Defining Mayoral Leadership

Asserting that mayoral leadership matters to the sustainability of middle-sized cities requires that the term leadership be defined, even if rudimentarily. To that end, Kotter and Lawrence (1974: 1) ask: “What is ‘strong leadership’? Does it mean advocating programs, creating a consensus, getting things done, or something else?” A thorough answer to that question is problematic because leadership of any kind is very difficult to characterize. Jones (1989), though, recognizes that there are at least two broad theories of political leadership that can be applied to mayors. One stresses the efficacy of agency and the other the primacy of structure. Jones concludes that both approaches have merit and can be seen at work in different situations. In his essay titled “Political Leadership in Urban Politics,” C. N. Stone (1995) stresses that the evaluation of leaders depends as well upon contrasting styles and results. He concludes that leadership is when politicians take actions that serve the interests of a city as a whole. Conversely, a failure of leadership occurs when an elected official’s action is inimical to the city’s interests. Stone acknowl-

B-1

12/8/09

12:05 PM

4

Page 4

GOVERNING MIDDLE-SIZED CITIES

edges the contextuality of leadership and stresses the importance of followership. He observes that in judging leadership performance, we should acknowledge structural constraints. No leader has a blank tablet on which to write at will. At the same time, leadership performances are limited by the personal preoccupations and weaknesses of the individuals who occupy leadership roles. It is appropriate that the negative side of the personal be considered along with the positive side. Success in meeting the leadership challenge is influenced by the balance point between the positive and negative. (Stone 1995: 113)

Both Jones (1989) and Stone (1995) subscribe to an understanding that a positive collective change in prior circumstances is the ultimate identifier of effective leadership. Thus as Stone has written, leadership is about having a positive “impact on the flow of events” and “not the mere matter of holding office or even exercising authority” (Stone 1995: 99). This is a view to which this volume, too, adheres.

■

Preconditions for Leadership

If effective leadership means producing change by positively impacting the flow of events, then properly executed mayoral leadership “put[s] heavy emphasis on the intangibles of vision, values, and motivation and understand[s] intuitively the nonrational and unconscious elements in leaders-constituent interaction” (Gardner 1990: 4). In exercising this leadership, mayors must have the acumen to discern the importance of intergovernmental relations and regionalism. Mayors who inherit an uncooperative or unprofessional bureaucracy must enlist city workers to help them to reorient city services. When experimenting with new forms of economic development, they must be aware that these experiments may bring new problems as well as renewed attention and interest in their cities. Mayors also must envision a new workforce in the inner city. This means taking the lead on school reform. Without good schools, a city cannot be competitive in the global economy. And mayors must make their cities business friendly through tax abatements and favorable zoning laws—and an incredible amount of boosterism. Given all that is required of mayors who purposefully strive to lead their cities, it is no surprise that frustration regularly accompanies the job. This frustration can be lessened if mayors possess the

B-1

12/8/09

12:05 PM

Page 5

INTRODUCTION

5

necessary preconditions for effective mayoral leadership. J. L. Pressman’s (1972) now classic article outlines seven such formal and informal preconditions: 1. Sufficient financial and staff resources on the part of the city government. 2. City jurisdiction in social programs areas, such as education, housing, redevelopment, and job training. 3. Mayoral jurisdiction within the government in these policy fields. 4. A salary that would enable the mayor to spend his or her full time on the job. 5. Sufficient staff support for the mayor for policy planning, speechwriting, intergovernmental relations, and political work. 6. Ready vehicles for publicity such as friendly press and television. 7. Supportive political groups, including a political party that the mayor could mobilize to help achieve particular goals. Pressman’s preconditions for effective mayoral leadership represent the ideal governing situation in which mayors hope to find themselves. More likely than not, though, mayors will have more responsibilities than they have legal and political resources with which to act on them. They frequently will lack some or all of the preconditions Pressman (1972) stipulates are necessary for strong mayoral leadership. Many mayors have lost the extragovernment leverage of a strong political party and supportive state legislatures. Planning is also very difficult. The office of a mayor may have little or no research staff. Short-term thinking is often the norm. High turnover of staff can lead to the loss of an institutional memory, and a city’s leadership may be unaware of similar problems or programs or situations in other cities. Mayors themselves have knowledge gaps. Then there is the local press, which can wrap every extant social problem around the neck of the mayor, even those that have roots outside the mayor’s jurisdiction. Even when mayors are fortunate enough to have Pressman’s conditions, the office can be unpredictable. Serving as mayor does not automatically enhance one’s political reputation. A single term can either make or break a career. Mayors can be blamed for services over which they have little or no jurisdiction. The actions of a cor-

B-1

12/8/09

12:05 PM

6

Page 6

GOVERNING MIDDLE-SIZED CITIES

rupt staff member or department head can undermine the credibility of an entire administration. This is why Stone refers to the office of mayor as a two-edged sword (1995: 109).

■

Outline of the Book

The remainder of this volume continues and elaborates upon the ideas touched upon in this brief introductory chapter. The case studies that follow examine mayoral leadership in Albuquerque, N.M.; Biloxi, Miss.; Birmingham, Ala.; Elizabeth, N.J.; Grand Rapids, Mich.; Hartford, Conn.; Jackson, Miss.; Providence, R.I.; Rochester, N.Y.; Rockford, Ill.; St. Petersburg, Fla.; and Youngstown, Ohio.1 As the case studies will show, these cities represent all of the most common forms of government employed in middle-sized cities, particularly the council-manager and the strong-mayor forms. In addition, the leadership and political environments of these cities present a diverse range of challenges to effective mayoral leadership. The same also is true regarding the challenges to sustainability in economic, educational, and racial climates. The twelve case studies are divided loosely into three broad categories. Part 1, consisting of Chapters 2 and 3, focuses principally on the idea of leadership environment and its impact on mayoral leadership. Part 2 (Chapters 4 through 7) examines a range of standard problems and issues that many mayors of middle-sized cities confront, including intergovernmental relations and cooperation, race relations and political incorporation, education reform and politics, and police-community relations. In recognition of the central role that it plays in the study of urban government and politics, Part 3 (Chapters 8 through 13) addresses mayoral leadership and economic development. Among the aspects of economic development covered in these chapters are slow-growth development policies, casino gambling, brownfield redevelopment, regime politics and economic development, and contemporary boosterism. Chapter 14 concludes the discussion with a summary examination of the lessons learned from the leadership efforts of the twelve mayors presented in the case studies.

■

Note

1. Uncited and anonymous quotes found in the case studies are the result of in-person or phone interviews conducted by the various chapter authors during the research phase of this project.

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

Page 9

2 Kane Ditto and the Leadership Environment in Jackson, Mississippi Charles H. Moore

■

Leadership and Its Goals Since at least 1990, American cities have been stuck in a seemingly permanent crisis, involving high levels of poverty, hunger, homelessness, crime, and low levels of funding for infrastructure needs, mass transit, and education. Perhaps unsurprisingly, metro voters are more alienated and less likely to participate in elections and civic affairs than at any time since the late 1950s. Worse, . . . cities and their surrounding metro areas have become virtually “invisible” in American national and presidential politics. (Waste 1998: vii)

In this milieu, public or civic leadership is a crucial community resource in slowing and stalling urban decline. Leadership is so essential to this effort because it “goes to the heart of politics, that is, to the capacity of a people to act together on their shared concerns. [Leaders] act in order to change what would otherwise be the course of events” (Stone 1995: 97–98). In short (mayoral) leadership revolves around providing direction or purpose for collective action. This purpose is at the heart of the leader-follower relationship (Stone 1995: 112–113; Burns 1978: 434). For mayors, this means it is necessary to articulate their visions and goals and take purposeful action to persuade and mobilize people or followers to achieve these goals. The specific goals will vary from mayor to mayor. Among the more general goals, however, are furthering the city’s corporate economic interests; expanding life chances for constituents through human investment; and maximizing

9

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

10

Page 10

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

the development of constituents as capable, involved, and broadminded citizens. To these community-based goals can be added the personal goals or political ambitions of the mayors. This personal dimension of leadership has potentially negative consequences for community-focused goals because “in furtherance of their personal and career ambitions, mayors often go after quick successes, insulate themselves from citizen involvement, or indulge in posturing” (Stone 1995: 109–110). To whatever goals mayors pursue, they bring various levels of skills. Mayors also can give overriding priority to any of these goals or achieve some degree of balance among them (Stone 1995: 112– 113). Regardless of what goals they focus on, they must be aware of the leadership environment, which defines the constraints and opportunities for mayoral leadership. How mayors respond to and interact with this environment affects the likelihood of their exercising effective leadership. The remainder of this chapter extends more fully these introductory observations by first presenting a more thorough discussion of leadership environment. Next, a case study of two-term Jackson, Mississippi, Mayor Kane Ditto (1989–1997) is presented. Ditto was Jackson’s first “modern” mayor to hold office after the city changed from commission government to a strong-mayor–council form of government. The same year Ditto was elected, Jackson elected its first majority black city council (four black, three white members). Thus Ditto helped shepherd a transfer of political power in Jackson from whites to African Americans. Ditto also worked to change the political culture in Jackson from one characterized by low political participation, elite domination of politics, and government preservation of the status quo to one emphasizing diversity, accessibility in government, and widespread citizen participation in government decisionmaking. Ditto undertook these efforts at a time when Jackson was hit by the reduction in federal aid to cities that had occurred throughout the 1980s and the recession of 1990.

■

Leadership Environment

As previously noted, mayoral leadership is influenced by the environment in which it takes place. Thus “no leader has a blank tablet on which to write at will” (Stone 1995: 113). Instead, environmental factors define both constraints on and opportunities for mayoral leadership. Among the environmental factors likely to impact on mayoral leadership are the place of the mayor in the formal structure of city government; the extent to which community-focused organizations

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

Page 11

KANE DITTO—JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI

11

such as neighborhood associations are present; the quality and functioning operation of the city government bureaucracy; the level of intergovernmental relations and cooperation; the racial and economic makeup of a city; and a city’s overall fiscal condition. ■

Strong or Weak Mayors

The literature on city government structure is consistent in describing weak- and strong-mayor–council forms of government. In a weak-mayor–council system, the council largely has both legislative and executive functions. Council members appoint administrative officials, make policy, and prepare the budget. The mayor is “weak” because of a lack of effective executive power, often with no veto over council actions, no appointment or removal authority. In contrast, in strong-mayor–council cities, mayors have broad legal authority that provides a firm basis for formal executive action and leadership. These mayors usually develop and submit their cities’ budgets, have broad appointment and removal powers, and can veto ordinances passed by the city councils. Strong mayors are directly elected by the voters and are usually eligible for reelection. ■

Community-Focused Organizations

Neighborhood associations are the general type of communityfocused organizations most relevant for this study. Since the rise of the neighborhood movement in urban politics in the late 1960s, neighborhood organizations have been a wild card in American urban electoral and managerial politics. Neighborhood activists can be key mayoral supporters, pragmatic coalition partners, or vocal opponents. Sometimes they develop a nonprofit institutional infrastructure that allows mayors to pursue goals in ways that would not otherwise be possible. Neighborhood associations also can stand in opposition to city hall and become rival power bases for mayoral opponents. Regardless of their position toward city hall, neighborhood organizations are an important mayoral constituency whose interests must be balanced against other constituencies with which mayors have to contend. For instance, there has been a good deal of analysis lately emphasizing the adversarial relationship between the “growth coalition” (a coalition of city stakeholders led by business interests with a focus on central business district, or CBD, development) and neighborhoods (non-CBD residents and organizations). This has grown out of the sometimes contentious relationships between city hall and neighborhood organizations. City investment patterns sup-

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

12

Page 12

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

porting the economic development interests of business, not necessarily matched by service delivery, infrastructure, or housing improvement investments in neighborhoods (particularly low- and moderate-income neighborhoods), have been treated as zero-sum games in which businesses win and neighborhoods lose (Ferman 1996). ■

The Bureaucracy

Mayors also are constrained by their city’s bureaucracy. Analysis of the functional fiefdoms of the urban service bureaucracies led one commentator to conclude that “the modern city is now well run but badly governed because it is now comprised of islands of functional power before which the modern mayor stands impoverished” (Lowi 1969: 201). Since this analysis, all mayors have had to pay a great deal of attention to the nature of their relationships with their civil servants. Control of administrative bureaucracies by political leadership is a traditional concern in representative governments and the target of many waves of innovations. One of the tenets of the New Public Administration of the early 1970s was making bureaucracies more responsive and accountable to the people they served in a democratic society (Marini 1971). One way to promote this was to make service bureaucracies more closely mirror in sociological makeup the populations they serve. Nowhere was this more urgently needed than in cities with growing minority populations but largely white public bureaucracies, particularly in the public safety (police and fire) departments. Newer reform movements, led by government “reinvention” (Osborne and Gaebler 1992), are driven to try to maximize productive and allocative efficiencies that are hampered by public agencies unresponsive to citizens’ interests and demands. Although there are a variety of these reforms presently being explored at all levels of the political system (often called collectively the “new public management”), they often draw on economic market models, public choice analysis, and a “customer service” orientation to focus administrative attention on what users of services think is important. (For more discussion, see Leadership, Democracy, and the New Public Management, 1998.) ■

Intergovernmental Cooperation

Intergovernmental constituencies have become more and more important to cities since the late 1960s. Local governments are, of

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

Page 13

KANE DITTO—JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI

13

course, creatures of state governments. However, accelerated changes in the structure of city government, types and mix of city revenue-raising efforts, and range and variety of local development activities have made state governments even more important to cities as active partners or at least as permission-givers. The cities’ relationship to the national government also has changed. Federal governmental urban policy and fiscal support have waxed and waned. In particular, the drop in federal aid has been significant. “Between 1980 and 1987, federal aid as a percentage of total municipal revenue dropped 55 percent. In 1978, cities received almost 16 percent of their revenue from federal sources; that figure is now [in 1996] around 5 percent” (Morgan and England 1996: 2). This decline in federal aid has made a number of major city efforts, such as housing, community development, and environmental protection, difficult for cities to maintain. These difficulties in turn become serious political problems for mayors as they confront the necessity of increasing local revenues or cutting important local initiatives or services. ■

Fiscal Conditions

Mayors’ ability to lead can be frustrated further by the fiscal conditions of their cities. For example, fiscal stress greatly hinders their pursuit of new program initiatives and the maintenance of existing ones. Since the mid-1970s, most cities have been experiencing some degree of fiscal stress because of a number of demographic changes in the cities, particularly the movement of upper- and middle-income people to the suburbs and the increasing concentration of the urban poor in the center cities (Ladd 1994: 201–202). “To the extent that [these] demographic changes reduce the tax base [of the cities] at the same time as they increase service needs, the options open to city governments [and mayoral leadership] are all politically distasteful” (Peterson 1994: 9).

CASE STUDY ■

Jackson, Miss.

Jackson is the state capital of Mississippi. Located in Hinds County in the central southern region of the state, it also is the center of a three-county metropolitan statistical area (MSA) and is the state’s largest urban center. The city’s economy is composed primarily of

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

14

Page 14

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

service industries such as education and health care, wholesale and retail trade (including a growing telecommunications sector), and government. It is home to such Mississippi cultural resources as the Mississippi Symphony, Ballet Magnificat, the Mississippi Museum of Art, and seven institutions of higher education. Jackson’s population experienced a slight decline between the 1980 and 1990 census, from 202,895 to 196,637. Though its population was relatively stable throughout the 1980s and 1990s, Jackson’s proportion of the metropolitan population has been shrinking. In 1980 Jackson was 56 percent of the MSA and 81 percent of Hinds County’s population. By 1990 Jackson made up 50 percent of the MSA’s and 77 percent of the county’s population. Since the 1980s the racial composition of Jackson has changed as well. In 1980, 52 percent of the population was white and 47 percent black. By 1990 this shifted to 46 percent white and 53 percent black. In comparison, the statewide African American population during the 1990s was 35 percent. During the 1990s Mississippi remained one of the poorest states in the nation, and Jackson reflected the state’s impoverished condition. The poverty level for the Jackson MSA rose from 17.4 percent in 1979 to 19.3 percent in 1989. Over this same time, Jackson’s poverty level grew from 18.4 percent to 22.7 percent of its citizens. The city’s poverty level for families with one or more related children under the age of eighteen increased from 18.4 percent in 1979 to 25.5 percent in 1989—one in four families with children in the city was living in poverty at the beginning of the 1990s. Average household income for blacks was less than half that of whites in Hinds County. In some predominantly African American census tracts within Jackson, the unemployment rate in 1990 reached 20 percent or more. In addition, between 1980 and 1990, the number of female-headed households increased by 27 percent.

■

Jackson’s Leadership Environment

At the time Kane Ditto was elected mayor, the leadership environment in Jackson was defined by four major factors. The 1985 change in the form of city government from commission to strong-mayor– council was the first factor. The commission form of government that Jackson used for most of the twentieth century involved the at-large election of three commissioners who wielded both legislative and executive powers and decided issues by the “rule of two.” The commissioners also divided up administrative jurisdictional responsibili-

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

Page 15

KANE DITTO—JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI

15

ty over the city service departments. In practice, this meant a lack of city planning, because commissioners did not “interfere” in one another’s departments. Legislatively, there was little public discussion of issues, and Jackson citizens were not used to public discussions or civic participation. In this textbook case of the commission form of government, the mayor was one of the three commissioners designated to perform ceremonial duties for the city and had no additional executive powers or authority. Despite the change to the strong-mayor form of city government, Dale Danks, the first mayor to hold office (1985–1989) under the new system, was a holdover from the old commission days. He made few changes in city government or in the office of the mayor specifically. During his one term, Jackson’s city government operated much as it had under the abandoned commission form. The second factor defining the leadership environment in Jackson during the Ditto years was the change in the city from a white majority to a majority black population in the 1980s. This population shift occurred without a corresponding transfer of political power to African Americans. Indeed, the transference of political power in Jackson lagged behind not just its own population shifts but also many of the nation’s other cities that witnessed the transference of political power in the 1970s. This lag meant that the black population in Jackson was underrepresented on the city council and on other city boards and commissions and in upper management positions in city administration. Underrepresentation further meant that the black community also was underserved in municipal services and not receiving its “fair share” of city budget resources and services, particularly in regard to infrastructure and community development needs. The third environmental factor affecting leadership in Jackson was the inadequate state of intergovernmental relations. At the beginning of the 1990s, Jackson had very little structured activity that could be called intergovernmental cooperation. Active relationships with Hinds County (of which the city still composed slightly more than three-quarters of the population) and other municipalities in the three-county MSA were practically nonexistent. Relationships with state government were very episodic. Relationships with the federal government were function-specific and minimal. This situation retarded efforts to deal with regional issues such as criminal justice detention facilities, solid waste disposal, emergency services, or Jackson’s chronic revenue problems. Jackson’s public bureaucracy was an additional factor hindering mayoral leadership. The city of Jackson had never emphasized train-

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

16

Page 16

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

ing and professional development of its public employees and routinely promoted city department heads from within this workforce. Prior to Ditto’s election, Jackson city government never analyzed systematically whether city departments were working well. In addition, past public employment practices had resulted in a city workforce lacking in racial diversity (except at the lowest employee classifications—essentially for “housekeeping” tasks). Relatedly, there had been a nearly complete neglect of diversity in the midlevel and executive management leadership positions throughout all city departments, boards, and commissions. Jackson’s social and political systems completely lacked a community-based organizational infrastructure capable of fostering citizen participation in governing. Mayors previous to Ditto had not promoted community development from a neighborhood perspective. Nor had institutions emerged to meet new challenges, such as empowering people to participate more in the civic life of the city. When Ditto took office, only a few of the city’s sixty neighborhoods were organized, and the Jackson Association of Neighborhoods (JAN) was moribund. Finally, Jackson’s declining fiscal status brought on by its shrinking tax base, reduction in federal aid to cities throughout the 1980s, and the recession of the early 1990s further constrained leadership options. The findings of the first capital city commission appointed by Mayor Ditto in September 1989 to analyze city financial problems provided a clear articulation of the city’s tenuous fiscal condition. The commission found that Jackson was losing its proportional share of population, employment, and urban growth to other locations in the metropolitan area. The city’s tax base was eroding because of increases in the population of economically disadvantaged blacks and other minorities and the loss of population of middle-class nonblacks. In addition, its operating revenues were stagnant, but its operating expenditures were rising. The city was faced with the choice of either raising taxes or cutting services. Further, the commission reported that Jackson was not receiving its proportional share of revenues generated by Hinds County government. A second capital city commission in 1997 found almost 30 percent of property value in Jackson was tax-exempt and 63 percent of this property was owned by different governments. Jackson had few resources to offset these negative trends. Its only two large sources of revenue were the property tax and the sales tax. Water and sewer revenue was separately collected through an “enterprise” fund, and Jackson received little in the way of revenue

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

Page 17

KANE DITTO—JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI

17

assistance from state government. For example, the state collects $330 million in gas taxes annually, of which Jackson receives about $32,000 each year.

■

Mayor Kane Ditto

Kane Ditto is a Mississippi native, having grown up in the Delta town of Greenville. He attended Duke University and Vanderbilt University School of Law. Returning to Mississippi after law school, he practiced law for two decades in Jackson, emphasizing issues in municipal finance, and started a real estate development company. He began his civic involvement in Jackson in the early 1970s, taking on leadership roles in the Jackson Chamber of Commerce, Mississippi Economic Council, Leadership Mississippi, and Leadership Jackson. In 1987 he was elected to the Mississippi House of Representatives. Midway through his first term in the state legislature, a delegation of Jacksonians encouraged Ditto to run for mayor in 1989. To do this required him to challenge incumbent mayor Danks in the Democratic party primary. He did so, putting together an electoral coalition of neighborhood activists, upper-middle-class white voters in northeast Jackson, and a majority of black voters. Surviving the first primary round, Ditto went on to defeat Danks in the Democratic Party runoff primary with 52 percent of the vote. In the November 1989 general election, he scored an easy victory over token Republican party and independent challengers. Four years later, Ditto was able to hold his original coalition together to win reelection in 1993. As a member of a Mississippi Economic Council committee in the 1970s, Kane Ditto had drafted the strong-mayor–council enabling legislation that would be adopted by the Mississippi legislature. He knew that the mayor’s office in Jackson could be used to plan better and set priorities better and that the new form would promote better representation. While in office, Mayor Ditto was never conscious of developing or using a deliberate “leadership style.” Rather, he relied on who he was and for what he was already known. His personality and demeanor were quiet, serious, and task-focused. He preferred to work on substantive issues rather than easy issues that might bolster reelection. Nor does it appear that his leadership was motivated by a pursuit for higher office. Unlike Stone’s concern that the personal political ambitions of mayors are detrimental to leadership perform-

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

18

Page 18

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

ance, Ditto had already served in other elective offices, and he espoused no overt political ambitions for other offices beyond the mayoralty.

■

Responding to Jackson’s Leadership Environment

Ditto entered office aware of what needed to be done to begin to turn Jackson around. This knowledge came in part from listening to Jackson residents before, during, and after the campaign. After seven months in office, Mayor Ditto delivered his first state-of-the-city address in February 1990. He began: During the campaign I heard the people of Jackson call for better planning for our city’s future; effective strategies to deal with an escalating crime problem; programs to improve our neighborhoods; improved delivery of basic city services; strengthened economic development efforts; and closer cooperation between the City of Jackson and Hinds County and between us and our neighbors in Rankin and Madison counties [the other two counties in the MSA].

Ditto knew, though, that in order to seriously address these issues, the opportunities for leadership found in Jackson’s existing leadership environment had to be exploited and its constraints minimized. This also meant addressing the underlying conditions contributing to the limits on effective public leadership. Thus to adapt and survive in the leadership environment he inherited and to have a chance of accomplishing his goals for the city, Ditto responded to it with a leadership strategy of his own, incorporating visioning; institution building; external recruiting for high-level executive positions in city government; actively promoting racial diversity in leadership in executive appointments to city departments, boards, and commissions; introducing “best practices” to enhance the delivery of city services; and confronting Jackson’s worsening fiscal situation. ■

Visioning and Planning

Mayor Ditto recognized the power inherent in the strong-mayor form of government to provide vision for the citizens of Jackson. He was aware equally that any vision for the city had to be broad based and inclusive. Thus to set the stage for community-wide participation, Ditto employed a previsioning process on a citywide scale by appointing four citizen commissions to develop the agendas of a

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

Page 19

KANE DITTO—JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI

19

more general visioning process for the city and preliminary initiatives on neighborhoods, economic development, and strengthening families. Membership on these four citizen commissions were drawn from the ranks of Mayor Ditto’s supporters and augmented by individuals recruited for their special knowledge of the issues. Membership was balanced by race and geography. In completing their work, these commissions placed numerous specific action items on Mayor Ditto’s governing agenda, including controlling crime, reversing the deterioration of city services, boosting economic development, finding funding for human and cultural services, and encouraging broader citizen participation in economic and political life, which he pursued over eight years in office. To better translate vision into action, Mayor Ditto also reorganized the Department of Planning to include its first neighborhood planner. He enhanced the department’s importance still further by connecting planning to most of the line services provided by city government. Public works were most affected through developing more coordinated neighborhood service delivery. For example, in the north central Jackson neighborhood of Midtown, a Community Development Corporation (CDC) was created. The CDC developed a neighborhood strategic plan that helped the residents to focus their service requests to the city and the city to better coordinate services to the Midtown in such areas as public safety, drainage and street improvements, demolition of dilapidated houses, and construction of affordable housing. ■

Building Community-Focused Institutions

Vision and planning alone were insufficient elements to advance the ideas Mayor Ditto had for his city. Ditto also believed neighborhoods were key institutions to develop for two major reasons. First, active neighborhoods grow community leaders. Mayor Ditto knew that Jackson’s history of segregation had resulted in a lack of community leaders in the black neighborhoods who were experienced in citywide issues. Second, in Mayor Ditto’s vision for the city, neighborhoods were to be the building blocks of city planning and service delivery. He foresaw the sixty neighborhoods as six to ten clusters of neighborhood-based “urban villages.” These urban villages and the neighborhoods within them would take the lead in identify issues and developing citizen-based organizations such as neighborhood watch programs and community development corporations. City government would play coordinative and resource-providing roles for the

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

20

Page 20

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

efforts put forth by the villages and plan timely and targeted service delivery around them. With his strong orientation toward citizen participation, Ditto expended much energy trying to rejuvenate Jackson’s existing neighborhoods and build new ones. In fact, according to the mayor, his “strongest conscious effort [as mayor] was toward building institutions that would contribute to governance.” During his two terms as mayor, Ditto promoted the establishment of institutions that had varying relations with city government. Among the citizen- and community-oriented organizations he supported were single-function organizations focusing on such issues as business recruitment and affordable housing development; multifunctional institutions such as a medical education district for hospitals, medical schools, colleges, and neighborhoods; geographically based associations such as neighborhood organizations and the CBD-focused Capital Center, Inc.; citywide oriented agencies such as the Greater Jackson Foundation; regional leadership councils such as the Metro Mayors organization; and minority-based enterprises such as the Minority Capital Fund that provided venture capital for black businesses. In promoting these organizations, Ditto hoped that they would enhance citizen participation, become constructive critics of city government, and continue past his tenure in office. ■

Building the Office of Mayor

Mayor Ditto not only was confronted with the need to build community-focused organizations, but he also faced the challenge of building and reorganizing government institutions. For a variety of reasons, Jackson’s political leaders had not created the requisite governing institutions needed to move Jackson forward. Nor had Mayor Danks, Ditto’s predecessor, taken any concrete steps to institutionalize the newly created office of strong mayor. Accordingly, among Ditto’s first efforts was setting up governing institutions necessary to support the strong-mayor form of government, advance minority recruitment and diversify the city workforce, and improve service delivery. In regard to the mayor’s office, Ditto put together a staff that varied in size from eight to ten employees. He established three coordinators for the functions of administration, community liaison, and public relations. He also created the position of operations coordinator, which evolved into the position of chief administrative officer (CAO), who was directly responsible for the day-to-day operations of city government. The CAO both brought management expertise to

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

Page 21

KANE DITTO—JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI

21

the mayor’s office and freed Ditto to focus more time and energy on strategic, long-range activities. ■

Transforming Bureaucracy

Ditto’s institution building extended to Jackson’s city bureaucracy. To better improve their performance, Mayor Ditto reorganized various city departments. He created a new personnel department; reorganized the departments of planning, finance, and public works; and proposed creating a new department of neighborhoods for which ultimately a new position of neighborhood planner in the department of planning was substituted. Outside consultants were hired to examine the performance of other departments such as police, fire, and water and sewer. Ditto also changed the manner in which city department executives were selected. In Mayor Ditto’s judgment, the previous city leaders’ past practices regarding Jackson’s public bureaucracy had produced an “ingrown” city workforce somewhat provincial in outlook in doing its job. In contrast, to professionalize the city’s bureaucracy, Ditto actively sought outside applicants for key executive appointments. Ditto recognized the need to advance diversity in the city workforce and administrative leadership positions as a necessary and indispensable step in preparing the city for the racial transition of political power. Accordingly, he appointed a large number of African Americans to the top department leadership positions. At the same time, operating through the new city department of personnel, Ditto quietly worked to change the racial makeup of the city workforce overall. Ditto’s aggressive recruitment of qualified minority applicants changed the complexion of Jackson’s city workforce. When Ditto entered office, African American employees accounted for about 50 percent of city employees, but they were almost all clustered at the lower echelons of the city workforce of over 2,000. At the end of his second term, 71 percent of all employees were black, with a significant number in midlevel and executive management positions (including the police and fire chiefs). The overall ratios of white to black managers changed from 86 to 14 percent at the beginning of his administration to 64 to 36 percent at the end. This active strategy to diversify the public workforce served to advance the slow but steady transition of power in city government to Jackson’s African American majority, a transition that began with the election in 1989 of the first African American majority on the city council.

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

22

Page 22

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

Related to the professionalization and diversification of the city labor force was Mayor Ditto’s application of “best practices” for assessing departmental performance. These were introduced into city departments in a number of ways, ranging from outside audits conducted by external consultants to hiring people from diverse backgrounds. Through these practices, Ditto hoped to improve city government service delivery by recognizing and rewarding excellence in practice. This became possible in a number of visible areas, such as the aesthetics of public design, renovations of city hall and the Hood Building (the location of most city government offices), and major street reconstruction designs. By pursuing best practices, Ditto succeeded as well in getting many city workers to think about excellence in performance of their tasks. These structural, personnel, and task orientation changes, however, were not so much “reinvention” of government in the current meaning as necessary “invention” to allow for the strong-mayor form of government to function properly. ■

Confronting Fiscal Uncertainty

Mayor Ditto took steps to right Jackson’s uncertain fiscal situation. These efforts were intertwined with his efforts to transform the city’s executive branch departments. Ditto was certain that waste and inefficiency could be identified in many departments that, if eliminated, could contribute to future budget savings. Accordingly, he hired a variety of management consultants to carry out performance audits of city departments and to look at specific functional problems. During his first three years in office, comprehensive audits and assessments were conducted on the police department, fire department, city computer systems, city communications systems, mass transit bus service, city fleet management system, and the water and sewer department. In addition, a complete pay and classification study for the city workforce was conducted. In all of the departmental performance audits, the mayor insisted that the reports develop an operating plan for the department, identifying inefficient use of resources, any past discrepancies in service delivery patterns, and recommendations for changes. These analyses resulted in significant efficiencies and budget reallocations in the water and sewer, police, and fire departments. To better understand service needs and how the community wanted resources allocated, Ditto sought citizen input into budget decisions and in defining service delivery needs. Mayor Ditto described the process:

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

Page 23

KANE DITTO—JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI

23

First the studies of each service helped. But over time, I talked to a large number of city employees, I went to neighborhood meetings, I used various means of public accessibility, and I listened as some service needs came up in weekly city council meetings. Service needs also were identified through the community coordinator in the mayor’s office.

To further lessen Jackson’s fiscal uncertainty during the second term, Mayor Ditto moved aggressively to secure additional state government resources. Specifically, Ditto pushed for additions to the permanent state revenue stream to the city such as a greater share of the state gas tax, a local optional sales tax increase, and direct payment in lieu of taxes for exempt state government properties. He also pushed for developing an annual state legislative agenda for the city that sought particular capital investments and functionally targeted appropriations. As part of his intergovernmental strategy, Ditto directly negotiated with the Hinds County Board of Supervisors for a fairer allocation of Hinds County resources expended within the city of Jackson. As a result of these negotiations, county government assumed operations of all emergency medical services and the emergency operations center; agreed to build a new jail and youth detention center (with half the construction cost from the city); and relieved the city of any corrections responsibilities other than policing. In addition, the county agreed to spend more than $1 million per year of its own money on street improvement and bridge repairs inside the city. Overall, Kane Ditto’s efforts to stabilize Jackson’s fiscal situation paid dividends. First, seven of Mayor Ditto’s eight budgets had no property tax rate increases; one budget had a 0.7 of one mill property tax increase. Certain fees, however, usually increased in most budgets. Second, by Ditto’s fifth year in office, water and sewer bonds and general obligation bonds had their highest ratings in the city’s history, greatly reducing Jackson’s borrowing costs. By his seventh year, state government investment in the city grew significantly to $90 million. From his second year in office until his departure, Mayor Ditto increased to about $5 million city savings that resulted from service delivery assumption by Hinds County. Despite these gains, Ditto always felt that the city was about $20 million short of having a budget that adequately met identified needs. Reflecting on this view in his 1997 budget message, he noted: The City of Jackson needs now and will need in the future additional funding. . . . It is imperative that we redouble our efforts to become

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

24

Page 24

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

more efficient. . . . It is just as important that we obtain additional sources of revenue, and that we form more partnerships with for-profit and not-for-profit organizations.

■

Lessons Learned

In responding to Jackson’s leadership environment, most of the changes in government structure, community-focused organization, bureaucratic reform, and city budgeting that Mayor Ditto made were not new. Many cities and other mayors had adopted or used them before. But they were new to Jackson, and Ditto was the first Jackson mayor to consciously pursue and achieve many of these changes. For that reason, Kane Ditto clearly deserves to be called Jackson’s first modern mayor, and there are lessons to be learned from his actions in these areas. First, Ditto’s response to Jackson’s deficiencies in functioning governmental and community-focused organizations underscores the importance Stone (1995: 107) attaches to institutionalizing rather than personalizing leadership goals through strong organization. Stone’s concern is one for longevity and continuation after the initiating leader is no longer part of the political scene. Ditto’s actions in this area reflected the same concern. He wanted to improve the way Jackson city government was operating and to build institutions contributing to the civic life of the city that would continue after his time in office. Ditto’s reform of Jackson’s public bureaucracy similarly reflects the importance of institutionalizing leadership goals. His efforts here changed the internal culture of city administration to emphasize planning in all governing tasks and introduced “best practices” into municipal service delivery efforts. Planning and performance evaluation became important city governing activities. The continuities of policy, personnel, and functioning institutions by Mayor Ditto’s successor, Harvey Johnson, Jackson’s first African American mayor, attest to Ditto’s successes in institution building and political attention to the dynamics of racial power transition. Relatedly, Ditto’s changes in the personnel practices of city government over eight years achieved a quiet institutionalization of a city employee workforce mirroring the city’s black majority. Ditto thus further contributed to the transition of racial political power in the city. Ditto’s attention to Jackson’s weakening fiscal condition and service delivery also underscores Stone’s (1995) concern with redis-

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

Page 25

KANE DITTO—JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI

25

tributive policies. Specifically, in comparison to the functional fiefdoms of the old commission government, Ditto’s fiscal initiatives were mildly redistributive from haves to have-nots. In terms of budget winners, the police department and the public safety function were clear winners over eight years, following a goal to reduce crime, but the distributive effects were citywide, influencing all precincts. Another clear service winner was a five-year, $20-million water service rehabilitation and improvement plan. Here the distributive impact was experienced most directly in areas of the city with the oldest, most antiquated infrastructure that had to be upgraded or replaced. In terms of new expenditures and policy initiatives, Mayor Ditto promoted investment in both the central business district and neighborhoods. He initiated such redistributive efforts as the Jackson Metro Housing Partnership that focused several million dollars a year on producing affordable housing for low- and moderate-income families and the Minority Capital Fund that produced seed money for minority business development. He also created the Division of Family and Youth within the Department of Human and Cultural Services to develop and target programs aimed at disadvantaged children and families. In short, Mayor Ditto was not simply a “growth coalition” mayor or a neighborhoods mayor; he tried to be both, and his institution building and budget practices reflected that. Despite all of these achievements, Jackson voters denied Kane Ditto a third term. Here, in this last defeat, was perhaps his greatest failure in leadership. Mayor Ditto did not communicate effectively his vision for the city and his administration’s successes to a wider audience. Citizens did not perceive that conditions were improving, even as they were. Reflecting on this, Ditto said leaders have to be self-promoters, in the sense of helping the city to feel good about itself. He found it hard, because culturally he was brought up not to brag about his own accomplishments. Nevertheless, Jackson’s sustainability was enhanced during Ditto’s eight years in office. The essence of that sustainability for Mayor Ditto was in building long-term institutions that would improve the way city government performed; get more people, particularly at the neighborhood level, involved in governing; and enable a good racial political power transition. Thus while citizens may not know or appreciate that municipal governance is the art of coping with intractable problems, with astute students and practitioners of city leadership such as Mayor Kane Ditto, the future of cities is sustainable.

B-2

12/8/09

12:05 PM

Page 26

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

Page 27

3 Mike Peters and the Legacy of Leadership in Hartford, Connecticut Clyde D. McKee

About a mile north of the intersection of Interstates 84 and 91, there is a large billboard on the right. Beside a smiling face are the words “Mayor Mike Peters invites you to celebrate Hartford.” Hartford, Conn., does indeed have much to celebrate. Mark Twain said Hartford was the most beautiful city in America. The symbols of Hartford’s enduring political and economic significance can be readily observed on the city’s skyline. Marking the downtown area is a concentration of tall, impressive, and architecturally interesting banks and insurance companies, old church steeples, the tops of old factories, and the gold domes of the old statehouse and the state capitol. The eighty-four-year-old municipal building at 550 Main Street remains a classically beautiful center for local politics and is the gateway for a new vision for the city’s future. What cannot be seen from afar, or observed by a casual visitor, however, are Hartford’s perilous social, economic, and administrative problems. In 1870 Hartford was reputed to be the wealthiest city in the country. By the 1970s, though, it was one of the nation’s poorest communities. Hartford’s mayors have not responded consistently to the urban decline the city has experienced since the late 1960s. This failure is due in part to the institutionally weak mayoralty provided for by the city’s council-manager form of government. The politicization of council-manager government by Hartford’s dominant Democratic Party has further suppressed strong mayoral leadership. Since Hartford adopted council-manager government in 1947 and its politicization shortly thereafter, there have been fourteen

27

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

28

Page 28

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

mayors. Most have served primarily in a ceremonial role. The one or two who have broken through to exercise strong leadership have done so largely through the sheer force of their personalities. In the absence of ongoing unifying and visionary leadership, the public leadership necessary for Hartford’s revitalization is coming increasingly from heads of academic institutions, the captains of Hartford’s remaining industries, and Connecticut’s governor. This case study presents a more detailed examination of the history of public leadership in Hartford to better understand the leadership dilemma the city is experiencing as it moves into the new century. It suggests that the form of government impacts the leadership that emerges from it. As the case study shows, this is what has happened in Hartford. During the past half-century, Hartford has switched from mayor-council to council-manager government and has experimented with modification in the classic model of councilmanager government by introducing partisan elections and an independently elected mayor. Throughout the years, however, Hartford has steadfastly refused to return to a strong-mayor form of government. The case study also examines the tenure of Mayor Mike Peters. This study places Peters’s mayoralty in the context of the patterns of mayoral and political leadership that has developed in Hartford under its politicized council-manager government. The case study suggests that, absent mayors with strong personalities or other political institutions of powers from which to lead, the limits inherent in mayoral leadership in Hartford’s council-manager government results in an inability to effectively address the city’s urban decline and the need for public leadership to come from outside of city hall. The case study concludes that before Hartford can be a truly celebrated city in the new century, it must develop a better understanding of the implications for mayoral leadership brought about by its governing history and the implication of that legacy for the city’s longterm sustainability.

■

Mayors in Council-Manager Government

It is important for the student of local politics to understand that forms of city government are seldom static. Forms are intimately related to the size of a community’s population, its demography, the social and economic demands made by residents, and the visions and ambitions of political activists. Sometimes ambitious politicians advocate radical changes from one major form to another to advance

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

Page 29

MIKE PETERS—HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT

29

their own political agenda or the objectives of their partisan organizations. More frequently a city’s economic and political leaders experiment within an established form without changing their city’s charter or election procedures. U.S. cities use three basic forms of government: mayor-council (weak or strong variations), commission, and council-manager. The central characteristic of each of these forms is the extent of the authority and power given the mayor. In the weak-mayor plan, the mayor is an elected chief executive who is mainly a ceremonial figurehead, with little legal or administrative authority. The elected council has the authority to hire and fire certain city employees and prepare the budget. In a strong-mayor system, these functions are transferred to the mayor, who also has some veto authority over decisions of the council. In very-strong-mayor–council systems, mayors have exclusive authority over their city’s administration and budget preparation. In commission systems the mayor presides over meetings of commissioners, who are both administrators of major departments, such as police and fire, and legislators who initiate and vote on policy issues. As with the commission system, the council-manager plan negates the principle of separation of powers. The elected council functions as the board of directors of a private corporation and has authority to appoint and remove its city manager, who is chief executive officer of the city. Some mayors in council-manager systems are selected from the elected council. Other mayors are elected separately from the council. Most mayors in council-manager governments are elected in nonpartisan elections in which there are no party labels and local parties do not have authority to put their endorsed candidates directly on the ballot. But some council-manager systems have partisan elections with both party labels and party endorsements. Council-manager systems with partisan mayors elected separately generate two enduring concerns: Will these mayors challenge the city manager for power and influence over the city’s administration? Will they abuse their authority as presiding officer of council meetings to advance their party’s interests? Given the limited authority of the office of mayor in councilmanager government, it is not surprising that mayoral leadership frequently is seen as weak and generally not expected. Mayors in cities with council-manager governments do not enjoy what Pressman (1972) calls the “preconditions of mayoral leadership.” In his classic article on the subject, Pressman (1972: 512) writes that to lead successfully, mayors need a number of formal resources at their disposal, including: (1) sufficient financial and staff resources for city gov-

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

30

Page 30

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

ernment; (2) city jurisdiction over and mayoral responsibility for such areas of social policy as education, housing, redevelopment, and job training; mayoral jurisdiction within the city government in these policy fields; (3) salary that allows mayors to devote enough time to the job; and (4) staff support for policy planning, speechwriting, intergovernmental relations, and political work. However, a clear purpose of council-manager government is to deny mayors the strong formal resources to which Pressman refers. Despite the weak formal positions in which they find themselves, mayors in council-manager cities, particularly those who are elected separately from the council, still may be in the position to exercise some degree of leadership. Pressman notes that for mayors to lead successfully requires access and assistance from sympathetic institutions outside of city government. In particular, Pressman (1972: 512) stresses the importance of channels for favorable publicity, such as friendly newspapers and television stations and politically oriented groups, including political parties, that mayors can call upon to further certain goals. Through the relationship they develop with the media and other political and community-based institutions to which Pressman refers, mayors in council-manager cities can hope to wield some influence over the direction their cities move. To do so, these mayors need to employ those informal resources at their disposal, especially their personalities and sense of political timing. It also is becoming increasingly recognized that mayors in council-manager governments can exercise facilitative leadership, or leadership that empowers others, especially their city managers and members of the council (Svara et al. 1994). Facilitative leadership is particularly suitable for mayors in council-manager cities because it does not require extensive formal powers. Rather, its success depends on strong interpersonal skills. Facilitative leaders are experts in listening, and developing team capacity, challenging process, developing future leaders (Svara et al. 1994: 8). They seek additional resources, authority, power, and influence for others rather than for themselves (Svara et al. 1994: xxxviii).

CASE STUDY ■

Hartford, Conn.

Hartford was long recognized as the insurance capital of the world because it was the headquarters of such insurance giants as Aetna,

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

Page 31

MIKE PETERS—HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT

31

Travelers, the Hartford, and the Phoenix. Equally important was its reputation as an arms and munitions center because of the presence of the Colt Fire Arms Company in the mid-1800s. It is now closely identified with the industrial might of United Technologies, maker of jet engines and many other products used by the military. Less well known now are the city’s major contributions to the cultural and social needs of residents in its metropolitan region, its outstanding parks, world-class Wadsworth Atheneum art museum, and the award-winning Hartford Stage Theater. Hartford is also home for nationally prominent liberal arts colleges and universities, major nonprofit charitable organizations, and many fine ethnic restaurants. Less visible still but equally important for the viability of the city’s government is the city’s outstanding credit rating, its solid reserve for its workers’ pension benefits, and the city’s ownership of real property. Its assets notwithstanding, Hartford has all the problems found in many other old industrial cities. Since the early 1970s, half of the city’s residents have received some type of welfare. More than 25 percent of the city’s families now live below the poverty line. Middle-income residents have left the city for the suburbs. As Hartford entered the twenty-first century, it was one of the nation’s ten poorest cities. This dramatic transformation in the city’s fortune is even more unbelievable in that it has occurred in a state consistently ranked first in the nation for per capita income. In the 1990s Hartford was a city of high taxes and car insurance, inferior schools, poor residents, and old housing stock. There were segregated minorities, gangs, rats, drugs, high levels of teenage pregnancies, and a rapidly eroding tax base. It also experienced a high level of population decline, with the greatest population shrinkage among U.S. cities of more than 100,000 persons. In one two-year period, Hartford’s population dipped 5.5 percent. Hartford’s problems are compounded by the limited land mass that it covers and its constricted property tax base. The city is located on less than 19 square miles. Annexation is not an option because all the land outside the city is incorporated by other towns and cities. Inside the city, more than one-third of all real property is exempt by state law from local property taxes. Because Connecticut abolished its county governments in 1960, major functions such as education, police, fire protection, and economic development that are performed by the counties in other states are now Hartford’s responsibilities.

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

32

Page 32

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

■

Hartford’s Leadership Legacy

■

Council-Manager Government in Hartford

Hartford has been governed formally by council-manager government since 1947. There are two competing explanations why Hartford adopted this system: the good-government response and the Republican blocking strategy. Attorney George Ritter, a supporter of the 1946 charter committee that proposed the reform, suggests that the principal reason for abandoning Hartford’s weak-mayor–commission form of government was that the progressive professionals active in the city’s chamber of commerce agreed that the city needed a different type of leadership to confront the post–World War II problems. Veterans were returning, major wartime industries were converting to peacetime production, neglected municipal infrastructures needed repairs, and new pressures were being placed on city officials. Ritter and other business leaders did what was necessary to persuade local voters and members of the Connecticut General Assembly to change Hartford’s government. Some members of the charter committee and Ritter later served as members of the city council, with the ceremonial position of mayor going to the councilperson with the most electoral votes. An alternative to this good-government explanation is that purely political motives were behind Hartford’s adoption of council-manager government. During the first half of the twentieth century, Connecticut was a Republican state. Republican state officials recognized that the state’s cities were becoming growth centers for the Democratic Party. They saw council-manager government, with its at-large, nonpartisan elections and nonpartisan professional management, as an ideal strategy to preserve their hegemony and prevent a rapid rise of the Democratic Party. Republicans in Hartford and at the state level correctly identified Democrat John M. Bailey as a potential political threat to Republican hegemony. Bailey was a young attorney trained at Harvard Law School. The son of a prominent Hartford physician, he was more eager to practice the art of politics than law. He studied this art by working in Hartford’s elections campaigns, serving the needs of Hartford’s Democratic mayors, and drafting bills in the office of the legislative counsel at the general assembly. He soon became Connecticut’s Democratic Party chairman and formed close partisan ties to local party chairmen in the state’s major cities. As a covert strategy to block Bailey and the expansion of Democratic strength in the state’s capital city, Republican leaders

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

Page 33

MIKE PETERS—HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT

33

plotted to introduce council-manager government. They enlisted the support of the publisher of the Hartford Times, the director of the Hartford Chamber of Commerce, corporate leaders, and Thomas H. Reed, who was a retired city manager and friend of Richard S. Childs, the creator of the city manager plan. The goal was first to persuade the voters of Hartford and then the members of the general assembly to abandon Hartford’s weak-mayor–commission form of government and to replace it with a model council-manager plan. From 1947 through 1969, Hartford’s leaders followed the model for council-manager charter in form if not in spirit. Councilpersons were nominated by petitions and elected without party labels. The councilperson receiving the highest number of votes became the ceremonial mayor. The mayor’s responsibility was generally limited to presiding over city council meetings and representing the city on formal occasions. The city manager was left to administer the city with relatively little interference from members of the council. In appearance, Hartford’s city government was nonpartisan. Despite Republican intentions to the contrary, however, state Democratic Party chairman John M. Bailey, with the cooperation of the local Democratic chairman, ultimately came to control the city council and dominate its policymaking responsibilities. As the mayor was the council member who had received the most votes in the council election, Bailey came to control that ceremonial office as well. Bailey and the local chairman quietly recruited qualified Democrats to run for the nonpartisan city council. They offered to circulate voter petitions and promised to get out partisan supporters on election day. Before long, chairman Bailey had influence over party endorsements for Hartford’s state senate seats, state commissioners, state judgeships, and all nine of Hartford’s policymaking council members. Prior to many public council meetings, Bailey would convene members of the city council in the “Bailey Room” of the Parma Restaurant behind city hall. There members of the council expressed their interests and desires for patronage appointments and with Bailey’s help reach consensus on the policies the city manager would implement. But with studied care, state chairman Bailey and local Democratic chairman Robert K. Killian avoided direct contact with or intrusion into the administrative responsibilities of the city manager, who was left to run the city with a traditional managerial approach. In 1967, state and local Republicans reassessed their imposition of nonpartisan elections on Hartford’s traditional party system. But rather than advocate the complete abandonment of a council-manag-

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

34

Page 34

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

er government that had gained widespread popular support, they recommended only the return to partisan elections. The main reason for proposing this change was the hope that partisan elections would give them back at least some of the nine seats on the city council. In exchange for their support of the proposed reforms, local Democratic leaders demanded an additional change in the city charter creating a separately elected office of mayor. In working out compromises on these proposals, party leaders agreed that the mayor would have no vote on the city council. They also proposed giving the mayor a higher salary of $18,000 and personal staff, thus making the position more attractive to and competitive for aspiring politicians. But little consideration was given to how these changes would affect the mayor’s relationship to the manager or what the strengthened position of mayor would mean for the city’s administration and public policy. This oversight may have occurred because of a presumption that the state and local party bosses would still exercise strong influence over the independently elected mayor in much the same manner as Bailey previously had controlled the city council and ceremonial mayor. ■

The Carbone Era

Despite the charter revisions strengthening the office of mayor, public leadership in Hartford continued to come from outside of that office. For example, in 1971 Democrat George Athanson became mayor. A local attorney who divided his time between practicing law and teaching college, Athanson had neither the time nor inclination to be anything more than a ceremonial mayor. Thus real policy leadership remained squarely in the hands of the Hartford Democratic Party machine, particularly in the person of council majority leader and deputy mayor Nicholas Carbone. At the height of his political power, councilman Carbone also was Hartford’s Democratic Party chairman and leader. Through these positions, he exercised great influence over the local Democratic Party, the city council, and the administration of city government. He not only controlled the endorsements and patronage of the Democratic Party, but he also influenced the policies, appointments, and construction contracts made by the city. With his combined authority, Carbone could force city managers to resign. The extent of Carbone’s power over Hartford city government and politics led Neal R. Peirce to write in the Washington Post July 2, 1977, that Carbone was “America’s most powerful city councilman.” Fortunately for Hartford, Carbone was an intense, highly princi-

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

Page 35

MIKE PETERS—HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT

35

pled “radical” who used his political power to create more jobs, better housing, and improve public schools. To achieve these goals, Carbone engaged in some unusual confrontational politics. For example, to get a state income tax to replace local property taxes, he motivated a Democratic lieutenant governor to challenge his Democratic governor in a closed primary election. To squeeze more benefits for cities from state government, he created an urban coalition of Democratic representatives, who held the state’s entire budget hostage in joint committee until legislative leaders and the governor negotiated a better urban package. To get the suburbs to share some of Hartford’s burden for sheltering the poor, Carbone and Hartford’s corporation counsel (a patronage appointee) sued the U.S. secretary of the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) in federal court to force the head of HUD to uphold federal grant requirements for more low-income housing outside the city. While engaging in major transformational politics at the state level, Democratic majority leader Carbone initiated the creation of a charter revision commission with the goal of starting a process that would replace Hartford’s council-manager form with a strong mayor system. Carbone had mayoral aspirations. He saw the charter revision effort as a way to accomplish two goals: to formalize the power and influence he was already exercising and to increase his salary so he could better meet the needs of his large family. But he failed to defeat Mayor Athanson in the 1980 Democratic Party primary. Through his largely ceremonial duties, Athanson had maintained a high level of personal popularity across Hartford’s increasingly racially and ethnically diverse population. Voters also appear to have become concerned over the concentration of political power in Carbone’s hands and may have feared that he wanted to create a strong-mayor form of government to expand his already substantial influence over state and local policies. It was unusual within Connecticut’s political tradition for a councilman also to be the party chairman. Some voters were also tired of what they perceived as his know-it-all attitude and tendency to push people around. Councilman Millard W. Arnold was the only member of Carbone’s slate of primary candidates to survive the challenge to Mayor Athanson and his slate of council candidates. Arnold, who had grown up in a Harlem public housing project, was expected to carry on Carbone’s liberal agenda. Two years after the ill-fated effort to oust Athanson, Arnold became the city-council majority leader and deputy mayor. In gaining these positions, Arnold became the de facto boss over the operations of city government. His style, however, was very different from Carbone’s. Recognizing his lack of for-

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

36

Page 36

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

mal authority and the increasing fragmentation of the Democratic Party, Arnold was more of a facilitative leader. Arnold accepted that the city charter gave significant authority to the city manager, the elected city treasurer, the appointed corporation counsel, and the appointed city clerk. He also empowered members of the city council by removing himself from all council committees. He encouraged such talented councilmen as attorney Allan B. Taylor to initiate and supervise major policy initiatives such as housing reform. Finally, he took a lesson from former transactional party leader John Bailey and re-created a closed-door policy caucus before each council meeting. Here Democratic members of the council agreed not to disagree on the council floor. Striving to achieve political consensus, majority leader Arnold suffered few public embarrassments and defeats; earned a solid reputation as a principled, low-key professional; and through negotiation and compromise showed he could move a policy or program forward. ■

“The Bishops”

The above discussion underscores that from the adoption of the council-manager government in 1947 and its politicization shortly thereafter, Hartford’s mayors did not enter generally into that city’s leadership equation. Rather, strong party chairs and council majority leaders were among the principal voices in Hartford city government. Democratic Party leaders also were aided in their efforts by a group of corporate executives collectively known as “the bishops.” Hartford had a long history of corporate social responsibility during which the heads of the city’s largest private enterprises contributed generously to their city’s various projects. For the most part, though, these corporate leaders did not get directly involved in the decisionmaking of public policy. This changed in the 1970s. The “new” bishops were a small group of eight chief executive officers (CEOs) from Hartford’s largest and most influential banks and insurance companies, who knew each other as members of Hartford’s chamber of commerce. John Filer, president of the Aetna Insurance Company, was the informal head of this prestigious group. Over regular breakfast meetings, the bishops met privately to listen to specific proposals presented by such city policy leaders as Nicholas Carbone and to agree on a policy agenda that reflected both business- and city-specific needs. The bishops were most influential during the Carbone era. Although very different socially and economically from these corpo-

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

Page 37

MIKE PETERS—HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT

37

rate CEOs, Carbone and other council members gained the respect of Aetna chairman Filer and were incorporated into the decisionmaking process of this elite group. Partly in response to Carbone’s requests for help, the bishops helped construct the Hartford civic center, provided corporate funding for the initial stages of Hartford’s riverfront recapture project, paid for the rehabilitation of 524 moderate-income city apartments, and assisted in upgrading technological equipment in Hartford’s public schools. The close connection between Carbone and the bishops ultimately became a political liability for the former, hastening his political decline. The powerful collaboration between Carbone and Filer did not go unnoticed by other ambitious politicians. State senator Wilbur G. Smith called Filer “the shadow mayor of Hartford.” Criticism such as this contributed to Carbone’s fall from grace. As discussed later, though, a new incarnation of the bishops has emerged once again in Hartford to address the continued urban decline the city has experienced in recent years. ■

Hartford’s First Strong Mayor

By the end of the 1970s, the coalition that had kept ethnic Democrats such as Bailey and Carbone in power changed as the population of Hartford changed. As were many cities at this time, Hartford was experiencing middle-class flight from the city. Because of this flight, the middle-class ethnic base of the Democratic machine also was eroding. By the 1980s, Hartford’s population was roughly one-third African American, one-third Latino, and one-third white. These demographic shifts were sowing the seeds of change in Hartford politics. In 1981, after a decade in office, Mayor George Athanson, a popular member of the Greek community both within and outside Hartford, was challenged in a disputed Democratic primary by Thirman L. Milner, an African American. Winner of the primary and the general election, Milner became Hartford’s first black major. With Milner’s election there was general awareness that black leaders were in control of both Hartford’s policymaking and city administration. Hartford now had a black city manager, a black deputy mayor, and a black mayor. As Hartford’s first black mayor, Milner had enormous symbolic value for the city’s African American population. Nevertheless he maintained the tradition of weak mayoral leadership. That tradition would not be broken until his successor, state representative Carrie

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

38

Page 38

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

Saxon Perry, took office in 1987. Initially celebrated as the nation’s first big-city black female mayor, Perry became Hartford’s first strong mayor. Carrie Perry was bright, articulate, charismatic, and politically ambitious. She had gained name recognition as an outspoken Democratic state representative who championed the needs of Connecticut’s minorities. In addition to strong neighborhood backing in Hartford’s North End black community, she attracted support from the white and generally liberal West End neighborhood where she held a number of successful campaign fund-raising events. A vigorous advocate of affirmative action, Perry intended to overcome the limited powers granted to her by the city charter in order to bring about the full political incorporation of Hartford’s racial minorities into city government, something that had not yet happened despite African Americans’ holding the positions of city manager, mayor, and deputy mayor. In particular, few African Americans served as the heads of the city’s most important administrative departments, such as the police, fire, public works, and legal departments. Perry intended to correct these and other oversights she perceived in city hiring practices. She did this by exercising political influence over the city manager, who had managerial supervision over the director of city personnel. Perry served three terms as Hartford mayor. During her first two terms, Mayor Perry’s efforts to remake Hartford’s executive branch were frustrated by the power and influence exercised by a deputy mayor from a competing faction within the Democratic Party. To better control her own political fortunes and to lead in the manner she desired, Perry made a radical political move in 1991. She rejected an offer of endorsement from the Democratic town committee because this committee also endorsed some of her council opponents. Instead, she headed a reform slate consisting of six Democratic-endorsed council candidates and three council candidates from the very liberal People for Change Party. She won reelection, and her slate won all nine council seats. She was able to win this astonishing victory in part because the traditional Republican minority had lost its party leaders, some well-known officeholders, and many of its small but significant population of middle-class voters. Also, Perry had activated the electoral support of the black community and incorporated some representatives of the growing Hispanic community within the People for Change Party. Fresh from this electoral triumph, Perry persuaded the new city council to rotate the position of deputy mayor monthly among members of the council. This move effectively blocked the holder of that

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

Page 39

MIKE PETERS—HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT

39

position from exercising policy leadership and emerging as a potential challenge to her leadership. Through sheer political will, but still without any new authority granted by the charter, Perry now had governing control over Hartford city government. She used these resources to engineer the resignations of the city manager and the director of law and dominated the recruitment and selection for their replacements. For the most part, these replacements were blacks who were loyal to Perry and her council slate. She made it clear that despite the principles of council-manager government, these officials would be responsible to her and not the city council. Following Carbone’s practice, Perry also bypassed the city’s personnel office and made patronage appointments within the classified service. ■

Perry’s Fall, Peters’s Rise

All that Perry had gained in 1991 she lost in 1993 when she suffered a primary defeat in her campaign for a fourth term. Having made temporary peace with Hartford’s Democratic Party, Perry was once again its endorsed candidate. But Perry’s political liabilities were escalating. Six years of an aggressive, ideologically driven mayoralty had taken its toll on the citizens of Hartford, and Perry and her city manager had lost control of the city’s budget. Major cuts had to be made in funds for the police department; voters were convinced that there was a connection between these cuts and the city’s twenty-two homicides and increases in gang-related violence. As with Carbone, Perry also caught the wrath of Hartford voters for proposing charter changes that would replace council-manager government with a strong-mayor plan. Similar to Carbone, in pursuing these charter changes Perry wanted to institutionalize and expand her influence. She also was motivated by a need for the increased salary that a mayor would receive as the city’s chief executive officer. The difference between the mayor’s $30,000 as policy leader and the city manager’s $100,000-plus salary as chief executive officer was frustrating for Perry, who was so financially strapped that she could not afford to purchase even a modest home. But in spite of Perry’s efforts for a charter change, Hartford voters in 1993 reaffirmed their faith in council-manager government in a charter referendum and then defeated Perry in her bid for a fourth term. Perry lost the Democratic Party primary to Mike Peters, a twenty-two-year veteran of the Hartford Fire Department. Peters had grown up in a politically active family in the Italian section of Hartford’s South End. His sister was a member of the Hartford city council. He was a member of the Democratic town committee,

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

40

Page 40

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

served on numerous appointed boards and committees, chaired the city’s redevelopment agency, and worked regularly at his party’s campaign headquarters to get out the vote. As a member of a wellknown and popular family, Peters was widely recognized in Hartford. He was perceived as a warm, friendly, courteous, and very humorous person who, unlike Mayor Perry, was nonconfrontational. Observing the growing racial animosity and antibusiness attitudes that characterized the Perry administration, Peters was convinced that the residents of Hartford were ready for an alternative, less confrontational, and more congenial city hall that would bring people back together again. In offering himself as an “independent” Democrat, Peters made it clear that he was not interested in seeing Hartford replace its council-manager government with a strong mayor. Also key to his campaign strategy was a coalition city council slate composed of three experienced and well-known Republicans and six Democratic candidates for city council. The bipartisan slate was balanced by race, gender, ethnicity, and neighborhood representation. During the campaign, Peters took an overall conciliatory approach to Hartford’s diverse population by downplaying the differences among city residents, emphasizing instead such common goals and aspirations as well-paying jobs, good schools, decent homes, safe streets, and a place fun to live in. He made himself the type of city cheerleader that residents wanted after experiencing so much divisiveness among their leaders.

■

Mayor Mike Peters

Early impressions of Mayor Mike Peters were positive. National reporters even suggested that Hartford had finally found the savior capable of reversing the urban decline that had become a routine part of the city’s existence. Rob Gurwitt (1996: 30) writes in Governing that “if any mayor can rescue a dying city, it’s probably Mike Peters.” He describes Peters as part stand-up comic and part tent-revivalist. Peters has become Hartford’s fixer, pitchman and civic conscience rolled into one. He cajoles everybody whose ear he can bend—suburban Rotarians, insurance company CEOs, neighborhood activists, city employees—to help out with his revitalization agenda. Most of them find it difficult to refuse him. (Gurwitt 1996: 30)

Gurwitt’s favorable review to the contrary, Peters’s election to the mayoralty generally has meant a return to the customary practice

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

Page 41

MIKE PETERS—HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT

41

of limited mayoral leadership that characterized pre-Perry Hartford. Rather than taking advantage of Perry’s legacy (which created the preconditions of leadership Pressman [1972] described) Peters has rejected the idea of being a strong mayor and has even welcomed and participated in state takeover of the city’s responsibility for the administration of welfare, education, and economic development. Nor has Peters been a facilitative leader of the type Svara et al. (1994) indicate mayors in council-manager government can be. Peters has not empowered others, has little interest in process, and has not invested the city’s resources in team building, staff expertise, or leadership development. Some of his critics say, “Peters has not been required to do any really heavy lifting.” Rather, Peters has exercised a leadership style characterized primarily by conciliation and accommodation. Conciliation, Peters believes, is a natural skill he possesses. He notes: “I have the Godgiven talent to make people feel good, get them talking together, and before long something positive happens.” This approach appears rooted in genuine affection for the people of Hartford. Peters observes: “I spent twenty-two years as a regular firefighter at neighborhood Fire Station Number 15. But I went all over the city, got to know everyone. I love them all, no matter what color or religion— makes no difference to me.” Peters’s style has translated regularly into reassuring and symbolic action. He has been particularly conciliatory in his approach to race relations in Hartford in efforts to maintain positive gains that African Americans made under Perry. For example, shortly after being elected in 1993, Peters contacted Robert Jackson, a black political leader and chairman of the Democratic town committee. He asked Jackson to walk with him through the North End so he could personally thank members of the black community for the support they had given him. According to Peters: “We talked to all the black business leaders. I go to the North End a lot, not to see politicians, but to visit the guys in the machine shops.” Peters continued on a conciliatory course through the recruitment of a new city manager. He called Saundra Kee Borges, an African American woman and a longtime friend who also was Hartford’s assistant corporation counsel. Peters recounts that he said: “Saundra, I want you to do me a big favor. I want you to be city manager.” With appointments such as this one, Peters hoped to communicate that he was not going to undo the results of Mayor Perry’s affirmative action program. Both his North End visits and appointment of an African American city manager were highly symbolic. But his conciliatory

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

42

Page 42

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

style on matters of race has also resulted in concrete programs. One particular initiative that Peters has undertaken with the support of Republican council members has been the demolition and rebuilding of the Charter Oak public housing project. Prior to his focus on this task, Charter Oak was notorious for gang activity, drugs, unemployment, and urban violence. Part of the new Charter Oak is an industrial park providing local residents with job opportunities. There has also been Mayor Mike’s Companies for Kids program. He convinced the CEOs of 165 businesses in and around Hartford to encourage their employees to help city kids by tutoring or supervising basketball leagues. During his second term, when federal funds for summer jobs were cut, he got companies to raise $700,000 to help 4,000 kids. In 1999, through wit, charm, humor, and accommodation, Peters also got the Capital City Economic Development Authority to reserve for Hartford’s residents 30 percent of construction jobs and 50 percent of the permanent jobs related to the development of Adriaen’s Landing (a major development project discussed more fully in the next section). Conciliatory and reassuring to Hartford’s minority community, Peters is just as accommodating to Hartford’s corporate community. For example, Peters called all the CEOs of Hartford’s largest corporations to promise them that his administration, unlike his predecessor’s, would be business friendly. He told them, “I want you to know I will do what I can to make Hartford a good place to do business. Tell me how I can help you.” With these calls Peters has tried to reestablish the type of public-private partnership that Carbone had created with the bishops, a relationship that Perry had destroyed. Thus when representatives of the city’s corporations need to meet with city officials who manage building permits and licenses, Mayor Peters has coordinated these meetings, created a cooperative environment, and encouraged solutions to potentially disruptive and delaying impediments. If federal funding has been needed, Mayor Peters has always been willing to form the necessary political connections and fly to Washington for meetings where he could exercise his famous wit and charm. Peters’s style is suggested in the adjectives others use to describe him. During July 1998 I conducted personal interviews with public officials, city administrators, CEOs, owners of small businesses, and city residents in Hartford. I gave each interviewee a single page with fifty-nine words or phrases commonly used to describe mayors and city leaders. There was unanimous agreement that Mayor Peters is a “cheerleader,” “communicator,” and “highly visible.” There was also

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

Page 43

MIKE PETERS—HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT

43

a consensus that he is not an “administrator,” a “goal setter,” or a “commander.” Overall what these characterizations and Peters’s own actions suggest is that his tenure in office generally reflects and reinforces Hartford’s tradition of limited, if not weak, mayoral leadership. Since the middle 1990s, events in Hartford further underscored that the most ambitious initiatives to revive and sustain the city are coming from outside city hall, from a small number of academic, corporate, and state officials who can be labeled “the new bishops.”

■

“The New Bishops”

Trinity College president Evan Dobelle, chairman and CEO of Pratt and Whitney Karl J. Krapek, chairman and CEO of Phoenix Insurance Robert W. Fiondella, and Connecticut governor John Rowland are central figures among the new bishops. Four short examples suggest the greater importance of these men to Hartford’s future sustainability than to that of Mayor Peters. Evan Dobelle was appointed president of Trinity College in 1994. Shortly after taking over the presidency, Dobelle announced that he and the college trustees were committed to three major goals, one of which was the restoration of the blighted neighborhood around the college. Dobelle quickly developed a strategic plan involving numerous public and private funding sources. The centerpiece for this $175-million vision was a K-through-12 “educational corridor.” The corridor was to include a new magnet high school specializing in math and science and new privately funded boys and girls clubs. Numerous skeptics and naysayers were soon silenced as abandoned apartment buildings used by gangs for drug sales were demolished. When huge backhoes and bulldozers began the monumental task of digging up 11 acres of polluted soil, the New York Times took notice and devoted a front-page article to this Hartford project, the largest college-initiated urban renewal project in the nation. Late in 1997 chairman and president of Pratt and Whitney Karl J. Krapek announced that he was initiating the MetroHartford Millennium Project, a regional economic program involving twentynine communities, headed by a management committee of forty-one senior executives supervising fifteen separate task forces, all committed to the explicit goal of making metropolitan Hartford one of the top ten nationally recognized places to live and work within ten years.

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

44

Page 44

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

On May 14, 1998, the Hartford Courant ran a story detailing a $1 billion development proposal put together by Robert W. Fiondella, chairman and CEO of the Phoenix. The story detailed a futuristic vision of a redeveloped downtown Hartford centered around Adriaen’s Landing. Fiondella’s plan called for nine major facilities to be constructed: a domed stadium/auditorium, 700-room convention hotel, fourteen-screen movie complex, aquarium, affordable housing, riverfront plaza, sports activity center, intermodal transportation center with 4,600 parking spaces, and a reproduction of the ship Adriaen Block used to discover Hartford. Planners estimated Adriaen’s Landing would create 7,000 new jobs and generate $500 million in new private funding. This was in addition to the $350 million that Governor Rowland had committed to Hartford through his newly created Capital City Economic Development Authority. On November 20, 1998, the front-page headline of the Hartford Courant read “Scheming and Dreaming.” Beneath it was a photo of Governor Rowland and Robert Kraft, owner of the New England Patriots professional football team, signing a memo of intent to bring the Patriots to Hartford. Symbolically positioned directly behind these two key players was a smiling Mayor Mike Peters. This memo of intent was the product of months of secret negotiations involving many of the most prominent political leaders in the state government. The main items were the governor’s commitment, supported by the house speaker Thomas Ritter and senate majority leader Kevin Sullivan, that the state would spend $375 million to construct a 68,000-seat stadium for the team. Kraft in turn would spend $50 million to finance a new hotel adjacent to a new convention center. Kraft also agreed to put $2 million in escrow to show he was serious about moving his NFL team from Boston to Hartford. Here finally appeared to be the catalyst to make Adriaen’s Landing happen. However, the deal to bring the New England Patriots to Hartford fell apart a few months later. In each of these four initiatives, Mayor Peters performed a secondary role chiefly of cheerleading, making favorable statements to the press, speaking to neighborhood groups, and smoothing paths of possible resistance at city hall, such as persuading members of the city council to give support to deals they could easily kill.

■

Lessons Learned

Beneath all the hype related to Adriaen’s Landing and the Patriots football team, there are serious social and economic problems in the

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

Page 45

MIKE PETERS—HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT

45

city and long-neglected administrative problems in Hartford’s government that neither Mayor Peters’s accommodating leadership nor the new bishops can address. For example, the plight of public education in Hartford is in crisis stage. As of this writing, city schools are temporarily under the administration of a state board. A recent survey shows that they are more segregated now than they were twenty years ago. In addition, approximately 50 percent of Hartford’s students are not graduating from high school. Part of the reason for this failure is that approximately 80 percent of Hartford’s public employees live in the suburbs, denying the type of informed middle-class values that the city needs. Equally troubling are problems within Hartford’s government. A federal grand jury is currently investigating members of the Hartford Police Department who have been charged with abducting and assaulting prostitutes, robberies, and murder. Scandals alleging racism in the city’s fire and public works departments have not been resolved. Conservative Republican members of the city council, especially councilman Michael McGarry, have used comparative studies of expenditures in Connecticut’s largest cities to show that Hartford’s bureaucracy is severely bloated. In addition, because civil service regulations in the city’s personnel department have long been sidestepped by Hartford’s political and party leaders, job descriptions and neutral hiring procedures are obsolete. These and other problems continue to plague Hartford in part because of the legacy of an institutionally weak mayoralty, elected public leadership focused mainly upon the political needs of the city’s Democratic Party, and various incarnations of the bishops, who focus primarily on what they consider to be the chief economic development needs of the city. In this environment mayors are expected to perform largely ceremonial, supportive, and accommodating roles while the real leadership in Hartford comes from elsewhere. The overall leadership dynamics in Hartford have subverted and modified the council-manager form of government in ways that inhibits even competent technical and administrative leadership from emerging. Since 1972 Hartford’s political leaders have hired and fired ten city managers and ten school superintendents, costing the city hundreds of thousands in contract buyouts. Even more costly was the disruption to the governance of the city. Many of the city’s present problems can be traced to lack of continuity and the hiring and firing of city managers, a number of whom were untrained locals, and the appointments of untrained and inexperienced public employees to positions of major responsibility. A principal lesson this case study suggests is that Hartford—and other cities that might share a similar leadership legacy—must find

B-3

12/8/09

12:54 PM

46

Page 46

MAYORS AND THEIR LEADERSHIP ENVIRONMENTS

ways to encourage strong directive community leadership from city hall. This leadership must recognize how deeply rooted party politics, public support for council-manager government, and elite involvement in economic development decisions are in Hartford’s political and governing culture. Given these traditions, it is unlikely that Hartford will ever adopt a strong-mayor system of government. Rather, change will have to come through the personalities, personalpolitical skills, and leadership styles of the individuals elected mayor. In particular, Hartford appears to be a city ripe for a mayor capable of exercising the facilitative leadership about which Svara et al. (1994) write, a leadership that has vision, sets goals, establishes process, empowers others, invests in staff, and measures success in team rather than personal achievements. Of Hartford’s recent political leadership, former Deputy Mayor Millard W. Arnold comes closest to Svara’s model of a facilitative leader in council-manager government. This facilitative leader will need to find ways to modernize the city’s functions and procedures so that well-trained city professionals, selected by merit rather than patronage, can tackle Hartford’s most serious problems and manage effectively the many new governmental responsibilities related to the public-private partnership in Adriaen’s Landing. This leader also will have to be capable of responding to Hartford’s heavily diverse population and high concentration of poverty. One member of the city council has stated that “the perfect mayor for Hartford would be one who has the personality of Mayor Peters and the craftiness of Trinity College president Dobelle.” This new mayor should give high priority to strengthening and empowering the city manager and gaining the support of the city council for reestablishing a merit-based civil service administration in Hartford. These goals could be accomplished through a reform slate of candidates with solid connections to both business and neighborhood groups. When this happens, Hartford will once again be a celebrated city.

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

Page 49

4 John Logie and Intergovernmental Relations in Grand Rapids, Michigan Rex L. LaMore and Faron Supanich-Goldner

Cooperation and collaboration among neighboring jurisdictions are not new approaches to addressing problems that face American cities. However, such strategies are increasingly important to urban communities given the interdependence evident in metropolitan regions. N. R. Peirce reminds urban stakeholders of the implications of this new reality when he remarks that “regionalism flows naturally from globalization. . . . Optimizing a region’s prospects requires that we reinvent government, sharpen economic development planning, face up to shared social and environmental problems.” (Peirce 1998: 4). Mayors are in an optimal position to respond to the need for innovation in regional problem solving. Intergovernmental cooperation and mayoral leadership are indeed topics that have received scholarly attention from a variety of perspectives in recent decades. The interaction between the two, however, has not been well explained. In order to better understand the role of mayors in regional problem solving, this chapter looks at the leadership of Grand Rapids Mayor John Logie in advancing intergovernmental cooperation within West Michigan and across the state. We first present an examination of the relevant literature and a discussion of the community of Grand Rapids. Next we discuss Mayor Logie’s leadership and how that leadership facilitates intergovernmental cooperation in his region and state through an optimistic and rational approach emphasizing mutually beneficial policy outcomes over political considerations.

49

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

50 ■

Page 50

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

Intergovernmental Cooperation and Regional Problem Solving

Cooperation among units of government, across jurisdictional and attitudinal boundaries that are often rife with controversy, is critical to the vitality of not only urban centers but also metropolitan regions and entire states. Many observers have described the social and economic interdependence that exists between central cities and their surrounding communities (Peirce, Johnson, and Hall 1993; Savitch, Collins, Sanders, and Markham 1993; Hill, Wolman, and Ford 1995). Emerging global economic realities make cooperation within metropolitan communities even more important than before (Peirce 1998). Over the past half-century, urban communities in the United States have commonly become expanding metropolitan regions in which older central cities are surrounded by successive rings of suburban communities. In regions across the country, the outer ring tends to capture most of the new economic development and population growth. The social, economic, and political consequences of this pattern are profound. The central-city disinvestment that accompanies rapid suburban and exurban expansion leaves core cities with declining populations that consist of increasing concentrations of minority and low-income residents who enjoy fewer opportunities. Although older central cities are left to face their challenges with diminished resources, the edges of metropolitan regions are consumed by uncontrolled, unplanned, low-density development, commonly referred to as “urban sprawl.” To aggravate the situation further, the political fragmentation of metropolitan regions makes effective regional problem solving inherently difficult (Rusk 1995; Orfield 1997). In the decades since the New Deal, much has been written about vertical relationships among the three levels of government in the U.S. federal system (e.g., Bingham and Hedge 1991; Kleinberg 1995). In the present era of devolving responsibility to state and local government and growing attention to government efficiency at every level, however, horizontal intergovernmental relations are increasingly relevant. Over time, three general approaches to the challenges of regionalism have emerged (Savitch and Vogel 1996). Patterns of avoidance and conflict, as exemplified in Los Angeles, New York, and St. Louis, reflect a general lack of intergovernmental cooperation. Two potentially more viable strategies—formal metropolitan government and mutual adjustment among autonomous jurisdictions—are discussed below. Metropolitan government, including traditional consolidation

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

Page 51

JOHN LOGIE—GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN

51

and annexation along with more flexible multipurpose authority structures, is the more comprehensive and more difficult approach. Examples of consolidation include Jacksonville, Fla., with Duval County; Nashville, Tenn., with Davidson County; and Indianapolis, Ind., with Marion County. Various cities, such as Albuquerque, N.M.; Columbus, Ohio; Madison, Wis.; and Raleigh, N.C., also have expanded their boundaries through aggressive annexation of surrounding areas (Rusk 1995). Formal metropolitan authorities have been established in various regions for development planning and to coordinate services such as water, sewer, and transportation. The most comprehensive examples of metropolitan authorities are those in the Minneapolis–St. Paul and Portland, Oregon, regions. In the case of the Twin Cities, tax-base sharing has been utilized to promote equity in future development for the central city and inner-ring suburbs; the Portland metro area includes an independently elected governing body (Savitch and Vogel 1996). Because local jurisdictions are creatures of state government, efforts to create metropolitan government structures depend on decisions made at the state level. In many states, annexation or consolidation requires voter approval in each affected jurisdiction; similarly, the establishment of a metropolitan authority with the power to tax members or directly shape development often requires state enabling legislation. Beyond being difficult to achieve, consolidation and annexation often have the added disadvantage of failing to encompass the complete metropolitan area. In the case of Indianapolis, outer-ring development continued beyond the Marion County boundaries after consolidation. Similarly, the Miami-Dade government does not include several other counties that help make up the South Florida region. Metropolitan authorities, meanwhile, often fail to wield sufficient power to implement their boldest plans because of a lack of taxing authority or elected representation (Rusk 1995). In addition to metropolitan government and avoidance-conflict, the third response to regionally defined problems is one of mutual adjustment, or voluntary cooperation among local jurisdictions (Savitch and Vogel 1996). Such cooperation may be formal and enduring, as in regional councils of governments (COGs), or may simply reflect contractual or otherwise negotiated agreements regarding specific issues. COGs, first established to serve as regional planning and review agencies for federal government programs, have in many metropolitan areas evolved to perform various additional functions, including joint purchasing or service delivery, economic development, training and technical assistance, and advocacy for member interests (Wikstrom 1977). Many of these same functions

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

52

Page 52

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

are also served through interjurisdictional or public-private agreements made apart from formal bodies (Savitch and Vogel 1996). A key disadvantage to such mutual adjustment approaches is their voluntary nature. Regional coverage is not assured by these strategies, and member governments may withdraw from councils or other joint agreements at their discretion. This limits the effective scope of such agreements to addressing those issues about which areawide agreement can be reached. Accordingly, cooperation about the most important problems facing a region may not occur precisely because areawide agreement on them cannot be achieved.

■

Mayoral Leadership and Intergovernmental Cooperation

The role played by local elected officials in facilitating metropolitanwide cooperation is important to the success or failure of such efforts. Through their leadership, mayors may be instrumental to regional problem solving. In Indianapolis, for example, where consolidation was made possible only by passage of state enabling legislation, Mayor Richard Lugar initiated the process that eventually resulted in the city’s unification with Marion County. Striving to unite the region’s fragmented governance structure in order to reinvigorate economic development efforts and secure future Republican Party control of Indianapolis, Lugar in 1968 established a task force to draft the required legislation and later personally promoted its passage among state lawmakers (Murphy and Rehfuss 1976). By examining how skills of local leaders influence intergovernmental cooperation, a richer understanding of regional problem solving may be achieved. Theorists describe the context in which cooperation is possible and identify specific conditions that may help to facilitate cooperation in policy. Quirk (1989: 905–906) suggests that parties engaged in debate must be interdependent and that the factions must have “both complementary and conflicting interests.” In the case of the problems facing metropolitan regions, these two conditions are amply documented (Peirce et al. 1993; Savitch et al. 1993; Adams and Savitch 1997). An appropriate context, however, is only one condition upon which cooperation depends. Further conditions may include issue content, the structure of conflict, leadership, party politics, and political institutions. In the present discussion, issue content and individual leadership are of particular significance. The nature of a policy issue under discussion will help to determine the likelihood

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

Page 53

JOHN LOGIE—GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN

53

of a common solution being identified. For example, where deep concessions are required to reach agreement, cooperation will be more difficult. Similarly, the magnitude of potential joint gain will affect cooperation: the greater the potential gain, the more likely cooperation becomes (Quirk 1989). At the same time, effective leaders facilitate joint problem solving, notably through setting goals and negotiating agreements. Specific leadership roles are identified as especially relevant to cooperative outcomes. These include facilitating communication to reduce transaction costs, improving proposed alternatives to increase the benefits of agreement, withholding support to deter conflictual strategies, and discouraging premature public commitments to reduce the risk of breakdown (Quirk 1989). When it comes to regional cooperation among neighboring jurisdictions, central-city mayors, including those in council-manager governments, are particularly well situated to act in leadership roles. Mayors in council-manager cities are often misrepresented in the leadership literature because much of the familiar scholarship is specific to cities with strong-mayor (mayor-council) forms of governance (Svara 1990). Several studies of mayoral leadership, however, do focus on council-manager cities. In his study of forty-one such cities in Virginia, N. Wikstrom (1979) describes the role of mayor as policy leader in these cities. He concludes that in contrast to textbook descriptions, council-manager mayors do in fact function as strong policy leaders. They do so, he suggests, by mobilizing formal and informal resources of power based upon demographic, institutional or structural, political, and personal factors. Demographic variables include the size and composition of a community and its prevailing degrees of ethnic and political conflict. Institutional factors, such as the arrangements by which a mayor is elected, the lengths and limits of terms, and the formal duties and powers entrusted to the mayor, also help to determine the scope of mayoral power. Political considerations, including a mayor’s relationship with council and the involvement of local partisan activity, also contribute to defining the role. Finally, personal attributes of a given mayor—desire, ability, and perception of the role—affect mayoral leadership (Wikstrom 1979). In his own study, Svara (1987) generates a “comprehensive list” of eleven mayoral roles from a series of interviews with mayors, council members, and community leaders in five North Carolina cities. The most basic of these are performing ceremonial tasks and serving as a spokesperson and as the presiding officer of city council. Functioning as educator, liaison between council and manager, and

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

54

Page 54

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

team leader are additional mayoral roles. Some mayors promote the city among outside parties, whereas others take on the roles of setting goals, organizing relationships, and advocating specific policies (Svara 1987). Such mayoral roles are, of course, not mutually exclusive, and Svara identifies a mayor who uses the previously identified roles as the “director” type. Although Wikstrom and Svara focus explicitly on the leadership of mayors within individual cities, adapting these concepts to the phenomenon of intergovernmental cooperation for regional problem solving is a reasonable exercise. Some of the leadership roles that Svara identifies for mayors within cities, such as setting goals, promoting the city’s interests, educating others, and advocating for particular outcomes, are equally applicable to regional policy considerations. In the case of roles that link others; that is, organizing relationships and serving as liaison or team leader, a similar process of leadership is evident at both city and regional levels, but with different individuals involved. Wikstrom’s analysis may also be applied to intergovernmental cooperation. For a mayor to be effective at regional leadership, he or she must first mobilize sufficient personal resources, including the motivation and skill to act in the metropolitan context. The region itself must provide enough demographic and political support for cooperative problem solving to take place on a given issue. Finally, institutional or structural opportunities for engagement must exist or be created, for instance through membership in regional governing councils or other areawide networks.

CASE STUDY ■

Grand Rapids, Mich.

Grand Rapids, with a population of nearly 200,000, is the second largest city in Michigan. Located along a major east-west river on the western side of the state’s southern peninsula, the city has played a historically important role in Michigan’s economic, social, and political development. As Detroit’s long-standing domination of economic and political affairs in Michigan diminishes with the reduction of that city’s population and the decline of automobile manufacturing employment, West Michigan and Grand Rapids have become increasingly significant to the state’s contemporary affairs.

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

Page 55

JOHN LOGIE—GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN

55

European settlement of Grand Rapids began in 1826 when the French fur trader Louis Campau established a post alongside an existing Ottawa village at the rapids of the Grand River, 30 miles upstream from its outlet to Lake Michigan. Within a decade, sawmills were built along the river, and forest products soon supplanted the fur trade as the mainstay of the local economy. Grand Rapids grew into an important milling and transshipment point during Michigan’s lumber boom (1850–1890). By the turn of the century, abundant forests, a steady influx of skilled immigrants, and the power and transportation provided by the river had combined to turn the city into a renowned center for furniture manufacturing. Incorporated with about 3,000 citizens in 1850, Grand Rapids’ population increased to 100,000 by 1900. In the twentieth century, additional industries have contributed to what remains a diverse economic environment (Dunbar 1970). In 1916 Grand Rapids voters adopted a council-manager form of government that continues largely unchanged to the present day. The city is divided into three wards, each of which is represented by two council members (called “commissioners”) elected to staggered fouryear terms in odd-numbered years. The mayor is chosen by the electorate on a citywide ballot rather than by the council, as in some cities. Commissioners and the mayor also are elected on a nonpartisan basis, and the mayor of Grand Rapids has no veto power over the decisions of the city council. The office of mayor in Grand Rapids is considered a part-time post, with a salary of about $32,000 per year. A significant regional challenge for the Grand Rapids metropolitan area is its continuing urban sprawl. The Grand Rapids region is among the fastest-growing in Michigan. Since the mid-1980s, population growth has exceeded 12 percent, and the metropolitan area is now home to nearly three-quarters of a million people. Kent County, in which Grand Rapids is located, is projected to experience a 35 percent increase in population from 1990 to 2020. The population of Ottawa County (to the immediate west) is expected to increase by 65 percent during the same period (Frey Foundation 1997). This rapid growth has consumed vast quantities of agricultural land in the Grand Rapids region. In the ten years between 1982 and 1992, Kent County lost 14 percent of its farmland (Michigan Society of Planning Officials 1995). West Michigan’s continuing growth has resulted in mounting pressure on area citizens to consider growth management strategies. Community leaders with diverse interests have begun an earnest dialogue about the negative impacts of sprawl. In recent years, noted

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

56

Page 56

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

experts on issues of sprawl and regional governance, including David Rusk, Myron Orfield, Neil Peirce, and Henry Richmond, have participated in area forums to consider the region’s future (Frey Foundation 1997). In addition, the Grand Valley Metropolitan Council, a voluntary organization of private and public entities established in 1990, provides an example of area cooperation and a forum for potential future efforts. Although agreement about the need to address problems of sprawl may be growing, the Grand Rapids region faces several significant obstacles to intergovernmental cooperation. One structural impediment is the state’s permitted forms of local government. As one of only a handful of states with independent townships, Michigan has over 1,200 local jurisdictions. The Grand Rapids metropolitan area itself includes several dozen independent jurisdictions (Frey Foundation 1997). The sheer number of autonomous units of government makes cooperation difficult by increasing its complexity and raising the likelihood of opposition from small, vocal minorities who perceive threats to local control. A related challenge to intergovernmental cooperation is the ideological environment in which policy is currently formulated in Michigan. In general, an emphasis on individualistic self-determination dominates political discourse, which undermines support for consensus or collaborative strategies. State government in Michigan in the 1990s was highly polarized along ideological and political party lines. Cities in the southeastern part of the state, along the north-south I-75 corridor from Saginaw to Detroit, where auto manufacturing provides the economic base, are largely unionized and Democratic; suburban Michigan and much of the western and rural areas (“outstate”) are more predominantly Republican. Grand Rapids anchors one of the state’s most powerful Republican regions. The Michigan GOP party chairperson is from the region, and Republicans hold five of the six house seats and both seats in the state senate that represent Kent County.

■

Mayor John Logie

Mayor John Logie was elected to office in 1991. He is currently serving a second four-year term following a reelection campaign in which he received more than 80 percent of the vote. An attorney who had practiced in the city for thirty years, Logie held no prior elective office before becoming mayor. Devoting more than half of his time to his official duties, Logie continues to practice law part time.

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

Page 57

JOHN LOGIE—GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN

57

Born in 1939 in Ann Arbor, Michigan, Logie was raised in a suburb of Grand Rapids. He studied at Williams College and earned a B.A. in English from the University of Michigan. Logie served five years as a naval officer, on a destroyer in the Pacific and teaching at the Naval Academy. After earning a master’s degree from George Washington University, Logie studied law at the University of Michigan and returned to Grand Rapids in 1969 to join Warner, Norcross, and Judd, the law firm at which he is today a partner. Before running for mayor, Logie was involved in local government intermittently and in marginal roles. As an attorney practicing real estate law, he attended city council and committee meetings in the interest of clients. As a homeowner in the Heritage Hill neighborhood of the city, Logie was involved in the successful effort to designate Grand Rapids’ first historic district. After helping to draft the state’s enabling legislation for historic districts in 1970 and the first local historic preservation ordinance in Grand Rapids in 1971, he served as president of the Heritage Hill Association. Logie also wrote the city’s urban homesteading ordinance in 1975 and served five years as that commission’s first chairman. In 1987–1988 he chaired the city/county Sesquicentennial Committee that (among other things) raised funds to install decorative lighting on five downtown bridges spanning the Grand River.

■

Practical, Rational Leadership

Logie’s leadership style as mayor reflects a practical approach evident in his skill at running effective meetings. Presiding over the city’s legislative body is a fundamental activity of the mayor in a council-manager city, and Logie takes pride in his performance of this function. In his years as mayor of Grand Rapids, Logie has earned a reputation for conducting efficient, productive council meetings. According to Logie, this is a skill he learned not as an attorney but “as a dad, at Fountain Elementary School” from ParentTeacher Association mothers teaching parliamentary procedure. In policy development Logie combines a rational approach to decisionmaking with an optimistic leadership style intent on achieving mutually beneficial results. In identifying policy alternatives, he seeks win-win solutions by which conflict may be circumvented or overcome. Logie employs this approach in facing both local matters and issues for which regional cooperation is required, as well as interactions with state and federal governmental units. But “the first thing you have to do,” according to the mayor, “before you get to

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

58

Page 58

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

such interesting things as intergovernment cooperation, is get your own house in order.” A simple example of Mayor Logie’s attention to the details of leadership illustrates his practical outlook. Among his first actions as mayor was to reconfigure the furniture in the room where city commission meetings are held. Retiring the rectangular table that had previously been used, Logie replaced it with a V-shaped table, open to the room and with his chair at the vertex. As a result, when commissioners speak they no longer face one another but rather address the mayor and the public they were elected to serve. According to Logie, this changed the tenor of commission meetings and had the unanticipated effect of building confidence among citizens that “their elected officials—not just the mayor but all seven members—are running things.” Logie’s disdain for demagoguery exemplifies his rational approach to leadership. “We are here to debate ideas,” Logie says of city government. “The question is whether a yes vote or a no vote is a better policy answer to the community at this point in time.” Prudent policy, not winning politics, is the standard by which Logie evaluates the performance of his administration. In service of that goal, Mayor Logie maintains that he has no desire to satisfy personal political ambition through his actions as mayor.

■

Mayor Logie and Intergovernmental Relations

Mayor Logie’s role within the Grand Rapids region is consistent with Svara’s “director” type of mayoral leadership. In issues of intergovernmental cooperation, Logie acts at various times in the roles of goal setter, policy advocate, educator, organizer of relationships, and liaison between parties. He often serves as a spokesperson for the city and the region among state officials in Lansing. Applying Wikstrom’s concept equating power as mobilized resources, Logie extends his leadership to the region by utilizing personal, demographic, and institutional resources in support of collaborative initiatives. ■

Grand Valley Metropolitan Council

Mayor Logie’s participation in the Grand Valley Metropolitan Council illustrates his approach to intergovernmental collaboration at the regional level. The Grand Valley Metropolitan Council, a volun-

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

Page 59

JOHN LOGIE—GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN

59

tary body established in 1990, brings together public and private representatives from Kent County and twenty-eight cities, townships, and villages throughout the metropolitan area. The group’s aim is to “cooperatively advocate, plan for, and coordinate the provision of services and investments which have environmental, economic, and social impact” on the Grand Rapids metropolitan community. In 1996 the Metropolitan Council membership reached agreement on a city-township cooperation statement recognizing the need for a new paradigm to assist local units in cooperatively managing development and growth (Grand Valley Metropolitan Council 1997). Since joining the Metropolitan Council in 1992, Mayor Logie’s role in the group has been crucial, although not central. While consciously declining to seek a formal leadership role within the group, Logie has been instrumental in furthering the council’s aims through several key actions. One of these was to extend the purchasing power of the city of Grand Rapids to all Metropolitan Council member communities. This allows smaller communities to take advantage of volume discounts, providing these communities a fiscal incentive to join the council. A second action was to eliminate the Metropolitan Council’s power to tax the residents of its member communities. Although such a tax had never been imposed, the very possibility served as a rallying point for opponents in communities being invited to join the council. In 1993, at Mayor Logie’s suggestion, the Metropolitan Council wrote this power to tax out of its articles, hoping to circumvent increasingly vocal opposition to council membership then being advanced. A final illustration of intergovernmental cooperation facilitated within the Grand Valley Metropolitan Council involves future public transportation needs. In 1995 Mayor Logie helped create and organize Mobile Metro 2020—a group of citizens, elected officials, and transportation planners—to address the public transportation needs of the Grand Rapids region for the next twenty-five years. A consulting firm hired to provide technical expertise issued its final report in March 1998. The Mobile Metro board and the Grand Rapids Area Transportation Authority board have approved the report; when approved by the Grand Valley Metropolitan Council, it will become the official planning document for the region. At its heart is the development of a light-rail urban mass-transit program, using existing rail rights-of-way and the medians and shoulders of the federal interstate highway system as the basis for an urban mass-transit system. By anticipating continued regional growth rather than waiting for gridlock to set in on the existing public rights-of-way, the city of

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

60

Page 60

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

Grand Rapids and its neighboring communities have created an opportunity for long-range problem solving that permits planning and development to begin at once. ■

Regionalizing Water and Sewer Services

A second illustration of how John Logie is advancing intergovernmental cooperation in the Grand Rapids metropolitan area involves his plan to regionalize the city’s water and sewer systems. The city of Grand Rapids has provided water and sewer services to neighboring customer communities (cities and townships) through a series of thirty-year contractual agreements, some of which have already expired and others of which are due to expire early in the twenty-first century. In anticipation of this opportunity, Logie began in 1997 to negotiate a collective water-sewer agreement with the twelve customer communities that incorporates goals of regional cooperation. In its final form, this Urban Cooperation Agreement will incorporate taxbase sharing, an Urban Utility Boundary to shape future development of the region (the first such urban growth boundary in Michigan), and a commonly raised capital fund to be used for joint regional projects. In 1996, as the water-sewer agreement with the first of the customer townships was nearing expiration, Logie invited the township supervisor to negotiate a renewal that would include provisions for regional land use and infrastructure development planning. Rather than negotiating as a single entity, the township asked other local communities to join the talks, which began in February 1997. Meetings between Logie and two city commissioners on one side and the township supervisor and two customer mayors on the other have since resulted in sixty-five principal points of agreement in the master water-sewer agreement and ten major points in the Urban Cooperation Agreement. The response from inner-ring suburbs is reportedly so positive that they intend to abandon their existing contracts with the city early in order to join the new agreement. As of December 1999, the Water and Sanitary Sewer Service Agreement and the Urban Cooperation Agreement have been implemented partially. Mayor Logie reports: At this time, the cities of Walker, Kentwood, and East Grand Rapids, and the townships of Ada, Grand Rapids, and Tallmage all have signed [the Urban Cooperation and the Water and Sanitary Service Agreements]. . . . Together, they represent about 75 percent of the volume and population in the service district. . . . Negotiations are on-going with . . . seven smaller communities. . . .

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

Page 61

JOHN LOGIE—GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN

61

We are patiently waiting in the narthex for the bride(s) to show up. I expect that next year. The other [remaining] townships are likely to take longer, since they still have existing contracts [with other providers] with years to run.

■

The Urban Core Mayors

An example of Mayor Logie’s ability to foster interjurisdictional cooperation at a statewide level is seen in the role he played in the 1992 formation of the Urban Core Mayors (UCM), a bipartisan group consisting of mayors from Michigan’s twelve older central cities: Ann Arbor, Battle Creek, Bay City, Detroit, Flint, Grand Rapids, Jackson, Kalamazoo, Lansing, Muskegon, Pontiac, and Saginaw. The Urban Core Mayors provides a forum for these elected officials to exchange ideas, identify common concerns, and promote state and federal policies with a unified voice. The group has participated in drafting legislation concerning brownfield redevelopment and economic development and at various times releases public statements announcing its positions on key issues facing Michigan’s urban centers. Michigan State University’s Center for Urban Affairs community and economy development programs (including the authors of this chapter) provide organizational support to the UCM. Active members of the Urban Core Mayors also belong to other associations of elected local officials, typically the 500-member Michigan Municipal League and one or more national groups. Still, the Urban Core Mayors group is important for several reasons. Unlike national bodies such as the U.S. Conference of Mayors or the League of Cities, the narrowly defined membership and specific mission of the Urban Core Mayors make it a unique outlet for addressing problems particular to urban Michigan. The primary value of the association for many members is the opportunity it provides for sharing information with colleagues who face many of the same concerns. The group’s small size also permits its members to develop close working relationships. Since the group’s inception, Mayor Logie’s role in the Urban Core Mayors has been instrumental. One of only two founding members who remain in office, Logie hosted key meetings and preserved the group’s institutional memory during its crucial early years, when newly elected core-city mayors were entering office and joining the group. With Mayor Dennis Archer of Detroit, Mayor Logie serves as a cochairperson for the group. As a presiding officer and team leader for the Urban Core Mayors, he has on many occasions acted as a policy advocate, educator, and liaison to various parties in state govern-

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

62

Page 62

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

ment. Logie’s leadership within the Urban Core Mayors reflects a commitment to finding innovative ways to address persistent problems facing cities around the state. ■

The Metropolitan Rebate Proposal

The Urban Core Mayors also serves as a forum in which the mayor may encourage consideration of new state policies to provide opportunities for regional cooperation in West Michigan. One such policy is Logie’s proposal for a statewide “metropolitan rebate” incentive. Early in his first administration, Logie became aware of inefficiencies in the production and distribution of essential governmental services in the region. Upon investigation, he discovered that the Grand Rapids metropolitan area consists of forty-seven distinct units of government. These governments collectively spend $625 million per year to provide such services as police and fire protection and water, sewer, and waste disposal. Convinced that greater efficiency would result in considerable savings, Logie set out to convince others. His initial efforts focused on the potential benefits of improved cooperation among Grand Rapids area governments in providing common services such as police and fire protection. Logie’s ultimate aim in promoting the metropolitan rebate is to win passage of state enabling legislation that will reward local governments by returning to each participating unit a portion of locally generated state income tax revenues for their voluntary entry into a cooperative body. To work toward eventual passage of such legislation, Logie first secured funding from a local foundation to study the potential savings from consolidating common services now provided separately by local governments in the Grand Rapids region. In November 1999, when the study findings are delivered to the mayor and the chair of the Metropolitan Council, Logie will draft legislative language for consideration by the legislature during its 1999–2000 term. This legislation would permit metropolitan regions to participate in the rebate program on a voluntary basis, provided that threequarters of eligible jurisdictions in a given region approve. According to Logie, every elected state official to whom he has presented this idea—including prominent past and present lawmakers who will likely be helpful to eventual passage—has offered enthusiastic support. The metropolitan rebate concept faces several obstacles to enactment into law. One key difficulty, according to Logie, will be to define metropolitan region in a way that enables broad participation by many cities and their regions while preventing misuse of the pro-

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

Page 63

JOHN LOGIE—GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN

63

gram by technically eligible groupings of communities created to obtain fiscal incentives without achieving genuine regional cooperation. Another potential pitfall, common to many efforts at cooperation, is the rebate’s perceived threat to the autonomy of some local jurisdictions. Logie emphasizes that the rebate program will be strictly voluntary and that no governmental unit will be required to participate. Simple inertia and fear of municipal employee layoffs may be other obstacles; these may be mitigated by education and advocacy in the former case, and a six- to eight-year phase-in period in the latter.

■

Lessons Learned

The present case study tends to confirm the general lessons about regional problem solving derived from past research. Regional cooperation is politically fragile and best promoted by positive incentives and a long-term perspective. Cooperation generally occurs where autonomy is not threatened and where direct fiscal benefit may be derived. In addition, metropolitan regions are complex and individual; to understand the specific factors that inhibit or encourage cooperation, a given region must be assessed as a unique case (Kadlecek 1997; Savitch and Vogel 1996). The examination of Grand Rapids also demonstrates that certain leadership roles identified by Svara, namely, organizing relationships and serving as a spokesperson, liaison, and team leader, can contribute to building opportunities for cooperative problem solving. Other roles, including goal setting, education, and policy advocacy, help to shape the specific content of cooperative agreements. By mobilizing personal, political, and institutional resources, mayors assume leadership roles that advance intergovernmental cooperation. In the case of the metropolitan rebate proposal, Logie acts as goal setter, policy advocate, and educator. Within the Grand Valley Metropolitan Council, he is city spokesperson, goal setter, policy advocate, and liaison. Logie is a presiding officer and team leader for the Urban Core Mayors, as well as a frequent spokesperson for the group, an organizer of relationships, and an educator. In his insistence that future water-sewer agreements between Grand Rapids and its neighbors incorporate regional cooperation, Logie acts as goal setter, relationship organizer, and policy advocate. Effective mayoral leadership is a necessary but not sufficient condition for intergovernmental cooperation. The context in which regional problem solving is attempted must also be considered. As is

B-4

12/8/09

12:06 PM

64

Page 64

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

evident in the case of Grand Rapids’ water-sewer agreements, the opportunity for negotiating cooperative agreements must arise. Individual leadership is required to take full advantage of such opportunities, but leadership itself will not force cooperation. In the case of Grand Rapids, booming regional growth is a significant factor contributing to stakeholders’ motivation for future cooperation. Other challenges to regional cooperation in West Michigan remain. One is the effect of political ambition and partisanship on proposed partnerships, which at times can interfere with participation in cooperative efforts. As Peirce (1998) suggests, the need has emerged for a new kind of leadership that seeks innovative and cooperative solutions, which raises the question, Is society producing such leaders? The requisite talent for leadership, he points out, is present in every city and region; the challenge is to apply that talent to improving the efficiency and responsiveness of the region. Strategic intergovernmental cooperation is critical to the sustained vitality of Michigan’s—and the nation’s—central cities. In Michigan, as in many areas of the country, a polarized political environment in which political advantage takes precedence over effective policy is a continuing threat to the vitality of metropolitan regions. To the extent that he has forged intergovernmental cooperation within the Grand Rapids metropolitan region, John Logie has reinvigorated the area.

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 65

5 David Fischer, Race Relations, and Political Incorporation in St. Petersburg, Florida Platon N. Rigos, Ambe Njoh, and Darryl F. Paulson

■

White Mayor, Black Political Incorporation

On October 24, 1996, in St. Petersburg, Fla., a young black man, TyRon Lewis, was shot and killed by a white police officer. The event sparked sixty dispersed fires, eleven injuries, and other violent incidents in a very large area of the city’s mostly black-populated South Side. The local police department was so overwhelmed and unprepared for the racial violence following the shooting that it had to call for assistance from other police units from a neighboring county. Precisely one month later, after a grand jury ruled that the police shooting was a justifiable homicide, new riots took place. Despite a whole month of preparation for this inevitable new outbreak of racial violence, city reactions from the mayor on down were at best ineffective and at worst counterproductive. The racial explosion in St. Petersburg was shocking to the white residents in a city few expected to have racial confrontations. The city had the benign image of a retirement center, with strong midwestern roots and a manager-council system in which two black councilmen served. Blacks constituted 19.4 percent of the city’s population (U.S. Bureau of the Census 1992) and seemed invisible to the white world. This image, however, was based on a vague knowledge of the city’s past. To the more informed, the riots were not so surprising but a great disappointment. Mayor David Fischer, the city’s first strong mayor, had initiated a neighborhood policy that specifically addressed the revitalization of parts of the black community. He also had hired a police chief who was a strong

65

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

66

Page 66

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

believer in community policing and a less confrontational approach to policing. Six months after the riots and despite the city’s handling of it, Fischer won a resounding victory with full support of the minority community and specifically the riot area. After his reelection, Mayor Fischer reorganized his departments and eventually named the city’s first black police chief. With the city council electing its first black presiding officer, St. Petersburg finally was beginning the process of complete black political incorporation into the city’s governing circles. What made this incorporation somewhat unusual was that it occurred under a white mayor, though the literature on political incorporation instructs that this process generally does not happen unless there is strong black leadership and a mayoral victory by a black candidate. As this case study of Mayor Fischer and St. Petersburg shows, however, white mayors are capable of laying the groundwork for and facilitating black political incorporation. Overall, the case study in this chapter suggests that local political incorporation led by figures such as white mayors, black council members, and black police chiefs can reduce racial polarization in urban America. We begin by outlining how political incorporation theory (Browning, Marshall, and Tabb 1985, 1997) links with models of racial politics and mayoral strategies to explain minority empowerment in American cities with varying levels of minority demographic strength. In presenting that discussion, we explore a range of models of racial politics including “traditional Black politics” (Perry 1996: 2), “biracial coalitions” (Sonenshein 1993, 1994, 1997a, 1997b), and “deracialization” (Perry 1996; McCormick and Jones 1993; Pierannunzi and Hutcheson 1991). Next we give a history of race relations in St. Petersburg since the late 1960s. In that discussion, we distinguish purely local conditions that exacerbate racial confrontations from national trends in racial polarization. Finally, the case study examines the changing mayoral roles and leadership styles executed by Fischer and explores his transformation from a traditional downtown-developmentoriented mayor to one concerned with addressing racial tensions and promoting political incorporation. We underscore that throughout his three terms Fischer has reflected a number of mayoral leadership styles discussed by Kotter and Lawrence (1974). In his first term under the old council-manager system, he played a ceremonial role. In his second term and first as a “strong mayor,” he undertook mainly a caretaker role. In his third term, Fisher moved to an entrepreneurial style of leadership that displayed a greater sensitivity to St.

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 67

DAVID FISCHER—ST. PETERSBURG, FLORIDA

67

Petersburg’s black community and hastened black political incorporation.

■

Political Incorporation and Mayoral Leadership

Political incorporation addresses the leadership and political transformation that results when minorities and previously disenfranchised groups become empowered. R. P. Browning, D. R. Marshall, and D. H. Tabb (1985) note that political incorporation in urban America first arose from the political struggle of blacks and Latinos in urban areas after the major riots and War on Poverty battles had been fought during the 1960s. In particular, Model Cities, one of the War on Poverty programs, helped create a leadership structure in the black community. Theories of how political incorporation affects the political process began to emerge in the early 1980s and are still changing. At first, urban scholars and observers stressed that the local rather than the national political arena would have to be the departure point for the creation of a coalition of minorities capable of exercising real political power. It was assumed that at a time when the conservative national tide was rising, local coalitions could initiate incremental reforms that would protect and institutionalize gains made in the previous decade and incorporate into positions of authority groups previously unempowered. In their earliest forms, the assumptions of political incorporation theory were vague. In these assumptions it was easy to detect a notion that political incorporation would result not only in increased minority representation but changes in local policies and budgetary priorities. By the late 1980s, the fiscally conservative policies of black mayors in cities such as Atlanta, where downtown redevelopment policy was emphasized even in the face of strong minority demands, brought about a refinement to the theory. Scholars began to stress that political incorporation also is reflected in the affirmative action hiring patterns of local government; minority membership in the ruling coalition; the existence of key policies such as antidiscrimination ordinances, minority business set-aside programs, and meaningful neighborhood policies; and law enforcement strategies such as zero tolerance of police brutality. Minority mayors and city council members could pursue aggressive probusiness or “corporate” policies as long as they pursued as well some or most of the policies listed above (Stone 1993). The importance of the first election to office of a black or Latino

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

68

Page 68

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

mayor also has been an important element in the development of political incorporation theory. The initial view on this importance focused mainly on two models of legal-political empowerment: the so-called traditional race politics model (Perry 1996) and the biracial coalition model (Sonenshein 1993, 1994, 1997a, 1997b). The first describes the accession to power of a black mayor in a city with a very large black population through sheer high turnout of the black electorate, such as that which occurred in Detroit under Coleman Young (Rich 1989). In contrast, the biracial coalition model envisions a sizable white liberal participation in the first-time black or Latino mayoral candidate’s winning electoral coalition. The biracial coalition model is evident in cities with a slightly smaller but rising minority population, such as in Cleveland and Atlanta during the 1960s and 1970s. The defeat of minority mayors in cities such as New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and Philadelphia has been presented as recent examples of the collapse of these original biracial coalitions. More recently, some scholars expound and mayoral candidates have embraced deracialization, a newer, more controversial method toward political incorporation. Deracialization minimizes racial appeals but without forgetting the policy agenda associated with political incorporation. A deracialized strategy, it is argued, can elect blacks or Latino mayors in cities with a majority white population. Deracialization as an electoral strategy has shown its potential in the election of Mayor Norm Rice in Seattle and Mayor Michael White in Cleveland. Some (Perry 1996) have suggested that deracialization may become a trend even in cities where the black population is so large that factions emerge among the black population. Deracialization in black majority cities also represents a realization that after complete political takeover of the government, there remains the question of how tax revenues can be increased to pay for poverty alleviation programs. Such tax revenues can be raised only by economic growth. The taxable value of central-city neighborhoods must be enhanced. Many minority mayors have spelled out the message that they were not elected to preside over bankruptcy proceedings. In majority black cities such as Detroit, the economic development strategy of Mayor Dennis Archer provides an example. Archer has departed from the divisive rhetoric of his predecessor, the late Coleman Young. Above all else he has distinguished himself by refocusing on economic growth efforts designed to convince large, white-owned businesses to return to the central city. The reported return of shopping by white suburbia to Detroit’s downtown indicates that his strategy is working. He also has succeeded in relo-

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 69

DAVID FISCHER—ST. PETERSBURG, FLORIDA

69

cating the Detroit Lions football team from Pontiac to downtown. Appealing to a regionwide sports pride seems to have become part of the deracialization strategy. In most cities deracialization is not just a political strategy. It is also an end product that has value for most Americans, be they black, white, Latino, or Asian. It can be a healing process where policies would be evaluated on the basis of their impact on classes of people, poor or working poor, without regard to their race or ethnicity. Economic growth, done properly, is the greatest tool against poverty. The literature on political incorporation and deracialization has focused extensively on black mayors, ignoring the role of white mayors. But white mayors such as Sam Cassel in Atlanta and Kane Ditto in Jackson (see Chapter 2) have had an important role in laying the groundwork for the political incorporation of minorities in their cities (Stone and Pierannunzi 1997; Stone 1989). Also overlooked have been white mayors who have garnered large black voter support and proceed with black political incorporation not merely because the percentage of black voters is increasing but because such a stance is effective urban policy. Finally, the election of white mayors who follow black mayors into office, such as Ed Rendell in Philadelphia, suggests that included in a definition of deracialization may be the alternation of black and white mayors with political incorporation mandates of varying strength.

CASE STUDY ■

St. Petersburg, Fl.

After the two 1996 race riots in St. Petersburg, many questions were raised. How could this have happened in sleepy St. Petersburg, the city known for retirees, with the moniker “God’s waiting room”—a city that since 1969 had elected blacks to its small city council? C. Bette Wimbish was the first black on the city council. She was vice mayor her last two years in office and retired in 1973. David C. Welch, an ex–financial officer for the Pinellas County schools, and Ernest Fillyau, a photographer, were the two black representatives throughout most of the redevelopment battle of the late 1980s. Yet despite African American representation on the city council, a series of events in St. Petersburg’s history should have alerted city officials to the potential for racial unrest.

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

70

Page 70

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

The history of the black experience in St. Petersburg begins, as elsewhere in the South, with freed slaves. They settled in Pinellas County as homesteaders and when the city of St. Petersburg was born helped build the Orange Belt railroad that brought people there. In the boom years before World War I and in the 1920s, white contractors imported hundreds of black laborers to help build the town’s streets and homes. They and their descendants endured generations of rigidly enforced segregation and second-class status. There were lynchings as well as quieter forms of violence that stunted their hopes. Peaceful sit-ins were held before the city desegregated its lunch counters and public facilities in 1961. Five years later, a group of young activists yanked down an $11,000 mural from a city hall stairwell, saying it portrayed racist stereotypes of black people. A four-month strike by city garbage workers, most of them black, in 1968 included four nights of arson, looting, and rock throwing. Remarkably, no one was killed. The summer of violence galvanized the attention of the city’s white and black power structures. The obligatory biracial commission (called the Community Alliance) was set up to work on conflicts that frustrated black residents and mystified many whites. But tensions remained, particularly in the poorest parts of St. Petersburg’s historically black community, on the other side of a set of railroad tracks bisecting First Avenue South. Often these tensions revolved around police activity. The 1978 police shooting of Willie James Daniels, a twentyyear-old with a prison record, was just one of many shootings over the years that made black residents wonder if fear and racism made white cops deadly in sudden conflicts with black suspects. Because the officer who shot Daniels was under attack from an angry crowd, a grand jury later ruled the shooting an “excusable homicide.” A few days later, a Pinellas judge further excused the shooting by publishing a letter in the local newspaper in which he highlighted Daniels’s prior criminal record. Black ministers interpreted the letter as an attempt to justify Daniels’s killing or to claim that his life was not worth mourning. Three months before, the city’s police chief had attempted to explain the shooting of another black man in the back by another white police officer as something that was bound to happen when a black man behaved suspiciously in a white neighborhood late at night. That was the atmosphere that provoked rock and bottle throwing on the evening of August 20, 1978. At least sixteen unsuspecting people were injured when they drove through the area. A U.S. Justice Department investigation cleared St. Petersburg police of brutality charges in five separate cases in 1978 and 1979. But one decade

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 71

DAVID FISCHER—ST. PETERSBURG, FLORIDA

71

later, local leaders of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference publicly stated that city officials were ignoring repeated episodes of police brutality against black suspects. At one community forum, they brought forth thirty people who said they were victims of such brutality (Harper 1996). Subject to police abuse by white police officers, St. Petersburg’s black population also was victimized by the city’s economic development projects. For example, in the late 1970s city officials decided to use community development block grant funds to level houses in the Gas Plant area and relocate its predominantly black residents in order to construct a proposed industrial park. Most families were relocated to Jordan Park, a prototypical large housing project that is now slated for partial destruction. In return for the relocation, these residents were promised their “fair share” of jobs resulting from the successful development of that industrial park. But no jobs were forthcoming. Tenants for the industrial park never materialized. The city officials then offered the Gas Plant site for a major league baseball stadium. The regime made it clear that the stadium project would be used to revive the downtown despite all the risks. The apparent racial polarization in St. Petersburg raised its head once again when in 1991 Donald McRae, the black acting city manager, fired the newly hired white police chief, Curt Curtsinger, for what was termed racial insensitivity. Many Curtsinger defenders claimed that the chief was simply more outspoken about existing police practices. Yet his rhetoric resembled that of Los Angeles police chief Daryl Gates, in whose department he had spent his early law enforcement years. Gates, too, had claimed he was implementing community policing while openly encouraging aggressive policies toward black citizens. The firing provoked an astonishing backlash from whites. Local polls revealed clear racial polarization in opinion pattern regarding Curtsinger’s firing. Within the white community, 68 percent of city residents thought Curtsinger should not have been fired and 62 percent wanted him reinstated. Thousands of white residents signed a petition calling for the reinstatement and for removing from the city manager the authority to fire the police chief. In the black community, the reverse was true. Seventy percent of St. Petersburg’s black population approved of Curtsinger’s termination as police chief. Fifty-nine percent of that population did not want to see him reinstated (Koff 1992). A large financial settlement and Curtsinger’s placement in a city job placated his supporters but further angered the black community. Given circumstances such as these, blacks in St. Petersburg felt

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

72

Page 72

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

unimportant and excluded from the political system. Despite their anger, there were no strong leaders to mobilize them. The two black city councilmen did not lead; they only followed. Black church leaders were also mostly silent. Recent revelations have shown that one of them was even using his substantial influence within Democratic Party circles and among charitable organizations to enrich himself rather than advance the social, political, and economic situation of St. Petersburg’s black population. Thus as in the Watts urban race riots some thirty years earlier, the lack of genuine black leadership or a start at political incorporation meant that an amorphous response such as riots would be the only way black anger would be expressed. Even after the riots, a cohesiveness among black leaders was lacking.

■

Mayoral Roles in St. Petersburg Politics

In St. Petersburg’s version of the council-manager plan, effective until 1993, mayors were elected at large for a two-year term and exercised a little more leadership than in most council-manager cities. The early 1980s began with the popular and high-profile Mayor Corrine Freeman, the first woman mayor in St. Petersburg history. She worked harmoniously with the two city managers who officiated during this period. With Mayor Freeman’s cooperation, both managers focused on modernizing the city’s bureaucratic apparatus to the extent that the city became known for its willingness to innovate. They also focused on economic development, including plans for a major league baseball stadium. In 1985 a quiet, retired pediatrician named Ed Cole entered the mayoral campaign and ran openly against the construction of the sports facility. He won, and his victory was even more amazing in that he spent only $2 on his entire campaign. His election and the message it sent, though, were largely ignored by an increasingly assertive city council that was intent on building the stadium and bringing major league baseball to St. Petersburg. Cole served only one term. In 1987 Robert Ulrich was elected mayor. Ulrich was a lawyer from one of the city’s large law firms and on the board of corporations that did business with the city and was sympathetic toward stadium supporters. With his election, the pro-economic development coalition had their man in power and complete control of the city council. The coalition did not need to hide anymore. Ulrich pushed ahead with stadium construction to establish a fait accompli. In return for this support, his coalition, including the prodevelop-

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 73

DAVID FISCHER—ST. PETERSBURG, FLORIDA

73

ment forces in St. Petersburg, helped Ulrich turn back a very serious challenge to his mayoralty. In November 1987, Dennis McDonald, a neighborhood activist, launched a recall movement aimed at Ulrich and four city council members. The ruling coalition tied the effort up in the courts over every technicality imaginable. Failing to recall the mayor, McDonald went on to challenge Ulrich in the 1989 mayoral election. Neighborhood issues fueled the McDonald campaign, yet the black city council members stayed away from him. The black community seemed to see this conflict as purely a squabble among whites. McDonald never made a pitch to them, and they saw no reason to abandon the pro-growth coalition in which their leaders had placed them. Mayor Ulrich had convinced a group of black business leaders organized as the Progressive Alliance that St. Petersburg’s future growth would benefit businesses throughout the city (Olinger 1987). During this campaign, McDonald contended that the money for downtown projects would be better spent paving streets, improving drainage, and providing police officers, but black voters did not respond to his message. Nevertheless, McDonald received the most votes of any candidate in the mayoral primary, winning most precincts in the western, central, and northern parts of the city, but not the southern. The extent of that support did not go unnoticed by sitting council members, including the two black council members, who began to focus more on city neighborhood needs. An informal neighborhood alliance began emerging on the city council. Despite McDonald’s efforts and his first-place primary finish, in the March 1989 runoff election a majority of voters decided to stick with Mayor Ulrich. Ulrich’s win came in what many considered as the hardestfought mayoral race in decades. Turnout was nearly 40 percent, which for St. Petersburg was high. Ulrich also set a city spending record when his campaign expenditures totaled about $90,000. This was nearly double the $45,000 he spent to win his first term, which itself was a record. In 1991 Ulrich announced that he would not run for a third term. Instead, he would join another prestigious downtown law firm that had been crucial in the downtown project called Bay Plaza. In a June 6, 1991, editorial, even the previously supportive St. Petersburg Times questioned the propriety of Ulrich’s decision: On its face, Ulrich’s precipitant jump from the mayor’s office to the offices of Bay Plaza’s lawyers is perfectly legal. However, it only adds to the sense that some current and former city officials

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

74

Page 74

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

became too closely associated with the private developers to make objective judgments on behalf of the residents they were elected or appointed to represent.

■

The Emergence of David Fischer

It was in this atmosphere of scandal and growing public concern with the broad and unchecked power of the St. Petersburg growth coalition that David Fischer ran for mayor. Fischer, an Illinois transplant with a degree in business, was a partner in another downtown law firm. He also had been a city councilman from 1975 to 1979 and was involved in a wide range of civic organizations. Fischer was not easily categorized. Despite his links to downtown, he had been a neighborhood activist in the 1970s and had fought the real estate industry in rezoning clashes. He became a voice for planning and environmental concerns as the first chairman of the city’s Environmental Development Commission. He helped write the city’s first comprehensive plan. He was also cochairman of the Community Alliance, an organization that sought to increase racial harmony and protect civil rights. And yet this quiet idealist served as president of the chamber of commerce and was a municipal finance expert. At fifty-seven, he had spent thirty-two years as a municipal accountant. The 1991 campaign pitted Fischer against Dennis McDonald, who was making another mayoral bid, and black councilman David C. Welch. The ruling coalition considered Fischer their only hope against a McDonald victory (Rigos and Paulson 1996). With its support, Fischer’s campaign funds were ample, but they did not reach the record-setting levels of Ulrich’s second campaign. In a three-way primary election, Fischer came in first, with 37 percent of the vote. McDonald finished second. Black voters generally supported Welch. Fisher won in part by positioning himself between the two other candidates and by being more cautious in his support for uncontrolled development. For example, he stated during the campaign that as mayor he would still fight to attract a major league baseball team. But in a March 22, 1991, St. Petersburg Times editorial, he was quoted as complaining that supporters of development had “lost touch with the taxpayer.” Fischer also tried to preempt his opponents’ best proposals, neighborhood policies. He carried the most affluent areas of St. Petersburg (Caldwell 1991). In 1993 Fischer faced reelection. On the ballot that year was a

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 75

DAVID FISCHER—ST. PETERSBURG, FLORIDA

75

referendum to change from the council-manager form of city government to a strong-mayor system. The ballot referendum was largely the result of fired police chief Curt Curtsinger’s supporters. The referendum apparently was their way of getting revenge on a form of government that had brought about his departure from the police department. Curtsinger also was the principal mayoral challenger to Fischer that year. With the ballot referendum and Curtsinger’s presence in the election, turnout climbed to 53 percent of the eligible voters, an alltime record. Overall, voters strongly endorsed the strong-mayor– council system. The success, however, had some racial overtones. The white-dominated Coalition of Neighborhood Associations (CONA) supported both Curtsinger’s mayoral bid and the referendum. The largely black Federation of Inner City Neighborhood Organizations (FICO) did neither. Rather, the referendum and Curtsinger’s candidacy mobilized the black community as never before. It was clear that large segments of the police department were still strong supporters of Curtsinger and harbored many of his views about race and policing. Accordingly, blacks could not afford to be just spectators in this fight. Even though the election was about salvaging an establishment that had lied to them repeatedly, blacks had only one choice: to support David Fischer. With so much presumably at stake, the 1993 election outcome was so close that there were three recounts, and Curtsinger challenged the results in court.

■

Fischer’s Leadership

■

Before the 1996 Riots

Fischer won his first term as strong mayor, but during those four years he did not make any waves with the new powers allotted to him. Instead, he carried on in his duties very much in a caretaker manner. In regard to economic development, some good fortune fell on Fischer and the city during this period. In March 1995 St. Petersburg was finally awarded a baseball expansion team. Even then, the victory was tainted by the demands of the ownership group. On April 27, 1995, the St. Petersburg city council approved a thirtyyear lease with the leader of the ownership group for the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. The Devil Rays got everything they asked for. The city got fifty cents per ticket. St. Petersburg would pour another $60 mil-

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

76

Page 76

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

lion into that stadium and even more into parking construction before baseball opened in spring 1998. But at least the dream was closer to becoming a reality. Though Fischer did not overtly challenge St. Petersburg’s preoccupation with downtown development during his first term as a strong mayor, he did begin to show some signs of moving away from this orientation. He began reaching out to city neighborhoods, visiting all seventy and working with them on everything from traffic to graffiti to beautification to fighting prostitution (Rigos and Diamond 1998). Soon after being elected, Mayor Fischer sent a survey to each of the 90,000 households in the city. Eighty-three percent of the 25,000 who responded asked for an emphasis on the neighborhoods. Although the survey was not scientific, it was a useful political tool. The mayor wanted to be able to ask why a complaint expressed in one of his meetings had not been mentioned in the survey. Fischer was sending out a call for participation. Yet the empowerment rhetoric hid the sheer lack of resources the city had available to truly affect neighborhood revitalization. About ten neighborhoods did get attention; others, where participation in neighborhood meetings was low or nonexistent, were left to simmer in anger and apathy. Fischer appointed a new police chief, Darrel Stephens, a strong believer in community policing. But the department was still staffed with officers who supported a harsher approach to policing. Some officers have been revealed to be outright racist in their opinions. Mayor Fischer could not act to change the department immediately because St. Petersburg’s budget dictated that he keep taxes low: cutbacks in police salaries and staffing had to occur. These actions angered police personnel even more and convinced officers that the department was understaffed. ■

After the 1996 Riots

David Fischer appeared to have been moving slowly away from a caretaker style of mayoral leadership, satisfied merely to oversee downtown development, to a more activist leadership recognizing the plight of neighborhoods and minorities. The 1996 riots and his reelection in 1997 hastened that transformation, as both events seemed to underscore an awakening in Fischer regarding the importance and necessity of the political incorporation of St. Petersburg’s black community. As previously noted, the first riot of October 24, 1996, overwhelmed the police department. Fires spread throughout a very large area of the South and East Sides of the city. A black radical organiza-

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 77

DAVID FISCHER—ST. PETERSBURG, FLORIDA

77

tion called the Uhurus was accused of inciting some of the incidents. Omeli Yeshetela, the leader of the Uhurus, accused both Mayor Fischer and police chief Stephens of crimes against the black community. The two were derided as well by white radio talk show hosts, but for opposite reasons. Some argued that Fischer’s weak leadership during his first and second terms in office may have encouraged both whites and blacks who sought confrontation to pursue it. The aftermath of the riots brought federal intervention, a visit from the secretary of HUD, and hearings by the U.S. Civil Rights Commission. The commission’s report openly accused the city of having a poor racial climate (Rigos and Diamond 1998). Widespread dissatisfaction with police handling of the riots loomed over Fischer’s 1997 reelection prospects. In that year’s primary election, Fischer faced three opponents: council member Leslie Curran, retired general Bill Klein, and a black newcomer named Harry Kitchen. Klein was Fischer’s strongest challenger. The general had some key supporters among the business community, including a former mayor, a major downtown developer, and the original leaders of the 1993 strong-mayor campaign. Facing stiff competition and dissatisfaction with his performance, Fischer came in second in the primary. But in the runoff election of 1997, Mayor Fischer defeated Klein. He did so by chipping away at Klein’s strength in the center of the city, maintaining overwhelming support among black voters, and generally keeping his numbers around 40 percent everywhere else. By promising to reexamine his policy of aggressive city code enforcement, Fischer was able to regain support from many of the city’s small business owners, who were angered by this program. His emerging neighborhood policy further contributed to his victory, as he won most of the area close to downtown. During the campaign, however, he avoided the image of a biracial leader. Racial sentiments were still too raw for him to show the direction he would eventually take. Nevertheless, the October 1996 riots and his 1997 reelection appear to have transformed Fischer into a biracial leader, a transformation that materialized early in his third term. Quickly after his 1997 victory, Fischer became a leader of an emerging a biracial coalition. He solidified traditional support by honoring his campaign pledge to small business owners to change the regulatory maze of code enforcement. He also continued some spending on downtown and economic development. More dramatically though, he initiated a number of actions designed to shore up the support of the black community. For example, in April 1997 he reorganized his administration

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

78

Page 78

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

in such a way as to place the head of the neighborhood program in an even more prominent supervisory role over many departments such as code enforcement and housing (Smith 1997b). Then on May 29, 1997, Fischer announced an ambitious plan dubbed Challenge 2001. The plan called for the creation of 2,500 new jobs, increased homeownership, and lower school dropout rates. Under this plan, crime rates were targeted to drop by 5 percent a year and the number of boarded properties in the neighborhoods was to be slashed in half. The mayor claimed that these precise goals would allow the citizens to evaluate him by firm standards. On June 12, 1997, Fischer made perhaps his most important move in the direction of political incorporation by appointing Goliath Davis III, the city’s first black police chief. The appointment was not popular among some officers within the police department who had backed Curtsinger over the years. Yet Davis’s qualifications were impeccable. He had spent eleven years as St. Peterburg’s assistant police chief and held two degrees in criminal justice (Smith 1997c). The policy initiatives Davis took in the months following his appointment made it obvious that his elevation to police chief was a meaningful effort at political empowerment and not a cosmetic initiative. First came a decision to withdraw from the federal Weed and Seed program aimed at urban neighborhoods known for high levels of drug activity. Neighborhoods fitting this profile were targeted for extra attention by police and extra resources needed to build a community infrastructure of recreation centers, education facilities, and health clinics. Omeli Yeshetela, head of the Uhurus, and other African American leaders had criticized the city’s participation in this program because they believed the program amounted to police containment in black neighborhoods. The withdrawal from Weed and Seed was highly criticized by the white media and police authorities at the state and county level, and eventually a stalemate developed. In rebuttal, Davis argued that programs such as drug treatment and counseling could be far more beneficial for a community than arresting and jailing people. He would prefer that the $100,000 earmarked for policing be spent on treatment facilities instead (Smith 1997a). The next controversial move Fischer made was to appoint Yeshetela’s son to the police citizen review board. Again the mayor ignored opposition from the local paper and the police union. In an even more controversial move in June 1998, Davis fired or sent to early retirement a number of officers known to disapprove of his policies and who were suspected of racism. These officers, dismissed

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 79

DAVID FISCHER—ST. PETERSBURG, FLORIDA

79

for such borderline infractions as double-dipping, challenged their termination in the courts. Though the city may eventually settle out of court (the cases were still pending in late 1999), from an incorporation perspective the move was necessary to create trust in the black community that would not be forthcoming as long as those officers remained on the police department. Finally, since the 1996 riots Mayor Fischer has been more inclusive in those from whom he seeks advice. This has particularly advantaged the Uhurus and Yeshetela. The latter, a longtime antagonist of the St. Petersburg police, has met twice with the head of the city’s police union. In addition, Mayor Fischer, whom the Uhurus once accused of genocide, has held several meetings in which Yeshetela was a key player. Yeshetela even called a news conference to declare that the future of St. Petersburg’s black community was the “best I’ve seen in my lifetime.” Any repeat of the racial violence of 1996 would be “irrational,” he was quoted as saying. Yeshetela was invited to speak to the business community’s influential Tiger Bay Club. Despite greater access to city hall in Fischer’s third term, Yeshetela continues to deliver a very sober and critical analysis of the city’s needs, he just does it with a different pitch in his voice. These and other actions by Mayor Fischer and his administration seem to have convinced the various segments of the black community to rally behind the mayor. Even those groups still somewhat doubtful of Fischer’s transformation have shown restraint. Some members of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, for example, were critical of how federal funds were being distributed, but when the more radical black leaders declared that the mayor was now their friend, minimum cohesion was achieved. With the easing of racial tensions and the advances in political incorporation in St. Petersburg, Fischer has been able to focus once again on economic development. In April 1998 the baseball franchise acquired at so much cost began playing in a renovated stadium. In June of the same year, a report pointed out that downtown property values were increasing at the rate of 7 percent. A promising announcement for a mall in the downtown area and the news that office space was at 90 percent occupancy buoyed the spirits of most doubters. Still, the city has a huge debt to service. In the booming economy of the late 1990s, it was difficult to assess whether the improvements were due mostly to the city administration’s efforts. Across the bay, in Tampa, a similar job-creation effort, shepherded by a deal-making, entrepreneurial mayor who has not had to face the wounds of two major riots, seems to be yielding even more impressive results.

B-5

12/8/09

12:07 PM

80 ■

Page 80

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

Lessons Learned

As this chapter suggests, for most U.S. cities with sizable minority population, political incorporation of some form is a necessity to reduce racial tensions. Most city regimes that have had the insight to take even a few symbolic moves such as the appointment of a black police chief have been successful in avoiding the painful and longlasting effects of riots and racial polarization. Cities that resolve their political incorporation problems can then focus on economic development and job creation. They are usually more successful in job creation than those that have had to cope with the scars of riots. This case study has shown that by 1997 and after two terms in office, Mayor Fischer made a deliberate decision to pursue a biracial coalition strategy in his campaign and in his policies. As a product of the old regime, and in a city where blacks are only 19 percent of the population, he could not ignore the demands for downtown revitalization. Yet he must be credited with pushing a reconciliation agenda to the maximum possible in a city that had become so racially polarized. This case study also supports the notion that white mayors indeed may be able to successfully pursue a biracial strategy in cities where blacks constitute less than 25 percent of the population. It further suggests that where a recent racial explosion has taken place, an incorporation strategy emphasizing deracialization is not very likely (Los Angeles being the exception; see Sonenshein 1997a). In the case of St. Petersburg, that city may revert to a deracialization pattern in elections and policy when the racial scars of the 1996 riots have healed. Such healing seems to be taking place. And during his third term as St. Petersburg’s mayor, David Fischer has been one of the agents in the recovery.

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 81

6 William A. Johnson Jr. and Education Politics in Rochester, New York James R. Bowers and Paul C. Baker

■

Mayors and Education

“Among the many problems [that] confront the city and its politicians, none seem to touch the heart of the urban crisis so clearly as the conditions of the public schools” (Ziegler 1972: 15). Sadly, this sentiment, expressed nearly thirty years before, remained true at the dawn of the twenty-first century. In the intervening decades, the crisis in public schools contributed to white and middle-class flight from the cities, as student performance dropped, children’s safety was threatened, and school infrastructure decayed. The plight of public education in American cities also contributes to an overall decline in urban economic sustainability. Public education long has been one of the linchpins of the urban economy. This is particularly true in regard to the relationship between public education and the quality of the workforce cities have to offer current and future employers. The nation’s schools traditionally have the primary responsibility for preparing students to join the workforce. Public schools, however, do not appear to be living up to this responsibility. After years of education reforms, the nation’s schools still are not “preparing students adequately for the world of work” (Boyer 1991: 175). “The majority of inner city children attending . . . [public] schools are not mastering [even] the reading and writing skills needed to . . . participate in skills training or the emerging entry-level jobs” (Bernick 1987: 48). The impact of poorly performing schools on the long-term sustainability of their communities means that “more than any other

81

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

82

Page 82

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

official, mayor[s] must live with the overall consequences of [that] performance” (Ziegler 1972: 17). But many mayors routinely seek to avoid costly political controversies associated with asserting lasting influence over public education. For example, in a December 1997 interview, Detroit Mayor Dennis Archer, who has resisted the state’s urging to take over his city’s school system, observed: “Quite frankly, I’ve got all that I can handle . . . trying to run the city. . . . I have no interest in taking over the school system” (Cantor 1998). Some mayors, though, are actively engaged in providing leadership on the issue of public education. These mayors recognize the interrelationship between public education and sustainability. They act on the public expectation that “if the local school . . . is unable to provide the conditions for effective education, public officials have an obligation to intervene” (Boyer 1991: 186). Those mayors who aggressively link public education to the sustainability of their cities take on a Herculean task. Failure and frustration are common. Indianapolis Mayor Stephen Goldsmith candidly confesses that after “five years trying to make an impact on the system in every way imaginable,” he “probably notched more unsuccessful attempts to improve education than any mayor in America” (Goldsmith 1997: 114). Goldsmith’s confession highlights that leadership is constrained by the environment in which it takes place (Levine 1980: 127–141; Rich 1989: 32). The biggest local environmental constraint on mayoral leadership is the presence of a cartellike governing entity dominating local school policy, focused on advancing the self-interest of its members (Rich 1996). In exerting its control over the local school system, the cartel resists outside involvement. Membership in the cartel extends to careerist central administration staff, school activists, teacher union leaders, and most members of the school board. As the legal governing body for the school district, the school board is also “the center of power” for the cartel (Rich 1996: 3–6). School superintendents usually are excluded from membership in the cartel. Hired by the board of education, superintendents are expected to advance the cartel’s internal needs (Rich 1996: 7). Failure to do this results in the superintendents’ quick termination. To successfully challenge the cartel, mayors need at least three legal powers: (1) authority over the appointment and removal of school board members, (2) substantial financial input into the school board budget, and (3) authority to mediate disputes concerning racial integration and disputes between teacher unions and school boards (Rich 1996: 206–207). To these powers, formal involvement in the

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 83

WILLIAM A. JOHNSON JR.—ROCHESTER, NEW YORK

83

selection of the school superintendent can be added. Few mayors possess such broad powers over public schools. Instead, mayors must depend upon informal and political resources such as the size of their electoral mandate, public performance ratings, political skill, and personal style, all of which enhance their persuasiveness and build political capital (Beyle 1996: 221–228). Additional informal resources include any professional credentials in education held by the mayor, media support for their education initiatives, and the political respect school activists exhibit toward them (Rich 1996: 206–207). The remainder of this chapter presents a case study on mayoral leadership of education reform in Rochester, N.Y. The case study profiles Rochester Mayor William A. Johnson Jr., his efforts to provide leadership on public education in Rochester, and his tumultuous first-term relationship with the city school board that frustrated his efforts at education reform. The case study confirms many of the conclusions drawn by Wilbur Rich (1996) in his book Black Mayors and School Politics. It underscores the limits on mayoral leadership where legal authority is lacking, where institutional rivalries result in an intransigent school board’s opposing outside influence, and where an outsider and reform leadership style’s rejection of realpolitik produces political miscalculations. The case study further suggests that mayoral failures in education reform will be more common than success and that Dennis Archer’s avoidance of leadership on public education may be the most politically prudent course for mayors to take.

CASE STUDY ■

Rochester, N.Y.

Located in west central New York, Rochester is the home of such major international corporations as Eastman Kodak, Bausch and Lomb, and Xerox as well as a regional center for the arts, culture, and education. It is the home of the renowned Eastman School of Music and Tony-award-winning choreographer Garth Fagan. The University of Rochester, a nationally ranked research institution, is one of several colleges located in the city and surrounding metropolitan area. Rochester is a place of natural beauty, with a downtown waterfall and numerous parks blooming with lilacs and roses. In recent years HUD has recognized Rochester as the “Friendliest City

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

84

Page 84

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

in America,” the “Best Baseball City in America” for its new Triple A baseball stadium, and “An All-American City.” For all of its assets, Rochester is still a city struggling against urban decline. Suburbanization that began in the 1950s became white flight in the 1960s and 1970s and has left the city with a dwindling middle class. Since the 1950s, Rochester has lost roughly one-third of its population. Nearly 60 percent of the city’s households are now low and moderate income. Approximately 23 percent of Rochester residents live below the poverty level. Since 1993 Rochester has experienced a cumulative decline of $500 million in its tax base. Changes in Rochester’s economic fabric are reflected in its public school system. With a shrinking middle class, Rochester public schools face the challenge of educating a baby boom consisting largely of underprivileged, developmentally challenged, and minority children. For almost thirty years, the solution proposed for this dilemma has been increased education funding. By the late 1960s, the independently elected school board and city council, upon which the former is dependent for its fiscal authority, were engaged in an annual battle over money. In 1972 a landmark agreement ended such feuds. The Fiscal Independence Agreement (FIA) stipulated a 60-40 split in the state-mandated real property tax limitation of 2 percent, with schools receiving the larger share. The city, however, laid claim to two-thirds of all revenue derived from local sales taxes and a 30 percent share of supplemental per capita aid granted the schools by the state budget. The FIA set a standard for sharing any new revenues at the agreed-upon level of 55 percent to the city and 45 percent to the school board. Guarantees of more money for teacher salaries and other educational resources, however, did not eliminate the social conditions responsible for the declining educational performance of Rochester public schools. The school situation in Rochester changed little in the next twenty years. School budgets continued to grow, surpassing the city budget in the early 1990s by over $100 million. But scores on achievement tests continued falling, and the dropout rate increased.

■

The School Board

In Rochester the key components of the education cartel are career administrators, union representatives, and the school board. Because of its legal authority, the Rochester school board is the center of power for the cartel. Still, board members are heavily dependent

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 85

WILLIAM A. JOHNSON JR.—ROCHESTER, NEW YORK

85

upon others for their ability to act and decide. As part-time generalist legislators, they must rely upon long-serving career administrators, teachers, and union officials for information and expertise. Economics and politics also appear to affect board members’ position in the cartel. School board members are paid an annual salary of $15,000 and some board members have used their board salaries to offset low-paying or unstable work situations elsewhere. In addition, New York state provides a pension for any government service of ten years. For these reasons, it appears that some board members have remained on the board largely for economic reasons. These economic incentives serve as strong inducements for not upsetting powerful political interests such as the local teachers’ union, which can cost board members their seats and, by extension, their board income and state pensions. Members of the Rochester school board historically have shared common interests in resisting outside involvement in the cartel’s affairs, maintaining control over local education policy and decisions, and protecting favorite programs even when more costeffective alternatives are available. For example, the city’s most academically successful high school sought to not lose class space and student enrollment to a board mandate to provide on-site child care services for children of its students. This program to convert school space into child care facilities carried with it a significant cost of about $100,000 per school, and the annual operating costs of this program diverted resources from being spent elsewhere. The high school’s school-based planning team proposed an off-site alternative within easy walking distance of the school. It provided longer hours of service than the in-house service could provide, required no capital expenditures, and greatly reduced operating costs. But the board member who had originally sponsored the on-site child care mandate opposed the school’s proposed alternative and was able to muster a strong majority against the school’s cost-efficient innovation. Board members also routinely have engaged in patronage to secure positions for loyal cartel supporters. Patronage has been evident over the years particularly in the appointment of school principals. Because of its past patronage practices, many community activists complain that a majority on the school board makes its personnel decisions based without regard to parents, community concerns and preferences, or qualifications. Rochester city councilman and former school board member Benjamin Douglas has acknowledged publicly that the school board often exercises a “large influence in building-level decisions and behind-the-scenes decisions of who gets what jobs” (Bellaby 1997a: 5A).

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

86 ■

Page 86

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

Mayor William A. Johnson Jr.

William A. Johnson Jr., elected in 1993 as Rochester’s sixty-fourth mayor, is the city’s first African American mayor. Johnson is also a self-defined political outsider, an identity rooted in his twenty years as president of the Rochester Urban League. During those years, Johnson was often at odds with traditional politicians and government officials. Even after being elected mayor, he has maintained an outsider identity and has brought this orientation into the mayor’s office. It is most apparent in how Johnson views his role as mayor: Johnson sees himself as an ombudsman for the people previously excluded from government, as the one who ensures that “the average citizen’s voice is heard” (Johnson 1995). He considers his role that of an activist or “the guy they put here to make sure the system performs” (Norris 1994: 1A, 6A). Johnson, the political outsider and ombudsman, ultimately is a reformer. He is repulsed by the realities and culture of realpolitik. He bristles when someone calls him a politician and is likely to lecture the unintentional name-caller on how he is different from those who have made politics their full careers. To dramatize this difference, during his first year or so in office, Johnson regularly gave speeches about being a “nonpartisan in a partisan world.” Even when it frustrates and stalls his own leadership efforts, he has refused to use the political clout and muscle accorded to him as mayor because “it doesn’t fit with the image of how I believe the office should be run.”

■

Candidate Johnson on Education Reform

Education was a major plank on which Bill Johnson built his 1993 mayoral primary campaign. His credibility on this issue was enhanced by his long years of education reform efforts at the Urban League, which earned him the respect of Rochester parents and school activists. For example, in 1985 and as part of an Urban League call to action, Johnson fought to establish “action committees” in every school building in the city. In pushing this plan, Johnson observed: “The key to this effort is that the people participating at each school will feel that their input is genuinely sought, which will lead to a strong feeling of ownership and investment in the outcome” (Johnson 1985). During the campaign, Johnson noted that “holding the School District to a higher level of budget accountability” would be “the greatest challenge facing the City during the next four years”

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 87

WILLIAM A. JOHNSON JR.—ROCHESTER, NEW YORK

87

(Johnson 1993). To promote greater budget accountability, Johnson proposed such reforms as the complete implementation of schoolbased management, return of budget control to individual schools, an annual plan prepared by each individual school that addressed its instructional and social development goals, and separate budgets for instructional and administrative needs. Johnson also called for more direct involvement of the mayor and city council in the daily affairs of the school district. He proposed that the city council create for the first time an education committee with a joint membership of seven council persons and the seven school board members. Johnson noted that greater city oversight of and involvement in school district affairs was warranted because “the District accounts for about 60% of the [city] property tax outlay” (Johnson 1993: 8). Johnson proposed these reforms with full knowledge that the city government had no legal authority over public education other than contributing to and approving the city school district budget. Johnson was confident, though, that his stature as an education reformer, his skill at moral suasion, and his formal standing as mayor would be sufficient resources to make those in charge of Rochester public education listen and follow. Johnson’s outsider image and tough, aggressive stance on education were principal reasons for his election. His direct challenge to the school system also made him the one candidate for mayor about whom several school board members expressed the most trepidation. In a clear effort to placate the new mayor and lessen tensions between them, in their January 1994 organization meeting school board members elected Archie Curry as their president. Curry was Johnson’s personal friend, a primary election supporter of Johnson, and an Urban League employee. Johnson described Curry’s election as a “pleasant shock.” He added: “I hope this is not just a one day truce” (Wertheimer 1994: 8A). It was.

■

Johnson and the School Board

Three episodes between January 1994 and November 1995 defined the acrimony characterizing the relationship between Johnson and the school board: the termination of the FIA and the imposition of a two-year freeze in the city’s financial contributions to the school district; two days of mayor-council sponsored public hearings on improving school district governance; and the search for a new school superintendent. These events, among others, erased any value of Curry’s election and frustrated Johnson’s attempts to move for-

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

88

Page 88

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

ward on the education reform he had called for during his mayoral campaign. ■

The Freeze

By the late 1980s, Mayor Thomas Ryan (Johnson’s predecessor) and the city council increasingly were concerned about the growth in the city’s financial contribution to the school district that the FIA was producing. By the early 1990s, both a majority on the city council and Mayor Ryan felt a need to abolish the FIA. Concerns over the racial implications of such action inhibited their willingness actually to do so. Frustration with district spending was still high when Johnson became mayor on January 1, 1994. The new mayor and the council agreed that automatic city contributions to the school district could no longer be tolerated. The FIA would be rescinded. The school board was informed that for fiscal years 1994–1995 and 1995–1996 the city’s contribution to the school district would be frozen at $124.8 million. School board members initially appeared to support the freeze imposed upon them by the new administration. Board president Curry even attended the press conference announcing the cap and voiced no opposition to it (House and Craig 1994: 10A). Part of the board’s initial acquiescence appear to have stemmed from an understanding among those involved that in exchange for the freeze Mayor Johnson and the city council would not publicly criticize a recently negotiated teacher contract that the district could not afford. A month after the freeze was announced, however, some board members and district administrators claimed they were strong-armed into accepting it. They retaliated by lobbying the New York state legislature to pass a bill designed to prevent municipalities from lessening their contributions to local schools. As written, the legislation would have forced Rochester to contribute an additional $16 million to the city schools for the 1994–1995 school year (Craig 1994a: 1B). Mayor Johnson’s reaction to board members’ support for the legislation was combative. He promised “absolute noncompliance” with the legislation if it became law, sternly warning that any effort by school board members to secure extra funding at the expense of the city “would be the worst mistake that they could make.” If the board members persisted, Johnson promised to “personally campaign 24 hours a day against them” and “leave no stone unturned to make certain they’re defeated in the next election” (House and Craig 1994: 10A).

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 89

WILLIAM A. JOHNSON JR.—ROCHESTER, NEW YORK

■

89

Public Hearings

Already at loggerheads over local school funding, Mayor Johnson and the school board became embroiled in another controversy regarding public hearings the mayor and council sponsored on school governance and management restructuring. Neither the board nor district administrations were asked to help arrange or sponsor the hearings. That fact along with city hall control over who was invited to testify fueled a belief among board members that only those who shared city government’s animosity toward the school system would be allowed to speak. School board member Darryl Porter observed: “This is a format that almost guarantees that the majority of people there will agree with [city government’s] point of view” (Rosenberg 1994a: 1B). Board members’ perceptions were not without some merit. The list of individuals invited to speak showed Johnson’s obvious influence in its makeup, and the speakers were already predisposed toward reforming and restructuring the city school district. In October 1994 Mayor Johnson and the city council released a set of reform proposals drawn generally from the recommendations voiced at the hearings. The proposed reforms included: removing routine administrative duties such as hiring decisions from the board and placing those decisions with the superintendent; city council approval of the school board budget by departments rather than a straight up or down approval; and city control over the construction and renovation of city schools so that the buildings could be used as community centers (Craig and Rosenberg 1994: 1B). All of these proposed reforms required changes in New York state education law, a fact that eventually impacted Johnson’s ability to move them forward. Initially, the school board reacted cautiously to the proposed changes. Archie Curry responded: “If there’s anything in here that can enhance the delivery of education services to young people, and if it can save the taxpayers money, then fine” (Craig and Rosenberg 1994: 1B). But in a public hearing just two weeks later, the school board’s position had hardened against the proposed reforms. In both a written report and testimony, the school board questioned the wisdom of the proposed reforms. Board members foresaw a city government “meddling in educational affairs” that were not within its legal purview (Craig 1994b: 6E). In an act of defiance, they refused to answer any direct questions from the city council. This action elicited the following declaration from Mayor Johnson: “The time for debate with this school board is over” (Craig 1994a: 1B).

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

90 ■

Page 90

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

Searching for a New Superintendent

Between the fall of 1994 and the spring of 1995, the Rochester school board undertook a search for a new superintendent. From the outset, Mayor Johnson and the city council called for an open, accessible, and accountable process rather than the closed-door, boarddriven method that had characterized prior superintendent searches. The mayor and the council also expressed expectations that their interests, concerns, and involvement would be reflected in the search process. Such expectations were not met. The school board appointed a nineteen-member committee to conduct its search for a new superintendent. The committee consisted essentially of individuals sympathetic to the board. The board froze city government out of the search by not inviting either Mayor Johnson or any member of the city council to serve on the search committee (Rosenberg 1994b: 1B). Johnson publicly criticized the school board’s decision to not include community leaders such as himself in the search process. He noted that he thought the board was “greatly underestimating the determination of key members of the community to have more than a symbolic role” in choosing the next school superintendent (Rosenberg 1995b: 1B). Dismissing this criticism, board member Rachael Hedding responded that there would be “room for everybody to ask the questions they want” at the public forum the board was holding for the final candidates (Rosenberg 1995b: 2B). Contrary to Hedding’s assertion, the public forum for the superintendent candidates was a tightly controlled and staged event. Questions for the three finalists had to be submitted in writing in advance. No spontaneous questions from the audience were allowed (Rosenberg 1995a: 1A). During this final stage there was no letup in the tension between the school board and city government. No member of the city council was allowed to speak privately with the final candidates. At a reception for them, the superintendent candidates were constantly chaperoned by a board member. Similarly, no meetings between Mayor Johnson and the final candidates were scheduled. School district staff claimed that it was impossible to fly the three candidates to Rochester before the mayor departed on his annual vacation to the Los Angeles Dodgers’ spring training camp. The three episodes just described underscore how little influence Mayor Johnson had with the school board. The acrimony between board members and the mayor over these matters stalled his efforts on education reform. Accordingly, Johnson had little choice but to pursue alternatives. Two remained viable: use the 1995 school board

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 91

WILLIAM A. JOHNSON JR.—ROCHESTER, NEW YORK

91

election to replace incumbent board members with new members more supportive of his reform efforts, and build a working relationship with new school superintendent Clifford Janey.

■

The 1995 School Board Election

As the 1995 election year approached, Johnson was already on the record as promising to work to defeat incumbent board members. His task appeared greatly simplified when by early 1995 three board members announced that they would not be seeking reelection. Only incumbent Frank Willis decided to run for another term. With three incumbents retiring, the big question for Johnson, who abhorred traditional politicking, was whether he should field his own slate of school board candidates in the Democratic primary. When questioned on a local radio talk show, Johnson stated flatly that the need for change was so great that he would consider bucking the Democratic Party if it did not deliver candidates who met his approval. Johnson went so far as to imply he would ignore party labels if the Republicans, whose registration numbers were less than half that of Democrats in the city, managed to field candidates more attuned to his thinking. This pronouncement brought a curt public reply from local Democratic Party chairman Robert Cook that the mayor did not have veto power in the endorsement process. The Democratic Party, though, could not afford a public rift with the popular mayor who less than a year before had badly beaten its endorsed candidate for mayor. Around the time of his public statements, Johnson had already informed the party chairman that he was seriously considering recruiting and running his own slate of school board candidates. This forced Cook to offer to alter the candidate selection process. Johnson accepted Cook’s proposal to establish a candidate search committee. Under the terms of the agreement, all candidates would be required to submit to the committee process in order to win party backing. In an apparent attempt to force Frank Willis not to seek reelection, incumbent board members were included in that requirement. The panel was to be chaired by former Democratic county executive Tom Frey, a party stalwart with close connections to Johnson. Frey had broken ranks with the party in 1993 to support Johnson’s maverick candidacy. Frey also had a connection to the education cartel, having begun his political career as a member of the city school board. He also had been a member of the state board of regents and the state assembly.

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

92

Page 92

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

Johnson believed he had a good-faith deal with Cook’s ensuring that the four best reform-minded candidates would emerge from the process. With Frey, who had earned his trust, chairing the committee, Johnson felt he had a firm foundation for publicly pledging to support whatever four candidates the party ultimately picked. In private, though, Johnson had placed a precondition on that support. Johnson told both Cook and Frey that the committee must not succumb to pressure to balance the ticket along racial and gender lines. The committee should focus on selecting the candidates with the best ideas regarding education reform. Johnson had legitimate reason to be concerned that the committee might cave in to pressure to balance the ticket. One powerful and influential Democrat had already told the mayor that he did not care who the candidates were as long as two African American males were among them. Also, with two women incumbents not running, Johnson knew there would be pressure to replace them with other women. Receiving the reassurance he was after, trusting Frey’s stewardship of the committee, and believing that “everyone involved was interested in what was best for the community,” Johnson did not try to assert any direct control over the committees proceedings. The panel ultimately endorsed Paul Haney, a former member of the city council and county budget director in the Frey administration; Bolgen Vargas, a guidance counselor in a suburban school; Marvin Jackson, a parent-activist who served on his school-based planning; and Lydia Boddie-Neal, a political novice without any previous public record on education issues. It strongly appeared from the makeup of the candidate slate that Johnson’s precondition against racial or gender balancing was ignored. First, after Haney was selected, no other white males were seriously considered. Second, the selection of Vargas was a reward to Rochester’s growing Latino population for its continued support. Vargas had been passed over by the party in the 1993 school board election but had been nearly successful in that year’s primary. Third, some members of the search committee had bluntly told Johnson that Boddie-Neal had to be on the slate because “we have to have a woman.” Marvin Jackson was the most problematic candidate for Johnson. Jackson had a close political association with incumbent board member Frank Willis, who was not endorsed by the committee but was able to petition his way onto the ballot, thereby forcing a Democratic Party primary. Because of this relationship, Johnson doubted that Jackson easily could disassociate himself from Willis during the campaign. Johnson also was concerned over the implications of a

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 93

WILLIAM A. JOHNSON JR.—ROCHESTER, NEW YORK

93

Willis-Jackson alliance if both won election to the school board. During a private meeting with Johnson, in an effort to secure the nomination and the mayor’s support, Jackson disavowed any political obligation to Willis. In what would become ominous words, Jackson claims to have told the mayor: “I’m out to get elected. Frank [Willis] knows what he has to do, and I know what I have got to do.” At this same meeting, however, Jackson neglected to inform the mayor that Willis already had agreed in January to support his candidacy and work for his election to the board because, according to Jackson, “Willis owed me.” Johnson’s concerns over Jackson’s selection and the other racial and gender balancing antics of the committee were so great that he seriously considered reneging on his public pledge to support the committee’s endorsed candidates. Both Frey and Democratic chairman Cook were nervous over Johnson’s wavering and pushed him to honor his pledge. Events soon conspired, though, to bring Johnson back on board. First, Johnson’s personal integrity overrode his political judgment. Second, Haney dropped out shortly after being selected. This made room for the endorsement of Hans DeBruyn, a candidate personally close to the mayor with an aggressive record on school budget reform. With DeBruyn as the fourth member of the slate, all of the candidates, including Jackson, promised to run as a team to secure their collective election and to defeat Willis in the September primary. As he took this pledge though, Jackson knew that Willis was committed to helping him win election to the school board. Thus he would have the support of both the slate and the slate’s only opponent. As the primary campaign progressed, the likelihood that there would be a more mayor/reform-friendly majority on the next school board began to slip away. Willis, working with board member Darryl Porter (who was not up for reelection that year), ran an almost stealth campaign aimed at securing Willis’s reelection and Jackson’s election. The strategy involved defeating DeBruyn, the only white candidate in the primary. DeBruyn was little known, particularly in the African American community, and he suffered from poor ballot position—last on the ticket. Willis and Porter exploited DeBruyn’s electoral vulnerabilities by focusing their campaign in African American election districts, where the issue of race could be more readily played up. Toward the end of the primary campaign, they distributed a ballot strip in the African American election districts listing Willis, Jackson, Vargas, and Boddie-Neal as the four candidates for whom to vote. The strip even was unwittingly distributed to DeBruyn’s son. Referring to

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

94

Page 94

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

these candidates’ place on the ballot, a slogan going around during these efforts was “Vote for the first four and no more.” The first four all happened to be candidates of color. DeBruyn reports that rumors were circulating through the African American community that because he supported residential schools for the district’s most disruptive and wayward students that he really wanted black children arrested and put in jail. Although defeating DeBruyn in the African American election districts was a key part of the strategy to reelect Willis, there was a second component: promoting Willis as the only candidate in those election districts considered his home turf. In those districts, Willis and Porter encouraged people to vote just for him rather than all four of the school board seats for which they could vote. By urging his strongest supporters to “bullet vote,” Willis could earn higher totals in his home election districts than the other candidates, thus offsetting their leads elsewhere. To what extent Marvin Jackson broke his pledge and worked with Willis and Porter to defeat DeBruyn is uncertain. Jackson maintains that he had no contact with Willis or Porter throughout the primary season. He claims that it was only toward the end of the campaign that he was aware of what the two were doing on his behalf. Jackson notes, though, that he was unhappy with DeBruyn’s selection because of the attention the latter was receiving as the slate’s alleged only true budget reformer. He also says that he was displeased that the endorsement process failed to renominate Willis. It appears that Jackson may have campaigned jointly with Porter and Willis. Johnson saw Jackson and Porter leafleting his neighborhood. When the mayor confronted him with this apparent breach in his pledge to run with the slate, Jackson maintained that Porter’s and his simultaneous presence in the mayor’s neighborhood was coincidental. Whatever the circumstances, it is at least clear that Jackson did not actively work to defeat Willis. Nor does it appear that he campaigned hard for the entire slate. Rather, he focused on Marvin Jackson. On election day, the Willis campaign strategy was aided by a low (12 percent) citywide turnout. In addition, the get-out-the-vote effort in the city’s southwest was carried out by a faction in the Democratic Party that, though not overly enamored with Willis, was inclined to support him because of he was African American. One of the political leaders in the city’s southwest had even voiced to the mayor his concern over “losing all of our black men on the school board.” On election night DeBruyn lost by a mere 147 votes. He was defeated principally in the black election districts targeted by the

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 95

WILLIAM A. JOHNSON JR.—ROCHESTER, NEW YORK

95

Willis campaign. In these districts his totals dropped off precipitously in relation to the votes he received in other districts. Lower-thanhoped-for turnout in the city’s middle-class election districts, where DeBruyn ran strongly, also contributed to his narrow loss. Reflecting on the election outcome, Johnson faulted Jackson’s alleged duplicity with Willis and Porter: “We had a slate and the money. The only way they [Jackson, Porter, and Willis] could beat us was by surprise. They ran a stealth campaign. Had we known what they were up to, we would have been in the black churches more aggressively.” He then conceded: “But in the end, we didn’t get our vote out. I didn’t walk for Hans.” The result of this failure was that Johnson lost his bid for a more supportive and cooperative school board majority. After the November general election, Jackson joined incumbents Willis and Porter to form a board faction more adversarial to mayoral leadership than the old majority Johnson had hoped to replace.

■

Johnson and the New Superintendent

In March 1995, with the school board election still eight months away, Mayor Johnson welcomed the board’s announcement that Clifford Janey, chief operating officer of the Boston school system, would be Rochester’s new school superintendent, noting: “I would want to support this new superintendent. I see nothing to be gained from us fighting” (Rosenberg 1995a: 1A). In fact, Johnson already had made a conscious decision to cultivate a positive relationship with Janey and promote his success in hopes of gaining an ally in his struggle to go forward with education reform. Thus shortly after Janey was appointed, Mayor Johnson took an almost secret trip to Boston to meet one on one with the new superintendent and offset anything negative that board members may have told Janey about him. After returning from this trip, Johnson observed: “We met and he saw I didn’t have horns or a tail” (Norris 1995: 6E). Mayor Johnson chose to publicly support Janey and the policy decisions he put forth. Following this strategy, Johnson backed a $20,000 salary raise for the incoming superintendent. He also praised Janey’s leadership whenever opportunities arose. Johnson also worked to distinguish the superintendent from the Rochester education cartel and underscore that Janey and he shared common adversaries. For example, campaigning for reelection in 1997, Johnson made a direct comparison between Janey and his conflicts with the school board: “The superintendent has prepared a comprehensive

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

96

Page 96

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

plan to ‘turn the system around.’ He enjoys less than enthusiastic support from a key faction on the board, which has also adopted an antagonistic style towards City Hall” (Johnson 1997: 21). Johnson also worked to make Janey more administratively independent from the school board. In 1997 the mayor proposed state legislation removing administrative and personnel decisions from the board’s jurisdiction and placing these decisions exclusively with the superintendent. At that time, New York education law required school boards to approve many routine administrative decisions, including such minor ones as commencement speakers. School boards also had to approve all hiring decisions within the district, from school janitors to a superintendent’s top administrative assistants. In a district the size of Rochester, this meant the board had oversight in 5,000 hiring decisions. The board majority, which by this time included three members endorsed by Johnson in the 1993 and 1995 school board elections, strongly opposed the legislation. They saw the mayor’s proposal as a direct attack on their authority over the district and as an attempt to gain more influence over district affairs. In an ironic statement given the school board’s own history of cartel patronage, board president Porter commented that if adopted the Johnson proposal would prevent the board from guaranteeing that “cronyism” was not part of the district’s hiring process (Bellaby 1997b: 5A). The board’s cartel allies opposed the legislation as well. The executive director of the state school board association characterized the mayor’s proposal as an attempt to alter who was really in charge of the district’s personnel decisions and give the mayor more influence over the superintendent. The Rochester teachers’ union expressed similar concern over the legislation, suggesting that granting Janey more authority would take away important checks and balances (Rosenberg 1997: 1B). During the controversy, superintendent Janey made no public comment in support of Johnson’s legislative proposal to expand his administrative authority even though he had privately expressed a strong desire for it. Janey’s public silence appeared linked in part to statements circulated by board members opposed to the legislation that they had enough votes to fire him. Janey also had reasons to believe that Porter, Willis, and Jackson “were trying to bait” him into saying something favorable in public about the legislation so that they could accuse him of breaking a loyalty clause that was then in his contract. He refused to be baited. Ultimately the legislation was passed and signed into law, but in a watered-down version. This was necessary to overcome opposition

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 97

WILLIAM A. JOHNSON JR.—ROCHESTER, NEW YORK

97

from the education cartel and its legislative supporters. In its final form, the new law took from the school board only authority to approve the superintendent’s senior staff. Over the course of Janey’s first two years in office, Johnson invested heavily in his relationship with the superintendent. It was that investment that protected Janey and secured for the mayor an ally in his push for education reform of the Rochester city school system. The superintendent acknowledges that his original and continued presence in Rochester is due in part to Johnson’s support. Without it, he notes that he probably would not have accepted the Rochester superintendent position. In addition, Janey acknowledges that given his own tumultuous relationship with the changing board majorities during 1995–1997, he is relatively certain that without Johnson’s strong and public support, some board majority would have been more inclined to fire him. That a majority did not, he attributes to the board concern over Johnson’s reaction and the ensuing controversy it would have generated. Janey notes, though, that in exchange for his support, Johnson has never asked for any quid pro quo. For instance, after helping secure for Janey increased authority to appoint his own senior staff, the superintendent notes: Contrary to what many of the bill’s opponents suggested, the mayor didn’t seek to enhance the superintendent’s appointment power for his own political gain. He has never pushed any particular appointee on me. He has never used the new legislation or our relationship in any way to dishonor himself or his office.

Janey’s testimonial suggests that for Johnson the relationship has not been about control but about access and the opportunity to be heard by the superintendent. This focus is in keeping with Johnson’s refusal to become “a political boss.” Thus the superintendent, while winning Johnson’s considerable political backing, has not sacrificed his own independence. For Johnson, this means that Janey generally has rejected several of his key 1993 campaign school proposals. Janey abolished the pilot program on school-based management, for example, and rejected zero-base budgeting, calling it a “technical exercise that can become overly excessive” (Bellaby 1997b: 7A).

■

Lessons Learned

Johnson won the 1993 Democratic mayoral primary in part because of the strong stance he took on education reform and the leadership

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

98

Page 98

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

he would exercise in this area. Johnson candidly concedes, though, that during his first term his education reforms were thwarted: “When I became mayor, I thought those charged with carrying out education policy would be compelled to listen, and then act, but they have not. I now realize that the school system is incapable of hearing any single voice” (Johnson 1997: 20). In offering this assessment, Johnson notes that “this system operates like a cartel. If you are not part of this narrowly focused group, you have no voice” (Johnson 1997: 20). Johnson’s last comment reaffirms the constraints mayors encounter when they enter the fray of education politics. By his own admission, his frustrated reform efforts were partly due to a strongwilled, institutionally independent school board supported by other members of an education cartel capable of blocking any effective outside interference in its affairs. Mayor Johnson’s outsider-reformist orientation and his aversion to politicking further hampered his leadership of education reform during his initial term. These traits contributed to his wrong assumptions about how personal relationships rooted in his previous roles as head of the Urban League and mayoral candidate carried over into his new role as mayor. As one well-informed observer of Rochester politics noted: “Johnson is too trusting. He takes a Lockean view that people operate in good faith. But the world has a more Hobbesian glow.” Johnson’s relationships with board president Archie Curry and former Democratic county executive Tom Frey illustrate the negative political consequences of Johnson’s trusting nature. In their employer-employee relationship at the Urban League, Curry and Johnson worked collaboratively. Johnson wrongly assumed that because of this relationship he could depend on Curry’s support on critical issues arising between city hall and the school district. Curry, though, chose to ignore their prior connection and maintain the institutionalized antagonism between the two governing bodies, something in which he was involved before Johnson was elected. When he became mayor, Johnson, failed to recognize the fundamental shift in their relationship from employer-employee, friend and colleague, to institutional adversaries. Johnson made a similar error in thinking that when former county executive Tom Frey agreed to chair the 1995 school superintendent candidate selection committee, Frey would share Johnson’s assessment of what constituted “best candidates.” Johnson believed that Frey’s break with the Democratic Party in the 1993 mayoral primary to back him would translate into continued support for him when other conflicts with the party arose. Despite his early support

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 99

WILLIAM A. JOHNSON JR.—ROCHESTER, NEW YORK

99

of Johnson, Frey remained a Democratic Party stalwart. He shared the party’s preoccupation with demographic representation and so, in contrast to Johnson, defined the best school board candidates as those who balanced the party’s selection along race and gender lines. Second, Johnson’s orientation to the political world inhibited him from maximizing his political capital, playing political hardball, and building the political organization necessary to ensure that his vision for Rochester in general and public education in particular would materialize and become institutionalized. In 1995 Johnson was the most popular political figure in Rochester, with an approval rating of 75 percent. He was equally popular with the media and enjoyed an extended honeymoon throughout his first term. He also raised more money than the county Democratic Party, regularly making loans to it and needy party candidates. Throughout his first term, though, Johnson took little initiative to employ this envious political standing to advance his leadership goals. His decision not to challenge the Democratic Party by running his own slate of school board candidates is one example of this oversight. Johnson explains this refusal: I wasn’t going to use political muscle in the usual sense. Governing is a civic exercise, and I was not going to unilaterally pick the school board candidates. That didn’t fit with my image of how I believe the mayor’s office should function. It had to be a community process that I would then support.

Throughout his first (and well into his second) term, Johnson also made no serious effort to assert control over the local Monroe County Democratic Party. He steadfastly asserted that he “was not elected to be the county’s chief Democrat.” Johnson further declined to build a political organization of his own. He instead preferred to improvise and personalize politics. In refusing effectively to institutionalize his leadership, Johnson reflected a trend among reform mayors, particularly African American reform mayors, to trivialize a need for a political organization of their own (Rich 1996: 146). Ignoring the organizational dimension of leadership, though, has consequences. Stone (1995: 107) observes that institution building is the means through which leaders link followers to a set of purposes. It gives followers structures through which to act as the leader intends them to do. In not providing an institutional framework for his leadership goals and ignoring those who were better organized, Johnson has made it difficult for those who would follow him on education reform to act with efficacy. Ironically, in other areas such as community development and neighborhood revitalization,

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

100

Page 100

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

Johnson has excelled at institution building capable of affecting both change in how city government operates and how citizens are positioned in regard to it (Bowers 1995, 1997). A short-term cost of Johnson’s refusal to employ his political capital and build his own organization has been that traditional professional politicians regularly outmaneuvered him. Thus the school board majority froze him out of the superintendent search process. In persuading him not to run his own school board candidates in 1995, Democratic Party chairman Bob Cook clearly outmaneuvered Johnson, something Johnson now concedes may have occurred. Cook and Frey outmaneuvered Johnson again by ignoring his privately issued precondition against racial and gender balancing in the committee’s selection of school board candidates and then holding him to his public pledge to support the decision of the committee. Willis, Jackson, and Porter outmaneuvered Johnson in efforts to defeat DeBruyn. By his own admission, Johnson did not make a sustained personal appeal in these districts for black support of DeBruyn’s candidacy. Nor did the mayor have an effective organization of his own to counteract the trio’s efforts. This, too, was contrary to his view of governing as a civic act. Johnson appears to have learned some from his first-term mistakes. He now claims to recognize that at least in the context of electoral politics, “you have to control things right from the start, beginning with selection process, the primary, and putting together an organization capable of winning.” But in an ominous caveat, he adds that in his first term “my willingness to play in the [political] field was zilch and still is.” Overall, Johnson’s experience with education reform in Rochester parallels that of other mayors. In particular, Mayor Johnson’s stalled leadership on education further reenforces Rich’s conclusion that mayoral encroachment into school policy . . . is replete with perils. If a mayor’s policy preferences are congruent with the school activist community, then he or she can promote initiatives without fear of reprisals or embarrassment. If not, the board and its supporters will “reeducate” the mayor. If that fails, then the mayor is lured into the political thicket of school politics. (Rich 1996: 205)

On a more general level, Johnson’s frustrated efforts at educational reform in Rochester serve as a reminder that “leadership is not a process of presiding over what is inevitable. It is about making something happen, that given the ordinary course of events, would not occur” (Stone, Orr, and Imbroscio 1991: 236).

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 101

WILLIAM A. JOHNSON JR.—ROCHESTER, NEW YORK

■

101

Postscript

Political miscalculations in the 1995 school board election cost Johnson the sympathetic and supportive school board for which he was hoping. Four years later, the 1999 election presented Johnson with another opportunity to influence the make-up of the Rochester School Board. Incumbent board members Marvin Jackson and Frank Willis were both running for re-election, and the mayor swore that neither would be re-elected this time. Contrary to the disdain for hardball politics he displayed throughout his first term, in 1999 Johnson demonstrated a marked willingness to engage in political gamesmanship to defeat the two school board incumbents. He first secured the Monroe County Democratic Party endorsement of a slate of candidates, thereby denying Jackson and Willis renomination. Johnson then put together a broad-based coalition of local labor organizations, Rochester’s leading African American ministers, and the local Democratic Party organization to defeat the two rejected incumbents in a contested Democratic primary election. Johnson even entered into some old-fashioned political horse trading of candidate support with an influential black political leader on the city’s southwest side. This horse trade secured votes for Johnson’s slate of candidates in the election districts where Jackson and Willis had beaten DeBruyn in 1995. Johnson’s political shrewdness produced the desired result. His slate of candidates defeated Jackson and Willis in the primary and went on to win the November general election. In a juxtaposition of academic research and applied politics, the day after the election Mayor Johnson publicly credited his reading of a draft of this chapter as the catalyst for him overcoming his resistence to realpolitik and his decision to commit himself politically to winning a school board majority more sympathetic to his orientation toward public education. This political victory in the 1999 school board election was immensely important for Johnson’s vision of public education in Rochester. That he engaged in the kind of activities he did to achieve this win was also important to Bill Johnson. A new dimension was added to his leadership, a dimension that could make things happen politically.

B-6

12/8/09

12:07 PM

Page 102

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

Page 103

7 Richard Arrington Jr. and Police-Community Relations in Birmingham, Alabama Huey L. Perry

Urban politics literature is devoting greater attention to mediumsized cities and smaller large cities. This is an important development, because including a diversity of cities in urban research leads to an improved understanding of the dynamic complexity of urban life. Birmingham, Alabama, is a smaller large city that has been the focus of increasing scholarly research since the 1970s. In keeping with the general emphasis of this book, this case study examines the success of Birmingham Mayor Richard Arrington Jr. in reducing police abuse in that city, particularly as it relates to police treatment of African Americans in the city. Richard Arrington Jr. has served as mayor of Birmingham since 1979. From a historical and symbolic perspective, his greatest success has been in improving relations between the city’s police department and the African American community. This has been an impressive accomplishment in that Birmingham was widely regarded to be perhaps the most racially oppressive southern city throughout the 1950s and 1960s. And the institution that most embodied the oppression of blacks in Birmingham during this period was the Birmingham Police Department. A huge part of the current intellectual fascination with Birmingham is explaining the city’s racial transformation, particularly during Arrington’s twenty-year mayoralty. How does a city go—in less than two decades—from a racially repressive order in which the police abuse black citizens with regularity and impunity to a racially progressive policy in which black-led governance and a user-friendly police department are the principal components?

103

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

104

Page 104

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

The central factor accounting for the improved relations between the police and African Americans in Birmingham was the bold, courageous, and outstanding leadership provided by Mayor Arrington to get the city council and the leadership of the police department to deal forthrightly with the issue of police abuse of African Americans. This case study focuses on the mayor’s actions to change the historically tense relationship. To place the events in Birmingham in better perspective, however, this chapter first presents an overview of police-community relations. Before going on to the case study of Birmingham, it discusses three social science theories. The theoretical examination helps to determine which of the major social science theoretical perspectives are most applicable to explaining the relations between the police and African Americans in Birmingham. In a fundamental way, then, the theoretical examination also helps provide a theoretical model of social change in Birmingham.

■

An Overview of Police-Community Relations

In assessing police-community relations, it is important to distinguish between the relations between the police and the white community and the relations between the police and the African American community. In general, relations between the police and whites have been favorable. By contrast, the relations between the police and African Americans in general have been unfavorable, ranging from suspicion and distrust to hostility and contempt. This pattern has existed historically in practically every city in the United States. Birmingham is no exception. It has been firmly anchored in the upper end of the distribution of unfavorable relations between the police and African Americans in American cities. The relations between the police and the overall community in terms of police abuse seem to vary over time and by jurisdiction. A. J. Reiss (1968) and R. J. Friedrich (1980) examined data on 3,826 police-citizen encounters in three cities during the summer of 1966. The data indicated that force was used in 5.1 percent of the 1,565 incidents “in which the police came into contact with citizens they regarded as at least potential offenders” (Friedrich 1980: 86). In encounters involving force, the researchers determined that reasonable force was used in 65 percent and excessive force in 35 percent of the incidents, or twenty-eight of the 1,565 encounters. Another way of viewing this rate of excessive force is to standardize the number of police-citizen encounters to a baseline amount of 1,000. In 1,000 such encounters, a thirty-five percent excessive force rate

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

Page 105

RICHARD ARRINGTON JR.—BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA

105

means that 35 police-citizen encounters would involve excessive force. The extent of police abuse also seems to be a function of the methodology used to determine the magnitude of the problem (see Pate and Fridell 1993). One methodology employs observers of police-citizen encounters to determine the extent of excessive force misconduct. Robert E. Worden’s (1996) is one such analysis. Worden’s study consists of trained observers who observed 5,688 police-citizen encounters during 900 patrol shifts in twenty-four police departments in three metropolitan areas. Worden found that the police used force in sixty of the 5,688 (1.05 percent) police-citizen encounters. In one-third of those encounters (twenty cases), the observers determined the force to be excessive or unnecessary. This means that the trained observers thought that the police used excessive force in 0.35 percent of the 5,688 police-citizen encounters. This may seem to be a very low rate. Another way of viewing this rate, though, produces a more sobering assessment: it means that in 1,000 police-citizen encounters excessive force is used in 3.5 encounters. Although any rate of excessive force may be too high from a moral perspective, this rate is certainly much lower than 35 per 1,000 police-citizen encounters noted previously. Another methodology for determining the extent of police abuse of citizens is to survey citizens to determine whether they have been the object of police abuse, have seen others victimized by police abuse, or heard of others victimized by police abuse. A survey conducted for the national Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders (Campbell and Schuman 1969) asked citizens in fifteen cities about their negative experiences with police. Seven percent of African American respondents and 2 percent of white respondents claimed that they had been abused by the police. It is significant that three and a half times as many blacks as whites reported that they had been subjected to police abuse. This is consistent with a national trend that African Americans are subjected to police abuse far more than whites. Similarly, a survey of 806 citizens in Denver, Colorado, in 1966 (Bayley and Mendelsohn 1969) revealed a much higher rate of police abuse of African Americans as compared to whites but lower than abuse of Hispanics. A total of 15 percent of Hispanics, 9 percent of African Americans, and 4 percent of whites indicated that they had personally experienced police brutality. But 30 percent of African Americans, 12 percent of Hispanics, and 4 percent of whites reported that they had heard of charges of police brutality from their friends and/or neighbors. Another source of information regarding the extent of police use

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

106

Page 106

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

of excessive force is surveys of law enforcement personnel. The 1966 Denver survey cited above (Bayley and Mendelsohn 1969) also included a survey of 100 Denver police officers. That survey revealed that 53 percent of the police officers acknowledged that they had witnessed an “incident that someone might consider to constitute police brutality” (Bayley and Mendelsohn 1969: 128). A more recent study of police abuse of citizens in selected major cities by the U.S. Department of Justice found that police brutality was a major problem (U.S. Department of Justice 1991). Such aggregate data provide statistical indications of the scope of police abuse in some cities in the United States. The following descriptions of excessive force by the police in selected cities (see Pohlmann 1999: 146–147) put a human face on the problem of police brutality and place the human depravity in starker relief. In December 1986 an all-white New Orleans suburb experienced an increasing number of burglaries. In response, its sheriff ordered that any African American seen in the area be stopped and questioned. Four Los Angeles police officers beat Rodney King, an African American, as he lay prone on the ground. Within months of the King beating, Malice Green was bludgeoned to death with flashlights by two Detroit police officers. In October 1995 Johnny Gammage, an African American, was pulled over while driving his Jaguar through a predominantly white Pittsburgh suburb. Gammage was beaten and choked to death on the spot after allegedly attacking five white police officers. Anthony Baez, a twenty-nine-year-old Bronx man, was choked to death after his football accidentally hit a police squad car. On February 11, 1996 Lebert Folkes was pulled out of a car parked in front of his house in New York City and shot in the face at point-blank range; the car had mistakenly been reported stolen. In April 1997, Atlanta police beat twenty-seven-year-old Timmie Sinclair repeatedly with their fists and a tactical baton as his wife and two children watched from the family car. In most cities the relations between African Americans and the police are particularly antagonistic between poor African Americans and the police, but middle- and upper-income African Americans also harbor strong concerns that routine encounters with the police could lead to physical abuse. Middle- and upper-income African Americans certainly do not feel that they are immune from police abuse. Many African American parents worry about their children coming into contact with police officers, especially white police officers, when they are not present. The most concerned of these parents teach their children how to behave in a nonthreatening way in such encounters in order to minimize the possibility of being abused.

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

Page 107

RICHARD ARRINGTON JR.—BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA

107

Police abuse of African Americans is thus a problem in jurisdictions throughout the United States, but particularly in cities. It is also a problem in the psyche of African Americans, many of whom believe that police abuse could occur among their ranks at any time with the slightest provocation.

■

Three Theories of Change

Three social science theoretical perspectives—the pluralist, elitist, and mobilization models—are useful in examining the improvement in relations between the police department and African Americans in Birmingham since the late 1970s. Pluralist theory is the best known and most widely accepted approach in political science (Morrison 1987; Manley 1983; Lowi 1964). It argues that political decisionmaking processes are open and competitive and that various organized group interests can influence the outcomes resulting from those processes. The pluralist model gained ascendancy during the 1960s and 1970s. Since then its acceptance has diminished somewhat. This decline, however, has not been the result of the demonstrated greater explanatory prowess of a rival theory but of the view of many social scientists that the pluralist model is too simple and too closely tied to the state maintenance assumptions of democratic theory to be of any substantive theoretic utility. So the acceptance of pluralism is clearly a grudging one, as few scholars have attempted to empirically test its assumptions and even fewer have openly endorsed it as the most useful theoretical perspective for explaining American politics. Although pluralist theory has held on to its status as the leading theoretical explanation of American politics, there are numerous critics of pluralism, especially with regard to its applicability to the relationship of African Americans and Latinos to the American political system (McClain and Stewart 1998; Hero 1992; Morrison 1987; Pinderhughes 1986; Manley 1983; Greenberg 1971). Elite theory is the polar opposite of pluralist theory. The elite model argues that the decisionmaking process is controlled by a small number of wealthy people who hold economic and political power (e.g., Mills 1956). This view of dominance by an economic elite envisages society as a vast pyramid, with wealthy people firmly in control at the top. This top strata of society may or may not include persons who hold command positions in the military (Rose 1967). The next level of power consists of persons who ostensibly carry

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

108

Page 108

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

out the will of the economic elite. These are governmental officials, managers of large businesses, small business owners, and perhaps a few lesser categories of persons who accept the orders of the economic elite and operate the control mechanisms and institutions that manipulate the lower levels of society. Local leaders make up the next level of the pyramid. They serve as the mechanisms of control, responding more or less automatically to the will of their superiors in the second level of power. They also have a following among the masses of people in the last strata of the pyramid, where the great bulk of the population is. These are the masses of people who are deprived of their rights and exploited economically and politically to serve the interests of the economic elite (Rose 1967). The least well known of the three theoretical perspectives is mobilization theory. M. K. C. Morrison (1987: 3) defines mobilization “as the collective activation and application of community or group resources toward the acquisition of social and political good.” Mobilization is generally regarded as a different kind of group political participation than routine interest group political participation. Mobilization often involves protest activities of one sort or another or some other mass demonstration by disadvantaged groups against an action or inaction of government. Mobilization occurs because disadvantaged social groups want to obtain desirable social and political goods from which they are isolated; these groups feel that the only way they will be able to obtain these goods is to activate their common impulse to protest. Each of these theories varies in its capacity to account for changes in police treatment of African Americans in cities with such dark racial pasts as Birmingham. The pluralist model offers the best explanation of changes in the relationship between the police and blacks if the change occurs principally because of the latter’s organized participation in the governmental process. The elite model is the best theory when evidence suggests that the change occurred principally because of pressure from the owners of large businesses and other elite economic institutions. And mobilization theory serves best to explain the change in the relations between the police and African Americans when it appears to have come about because of such actions as civil rights demonstrations and protest activities and other efforts to organize and mobilize a previously unempowered population. As the following case study shows, all three theories help to explain the transformation in police-community relations that Mayor Arrington has been able to bring about in Birmingham.

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

Page 109

RICHARD ARRINGTON JR.—BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA

109

CASE STUDY ■

Birmingham, Ala.

Birmingham is relatively young, having been established in 1871 as an industrial city. It experienced both rapid economic growth as a producer of iron and steel and rapid population growth as residents from rural areas of Alabama migrated to the city in search of a better livelihood than that offered by farming. The city attracted substantial numbers of blacks and whites alike from the Alabama countryside. The political culture that emerged early in the city’s history was characterized by low taxes, low public expenditures, and thus minimal public services. This culture strengthened during the years of the Great Depression of the 1930s. As with most industrial cities in the United States, Birmingham underwent dramatic economic growth during World War II and the immediate postwar era. The wartime boom was stimulated by the need for iron and steel to manufacture munitions and machinery. In the 1970s and 1980s, however, Birmingham suffered from an economic downturn as manufacturing took a precipitous drop. During this period Birmingham’s economy changed from one based primarily upon industry to one based upon service and technology. In 1984 the service sector replaced manufacturing as the principal source of economic growth in the city. The political, cultural, and economic system in Birmingham fueled racial tensions within the city. This tension was particularly evident in the relationship between the Birmingham police department and African Americans, a relationship that showed signs of strain in the early 1900s. The tension was largely attributed to the combination of an economy based on iron and steel manufacturing and a racially segregated southern social setting. Steel manufacturing encouraged a rough, brawny milieu in which men felt obligated to display their physical toughness in social interactions. In the racially segregated South, blacks were relegated to second-class citizenship, and their every attempt to challenge the system of racial segregation was met with resistance. The chief governmental agency that enforced the norms of the society of the segregated South in the early 1900s was the police. The poor relationship between blacks and the police was grounded in the strong presence of the Ku Klux Klan during the 1920s and the impact the Klan had on local politics. In 1926 Klan membership in Jefferson County (where Birmingham is located) peaked with

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

110

Page 110

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

15,000–20,000 members, including two local judges, the sheriff, most members of the Birmingham Police Department, and at least twenty other city and county officials (LaMonte 1995: 74). Perhaps the most visible embodiment of police abuse of blacks in the United States was Birmingham’s avowedly racist police commissioner Eugene T. “Bull” Connor. During the civil rights movement in Birmingham in 1963, Connor used inhumane means to attempt to thwart the efforts of the civil rights protestors. Even after the end of the civil rights demonstrations and the negotiated settlement of the conflict between the white power structure and African Americans (see Perry 1983, 1976), police mistreatment of blacks continued.

■

Richard Arrington Jr. and the Birmingham Police

At the time of the civil rights protests in Birmingham, Richard Arrington Jr. was the executive director of the Alabama Center of Higher Education, a consortium of eight historically black senior colleges and universities in Alabama. He was not actively involved in Birmingham politics at that time. Arrington’s first major confrontation with a Birmingham public official—over the issue of police abuse of African Americans—was with George Seibels, the first moderate mayor of Birmingham. Although Seibels had twice been elected with substantial black support in the mayoral elections in 1967 and 1971, he consistently supported the police in African Americans’ allegations of abusive police behavior. Arrington became increasingly frustrated with Mayor Seibels’s unwillingness to confront the problem. It was Arrington’s growing frustration with issues of police brutality that led to his decision to run for election to the Birmingham City Council in 1971. Arrington was elected and continued to criticize Mayor Seibels for his recalcitrance in addressing the issue of police abuse of African Americans. In 1975 David Vann, a liberal ally of Arrington on the city council, opposed Seibels in the mayoral election. Vann was elected with the overwhelming support of African American voters, and Arrington was reelected to the city council. Arrington won without a runoff, his victory strengthening his resolve to continue to fight police abuse of African Americans. Much to Arrington’s dismay, Mayor Vann was not as forceful in condemning police abuse of African Americans as Arrington would have liked for him to have been. Between 1972 and 1977 there were six high-profile incidents of

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

Page 111

RICHARD ARRINGTON JR.—BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA

111

alleged police abuse of African Americans—three deaths and three severe beatings. But the incident that most alarmed Arrington and practically the entire African American community in Birmingham was the killing of Bonita Carter, a twenty-year-old black woman, by a white police officer on June 22, 1979. Arrington’s decision to run for mayor was heavily influenced by this killing. The case of Bonita Carter is a classic example of an innocent person making a well-intentioned but unwise decision and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Carter and a young woman friend went to a convenience store immediately following a racial altercation between a black customer and a white employee of the store. The customer had returned with a rifle and shot into the store, wounding the white employee. After he shot into the store, the assailant fled to the other side of the street and shouted out for someone to bring his car to him. Carter told her friend that she would drive the car to the man’s house to keep the police from taking it. As Carter was about to drive off the lot, the owner of the store ran out and ordered her to stop the car. Carter complied. At that moment two plainclothes policemen arrived on the scene. In the heat of rapidly unfolding events, with bystanders yelling to the two police officers that the man who had fired the shots was not in the car and that Carter was in the car instead, Carter panicked and lay down on the front seat of the car. As she later attempted to rise from the seat, one of the officers shot her three times; a fourth shot missed her. Although an eight-member, blue-ribbon committee consisting of four African Americans and four whites appointed by Mayor David Vann voted seven to zero with one abstention that sufficient justification for shooting Carter did not exist, Mayor Vann refused to accede to the highly publicized demand of Arrington and the African American community to have the officer responsible dismissed from the police force. Arrington and the black community became even more outraged when they learned that during his eight years on the Birmingham police force more than a dozen complaints alleging abuse had been filed against the white officer who had killed Carter. In all but one of those cases, the person alleging the abuse was black. The police department’s Internal Affairs Division investigated the complaints, but only once did the officer receive a reprimand, and that was a verbal reprimand. Arrington had in fact filed some of the complaints against this officer on behalf of African Americans who had come to him for his assistance. Moreover, Arrington had spoken to Mayor Vann about the need to do something about this policeman, and Arrington had thought that the officer had been reassigned to a less visible position (Franklin 1989: 118–119).

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

112

Page 112

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

More than any other single event in the tragic history of race relations in Birmingham, including the 1963 bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in which four black girls were killed, the murder of Bonita Carter by the white police officer unleashed forces of change in the city that led to the development of black political power in the city. In particular, Mayor Vann’s decision not to fire the officer responsible for Carter’s slaying exacerbated the anger of Arrington and the African American community and led to Arrington’s decision to run for mayor against Vann, who had been his political ally on the city council. Arrington, like Harold Washington in Chicago, was virtually drafted by the African American community to run for mayor. Arrington was a logical choice in this regard in part because of his academic background as dean of Miles College and executive director of the Alabama Center for Higher Education. More important, his recruitment was logical because he long had been an outspoken advocate of affirmative action for blacks and critic of police brutality against blacks in Birmingham. Arrington ran for mayor in 1979 and with overwhelming support from African American voters, who composed approximately 55 percent of the city’s population, and a small proportion of support from white voters, won in a runoff against a white opponent. Vann did not even receive enough votes to make the runoff. The 1979 mayoral elections demonstrated the emerging power of African Americans in city politics. Mayor Vann’s failure to make it to the runoffs demonstrated the ability of African American voters in Birmingham to punish white politicians who rely on their support to get elected and then fail to deliver on issues on which they have indicated very strong feelings. In the 1979 mayoral election, the principal issue that motivated African Americans’ participation was police brutality committed against members of their community. African Americans organized to draft Arrington to run for mayor and to turn out the black vote in support of his candidacy.

■

The Leadership Style of Mayor Arrington

Mayor Arrington is a consensus builder. He has not departed from that leadership style even in his effort to address the problem of police brutality, an issue about which he feels passionate. Although Arrington appears to be a natural as a consensus builder by virtue of his low-key personality, the fact that Birmingham has a weak-mayor

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

Page 113

RICHARD ARRINGTON JR.—BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA

113

system of government is perhaps also a factor in the mayor’s leadership style. A very important component of Arrington’s success in governance is the attention he has given to building a political infrastructure outside of the formal structure of city government. This infrastructure provides critical support to the initiatives he undertakes inside of the formal structure. Arrington’s close attention to building his own political organization is certainly not a new development in urban governance. The urban political machines from the 1930s to the 1960s were predicated on the same premise that undergirds Arrington’s successful governance, that is, a strong political infrastructure is needed outside of the formal machinery of government to organize and coordinate the highly fragmented American urban governments. The last and perhaps most successful urban political machine was the mayoral administration of Richard J. Daley Sr. in Chicago in the 1960s and 1970s. At the height of its power, the political infrastructure Arrington developed in Birmingham was just as powerful as Daley’s in controlling political recruitment to positions in city government. The political organization Arrington founded in 1977 to contest elections in Birmingham was the Jefferson County Citizens Coalition (JCCC). The coalition quickly became the main political instrument for mobilizing black support for political candidates in Birmingham (Haeberle 1998: 288; Perry 1997). The JCCC experienced almost meteoric success in Birmingham politics. In 1979 it was largely responsible for Arrington’s election as mayor and for blacks’ winning four of the nine seats on the council. To expand its effectiveness, after the 1979 election the coalition began to endorse popular white incumbents on the city council—a reflection of Arrington’s consensus-building style of governance (Haeberle 1998). Mayor Arrington’s role in the development of the coalition as a pivotal factor in Birmingham politics was a major factor in his mayoral success. In addition to serving the traditional purposes of helping Arrington to organize and coordinate city government, the coalition also helped Arrington to overcome the structural limitations imposed on him by the weak-mayor system of government in Birmingham, thus allowing him to govern with greater authority and more effectively. Arrington’s role in establishing the coalition and overseeing its development illustrates the important point that mayoral leadership is more than just enacting programs; it is also building a supportive political infrastructure that enhances the mayor’s

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

114

Page 114

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

political stature both inside and outside of government and thus facilitates the enactment of programs (Stone 1995). ■

Mayor Arrington’s Leadership and Police Abuse

Arrington ran for mayor because of his displeasure with police abuse of African Americans in Birmingham. Accordingly, he placed a high priority during his first term on reducing this police brutality. His approach to improving the relations between the police department and the African American community, however, was evenhanded. Arrington made it clear to the police department that although he would give the department the resources it needed to make Birmingham a safe place in which to work and raise a family, he would be equally insistent that police abuse of citizens end. Arrington also made it clear to the African American community that he was going to be tough on black-on-black crime. Arrington’s specific approach to improving the police department consisted of strict oversight of the department’s internal disciplinary actions and the imposition of his own punishment when he felt wayward officers were treated too leniently. For example, he fired two police officers for allegedly taking payoffs to overlook illegal activity in black areas of the city. He also overrode the lesser disciplinary actions of the chief of police regarding two police officers in separate incidents. The first officer had allegedly been involved in a local social club scandal. The other had killed a woman, apparently under justifiable circumstances, but had lied about the amount of alcohol he had consumed before reporting to duty on the day of the shooting. The chief of police had suspended the first officer and given a written reprimand to the second. Overruling the police chief, Arrington fired the first officer and suspended the second. Arrington also instituted a new deadly force policy for police officers (Franklin 1989: 210–211). A direct response to the killing of Bonita Carter, the new policy was designed to minimize the possibility of persons’ being shot when the safety of police officers and the public was not directly and immediately imperiled. Arrington used this stricter policy to suspend the white officer who killed Carter, but a court decree eventually reinstated that officer. During his first term, Arrington appointed a new police chief with whom he felt more comfortable. By the end of his first term, Arrington’s intentions of establishing a new way for the police department to do business with the public, especially the African American community, was clearly evident. The inevitable tensions created by Arrington’s reform of the police department had begun to

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

Page 115

RICHARD ARRINGTON JR.—BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA

115

ease by the time of his reelection. During his second term, all stakeholders in police-community relations had come to accept Arrington’s reforms. By his third term, he believed that his administration had made so much progress in this area that he proclaimed that police abuse was no longer a problem in Birmingham. ■

Assessing Arrington’s Impact

My previously published analysis of excessive force complaints filed against Birmingham police officers (Perry 1997) raises some questions about the validity of Arrington’s broad assertion that police abuse is no longer a problem in Birmingham. Nevertheless, it does appear that police abuse did decline during the first term of Arrington’s administration. The actions Arrington undertook to reform the police department during this period did result in some improvement in police-community relations. J. L. Franklin (1989) indicates that Birmingham police officers used less force in making arrests, and charges for resisting officers and assaults also declined. Overall, this analysis claims that police brutality complaints dropped by 75 percent during Arrington’s first term (Franklin 1989: 286). Perry (1997) questioned Franklin’s claim regarding the reported tremendous decline in police brutality during Arrington’s first term but have substantiated a significant decline did occur in this area of police abuse. In an analysis of excessive force complaints filed against Birmingham police officers by citizens that included the first three years of Arrington’s first term, Perry (1997) found that the number of excessive force complaints decreased by 45 percent between 1973 and 1982. The saliency of the issue of police brutality to the African American community, however, was not lessened by this decrease. For despite this significant drop in the number of excessive force complaints, between 1972 and 1979 there were seven high-profile cases of alleged police brutality committed against African Americans—four deaths and three severe beatings. During this period Arrington, as a city councilman, was virtually the lone voice in city politics railing against police abuse of African Americans. This was the period in which Arrington felt increasingly frustrated about his inability to get Mayors Seibels and Vann to seriously address the issue of police abuse. Arrington’s frustration was shared by many in the African American community in Birmingham. They were so frustrated, in fact, that African Americans filed fewer excessive force complaints against the police because of the apparent futility in doing so. They believed nothing would be done to penalize white

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

116

Page 116

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

police officers who abused blacks. Therefore, it is plausible that the reduction in the number of excessive force complaints between 1973 and 1982, rather than an affirmation of the impact of increasing black political power in Birmingham, was an indication of the inability of black political participation to produce policy changes in the early stages of its development. Arrington’s election as mayor and the commencement of his mayoral administration had the opposite impact: excessive force complaints against Birmingham’s police department increased 122 percent between 1982 and 1988. Rather than suggesting a rise in the incidence of police abuse against African Americans, this enormous climb in the number of complaints suggests that African Americans felt empowered by Arrington’s elections and his strong oversight of the police department. In short, Arrington’s commitment to eliminating police abuse of Birmingham citizens lessened the sense of futility among African Americans. If this assessment is valid, then the 9 percent decrease in excessive force complaints between 1988 and 1990 is logically consistent, showing Arrington’s success in making the Birmingham Police Department more responsive to concerns over police abuse raised by the city’s African American community (Perry 1997: 187).

■

Lessons Learned

At the beginning of this chapter, three theoretical models were posited as possible explanations for the significant decrease in police abuse of African Americans in Birmingham. Overall, this case study suggests that the elite model offers no theoretic utility to account for the decline in police abuse of the city’s blacks. Instead, it is more relevant for explaining the oppressed condition of blacks in Birmingham prior to the emergence of black political power in the city in the mid-1960s. Elite theory explains the relationship between blacks and the economic elite in Birmingham during the civil rights protests in the city and the role the police played in maintaining that relationship. The economic elite in the city conveniently allowed a racially repressive police force led by Bull Connor to treat blacks as second-class citizens. In contrast to elite theory, both mobilization and pluralist theories account for changes in Birmingham. Mobilization theory best explains how Arrington, bolstered by his tremendous support in the African American community following the Bonita Carter killing, was able to focus government attention on the issue of police abuse

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

Page 117

RICHARD ARRINGTON JR.—BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA

117

of African Americans in Birmingham. Pluralist theory best explains how African Americans came together collectively to persuade Arrington to run for mayor in the 1979 elections and the near unanimous electoral support they gave him. The subsequent efforts of the Arrington administration to build a coalition in support of reform of the police department and the decline in excessive force complaints filed against Birmingham police officers by citizens during his third term is consistent with pluralist theory as well. That excessive force complaints rose in Arrington’s second term also is consistent with pluralist theory, particularly when efforts to reduce police abuse are examined and understood as a form of regulatory policy. Lowi (1964) posited that the pluralist model best explains the regulatory policy arena. A city’s attempt to crack down on police brutality has all the essence of a regulatory action by government. The goal in this regard is to alleviate or prevent behavior considered to be undesirable. The only departure from traditional regulatory policy in this case is that government traditionally seeks to reduce or prevent undesirable action by private actors. In the matter of police brutality, this distinction is probably trivial. So it is acceptable to conclude that government’s efforts to address police brutality abuse are regulatory actions. An increase in the number of complaints is an expected initial convergence of regulatory action. With regard to excessive force complaints, it clearly is plausible that the number of these complaints will initially rise as citizens who are abused by the police feel that genuine and meaningful regulatory action is being taken to penalize the police committing the abuse. As the citizens and the police get the message that abusive behavior will no longer be tolerated, the increase in excessive force complaints is then followed by a decrease. This is precisely the pattern that occurred in Birmingham during the Arrington administration. Overall, then, the key lessons to be learned from an analysis of the police brutality issue in Birmingham are that African Americans can use political participation to change policies and actions of city government and that outstanding political leadership matters greatly in this process. Over less than two decades, African Americans in Birmingham led first by city councilman Arrington and subsequently by Mayor Arrington helped to transform a situation that for them was emotionally and physically abusive and intolerable. In the early 1960s African Americans in Birmingham were on the margins of political power in the city and were subjected to police abuse orchestrated by a racist police commissioner. By 1979 African Americans had played a key role in eliminating the form of government that

B-7

12/8/09

12:52 PM

118

Page 118

MAYORS AND CONTEMPORARY URBAN ISSUES

supported the racism of Bull Connor, removing him from power, and electing Richard Arrington as the first black mayor. Once in office, Mayor Arrington adopted reforms of the police department that over time succeeded in reducing police abuse in Birmingham. Overall, these are important examples of a racial minority group’s success by participating in the political process. These developments are consistent with mobilization theory and pluralist theory. Finally, Arrington must be regarded as the most important public official in the city of Birmingham since the end of World War II. The image of the city has been totally transformed from that of the 1960s and earlier. There is no person more responsible for this new image than Richard Arrington Jr.

■

Note

The research for this chapter was funded by the National Science Foundation (grant number SBR-9423639) and is part of a large-scale research project to examine the impact of African American political participation on governmental policies and actions in fourteen cities.

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

Page 121

8 J. Christian Bollwage and Economic Development in Elizabeth, New Jersey Daniel Schulgasser

In June 1992 Elizabeth, New Jersey, Mayor Thomas G. Dunn was defeated in a Democratic Party primary election by city council member J. Christian (Chris) Bollwage. Even the New York Times took note: Dunn had become an institution, holding office for twenty-eight years while winning seven consecutive elections, a record for American cities with a population of 100,000 or more. Electoral change of the kind that occurred in Elizabeth is generally accompanied by great expectations among the victor’s supporters for new policies and ways of doing business. Nevertheless, scholars of urban politics continue to disagree over whether or not, in the end, “changing mayors matters” (Wolman, Strate, and Melchior 1996). To the extent the answer is yes, a key ingredient is certainly individual leadership (Kotter 1990; Stone 1995). Notwithstanding the weak legal status of cities in the American constitutional system (Garber 1990), the mayors of the largest ones are often collectively considered to have the second most difficult elective job in the nation after the president. They are treated accordingly by the media. Therefore, the “job skills” of mayors, that is, personal character, style, and cognitive orientation, are important factors in the assessment of leadership; so, too, is the temporal context in which mayors operate. As Stone (1995) contends, the acid test of mayoral leadership is not so much the achievement of change itself but the resistance that must be overcome along the way. Are the White House, statehouse, and local courthouse allies or opponents of the mayor? How well are the national and regional economies performing? Although the focus

121

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

122

Page 122

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

of urban scholarship is generally on the nation’s largest cities and their mayors, medium-sized municipalities offer lessons about mayoral leadership and the sustainability of public policy.

■

Mayoral Leadership and Political Theory

As E. Phillips and R. LeGates (1981: 25) point out in their survey of city life, “what you see depends on how you look at it.” Several contending theories of urban politics (e.g., Judge, Stoker, and Wolman 1995) propose different perspectives on the very relevance of mayoral leadership. For B. Kellerman (1986: xiv), “no question is as central to political discourse as that of . . . leadership.” M. Jones (1990) argues, however, that the prevailing elite discourse about urban issues is framed so tightly in economic language as to limit the possibilities for mayoral leadership. The urban politics literature in fact suggests at least three levels of analysis at which to look for sources of change: the systemic (e.g., Harvey 1973; Castells and Hall 1996); the group, or coalition (e.g., Molotch 1993); and the individual leader. Moreover, even those who argue for the significance of mayoral leadership (e.g., Ferman 1985) agree that it is highly contingent. On a global level, Erikson (1958) theorizes that only where individual attributes and historical circumstances, each following its own logic, broadly harmonize does the opportunity arise for leadership to take on a transformative character. At the mayoral level, contingency translates into what B. Jones and L. Bachelor (1993) call “creative bounded choice,” or the interaction among personal character and political skills, formal resources (e.g., type of government), and socioeconomic structure (see Kotter and Lawrence 1974; Ferman 1985; Svara 1995; Stone 1995; Wolman and Ford 1996). Within this framework, scholars tend to conceptualize an “ideal” political leader as an activist agent of change (Yates 1978; Ferman 1985; Stone 1995). Although those whose focus is the American presidency have been criticized for their liberal bias (Hargrove 1973), the constitutional and economic constraints (Garber 1990; Sassen 1996) on the local state would seem to necessitate that strong leadership be ideologically “progressive,” that is, exercised in resistance to the “privileged” status of business (Elkins 1987; Stone 1987). Ominously, however, Garber (1996: 16) describes an “uncertain context of local government”—principally its privatization—in which political leaders operated in the 1990s as “its essential qualities [were] being significantly redefined by various external forces.”

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

Page 123

J. CHRISTIAN BOLLWAGE—ELIZABETH, NEW JERSEY

123

Hence the challenge posed in evaluating the leadership qualities of mayors as the momentum of privatization accelerates.

CASE STUDY ■

Elizabeth, N.J.

Elizabeth, New Jersey’s fourth largest city, with a population of 111,000, is tucked in a corner formed by Newark to the north and New York City to the east. An early engine of the industrial revolution, it was left behind as suburbanization and economic transformation made New Jersey cities obsolete (Lazare 1991; Anyon 1997). For years a sullen stepchild of state politics, the city has reemerged in the 1990s under Mayor Bollwage as a textbook case of urban economic revitalization (Elizabeth Development Co. 1997). The view from the New Jersey Turnpike is symbolic: still dominated by storage tanks and shipping, it now includes a hot new destination—the second most profitable store in the worldwide IKEA home furnishing chain and anchor of Elizabeth’s state urban enterprise zone (UEZ) program, recently chosen the nation’s best (Turner 1998). Elizabeth’s statistical profile differs in several respects from comparable cities that have fallen victim to the restructuring of the American economy. While most have lost population, Elizabeth has not. While many have become ghettoized, Elizabeth has remained an urban ethnic enclave (Marcuse 1997). Most older, northeastern cities practice nonpartisan politics. Elizabeth’s voters have resisted “reform” and regularly defeat referendums to change to nonpartisan elections. In a state dominated by county politics and bosses until the late 1960s (Salmore and Salmore 1993), Elizabeth’s leaders are still able to bring home more than their fair share of state resources through their control of Union County. In terms of economic growth and diversity, however, this former home of the Singer sewing machine company has always had limits. Decline was palpable by the early 1920s. But the city’s economic structure and small-town, suburban-like neighborhoods were not as conducive to the inflows of poor southern blacks as the more densely constructed Newark (Richards 1971). Older, European families largely stayed put even as its industries departed. To this day, Elizabeth is “not a pretty place to live,” but its solid neighborhoods have been maintained over the years (Birritteri 1993: 53). Clearly, there remains within these enclaves a strong loyalty to “Betsytown.”

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

124

Page 124

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

For Elizabeth’s ghettoized households, however, the options are limited. “Despite the perception of stability which the City enjoys, evidenced by the population increase of the last census, it shares with many of the nation’s urban centers the socioeconomic problems arising from recession, unemployment, homelessness, crime and aging housing stock” (City of Elizabeth 1995: 4). Further, its diverse but primarily lower-income Hispanic population is rapidly increasing and may approach a majority by 2000. The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development classifies the city as “fiscally distressed” (City of Elizabeth 1995: 12); the New Jersey Department of Education ranks its family households in the lowest of its socioeconomic categories (1996–97 New Jersey school report card 1998). Elizabeth, like all other larger New Jersey cities, has a strongmayor–council form of government. Six legislative seats are ward based, three are at large. Registered Democrats outnumber Republicans six to one, which makes the party primary the key city election and effectively disenfranchises the high percentage of independents. As a result of long Democratic Party dominance, factions have developed that are more personality than issue based. Hence, although partisan electoral conflict can have a salutary effect on community development (Ferman 1985; Eldersveld 1995), the Elizabeth case does not offer much promise.

■

Mayor J. Christian Bollwage’s Leadership Style and Skills

Within the context of Elizabeth’s political economy, one cannot analyze the leadership of Christian Bollwage without reference to Tom Dunn. Not only had Dunn himself become an issue well before he was unseated, but his administration forms the baseline from which to assess political change under Bollwage. Dunn was a “Reagan Democrat,” an oldtime politician with a deep disdain for the changing social order and a visceral connection with Elizabeth’s ethnic enclaves. Bollwage is a Clinton-style, centrist Democrat, a “postmodernist” who is equally at ease with Elizabeth’s politically emerging minorities and the executives of global corporations. Dunn was a “no tax, no spend,” probusiness mayor who “did not really understand development politics. . . . He wanted ‘no-risk’ economic development.” Bollwage is a high-spending, probusiness mayor who has risked his political career to bring economic development to the city. A lifelong Elizabeth resident with a private-sector resume, Bollwage was first elected to the city council in 1982. Over the years

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

Page 125

J. CHRISTIAN BOLLWAGE—ELIZABETH, NEW JERSEY

125

he has managed to meld an activist orientation to his job with a “bland” public profile (DeLaMar 1997). Inside city hall, though, friends and foes alike cite a stubborn combativeness developed during his years on the city council in opposition to Dunn. Now that he is mayor, Bollwage laments what he sees as the decline of politics in the city to a personal level: “I wish politics were more issue-oriented. I propose, the [opposition on the city council] attacks.” Bollwage, who has a master’s degree in public administration and teaches a college course on the subject, describes his role as “an activist policymaker and administrator.” Nevertheless, he fully understands that “policymaking is politics.” Prior to introducing his “bold” development financing plans, described as “risky” by some, his behavioral pattern has been to first consult at length with his closest policy and political advisers, his city council allies, and finally selected members of his electoral coalition in order to anticipate the ramifications. The mayor’s cognitive world (Wolman and Ford 1996) is relatively concrete; neither he nor any other opinion leaders betray a grand mayoral vision for the city. The most important function of local government, as Bollwage sees it, is “the provision of basic services at the lowest possible cost.” Philosophically, he is “against both small and big government. . . . Government isn’t like private business. It’s in the middle, as a facilitator, dealing with whatever issues are at hand.” By and large, Bollwage is in the middle, too, in terms of leadership style.

■

Economic Development Politics in Elizabeth

Under the tutelage of state senator Raymond Lesniak, the most powerful Democrat in Union County with “connections reaching to Washington,” Chris Bollwage spent ten years planning to wrest the mayoralty, and control of city politics, from Dunn and his faction. At one level his well-financed victory signaled a continuation of internecine Democratic Party conflict and “the politics of vindictiveness.” As part of their lengthy campaign to win city hall, the Bollwage forces were on top of demographic change. They understood how to mobilize blacks and Hispanics. Therefore, once in office, the new mayor was committed to providing minorities with their first opportunity to share the spoils of power. He was additionally obligated to the law firms, developers, and businesspeople who provided his campaign with the funds to topple Dunn. He moved decisively to satisfy both.

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

126

Page 126

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

Bollwage established control over the city hall bureaucracy with relatively little resistance. Many key career administrators were frustrated with Dunn’s conservatism and energized by the new mayor’s more positivist orientation toward government. “These are exciting times,” one veteran said. Management change and reorganization, especially the transfer of economic revitalization programs to the Elizabeth Development Company (EDC), the city’s quasi-governmental, nonprofit revitalization agency, cemented the mayor’s control. Additionally, Elizabeth’s strong-mayor–council form of government maximizes the legal authority of the executive branch and, consequently, the opportunities for leadership (Ferman 1985; Svara 1995), especially in the absence of a growth coalition. Bollwage and his administrative team have had increasingly wide latitude to set the growth agenda, select developers and professional service providers, and use their own entrepreneurial skills to bring their plans to fruition. Elizabeth is characterized as well by a political culture of selfinterest in which the weakest groups need the mayor’s favor and are susceptible to co-optation. Hence, Bollwage, like Kevin White twenty years earlier in Boston (Ferman 1985), defined his residential-area policies from the start in terms of basic service delivery and created a Department of Neighborhood Services to implement several highprofile programs. By using federal and state aid, he solidified his electoral support among minorities with little resistance from any other groups. Finally, Bollwage’s minority appointments to high positions early in his first term “opened the door, [and] initiated change.” His first business administrator, the city’s chief of governmental operations, was a Hispanic woman. As one key civic leader said: “Having one’s recommended persons in city hall makes a difference.” In addition, the city’s two leading community development corporations, one Hispanic and the other black, were given special attention in order to build their capacity to run not only social service but also housing and economic development programs. Bollwage also had the advantage that two points of resistance that commonly challenge the leadership skills of new mayors—a pro-growth coalition and an antagonistic state or federal government—were absent in Elizabeth (Keiser 1994). The city has never had either a “growth machine” (Molotch 1993) or any influential, “civic-minded” leaders from the business community. State and federal policymakers, including the Republican administration of

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

Page 127

J. CHRISTIAN BOLLWAGE—ELIZABETH, NEW JERSEY

127

Governor Christine Todd Whitman, have been receptive rather than antagonistic to Bollwage because he has embraced their programs. Despite these advantages, Bollwage still had to take the first politically risky step of “buying off” the city’s powerful and restive police and fire unions with generous salary and fringe benefit packages that increased an inherited deficit (Hopkins 1994a). To cover the deficit and finance development, Bollwage then spent two years trying to build city council and public support for a complex debt restructuring and borrowing plan. During this time, large, unpopular tax increases were imposed that caused property owners conditioned to a low-tax environment under Dunn to picket city hall and threaten to “recall” elected officials (Hopkins 1994a, 1994c, 1994d). Through dogged determination and political trench warfare, Bollwage prevailed. His debt-restructuring and borrowing plan was passed, as was a large, pre-election tax cut in 1995 (Hopkins 1995), and he was returned to office in 1996. In retrospect, Bollwage faced relatively little effective opposition to this plan. Institutional and cultural conditions were favorable, and the national and state economies strengthened every year. As a result of these contingent factors, he was able to take risks to generate capital for economic development. In the middle of his second term, with a “veto-proof” six-to-three council majority, Bollwage began focusing on his economic growth agenda while moving forward with other, controversial plans, such as privatizing the city water system (Twyman 1998) to generate development capital.

■

Bollwage’s Leadership of Economic Development Policy

In a medium-sized, distressed city with no growth coalition, a strong-mayor–council structure, and an entrenched political establishment, the leadership challenge might well entail simply increasing resources to facilitate sustained development (see Kantor, Savitch, and Haddock 1997). As D. Judd and M. Parkinson (1990) argue, leadership determines how cities respond to economic conditions. Economic constraints are real; better leadership yields better strategies. Dunn’s aversion to federal and state programs (Richards 1971) had left Elizabeth with few public resources to induce development. Therefore, one of Bollwage’s early steps was to appoint George

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

128

Page 128

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

Devanney, a protégé of state senator Lesniak and state Democratic Party Committee head, as his policy and planning director. Devanney’s task was to develop intergovernmental support for city projects (Peterson 1992). He and Devanney then “discovered” Ed Kolling at the Elizabeth Development Company. Bollwage thought that business owners regarded government programs as being “too cumbersome” and, according to Devanney, “began to see the value of EDC as a nonprofit intermediary to facilitate development projects.” Bollwage’s approach to the formulation of development policy may be aggressive, but its content is relatively orthodox. It is in strict accordance with the conventions of the day in American cities (Clavel and Kleniewski 1990). As scholars have amply demonstrated (e.g., Rubin and Rubin 1987), however, the kinds of business incentives associated with orthodox economic development are not only costly but also rarely effective. Bachelor (1994) suggests three reasons why the replication of expensive albeit questionable policies persists: the uncertainty, insufficient information, and competition that characterize economic development; the availability of packaged solutions to problems offered by policy entrepreneurs; and the selfserving interests of influential public and private partners of the administration. The process by which Devanney and Kolling implemented Bollwage’s state urban enterprise zone (UEZ) and discount mall priorities is consistent with these factors. ■

Urban Enterprise Zone

In transferring UEZ implementation from city hall to the EDC, Bollwage said that “separating the administration of [it] from government sends a clear message to the business community that this is their program” (Birritteri 1993: 52–53). With IKEA as its big money machine, Kolling has proceeded to turn Elizabeth’s UEZ program into a national model. The almost $20 million in revenues flowing back to the city from the reduced sales taxes charged by retailers (DeLaMar 1997) is being used for innovative programs while obviating further property tax increases. Even Bob Jaspan, Bollwage’s leading opponent on the city council, refers to the UEZ as a “godsend.” As a result of EDC’s aggressive marketing of the program and a strong regional economy, “the money is flowing in so fast that the city’s small engineering staff cannot implement some of the mayor’s physical improvement projects.” EDC staff estimate that a fully operational discount mall could increase annual UEZ revenues by up to $6 million (Birritteri 1997).

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

Page 129

J. CHRISTIAN BOLLWAGE—ELIZABETH, NEW JERSEY

■

129

Jersey Gardens Mall

The mall project, which is near IKEA, accessible to shoppers from the entire metropolitan area, and especially attractive to New Yorkers because New Jersey does not tax clothing, is by far the most costly and controversial of Bollwage’s economic development initiatives. The mayor has in fact invested so much financial and political capital in Jersey Gardens—the name bestowed on the project by Michael Ovitz, former Disney CEO who is now a developer—that the ultimate success of his political career hangs in the balance. The mall idea started under the Dunn administration with the property owners approaching the city. It was Bollwage, however, who was willing to take a major risk on this environmentally sensitive landfill site. Several developers and private investors tried but failed to package the deal. Bollwage decided that aggressive local government intervention could make it work. He persuaded the state to create a special taxing district and four independent authorities— Turnpike, Port, UEZ, and New Jersey Economic Development— along with Union County to join the city in financing the project (Lovell 1995; Picard 1996). Jersey Gardens will in all probability remain controversial long after its tenants open their doors for business. Opponents argue that the structuring of the deal, with huge tax concessions and anticipated revenues committed to repaying the development debt, means that it will constitute a long-term loss to the city treasury. “The city has actually borrowed [for the mall and other development projects] under the guise of refinancing. If the mall does not go up, the city will be in dire financial straits.” They also question the selection of out-of-state developers, an uncommon practice in Elizabeth. According to Devanney, the lead company is involved in projects around the country and is a major contributor to the Democratic Party. ■

Location Theory and Economic Development

Notwithstanding their aggressive utilization of public programs, Bollwage, Kolling, and Devanney (by 1999 the assistant manager of Union County and still heavily involved in Elizabeth politics and policymaking) all see development as market-driven. According to the mayor, “major projects usually start with a private developer contacting the city.” Then, once they come in, “developers have to be encouraged, to be led by city hall, to see the opportunities.” Kolling and Devanney likewise stress their need to be

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

130

Page 130

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

responsive to larger market trends. . . . Jersey Gardens is a locational thing; . . . timing, too; . . . economic conditions . . . .IKEA came on its own [while Dunn was mayor]. It negotiated independently with the Port Authority. City government and our legislative delegation in Trenton [the state capital] made sure the Port Authority would do its best. It’s very important to recognize that all the factors are in line, then take the initiative. . . . Due to location, . . . activities would have occurred anyway, but planned initiatives increase coordination and speed up the inevitable.

M. Rosentraub and P. Helmke (1996: 496–497) describe a similar economic development process in another medium-sized city, Fort Wayne, Indiana, where construction of a General Motors plant sparked the city’s economic recovery in the 1980s: “The corporation’s selection of the site was not the result of any direct activity by local actors. . . . The existing evidence suggests that Fort Wayne’s location and other aspects of its economy drove GM’s decision.” In both Elizabeth and Fort Wayne, economic growth and revitalization have resulted from “an external corporate decision and mayoral initiative to exploit that decision” (Rosentraub and Helmke 1996: 502). In the case of Elizabeth, there is no evidence that would contradict or even modify the assertions of the mayor and his development team concerning the primacy of location. It is clear they formulate economic development policy in accordance with the assumptions of location theory (Harvey 1973), which Rosentraub and Helmke (1996: 502) succinctly summarize as “external corporate decisions based on labor costs and transportation linkages.” Nevertheless, just as in Fort Wayne, “even location theory’s most ardent supporters would have to acknowledge the role played by local actors in securing the locational decisions” (Rosentraub and Helmke 1996: 503). As P. Kantor and H. Savitch (1993) assert, most urban theorists agree that local politics matters; when and how it matters are the key questions. If Dunn had retained the mayoralty, then the impact of IKEA’s decision to locate in Elizabeth would in all probability have remained limited; the complex public portion of the discount mall financing package would never have been put together. ■

Probusiness Bias in Economic Development

Bollwage’s economic development policy choices are likely a consequence of the structural pressure on local government to “reinvent” itself, that is, devolve its functions to private and nonprofit contractors (Osborne and Gaebler 1990; Garber 1996). In an era in which urban elites assume they are governed by economic constraints,

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

Page 131

J. CHRISTIAN BOLLWAGE—ELIZABETH, NEW JERSEY

131

especially location, EDC’s role in Elizabeth contributes to the shrinkage of the public sector. As M. Keating cautions, over time, development politics can alter the conduct and governing ethos of local government as municipalities are drawn into the world of business, governed by secrecy, competition, and the ethics of the marketplace rather than by the political and bureaucratic worlds of debate, equity, and professional standards. The discourse of the politician becomes merged with that of the businessperson. (Keating 1993: 386)

One leading city administrator who is involved with privatization initiatives in fact asserts that Elizabeth, under Bollwage, is developing much more of a “probusiness culture”; the chamber of commerce regards the mayor as deserving close to a perfect score on his probusiness attitudes. Although the city’s two major, neighborhood-based nonprofits are supportive of the mayor’s initiatives to devolve responsibilities to their agencies, one board member describes his overall leadership as no more than “adequate”; a respected advocate for the poor argues that “his leadership since the early days of his first administration has been really disappointing. It’s back to more business as usual than we had hoped.” These conflicting impressions of Bollwage’s leadership are consistent with the changing context in which economic development must be made at the local level. The Greater Elizabeth Chamber of Commerce, which the mayor was instrumental in reactivating during his first term, has been the only organized business interest in the city. According to the mayor: “We do have key development partners, but they are not really part of an established coalition that works on a grand vision of Elizabeth.” Hence, in a city without a strong civic voice, Kolling is apparently sincere in his belief that “economic development is relatively consensual: the mayor pushes projects because they’re ‘good for Elizabeth.’” Over time, however, if a growth coalition is sparked by EDC’s initiatives, it could further diminish the opportunities for mayoral leadership. ■

Overcoming Opposition to Development Plans

Both Stone (1995) and S. McGovern (1997) argue that using public funds as Bollwage has to induce development is not a compelling test of leadership. This is especially the case when public opposition is minimal. In working-class Elizabeth, where the Democratic Party reigns supreme, one activist who is otherwise supportive of

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

132

Page 132

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

Bollwage notes that “no one is really watching [development financing].” Elizabeth’s homeowners have mobilized to resist the immediate pain of property tax increases (Hopkins 1994c). Other kinds of financing, however, have no sudden impact and make difficult rallying points for activists. Several, for example, the leasing of the city’s water system to a private operator, are in fact loaded with revenue windfalls that make short-term property tax reductions possible. Mayoral success, for B. Ferman (1985: 8), involves “actions that yield immediate resources as well as actions . . . to acquire future resources and to implement subsequent policies.” By increasing the magnitude of development in the city, Bollwage can anticipate that money will be available to counter any opposition that may be mounted against his policies. A major objective of his economic development policies, therefore, is the entrenchment of his faction of the Democratic Party, which he would undoubtedly define as serving the public interest. From Ferman’s (1985) perspective, then, finding a means to reconcile economic with often conflicting communal imperatives becomes a major test of mayoral leadership and policy sustainability. Bollwage’s solution has been to use his political skills to provide state and federal program benefits not only to developers but also to his electoral coalition. In the uncertain world of urban development policy, the EDC’s Kolling has been available as a policy entrepreneur to provide textbook solutions for the mayor to address the demands of his disparate constituencies (Yates 1978; Ferman 1985). During Bollwage’s first term, for example, a Hispanic civic organization tried to focus public attention on both the potential threat posed by the discount mall to minority businesses and who would benefit from the anticipated permanent retail jobs (Hopkins 1994b). In order to maintain his electoral base in the Hispanic community and generate public support for a project that was being questioned as well by city council opponents and the local media, the mayor turned to EDC to develop job training, creation, and retention programs. The agency secured a commitment for a retail training institute on site at the mall, a “job club,” and a public-private workforce consortium that are collectively projected to yield at least 6,000 positions after all of the mayor’s major projects are up and running (Elizabeth Development Co. 1997). Hispanic leaders have acknowledged that their concerns have been “effectively handled” by Bollwage’s “smart politics.” According to Kolling, “The mayor has instructed EDC that neighborhoods matter as much as big-ticket development.” Thus to further lessen opposition, the agency has become involved in the

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

Page 133

J. CHRISTIAN BOLLWAGE—ELIZABETH, NEW JERSEY

133

enhancement of an access road between the IKEA/discount mall site and the city’s lowest-income area and joined in partnership with the city’s nonprofit community development corporations to provide housing for moderate-income families (Bollwage 1997). EDC’s communally oriented programs, collectively known in the urban politics literature as “Type II” (i.e., progressive) policies, are relatively modest but substantive. Their significance is that they provide one means to achieve more equitable development (Elkins 1995). Bollwage, as a strong mayor who has thus far defeated political resistance to his policies, is well positioned to require publicly subsidized developers to contribute to EDC’s programs. A key indicator of mayoral leadership in the allocation of federal resources is a city’s Community Development Block Grant (CDBG) program budget. The principal purpose of the program is to benefit lower-income city residents, but numerous studies (e.g., Wong 1990) indicate that strong mayors can use their funding entitlements to pursue development. Given Bollwage’s positive evaluations by community-based nonprofit organization (CBO) leaders and track record with regard to Type II policies, one might expect a shift in CDBG resources to have occurred between his administration and Dunn’s. A comparison between the 1988–1992 and the 1993–1997 CDBG budgets shows, however, that Bollwage has not increased the percentage of allocations to CBOs to operate programs of their choosing. To the contrary, he has been budgeting a progressively higher percentage to the EDC, which is currently receiving one-third, or $1 million, of the city’s grant. Although EDC is clearly functioning as much like a municipal department of housing and community development as an economic development corporation, it nevertheless remains removed from the direct public accountability required of city agencies. Notwithstanding its recent record of performance, the EDC is structured to serve the needs of private capital. Bollwage’s allocation of CDBG funds to the agency as an intermediary between city government and lower-income citizens is substantial for a distressed city.

■

Lessons Learned

A case study highlights what is different about urban political economies. For Elizabeth, the factors that collectively stand out are: a largely working-class population with a self-interested political culture; a strong-mayor–council form of government with one-party rule; the absence of a growth coalition or any other type of organized

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

134

Page 134

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

civic leadership; and a political establishment whose probusiness bias faces little organized resistance. These contingent factors have not posed the kind of leadership test that would have allowed Mayor Chris Bollwage to set himself apart from his contemporaries in other medium-sized cities. Bollwage has isolated his political opponents in the Dunn faction of the Democratic Party, further entrenching personal as opposed to party politics in Elizabeth (Ferman 1985). At the same time, he has been skillful enough to co-opt the leaders of minority nonprofits into the economic development process. The Bollwage administration has not, however, actually incorporated the new groups that have been electorally mobilized and benefited from appointments and funding. Nor has it fundamentally changed the way business is done in the city. Political leadership in Elizabeth to date has achieved economic development but not redistribution. But the success Bollwage has achieved in inducing private-sector investment is better than failure and at least makes redistribution possible (Judd and Parkinson 1990). Rosentraub and Helmke (1996) argue that the sustainability of economic development policies may be dependent on a regime, or enduring governing coalition, instead of a growth machine, a more episodic grouping in which business elites are the major players. It is clear that Elizabeth has neither a growth machine nor a regime. What it does have is a political establishment based on a strong-mayor– council system and one-party dominance. Ferman (1985: 204) concludes that “the strong mayor is the exception,” but the Elizabeth case supports her contention that a local government administration with a skillful leader can compensate to some degree for the lack of a regime. Indeed, the political establishment in the city has demonstrated that the presence of powerful civic leaders from the private sector is not necessary for government to be strongly probusiness. The political faction headed by state senator Lesniak, in which Bollwage is a prominent elected official, gained full control of Union County government in the 1990s. Now there is full cooperation in economic development policymaking between the city and county. Joint projects, especially in transportation, are under way. Hence, a partial political solution to the problem of “inelastic” city boundaries has been achieved (Rusk 1995). A political solution, however, is not an institutional-legal, or even permanent, one. The Elizabeth–Union County situation conforms to the first half of A. DiGaetano’s (1989: 263) definition of a regime as “a coherent pattern of policies and programs.” It does not meet the second requirement—it is not “promulgated by a governing coalition.” Elizabeth is, once again, an example of a “partial regime,” a

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

Page 135

J. CHRISTIAN BOLLWAGE—ELIZABETH, NEW JERSEY

135

political establishment without civic partners that has not fundamentally changed since the Dunn administration. What is different under Bollwage is not so much the substance of the city’s development policies but the willingness to plan, package, and take risks. As the mayor and his key aides observe, their initiatives have “sped up the inevitable.” Urban political leadership is often defined in collective rather than individual terms, for example, as a broad-based coalition of goal-oriented elites (Judd and Parkinson 1990). If so, then Rosentraub and Helmke’s (1996) assessment of Fort Wayne, Indiana, suggests that the continuing loss of business leadership poses yet another problem for older, medium-sized cities. Lacking prominent partners outside the ambit of formal political institutions and processes, Elizabeth’s public-sector officials have made a virtue of reactive policymaking. To achieve sustainability, they must develop their own capacity for proactive planning and policy development. The evidence from the Elizabeth case suggests that mayoral leadership can make a difference in such a process, regardless of the constraints. Bollwage’s leadership in aggressively implementing an orthodox economic development policy is notable. He has never proposed a comprehensive plan to control and redistribute growth but has been “proactively responsive” to the imperatives of location theory. In so acting, Bollwage has in fact changed Elizabeth from a conservative, low-tax, urban anachronism to an activist, prodevelopment, mainstream political economy.

B-8

12/8/09

12:56 PM

Page 136

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 137

9 David Rusk and the Politics of “Slow Growth” in Albuquerque, New Mexico Mark A. Peterson

In the ideological camps of urban development, advocates of progrowth and slow growth frequently clash. Slow-growth proponents champion open and inclusive development processes that focus on cities as places of habitation and sociability. They see communities and neighborhoods as intimate subsets of the larger metropolitan area. They argue that economic growth must come in humane proportions. Far from seeing America’s fastest-growing 100 urban areas as models for other communities, slow-growth advocates seek to sustain an adequate level of jobs such that the whole community can rise in the Maslovian hierarchy of needs. Advocates of aggressive pro-growth policies focus on economic gain that at least initially disproportionately benefits an economic elite. Pro-growth advocates argue that a community should embrace growth; that development, real estate, and financier elites must be favored or they will take their aggressiveness and success elsewhere; and that humane communities cannot be achieved if paychecks are not growing and opportunities for material improvement do not abound. The organized and coordinated effort of these pro-growth proponents is often referred to as the “growth machine.” Traditionally, growth machines, rather than slow growth, have dominated economic development in American cities. These growth machines are seen as making and controlling most of the economic decisions regarding development. Elected officials, including mayors, front for those economic elites and win support for reelection in return. The literature on the experiences of black mayors is particularly enlightening on this matter. D. Fasenfest’s (1986) case study of

137

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

138

Page 138

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

Detroit Mayor Coleman Young suggests that even when faced with credible predictions of disappointments, mayors find it difficult to criticize or reject economic development proposals and growth machine bills as job saving or creating (see also Rich 1991). The literature on urban regime and black mayoral leadership further indicates that black mayors must rely upon white pro-growth coalitions for electoral support because of alienation and dissatisfaction in the black community with the rate at which the tide is lifting their economic boats (Jones 1990; Stone 1989). This chapter, however, examines an alternate perspective on the mayoral leadership support of economic development in mediumsized cities. It does so through a case study of former Albuquerque Mayor David Rusk (1977–1981) and his advocacy of slow-growth economic development policies. His story makes an apt case study to explore the feasibility of mayoral leadership of slow-growth development because of his attempt at implementing an idealized vision of the urbane, community-centered, and self-actualizing city. In particular, this case study illustrates how one mayor’s rhetoric and his assembly of a nontraditional electoral coalition achieved initial success with a slow-growth platform. In the long run, however, Rusk’s leadership style and an adverse shift in economic conditions cost him his original support base. His earlier slow-growth rhetoric, coupled with his leadership style, left him no access to the moderate elements of the pro-growth camp. Thus, when conditions seemed to urge a more aggressive but strategically antithetical prodevelopment strategy, his vision and his incumbency were rejected. Overall, the case study suggests that while effective slow-growth-oriented mayoral leadership can impact and perhaps derail the growth machine, local economies are dynamic and the power of the pro-growth faction is great.

■

Dominant Contrasting Views of Economic Development

In order to provide an understanding of the point of view used here, the contrast between two prominent, analytic positions regarding the meaning and politics of urban economic development needs to be reviewed. Paul Peterson captured one of those views of urban economic development activity in City Limits (1981). His argument is that cities engage in aggressive, promotional, concession-granting activities (sometimes called “boomer booster” activities) because they fall into the “developmental” policy category. Developmental policy (policy that enhances the economic productivity of the city) is

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 139

DAVID RUSK—ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO

139

the only policy category urban politicians and administrators can control with a real prospect of positive outcome. Such aggressive policies are the only ones with which cities can expect to expand wealth, increase incomes, and enlarge tax resources. In order to reach desired economic objectives, alliances must be forged between city officials and the resource holders, such as bankers, land developers, architects, contractors, financiers, the newspapers, the sports team owners, industrialists, and public utilities. The alliances forged between politicians and prodevelopment elements lead to mutually beneficial outcomes. For politicians, these alliances come about sometimes because of venality but more often because they help to assure incumbency. In this model if a community fails to provide environmental enhancements and economic inducements to attract new taxpayers and rate payers, then the existing citizenry will have to pay for any improvements to public amenities themselves. Since the economic elites are not likely to perceive that their personal benefits outweigh their increased portion of the cost, higher public costs will lead these elites to exit to the suburbs. The concomitant reduction in economic resources for the community results in either stagnation or the intensification of conflict as competing interests have access to fewer resources. Developmental policies solve this problem by expanding the tax- and rate-paying base through growth that spreads the cost throughout the community, thereby improving the benefit-cost ratio for the high-end citizenry. Under these posited conditions, the one thing cities can do is make themselves attractive and open to further growth and development. The issues of political or social openness and equity are luxuries affordable only to those cities that have first enjoyed effective developmental policies. In an interesting (and perverse) twist, J. Logan and H. Molotch (1987: 292–295), two antagonists of these developmental policy arguments, make an unintentionally supportive case for them. They assert that the end of the fatalistic embrace of aggressive economic development strategies must begin in localities where the maximization of benefits arising from past pro-development policies has allowed the luxury of subsequent nonpromotional policy implementation. Those who see the collective self-interest of the urban public as being well served by the city’s pro-growth development policies are described as exchange-valuing. In contrast, those with values that focus more intensely on the security of place, shelter, and community are described as use-valuing. They are more in tune with the slowgrowth perspective as used in this chapter. Logan and Molotch (1987) represent this latter view. They dismiss the broad-based sup-

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

140

Page 140

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

port for economic development found in public opinion research. They see the self-interest of elected politicians as the principal motivation for their slavish support of pro-growth efforts. They conclude it is all for naught, as none of the promised benefits trickle down to the use-valuing, slow-growth-oriented publics. In addition, the inevitable inflations, speculative bubbles, and boom-and-bust cycles accompanying pro-growth development make its enrichments ephemeral in the aggregate. Contrary to the two competing perspectives, the observed politics of economic development are not much like either of the two typologies. Rather, the politics of economic development require that local officials demonstrate omniscience and instrumentality toward the achievement of the public’s “desired” goals. At the same time, implementation of pro-growth strategies may result in blame being assigned for unanticipated outcomes that a formerly supportive public now views as an exorbitant price for success. For example, a progrowth project creating a new tourist attraction in a sunbelt city that promises to bring new jobs and increased incomes is a surefire political winner. But the taking of private property through eminent domain to accommodate a private high-rise hotel that improves investor acceptance of the municipal bonds used to finance the tourist attraction is likely to draw outrage. Allegations of abuse of power, sweetheart arrangements, favoritism toward particular groups or interests, and a variety of other charges will surely make politicians’ hearts quail. Finally, if the project actually comes to reality in an incumbent’s term, blame for traffic congestion, cost overruns, aesthetic blight, and underachievement of economic benefits are likely to be the rewards for that advocacy. Conversely, a slow-growth economic development approach that does not enthusiastically embrace the most aggressive proposals but opts for a focused, selective approach can also experience a harsh public judgment when successful implementation and unforeseen, locally uncontrollable changes in the macroeconomy come together in the same term of office.

CASE STUDY ■

Albuquerque, N.M.

Albuquerque had a very modest beginning. Although the city has very old settlement roots, there has not been very much “there” there (to paraphrase Gertrude Stein). In 1940 Albuquerque had fewer than

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 141

DAVID RUSK—ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO

141

36,000 inhabitants. By 1950 the number reached 100,000. Two decades later the population had reached almost a quarter of a million. Most of this growth was due to national defense and nuclear weapons development and the many companies that have grown up dependent upon and as a result of those activities. Albuquerque lacks the established set of elite families or industries that characterize many eastern cities. Its oldest families are networks of Hispanic kinship with land grant claims dating to the time of Spanish colonial control. Their land grants were fractionated generation after generation, and liquid capital has been scarce. Albuquerque’s most-established Anglo families come from individuals who relocated to New Mexico in the early decades of the twentieth century to recover from tuberculosis. Since Albuquerque was considered an economy-class site for curing TB, those who migrated to it for health reasons were not generally part of America’s wealthy elites. Many, though, had some means. They became part of the city’s professional and gentry class. In the absence of a “mainline” elite, Albuquerque’s city elite has been made up in part of the managerial personnel associated with the defense establishment that has been the city’s primary economic driver. The dominance of the defense industry has shaped Albuquerque’s economy and its ongoing developmental planning in ways that city officials are often unable to direct or influence. As A. Markusen (1994: 25) writes: “In nationally-funded facilities, decisions are made externally to the [community in which they are located] and may be more indifferent to regional development impacts.” In addition, the labor market will be tailored to the national government activity and need. In Albuquerque this has meant an extremely high concentration of graduate scientists and engineers, the great majority of whom are in-migrants to the community (Spohn 1988: A2). Further, locally important firms will have less attachment to the community and the stabilization of markets, as they are oriented instead to the plans and machinations of external decisionmakers. Thus in defense-industry-dominated economies such as Albuquerque, the long-term growth prospects of the community’s economy are heavily dependent upon the prospects of the national government facility. The local economy is also affected by the ability of that facility and its logistical support system to spawn new businesses that in turn can find and develop other customers outside the region. The dominant role of the defense industry does not mean, however, that there has been no growth machine in Albuquerque. Its growth machine was characterized by an intense focus on real estate

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

142

Page 142

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

development. Through the first thirty years after World War II, it was a latent coalition. Real estate developers, bankers, builders, and boosters existed, but they lacked the resources, leadership, and, given the nature of postwar development, the need to organize. In the late 1960s, though, a change in nuclear weapons development policy, along with changes in Albuquerque’s governing structure, led to a conclusion by the business elites that more rather than less aggressive private-sector economic development was required. Thus, by the time Rusk was elected mayor, the growth machine had undergone an awakening. The transition from an at-large city commission to city council districts eliminated the standard boomerbooster promotional slates from city governance. The creation of real estate development regulation, a metropolitan flood control district, and the beginning of a cultural movement to preserve examples of pueblo-style architecture all bespoke a development environment in transition and threats to the unconstrained maneuvering room of the growth machine. These forces culminated in the mid-1970s with the election of slow-growth advocate David Rusk to the office of mayor, an election that shocked Albuquerque’s prodevelopment focused growth machine.

■

Mayor David Rusk

As the young mayor of Albuquerque, Rusk was a fascinating admixture of youthful enthusiasm, naivete, intellectual curiosity, arrogance, and charisma. He and Delcia, his Argentinian-born wife, seemed to have something of Camelot about them. He was, for a time, Albuquerque’s Jack Kennedy. He would in the end become the city’s Jimmy Carter. When Rusk and his young family came to Albuquerque in 1971, they had consciously selected the city from an inventory of desirable cities rather than out of job-driven necessity. The son of former secretary of state Dean Rusk, David Rusk disliked being referred to as the “son of Dean” and dismissed local politicians’ rumors that he had Washington connections and deep family wealth to draw upon. The latter was not true. There was, however, more than a little of the eastern intellectual elitist about Rusk. On more than one occasion with journalists present, he mused openly and artlessly about how it would be to “hang out” with the ancient Greeks, debating ideas around the stoa (Robbins 1974; Jones 1977). The notion of revamping modern urban life to fit that model did not seem improbable to Rusk.

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 143

DAVID RUSK—ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO

143

In Albuquerque he established a public career as a federal executive on loan to the city. Initially, he was the city’s federal manpower program coordinator (Robbins 1974). Shortly after arriving in Albuquerque, he also began to involve himself in local politics and made the transition to a private insurance practice to avoid conflicts of interest. In 1974 he announced his intention to run in what became a field of four candidates for mayor when the city changed that year to a system of an elected mayor and single-member council districts. He finished fourth. Soon after this loss, though, he ran for and was elected to the New Mexico House of Representatives. In the state legislature, Rusk represented Albuquerque’s most cosmopolitan and mixed residential district. In the summer of 1977, he ran once again for mayor and won. In order to build a winning margin, Rusk attempted to draw from two camps of supporters. First, he sought to attract the traditional New Deal Democratic urban voter—persons of color, lower socioeconomic status, blue-collar workers, and residents of the urban core. To this basic group he added slow-growth adherents, or what has been called the “quaint-is-cute crowd, the small is beautiful gang, who think another art gallery, river rafting company, vineyard, bed and breakfast or weavers co-op is economic development” (Lupsha 1988: 84). These were the younger, better-educated, environmentally sensitive, professional, and white-collar migrants of the preceding ten or twenty years. Largely middle- and upper-middle-class, they considered Albuquerque their secret, and wanted to keep it that way. Planned, controlled economic development was the unifying theme of Rusk’s campaign. This in turn was used as the basis to argue that the region needed to attract capital for investment but not to attract sprawling growth. In a candidate forum in mid-September 1977, he observed: “We have not successfully tapped outside wealth to invest in this state. . . . I think it’s crazy to cut your nose off to spite your face. You have to have balanced development” (Angry words 1977: A1, A2). Throughout his campaign, Rusk sought to picture Albuquerque as the sophisticated city in the desert that was compact and cosmopolitan. He envisioned the city as consisting of a vital, vigorous urban core surrounded by well-groomed, peoplefriendly neighborhoods of civic-minded citizens endowed with tolerance for others; a firm belief in the fair and equitable distribution of resources; and a love of civil, thoughtful public discourse. Here was a politician who reflected a less severe version of the use-valuing citizen of Logan and Molotch’s Urban Fortunes. Rusk’s 1977 mayoral campaign envisioned an administration that would revitalize older areas of the city; establish a strict development

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

144

Page 144

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

growth policy aimed at achieving in-fill in areas that had been patchily developed or bypassed in the city’s headlong expansion of the 1950s and 1960s; resist the urge to approve physical development of the city’s western perimeter; and maintain a consistent focus on the city’s “quality of life.” Rusk did not view this as an idealistic dream. It was a necessary set of conditions to accomplish the wellplanned city he foresaw. Though he did not view the goals for his administration as idealistic, his leadership style as mayor underscored a lack of understanding of how to move these goals to reality. For example, after his election, Rusk tended to announce his policy concepts to the city council more in the fashion of “news from Olympus” than as the outcome of give-and-take debate. Because Rusk was only the second administration in office under the mayor-council system, a rocky road between the two sets of players was expected as both groped to establish precedents. Rusk’s distance from the council, though, was studied and intentional. His approach to dealing with it seemed to follow a strict interpretation of separation of powers. In the process, the mayor’s style came to be characterized as “Ruskian brusqueness and gall” (Robbins 1979: 51). Eighteen months into his term, a lengthy description of the “exciting” new mayoral administration was published in the statewide daily paper. Although largely profiling the administrative cadre, the story expanded on Rusk’s leadership style with comments from staff members and council members. The writer noted that the communications limitations of the office were probably Rusk’s biggest frustrations, “because the mayor has a tenacious belief in human reason on public issues” (Campbell 1979: B4). Rusk’s closest adviser, Estelle Zannes, confirmed this assessment. Zannes commented: “He still hangs on to his belief that he can use reason. I would like to believe that, too. I really would. But I think the reality is a little far from that at this point” (Campbell 1979: B4).

■

The Politics of Slow Growth in Albuquerque

Upon taking office, Rusk pursued congruent policy positions of careful land use planning, regulated economic development, housing and commercial in-fill policies, neighborhood development, and aggressive opposition to continued suburban sprawl. Initially, a plurality on the city council supported these slow-growth positions. Part of this support came about because of the strong electoral showing Rusk made in the mayoral election. Capturing 47 percent of the popular

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 145

DAVID RUSK—ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO

145

vote cast in a field of three strong contenders, Rusk demonstrated considerable electoral appeal. He carried eight of nine electoral districts. He also exceeded the legally required plurality of 40 percent in six of those districts. Although his electoral success appeared to give him a mandate to which “attention must be paid,” his support came from groups that looked much like the constituencies that make up Logan and Molotch’s use-valuing publics. Rusk’s supporting coalition was enabled further by the characteristics of the electoral system which in turn enabled a personality-focused campaign. Its nonpartisan status and split council elections (five seats elected in mayoral years and four in the off years) discouraged the building of partisan slates and unifying policy platforms. Thus the pattern of personalized and unintegrated power that is often described in the black mayoral literature also was mirrored in Rusk’s campaign and administration (Preston 1990). Without quid pro quo and party responsibility, council members had as much, and possibly more, to gain from opposing the mayor’s policy positions. In addition, since on established exchange-valuing elite heavily endowed with resources was not well organized in Albuquerque, council members further were free to experiment with Rusk’s slowgrowth policies. Given these circumstances, Rusk might have built an enduring mandate and a governing coalition that could achieve the ideals espoused by slow-growth advocates. But that proved not to be the case. During his campaign Rusk had advocated an increase of one to two cents in the gasoline tax for the city transit system. For Rusk, the improvement of the transit system would induce an automobileaddicted public to abandon its habit. Buses and the improvement of sidewalks and trails would unify and civilize the metropolitan area. A more experienced politician would have understood that accustomed lifestyles are seldom surrendered without coercion, and the single-occupant vehicle was (and remains) the lifestyle choice of the American West. Furthermore, Albuquerque’s broiling heat from May until October hardly made for a pedestrian paradise. Nevertheless, Rusk took his election to mean that this issue deserved full and immediate attention. When Rusk’s gas tax proposal received no support from a dubious state legislature, he switched to an increase in the local option sales tax (called a gross receipts tax in New Mexico). Less than a year after his inauguration, the mayor proposed and the city council approved a special referendum election for November 1978 asking voter approval of a one-quarter-cent rise in the tax. Revenues raised

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

146

Page 146

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

from the increase would be allocated to improvements in mass transit and redevelopment and in-fill of the central business district. In pushing for the tax increase, Rusk believed that his original electoral coalition, particularly the slow-growth advocates, would support him. Voters, however, rejected the question by a three-to-two margin. According to the results of an open-ended survey question administered by a public interest polling organization at the mayor’s request, the principal reasons for the overwhelming no vote was public perception that additional city resources were not needed, a general dissatisfaction with the idea of new taxes, and public dissatisfaction with the mayor and some specific uses of the money (Burks 1979: A3). From the quarter-cent tax defeat onward, Rusk continued to seek support for a number of initiatives designed to control and reorient the growth dynamic. The Albuquerque public was generally expressing positive sentiments toward Rusk, but life with the city council and the real estate development community was becoming increasingly problematic for Mayor Rusk. The city council, the prodevelopment interests, or both increasingly opposed the mayor’s positions and slow-growth initiatives (Robbins 1979; Lehman and Weiss 1980). For example, merchants in Albuquerque’s touristy Old Town area fought a proposed downtown redevelopment tax increment plan because of its potential to draw visitors to a more attractive central business district a mile away. Real estate developers opposed a proposal to significantly raise water and sewer rates to discourage overly consumptive uses and encourage more compact residential development, arguing that this plan presented a costly threat to new residential development. A coalition of county officials, landowners, and members of the city council opposed a Rusk-sponsored plan to annex land on the periphery of the city to control and limit suburban growth. In part, the mounting opposition to Rusk’s slow-growth initiatives was a reflection of the separation of powers in the new mayorcouncil form of government taking root. First, unlike the previous council-manager government, the mayor was now more removed from interaction with the council members. Rusk’s aloof manner in dealing with the council further expanded this new separation. For example, Rusk tended to announce policy positions then stand back while the council engaged in its deliberations, and he often complained about the council’s failure to do as he had envisioned, earning him no points. Second, the council’s and mayor’s constituencies were different now, too. Third, the political ambitions of key council members fueled council opposition still more. In particular, two

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 147

DAVID RUSK—ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO

147

council members, both members of the university faculty, soon found themselves at odds with the mayor. One became alienated because of the mayor’s failure to consult with the council, the other because he wished to be mayor after the 1981 election. If David Rusk’s relationship with the council was deteriorating, his relationship with Albuquerque’s growth machine never really existed. Although many in other quarters lauded his vision for the city, those in the growth community, particularly real estate developers, did not. They saw Rusk and his slow-growth agenda as a roadblock to further unfettered development of Albuquerque’s real estate market. Though only a latent group throughout most of Albuquerque’s post–World War II history, the growth coalition became better organized in the face of the threat posed by Rusk’s slow-growth agenda. The growth coalition particularly opposed Rusk’s proposal to enact the first-ever municipal service hookup fees for residential construction. This proposal brought howls from the real estate development community. The idea that the owner of each newly constructed house would pay a fee to tap into water and sewer lines to reflect the per-unit cost of making those amenities available was a novel and aggressively resisted concept in Albuquerque. The practice had been that the city funded the extension of water and sewer lines to new subdivisions from general resources provided by the city’s existing tax- and ratepayers. Rusk viewed such a situation as inequitable, overly hard on existing residents, and overly generous to the newest homeowners of the city. Developers and their growth coalition partners, though, saw Rusk’s proposal as the kiss of death for Albuquerque’s residential development. That Rusk ultimately was successful in securing council passage of this and other slow-growth proposals served to further mobilize the prodevelopment interests against him and his 1981 bid for reelection. Ironically for Rusk and his political future, at the same time that the pro-growth coalition was organizing against the mayor, there also was rising concern in the slow-growth community that in spite of significant planning efforts, growth was occurring in unintended ways and with unexpected costs. Throughout 1981 the pro-growth community touted the expansive plans of realtors and developers regarding what was known as the Westside—especially new housing opportunities. This new growth was to be aided by two recently approved bridges across the river, and the prospects for great economic expansion due to semiconductor manufacturing plants. Although the mayor continuously opposed the growth and the bridges, major semiconductor plant construction was taking place in

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

148

Page 148

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

another adjacent jurisdiction and in previously approved industrial development corridors. Thus as Rusk prepared for his 1981 reelection campaign, he found himself confronted with better-organized opposition in the pro-growth coalition and wavering support among slow-growth advocates. Squeezed in the middle by these two opposing coalitions, Rusk began his bid for reelection trying to underscore both the progrowth and slow-growth successes of his administration. For example, in making his campaign announcement, Rusk noted that his administration had participated in attracting new industry and had stimulated substantial public and private capital construction in the downtown redevelopment area. He also claimed credit for a historic buildings preservation program and acquisition of public land at the city’s far western edge that would be preserved as open space. While Rusk was trying to steer a new course between pro-growth and slow growth, a number of opponents, including the city council president, a local economic development promoter, and a bombastic local radio and television personality, already had announced intentions to run against his list of “accomplishments.” The principal candidates in the 1981 mayoral race all articulated positive positions regarding economic development and stood in sharp contrast to Rusk’s own first-term record of slow growth. The attractiveness to the electorate of these pro-growth politicians was enhanced by Albuquerque’s declining economy. Unfortunately for Rusk, the national economy was in poor shape, inflation was on the rise, and the economic boom in New Mexico was tailing off. For example, the state’s employment services division reported that the metropolitan unemployment rate between early 1978 and early 1980 had risen from 6.4 percent to 8.4 percent. To compound the economic issue further for Rusk, at the height of the campaign the city council commissioned a review by the city’s planning division of the current inventory of industrial land available for development. The report showed that less than one-third of 7,000 acres zoned for industrial development was actually developed (Much of industrial land 1981). The report additionally suggested that how the land was zoned was responsible, in part, for its current unused status. The council-commissioned study concluded that how the Rusk administration had structured development policies had created unanticipated consequences and externalities that were threatening significant economic harm to Albuquerque. Coming at the time it did during the mayoral primary, the study and its findings only served to embarrass Rusk further and complicate his bid for reelection.

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 149

DAVID RUSK—ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO

149

Throughout his four years as mayor, Rusk faithfully set out to control urban sprawl through a set of slow-growth policies. In so doing, he hoped to increase public awareness of and concern with what he saw as the predatory and opportunistic business of economic and real estate development. Though in the 1981 campaign he moderated these views, he never abandoned a belief in them. Four years after these ideas swept Rusk into office, Albuquerque’s voters, confronting a declining city economy and a well-organized opposition against the mayor, decided a new course was needed. In the 1981 election, Albuquerque voters returned former mayor Harry Kinney to office. In that election, Rusk polled 10,000 fewer votes than he had in 1977. In the central urban core district, Rusk actually polled 10 percent more votes than he had in the 1977 race but because of higher turnout failed to carry the district. In his own home district, he polled 41 percent fewer votes. In those areas of the city where the newest white-collar residents resided, his 1981 support was truly fractional. Rusk’s defeat can be attributed in part to “the conservative, antigovernment ‘Reagan’ tide and the incumbent Mayor Rusk’s errors in electoral politics, his lack of political acumen and stands on principle in the face of political realities” (Lupsha and Garcia 1982: 29). It can be attributed further to his inability to hold his original coalition together. In particular, Rusk’s slow-growth supporters appear not to have voted for his reelection, even though Rusk largely had executed the slow-growth policies upon which he had campaigned and they claimed to have supported and wanted. Faced with a declining economy, however, those voters who were once willing to flirt with slow growth appear to have decided that modest tax increases for improved urban services, redevelopment of the urban central district, and tight controls on suburban development were too costly in the short run, and the long run would have to take care of itself.

■

Lessons Learned

David Rusk believed that the Albuquerque public had the ability and willingness to accept the short-term conflict and minor discomforts of a more civic policy environment in order to achieve a cosmopolitan urban space. Where Peterson’s arguments run toward an urban political environment so constrained by exogenous circumstances that local concerns are immaterial, and where Logan and Molotch argue that the popular desire for use values are suborned by the powerful interests of those who place greater store in exchange values,

B-9

12/8/09

12:57 PM

150

Page 150

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

this chapter has illustrated that the public’s interest and will is essential to the process. This story of a pluralist public’s rejection of intelligently articulated and vigorously, if not fully implemented, policy illustrates how “a key lesson of office holding is that it is often better to react than to anticipate, for the latter entails greater risks” (Lupsha 1987: 241). David Rusk also was both suited to and victimized by the nature of a municipal election system that is widespread, especially west of the Mississippi. The nonpartisan, fragmented structure of the city’s electoral offices made it possible to build a unique constituency, but without party or platform responsibility extending to the council districts, it was a constituency without endurance. With a detached personal style and an unwillingness or inability to make deals, Rusk had no legislative coalition to correspond to his electoral coalition. When confronted by a stronger, more self-interested opposition, Rusk’s electoral and programmatic fate was sealed. For David Rusk, the ensuing years have been generous. His ideas regarding the need for cities to capture and enclose their suburbs have made him something of a guru in contemporary urbanplanning circles. In many respects Albuquerque itself has benefited from Rusk’s instruction, but as with many prophets and their prophesies his lessons have been only half followed. The city now confronts suburban development beyond its spacious boundaries, abetted both by the county government and adjacent jurisdictions. These new areas threaten to burden urban resources and services while providing no directly accessible tax base. The current mayor and council are divided over the need to annex these areas and the need to move toward multijurisdictional regional governance.

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 151

10 A. J. Holloway and Casino Gambling in Biloxi, Mississippi Sharon D.Wright and Richard T. Middleton IV

Urban scholars have not achieved a consensus on the definition of sustainable urban development. In its simplest form, it involves development projects that lead to a healthy economy. The development of such projects since the 1980s has been hampered by massive reductions in federal aid to cities. Accordingly, the nation’s mayors have to discover new ways to sustain and revitalize the local economy. To this end, mayors of large cities developed public-private partnerships to further downtown development (Frieden and Sagalyn 1989; Squires 1989). These partnerships generally resulted in a corporate-centered or downtown-centered strategy for development. The strategies, similar across cities, tended to lead to the erection of a “mayor’s trophy collection” in the downtown area consisting of aquariums, casinos, convention centers, hotels, malls, office buildings, redeveloped waterfront condominiums and restaurants, and stadiums (Frieden and Sagalyn 1989). Unlike their larger-city counterparts, mayors of small and medium-sized cities encounter a number of problems when attempting to pursue corporate-centered, downtown development strategies to sustain their economies. The smaller populations and lack of space in these cities prohibit their mayors from attracting large corporations and the other members of the “trophy collection” to their downtown areas. In addition, most of the residents of small and medium-sized cities generally oppose these efforts. Because of the desire to preserve a city’s small-town atmosphere, local elected officials enact zoning regulations that prohibit the erection of multistory buildings in the downtown area.

151

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

152

Page 152

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

These difficulties and others are highlighted in this chapter in a case study of sustainability in Biloxi, Mississippi. In particular, this chapter examines the program entrepreneur leadership of Mayor A. J. Holloway and how, through the casino gaming industry, he revitalized Biloxi’s tourist industry and propelled the city to its greatest level of prosperity in its 300-year history. Prior to presenting the case study, this chapter first discusses both the most critical issues surrounding casino gaming as a form of economic development and different models of mayoral leadership.

■

Gaming and Economic Development

Since the 1980s, a growing number of states have legalized casino and other forms of gaming (Eadington 1996; Franckiewicz 1993; Thompson 1984). Most of the cities and states that have implemented casino gaming have done so because of its economic benefits. Thus, one of the key issues in areas that use gaming to bolster the local economy is whether its advantages outweigh its many disadvantages (Eadington 1995; Grinols 1995). In an analysis of casino gaming in Atlantic City, New Jersey, J. Friedman, S. Hakim, and J. Weinblatt (1989) found that gaming was an effective “growth pole” strategy that revitalized the local and state economies. The crime rate in areas in and adjacent to Atlantic City, however, rose significantly after the introduction of casino gaming. Casino gaming has also resulted in alcohol and gaming addiction, land and real estate price increases, and traffic fatalities (Greenberg 1992: 24–27; Ochrym 1983: 591–593). And casino gaming has had a detrimental impact on other preexisting local businesses because gamblers use the casino’s restaurants, shops, and hotels and seldom travel to other parts of the city (Gustke 1993: 81). In addition to determining whether the benefits of casino gaming outweigh its costs, mayors and other local elected officials must ascertain whether their cities will experience sustainable and even economic development. At times, short-term and/or uneven development results from gaming. With short-term development, casinos initially reap large profits but later become bankrupt after facing competition from more extravagant casinos. Uneven development occurs when one group (usually middle-class whites) benefits from gaming whereas others (minorities and the poor) experience few gains or are disadvantaged (Weaver, Rock, and Kusterer 1997). According to O. Furuseth (1992), cities are more likely to have sustained an even development when they have small minority populations, higher edu-

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 153

A. J. HOLLOWAY—BILOXI, MISSISSIPPI

153

cational and income levels, more physicians per resident, larger numbers of elderly and retired residents, and service-oriented rather than agricultural or manufacturing economies. They usually have shortterm and uneven economic development when a substantial number of their residents are classified as permanently low-income or are minorities (Hoppe 1985). Casino gaming also tends to be less profitable when the mayor lacks a dominant role in its planning and implementation. In an analysis of casino gaming in New Orleans and Detroit, R. K. Whelan and A. H. Young (1998) found that casino projects thrived in Bossier City and Lake Charles, Louisiana, but not in New Orleans because of the role of the mayor’s office (Whelan and Young 1998: 22–31). During the early 1990s, New Orleans Mayor Marc Morial opposed casino gaming in New Orleans and as a result had a minimal role in the planning of the Harrah’s Casino. Louisiana Governor Edwin Edwards and state elected officials, rather than local politicians, were in charge of the casino industry in New Orleans. In 1995 Harrah’s closed its temporary casino, stopped construction on its permanent casino, and later filed for bankruptcy protection. Its remains uncertain if or when construction of the permanent casino will resume (Whelan and Young 1998: 25).

■

Approaches to Mayoral Leadership

Kotter and Lawrence (1974) identified five dominant mayoral leadership types: ceremonial, caretaker, personality/individualist, executive, and program entrepreneur. The ceremonial leadership style, which is most often used in cities with growth machines, is probably the least effective of the five. Ceremonial mayors use a small staff, lack a coherent agenda, and usually fail to establish the relationships with the business community that are necessary to move the city forward. Kotter and Lawrence describe them as “muddling through” their daily duties. Like ceremonial mayors, caretakers also have small staffs and few resources with which to govern. They are concerned primarily with providing basic city services and maintaining a stable economy rather than pursuing innovative economic development projects. Unlike ceremonial and caretaker mayors, personality/individualist, executive, and program entrepreneur mayors utilize a number of diverse growth strategies. These three leadership styles best suit the demands placed upon mayors by the business communities in urban regimes. Personality mayors run their cities almost singlehandedly

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

154

Page 154

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

without the use of staff members. In addition, they heavily rely upon their charisma and personal appeal to win election and popular support for their agendas. According to Kotter and Lawrence, these mayors usually provide more effective governance than do caretaker mayors (Kotter and Lawrence 1974: 105–121). In contrast, program entrepreneur mayors have more efficient staffs and more focused governing agendas than ceremonial, caretaker, and personality/individualist mayors. They usually provide more effective leadership over their cities because of their emphasis on change, risk-taking, and progress (Kotter and Lawrence 1974: 105– 121). According to Pressman (1972: 512), a successful program entrepreneur mayor must: 1. Persuade businessmen to locate enterprises in his city to facilitate job training and persuade labor unions to open places in apprenticeship programs to minority groups. 2. Exercise control and direction over the City Council and relevant departments (police, schools, etc.). 3. Attempt to stretch his legal jurisdiction as far as possible. 4. Achieve nongovernmental support for his efforts by promising rewards and sanctions. 5. Control his political party to further his policy preferences. 6. Use publicity in order to appeal to the public to support him against his opponents.

Mayors in full possession of the talents of a program entrepreneur employ these skills both to move their economic development policy agenda forward and interact positively with their cities’ urban regimes, whose support is essential to accomplishing the former. Clarence N. Stone (1989: 6) defines an urban regime as an “informal [arrangement] by which public bodies and private interests function together in order to be able to make and carry out governing decisions.” An urban regime is mainly a partnership between the publicsector actors such as the mayor and other political figures and the private-sector business community.

CASE STUDY ■

Biloxi, Miss.

The city of Biloxi is located in the Biloxi-Gulfport metropolitan area in Harrison County, Mississippi (population 440,000). A mayor and a

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 155

A. J. HOLLOWAY—BILOXI, MISSISSIPPI

155

seven-member city council govern Biloxi. Because of its location along the Gulf Coast, Biloxi has always relied on the tourist industry to sustain its economy. Since its incorporation approximately 300 years ago, tourists have been drawn to its beaches and warm climates. Many of its historic attractions, such as the last home of Confederate president Jefferson Davis, enhance its reputation as a symbol of the Old South. Tourists are attracted as well to the Mardi Gras Museum, the Maritime and Seafood Industry Museum, and the Biloxi Lighthouse (Meyer-Arendt and Abusalih 1994). Golf and tennis resorts, hotels, malls, and restaurants cater to even more visitors. Biloxi, a military town where thousands of soldiers are stationed at Kessler Air Force Base, has even been called the “seafood capital of the world” (Meyer-Arendt 1995: 31). Despite its reputation as a tourist destination, during the 1970s and 1980s Biloxi was a tourist town without tourists. The city failed to experience the same level of prosperity, expansion, and development as other sunbelt cities. In cities such as Houston, Orlando, Phoenix, and San Antonio, the tourist industry invigorated the local economy (Judd and Swanstrom 1994: 245). Biloxi, in contrast, remained a backward, economically stagnant, and racially polarized city. Natural disasters also crippled Biloxi’s tourism industry. In August 1969 Hurricane Camille left 256 dead and destroyed the hotels and shrimp factories that were vital to Biloxi’s tourist and seafood industries. Twenty years later the city of Biloxi had still not recovered from the devastation left by the hurricane. During this period, one annual state-of-the-city report concluded that Biloxi’s economy was in a state of “stagnation” and “decline” (Abusalih 1994). The city was six months behind in paying its debts and was on the verge of bankruptcy. Three of its largest hotels filed for bankruptcy during the 1980s. Instead of visiting Biloxi, tourists frequented the newer and nicer hotels, resorts, and sites in the Alabama Gulf Coast, the Florida Panhandle, and Louisiana (Meyer-Arendt 1995: 31).

■

Casinos Come to Biloxi

Although legalized gaming began in Biloxi during the early 1990s, local elected officials made few attempts to prohibit illegal casino gaming that existed in the city during the 1950s and 1960s. These earlier casinos—the Fiesta, the Gay Paree, Mr. Lucky’s, the Porter House, and the Raven—officially closed after the 1969 hurricane. In

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

156

Page 156

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

1989, local business leaders organized a political action committee to bring legalized gaming to Biloxi. This informal committee consisted of local businesspeople, Biloxi Mayor Pete Halat, members of the Biloxi City Council, and other political figures. It first drafted a resolution urging citizens to support casino gaming and then carried out lobbying efforts on behalf of gaming in the Mississippi state legislature. Although Mayor Halat served on the committee, he was not one of the leaders of the movement to implement gaming. Local businesspeople spearheaded this campaign. During the spring of 1989, a gaming bill was introduced in the state legislature. It allowed gaming on riverboats, or “cruise vessels,” after they left the dock, or got “under way,” on the waters of the Mississippi River and Gulf Coast. During the summer of 1989, Mississippi Governor Ray Mabus called a special session of the legislature to further address the gaming issue. The language in the gaming bill was changed from “cruise vessels” to “dockside gaming” and the term “under way” was removed. After these changes were made, patrons could gamble while the boats remained docked. In 1990 the Mississippi legislature enacted the Mississippi Gaming Control Act, which allowed legalized gaming but required: (1) that the majority of voters in counties approve of gaming, (2) that legalized gaming take place only in areas along the Mississippi River and Gulf Coast, and (3) that casinos or “vessels” either float on the water of the Mississippi River or Gulf of Mexico or are docked near them. (Meyer-Arendt 1995: 27)

The legislature further refused to allow gaming on Mississippi soil. However, a number of Mississippi’s casinos actually were located on land. They met the third requirement by “floating” on large barges on the water that were then filled with dirt (Faust 1995: 14BP). The Mississippi Gaming Control Act did not require that residents of counties along the Mississippi River and Gulf Coast vote on gaming. Local officials, though, could prohibit its introduction if antigaming groups gathered enough signatures for a referendum. This is what occurred in 1990 during the first campaign for casino gaming in the Biloxi and Gulfport metropolitan area. Most of Biloxi’s residents wanted gaming, but an antigaming referendum passed because residents of Gulfport and smaller cities in Harrison County opposed legalized gaming. Only two casinos operate in the city of Gulfport because opposition to gaming there was much stronger and Gulfport lacked the space along the Gulf Coast to build casinos. Also unlike Biloxi, the city of Gulfport relied mostly on commerce and industry rather than tourism to sustain its economy. Since passage of the Gaming Control Act, residents of the cities of

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 157

A. J. HOLLOWAY—BILOXI, MISSISSIPPI

157

Long Beach and Pass Christian, Mississippi, in Harrison County have consistently and adamantly rejected casino gaming (MeyerArendt 1995: 31). Opponents to gaming in the Biloxi-Gulfport area argued that underage children would be allowed to drink and gamble in the casinos; the crime rate would increase; problems associated with prostitution and traffic would worsen; and the government would move Kessler Air Force Base out of Biloxi. Despite sustained opposition, the majority of Biloxi and Gulfport’s residents did approve gaming by a margin of 57 percent in a second referendum in 1991. They were persuaded by a series of television commercials arguing that gaming would alleviate the city’s problems with homelessness, poverty, and unemployment (Palermo 1996: 12A). One year later, a small riverboat called the Isle of Capri opened. The first three casinos in Mississippi opened in Biloxi, and until the Biloxi Belle and Gold Shore Casinos closed in 1995, ten of the state’s thirty-two casinos were in Biloxi. The earliest casinos were riverboats, but later ones were multistory buildings with gift shops, gyms, hotels, pools, restaurants, and salons. In part the casinos have lived up to the expectations of their supporters. Legalized gaming has had an extremely positive impact on Biloxi’s economy. During the 1990s it revitalized Biloxi’s tourist industry, produced a healthy economy, reduced the local unemployment rate, and fostered an image of Biloxi as part of the New South. According to statistics from the city of Biloxi, since 1992 casino gaming has generated approximately $45 million in tax revenues. The city’s population has increased 15.3 percent since 1990. Tourist sales now represent about 47 percent of retail sales in the Biloxi economy. Since the first casino opened, the number of visitors to Biloxi has gone from 1.5 million tourists in 1992 to over 6.5 million in 1997. Accordingly, hotel occupancy increased from 53 percent in 1990 to 68 percent in 1996. Moreover, the local unemployment rate decreased from 8.1 percent in 1991 to 4.9 percent in 1996. The unemployment rate for the nation in 1996 was 5.5 percent; it was 5.5 percent in Harrison County and 7.1 percent in the state of Mississippi. That gaming is now such a crucial component of Biloxi’s economic revitalization is due to the entrepreneurial leadership A. J. Holloway demonstrated as that city’s mayor.

■

Mayor A. J. Holloway

A. J. Holloway’s political ascendancy cannot be separated from the urban regime and gaming industry emerging in Biloxi in the early 1990s. As D. Judd and T. Swanstrom (1994: 277) write, during the

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

158

Page 158

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

1980s and 1990s “an informal coalition of white-collar professions, business leaders, and growth-oriented city managers and bureaucrats created business-dominated reform machines in many Sunbelt cities. The twin goals of these new regimes were political reform and economic growth.” This description clearly depicts developments in Biloxi immediately before and during Holloway’s two mayoral terms. Concerning political reform, the city of Biloxi needed a new, more competent mayor to manage its burgeoning casino industry and to maintain the partnership among elected officials and the business community. Thus in 1993 a coalition of business and political leaders engineered the replacement of Mayor Pete Halat with Holloway. Halat had served as mayor of Biloxi from 1989 to 1993. His administration was plagued by scandals and corruption. In fact, after leaving office, Halat was convicted in 1997 of racketeering conspiracy, wirefraud conspiracy, obstructing justice, and for his role in the 1987 contract murder of circuit court judge Vincent Sherry and his wife, Margaret, a former city council member and mayoral contender. He was sentenced to an eighteen-year term for these offenses. In governing Biloxi, Mayor Holloway has relied on a program entrepreneur style of leadership to advance casino gambling, economic development, and regime maintenance in his city. Holloway’s program entrepreneur style has been assisted by the fact that Biloxi operates under a strong-mayor–weak-council form of government that allows him to wield a formidable amount of influence. Holloway is directly responsible for exercising substantive policy decisionmaking, holds the central role in city budgeting, and has extensive appointment and removal powers. Despite these powers, Holloway does not have an omnipotent role in city administration. Robert Dahl’s (1961) characterization of a pluralist mode of operation in city politics applies to Biloxi. The vast interests surrounding casino gaming provide the setting for coalition formation and policy debate on several issues. Thus to pursue his entrepreneurial goal necessitates that Holloway maintain a good rapport with private-sector and local civic representatives. This is something Holloway has argued himself: “Partnerships are key here—not only among elected officials but between the elected officials and the private sector. The drive for cooperation and teamwork that we are seeing [in Biloxi] can be traced back to some gentle prodding by the private sector.” Holloway’s close working association with a local civic organization called Coast 21, whose mission is to “set a vision [for Biloxi] for the 21st century,” is a good example of the partnerships about which he speaks. Since taking office, Holloway has “partnered” with

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 159

A. J. HOLLOWAY—BILOXI, MISSISSIPPI

159

Coast 21 on at least three major projects. Two of the projects concerned joint lobbying efforts. The first was aimed at convincing the Mississippi state legislature to approve funding for a major northsouth artery in Biloxi to connect U.S. 90 along the coastline with Interstate 10. The state legislature also was the target of the second joint lobbying effort; this time the mayor and Coast 21 teamed up to lobby for the establishment of a four-year university on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Finally, Holloway and Coast 21 have worked in partnership to create an emergency communication network that gives all of Harrison County’s emergency personnel and agencies the ability to communicate with one another.

■

Mayor Holloway and the Gaming Industry in Biloxi

Casino gambling already was beginning to take hold in Biloxi in 1993, when Holloway became mayor. Before him was the need to balance the growth of this fledgling industry and control its negative consequences. In pursuing this balance, Holloway relied upon a number of the approaches Pressman (1972) associates with a program entrepreneur style of leadership, including persuading new businesses to locate to Biloxi, exercising legislative control over the city council and executive control over relevant city departments, and stretching his legal authority as far as he possibly could. ■

Casinos and Recruiting New Businesses to Biloxi

In 1993 the Holloway administration was the first to benefit from the Mississippi Gaming Act of 1990. Even before becoming mayor, however, Holloway had worked with investors and other political figures as a member of the city council to persuade voters about the benefits of casino gaming. As mayor, Holloway remained an ardent supporter of attracting new businesses to the coast to augment the renewed vigor in the economy even when Biloxi’s rapid growth from casino gambling forced him to become more growth-control-oriented. For example, upon taking office, Holloway developed three major sites for gaming—Casino Row, the Biloxi Waterfront, and West Beach. As of 1998 nine casinos existed in Biloxi—Boomtown, Casino Magic, Grand Casino, the Imperial Palace, the Isle of Capri Casino Crowne Plaza Resort, Lady Luck, the New Palace Casino at Point Cadet, the President Casino Broadwater Resort, and Treasure Bay Casino Resort (Palermo 1996: 12A). Three others—the Beau

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

160

Page 160

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

Rivage, Circus Circus, and Casino World—were nearing completion at the end of that year. Each operating casino employed approximately 1,200 employees. Along with these new establishments, casino owners, with the cooperation of local elected officials, built new parking facilities and hotels. A similar kind of development occurred in the West Beach area when chain restaurant franchises replaced family-owned and -operated restaurants and souvenir stores. The development in these areas has resulted in a reshaping of the landscape in areas traditionally oriented toward shrimping, dry-docking, and shipbuilding. Holloway’s aggressive style of pursuing new businesses to locate to Biloxi was one reason for the phenomenal economic growth in the city’s gaming and tourism industries. First, the Holloway administration held meetings with citizens, political figures, and the owners of both small and large businesses to discuss the overall impact of the casino industry on the city’s business development, economy, and neighborhoods. He sought their input concerning the most effective way to allow everyone to profit from legalized gaming. In short, Holloway reassembled the coalition of business and political leaders that, after gaming was legalized, had fallen apart because of the poor leadership of former mayor Pete Halat. After holding meetings and revitalizing this coalition of business, community, and political leaders, Mayor Holloway visited Las Vegas, Atlantic City, and other cities that relied heavily on legalized gaming to sustain their economies. The mayor made active and concerted efforts to persuade casino owners to move to Biloxi, reassuring them that the benefits of opening casinos in Biloxi outweighed the risks. These businesspeople were mostly concerned about the possibilities of competition from casinos in other cities, a repeal of legalized gaming in Mississippi, and hurricanes and other natural disasters. ■

Taming and Constraining Gaming’s Growth

Though a strong supporter of gaming expansion, Holloway also has been a staunch opponent of the growth of the gaming industry into areas of the city other than those designated for it. This opposition stemmed from his desire to preserve much of the natural beauty of Biloxi. Thus he has taken the position that there are enough zones in the city designated for casino gaming. When the city council twice attempted to zone more areas of the city, the mayor vetoed the ordinances in both instances. Only once was his veto overridden by the council.

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 161

A. J. HOLLOWAY—BILOXI, MISSISSIPPI

161

Because he has strived for balance in the gaming industry’s growth, Holloway has been able to broker between competing environmental interests and gaming interests. For example, recognizing the mayor’s strong views on this matter, gaming enterprises have limited their efforts to grow only to those areas designated for gaming. Most recently, one gaming company pulled its plans for development on hundreds of acres of wetlands in Biloxi after Mayor Holloway convinced it to submit an alternate plan to the state gaming commission calling for the creation of a barrier island offshore in areas already zoned for gaming. Successful negotiations such as these have saved a project that could bring a conglomerate of six hotels, three casinos, a slip marina, and a golf course to the city. Mayor Holloway further has demonstrated an ability to balance growth in the gaming industry and its negative consequences through his willingness to stretch his legal authority in these matters as far as possible. The rapid expansion of casino gaming in Biloxi since its inception in 1992 had flourished with very little discord between business and civic leaders. But a challenge to the legal powers of the city of Biloxi was presented in early 1997 when the Imperial Palace Casino became involved in a “skyscraper war” with a rival casino company (Gillette 1998: 1). In an effort to one-up rival Mirage Company’s proposed twenty-nine-story Beau Rivage hotel, Imperial Palace owner Ralph Engelstad added two floors during the construction of his thirty-story hotel. He did so without requesting permission from the city, thereby breaking the terms of his building permit. The potential impact on aviation flight safety posed by Engelstad’s two additional floors caused the Federal Aviation Administration and Kessler Air Force Base to voice their opposition to the construction. Kessler officials expressed concern that obstruction of their flyway could be a hazard to aircraft and could also put the base at a disadvantage when base closings were debated in the future. The Biloxi City Council responded in an authoritative manner to the Imperial Palace’s actions. It remanded the matter to the city Planning Commission, which debated whether to make Imperial Palace remove the unauthorized floors, fine the casino, or allow the construction to be completed without any punitive action. Mayor Holloway, sensing an opportune moment to assert his leadership, voiced his position in a March 27, 1997, article in the Sun Herald. In his editorial the mayor demanded that the Imperial Palace demonstrate that it was a “law-abiding corporate citizen.” After consulting with his legal staff, the Federal Aviation Administration, and Kessler Air Force Base, Mayor Holloway recommended that the city of

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

162

Page 162

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

Biloxi prohibit the hotel from using the two unauthorized floors for any purpose as a penalty for its deliberate violation of the city’s zoning laws. Mayor Holloway also recommended that the city council stiffen its penalties for violations regarding building codes. With regard to forcing the Imperial Palace to remove the two floors, the mayor noted that the legal authority to do so was “unclear.” Rather than stretch the city’s legal jurisdiction to a point that would put the city in a “vulnerable position,” he called for the utilization of the most stringent yet legally proper authority in this matter. Ultimately, the matter was resolved when the Imperial Palace negotiated a new building permit. Throughout this ordeal, Mayor Holloway displayed an uncanny show of force by challenging an enterprise that would potentially bring millions of dollars of revenue to the city. The city council’s willingness to give way to Mayor Holloway also demonstrated his authoritative influence over them. ■

Taming Gaming’s Harmful Effects

Earlier we noted that increases in crime, greater traffic congestion, and negative economic consequences for preexisting local businesses were three potentially harmful effects accompanying the introduction of the gaming industry into a community. Through his entrepreneurial leadership, Mayor Holloway has sought to positively address all three. In order to make certain that Biloxi’s crime rate did not spiral out of control as the gaming industry grew, Holloway increased the city’s public safety budget (police and fire) from $5 million in 1993 to $15 million in 1997. He nearly doubled the size of the police force, purchased more than 100 new police vehicles, and stepped up police training. In addition, Holloway increased the number of officers on patrol, set up community policing into city neighborhoods, and established a unit to handle driving under the influence (DUI) in the police department. The overall impact of this investment has been significant. As one mayoral spokesperson noted: Despite a 15 percent increase in population and an increase from 1.5 million visitors a year before casino gambling to as many as 19 million a year . . . , we have seen major areas of crime reduced. Auto thefts, burglaries, and homicides are at a five-year low. We’re making more arrests for drugs and DUIs. In short, crime is down; enforcement is up. With more officers on the street, we’re making more arrests, and the heightened profile also deters crime.

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 163

A. J. HOLLOWAY—BILOXI, MISSISSIPPI

163

Holloway also has worked aggressively to minimize the negative consequences of casinos on preexisting local business. A few businesses were particularly hurt during the first two years of casino gambling in Biloxi. During this initial period, most casino patrons were day-trippers who visited the city from the surrounding area, played at the casinos, ate at their restaurants, and then went home. To ward off long-term consequences, Holloway has become the pitchman for local businesses as well as the casinos and related new businesses. He has sought to promote the older, established businesses, particularly the seafood restaurants and family-owned businesses, in Biloxi’s historic district. Working with the city council, Holloway has created tax abatement districts for Biloxi’s small businesses and businesses in the city’s historic district. As part of its $35 million traffic improvement program, the city also has offered relocation and redevelopment assistance to small businesses affected. Of the three problems associated with the introduction of the gaming industry into a community, traffic congestion has been the hardest for Mayor Holloway to address. This has more to do with the geography of the city than any deficiency in action on the mayor’s part. Biloxi is located on a peninsula, and most of the land has been developed. To acquire what land is needed for extensive road and traffic improvement has proven to be time consuming and has involved costly court action. Holloway and the city council have approved widening several of Biloxi’s busiest streets, particularly those where most of the casinos are located. The mayor and the city council also have initiated a $35 million traffic improvement program that redesigns the flow of traffic through the city. The project is being funded through property taxes paid by the casinos.

■

Lessons Learned

Harding (1994: 364) notes that local elected officials cannot force private businesses to engage in certain types of behavior simply because they hold the means to “productive assets.” Public officials can only provide inducements for behavior. As such, civic leaders, such as mayors, are not likely to damage their relationships with private enterprises. Rather, they are likely to encourage participation from the private sector in the forum of policy bargaining. Harding’s (1994: 364) conclusion, therefore, is that there is a systematic bias toward business interests in an urban regime that constrains the extent to which officials deal with problems that city residents face collectively.

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

164

Page 164

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

Harding’s general premise is that mayors are prone to encourage participation from the private sector in policymaking. The case study of Mayor A. J. Holloway’s leadership style demonstrates that a mayor’s working relationship with the private sector does not necessarily lead to a systematic bias toward business interests. Holloway’s refusal to give way to casino interests in the case of the Imperial Palace skyscraper debacle is clearly an example of this. This does not mean, though, that Holloway has been unwilling to compromise with casino enterprises. It means only that in Biloxi’s progressive urban regime the mayor has not acquiesced to casino interests when they have conflicted with the welfare of the residents of the city of Biloxi. Instead, he has endeavored to use his working relationship with casino gaming enterprises to advance the overall sustainability of Biloxi. This leadership approach appears to have paid off. The casinos have undoubtedly reaped benefits in the form of large revenues from the amenities Biloxi provides to tourists. The city, in turn, has benefited from improvements to city streets, increased traffic in and out of the local airport, millions of dollars in tax revenue, new hotels and restaurants, more tourists, the renovation of many older city properties, and thousands of jobs. In addition, the success of casino gambling in Biloxi has sparked the interest of other sports- and entertainment-oriented business. For example, new professional hockey and soccer teams have relocated to Biloxi and will play in the city’s renovated and expanded coliseum in the future. This type of sustainable urban development would not have occurred were it not for Mayor Holloway’s leadership. Before his election many businesses were hesitant about locating in Biloxi because of the poor business climate during the Halat administration and the gradual decline of the tourist industry during the 1970s and 1980s. Mayor Holloway convinced business and casino owners that sustainable development would occur in Biloxi because of the introduction of legalized gaming. Holloway focused on attracting elaborate, multistory casinos to Biloxi rather than the smaller and less profitable riverboat casinos. During his two mayoral terms, six new casinos opened, and tourist sales now represent about 47 percent of retail sales in the local economy. To fully comprehend the effectiveness of Holloway’s mayoral leadership style, one need only compare the profitable gaming industry in Biloxi to that in its twin city, Gulfport, Mississippi. Whereas the city of Biloxi has ten casinos, the city of Gulfport has just three. Gulfport Mayors Ken Combs and Bob Short were less willing than Holloway to use the casino gaming industry to sustain and enhance

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 165

A. J. HOLLOWAY—BILOXI, MISSISSIPPI

165

their economies. As a result, Gulfport has not reaped the same amount of economic benefit as the city of Biloxi. This case study demonstrates that mayors of medium-sized cities, when endowed with such lucrative resources as casino gaming enterprises, face the challenge of negotiating with the business community in an effort to bring about the most possible benefits for these entities without inflicting harm upon the welfare of the city as a whole. In doing this, Mayor Holloway has demonstrated a desire to preserve much of the historic beauty and serenity of the city of Biloxi while promoting a newfound source of sustainability. A growth-control movement is now under way so that the city can avert a deleterious impact on lower-income neighborhoods and the social costs that result from legalized gaming. Through creative planning, negotiating with the private sector, visionary leadership, and a steadfastness to a governing agenda, Mayor Holloway has shown that mayors of medium-sized cities can sustain the economies of their communities. It must not go without saying, however, that much of this success is contingent upon whether or not a city is endowed with a proactive and successful business sector as well.

B-10

12/8/09

12:57 PM

Page 166

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 167

11 Patrick Ungaro, Brownfield Redevelopment, and Revitalization in Youngstown, Ohio Frank Akpadock ■

Economic Restructuring and Revitalization

The whirlwind of economic transformations of the mid-1970s associated with globalization of the market economy and the development of new technology touched off an economic restructuring reaction in corporate America. The restructuring phenomenon, or the deindustrialization of the U.S. economy, played out in the form of business mergers, acquisitions and divestitures, capital mobilization abroad, and plant closings. These actions affected hundreds of thousands of workers nationwide and had devastating economic implications for cities across the country (Heilbroner and Singer 1984; Bluestone and Harrison 1982; Fainstein and Fainstein 1989; Beenstock 1983). As these events were occurring, the “new localism” of the Reagan and Bush administrations was curtailing fiscal appropriations for domestic city programs, forcing state and local governments to shoulder even more of the financial burden. Corporate economic restructuring and the new localism made many cities, especially middle-sized cities in the Northeast and Midwest manufacturing belts, much worse off economically than before. This declining economic wealth brought increasing pressure to bear on mayors in cities already burdened with fiscal stress, and they were expected to develop strategies to cope with, if not offset in their entirety, the economic distress and hardships brought about by structural changes in corporate America and national urban policies. The nation’s mayors confronted these challenges with no-holds-barred economic revitalization strategies. In particular, many offer tax incentives

167

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

168

Page 168

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

to businesses considering locating to or moving from their cities. These incentives include such inducements as floating industrial development revenue bonds, tax increment financing, and loan guarantees. Mayors also pursue public-private partnerships and technology transfer. In addition, they work to retain and expand businesses and industries already located in their communities (James 1984; Huddlestone 1984; Harrison and Kanter 1987; Rubin 1988; Marlin 1984). The redevelopment of industrial brownfields is one area to which the economic revitalization strategies increasingly have been applied. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (USEPA) (1996: 1) defines brownfields as “abandoned, idled or under-used industrial and commercial sites where expansion or redevelopment is complicated by real or perceived environmental contamination that can add cost, time or uncertainty to redevelopment projects.” This very definition of brownfields underscores the risky nature in redeveloping them. T. Davis and K. D. Margolis (1997: 9) list ten barriers to successful brownfield redevelopment: (1) ambiguous legal liability; (2) lack of concentrated expertise; (3) potentially substantial capital costs; (4) insufficient financing; (5) clouded federal, state, and local environmental and legal policies; (6) entrenched attitudes among regulators; (7) absence of a consistent redevelopment framework; (8) public opposition; (9) limited demand for redeveloped sites; and (10) competition from greenfields. Of these barriers, Davis and Margolis (1997: 9) stress that “fear and uncertainty about liability are the greatest obstacles to brownfield redevelopment because the daunting complexity, ambiguity, and overlapping nature of the [Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation, and Liability Act (CERCLA), or Superfund] and other environmental laws preclude an accurate appraisal of the actual risk of liability.” The remainder of this chapter focuses on how these hurdles to brownfield redevelopment were overcome in Youngstown, Ohio. It pays close attention to the revitalization strategies of Youngstown’s Mayor, Patrick Ungaro, who was first elected in the aftermath of wholesale steel mill closings in the city. Overall, the case study suggests that despite the inherent risks, brownfield redevelopment can contribute to urban economic revitalization.

CASE STUDY ■

Youngstown, Ohio

Youngstown is located in northeastern Ohio. It is the largest city and seat of government of Mahoning County. Chartered as a city in 1868,

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 169

PATRICK UNGARO—YOUNGSTOWN, OHIO

169

it is named after its founder, John Young. In May 1923, the city adopted a strong-mayor–weak-council system of government (Butler 1921; Blue et al. 1995). Throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Youngstown’s economic development was tied closely to heavy industry. It was the site of the first blast furnace in Ohio and the first furnace in America to use coal as fuel for the production of steel (White 1982). From the first stoking of the blast furnace, Youngstown grew to become the center of steel production west of the Alleghenies. In the middle of the nineteenth century, it was one of the fastest-growing economies in the Midwest. That growth stopped, and Youngstown experienced dramatic economic decline during the corporate restructuring phenomenon of the mid-1970s to early 1980s that changed its economic landscape. The mid-1970s to early 1980s was one of the most trying economic periods in U.S. history since the Great Depression of the 1930s. It was characterized by a series of business fluctuations, starting with the Saudi Arabian oil embargo of the early 1970s and followed by the recession and the economic restructuring phenomenon that fueled stagflationary trends in the late 1970s to early 1980s. During this period U.S. steel companies experienced declining demand for their product. Steel-related hardware and software products were systematically being replaced by new breeds of products made out of plastics, aluminum, and other nonsteel composites. In addition, these companies witnessed global competition from the newly industrializing countries of the Pacific Rim. These changes were instrumental in the cataclysmic plant closings in steel-based communities such as Youngstown. Youngstown Sheet and Tube Company, the largest employer in the area, closed its doors on September 17, 1977. About 5,000 of its employees were permanently laid off. The demise of this mill alone triggered a tidal wave of economic destruction, as other industrial companies vertically and horizontally integrated with the steel mill’s operation closed their doors as well. Approximately 40,000 high-paying jobs with average weekly earnings of $300.67 per worker were gradually eliminated in the aftermath of the mill closings in the Mahoning Valley. In Youngstown the telltale signs of a city in distress became apparent. Business closings in Youngstown were common as wholesalers and retailers boarded up their downtown shops for more prosperous suburban locations. Panic home sales also occurred and appeared fueled by cooperative real estate brokers. With the loss of the industrial job base and double-digit unemployment, Youngstown experienced a rapidly increasing crime rate.

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

170

Page 170

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

The political action of city hall during the initial stages of this crisis was crippled by constant infighting among elected officials, allegations of corruption, and a lack of a city or regional revitalization agenda. The complex situation sent panic-stricken area businesspeople and politicians scurrying to Washington for help. Joseph Vukovich, the mayor at the time of the mill closings, followed all leads open to him to jump-start the city’s economy. For instance, the mayor tried to convert the idle steelmaking facilities into a national steel technology research center. His efforts failed because the project required a massive infusion of public capital that would have been difficult to generate during the city’s hard economic times. Next, with support from the steelworkers’ union and Youngstown’s growth coalition, he made great efforts to reopen the steel mills under an agenda of “worker and community ownership.” This effort failed as well because neither the state nor the federal government was willing to subsidize another mill operation on the heels of the collapse of the Youngstown Sheet and Tube Company. The mayor and the community growth coalition next tried to attract large-scale aviation manufacturing companies to Youngstown. For example, in 1978 ICX Aviation Company was brought to Youngstown to produce Yak-40 commuter jet planes, a deal that was to employ about 4,000 workers. The community spent large sums of money on infrastructure development only to realize that the project would be a failure because the company was not granted production rights from the Soviet Union, lacked aviation production experience, and did not have strong private financial support. Undeterred by the ICX failure, the community growth machine bargained and brought in another aircraft company, the Commuter Aircraft Corporation, that promised to employ several hundred workers. The project won financial support from both the federal and state government development agencies, including an Urban Development Action Grant (UDAG) and a consortium of local bankers and investors. This company, too, failed to show any signs of growth in productivity, forcing lenders to foreclose (Buss and Vaughan 1986). Other projects that had financial support from federal and state government development programs included American Skyship Company, which proposed to build dirigibles for use by the coast guard, and Kosmos Exports Brewery Company of West Germany. These two centers also were unsuccessful because of the companies’ ineptitude, the lack of market study, and poor organizational structure. Mayor Vukovich and his administration shared part of the blame

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 171

PATRICK UNGARO—YOUNGSTOWN, OHIO

171

for bringing companies to Youngstown without proper background checks on company performance profiles. His administration also failed to match these development projects to Youngstown’s comparative, competitive advantage in terms of workforce availability, markets for finished products, and input materials. Part of the city’s problem stemmed from the poor performance of the Youngstown Office for Economic Development, established in the 1970s to be a catalyst for economic revitalization. The office “prepared no comprehensive [economic development] plans, made few development deals, attracted little federal or state funding, and provided barely any technical assistance to businesses” (Buss and Vaughan 1986: 10). The repeated failures of big-ticket economic development projects drained the growth coalition’s support for subsequent economic development programs in the city during the remaining part of the Vukovich’s administration. Equally important, the repeated failures of the Vukovich administration meant that Youngstown’s economic decline continued almost completely unabated. In 1980 Youngstown had a population of 115,427. By the end of Vukovich’s second term in 1984, the population had declined 6.4 percent, to 108,040. In addition, by 1983, 22.3 percent of Youngstown’s estimated civilian workforce of 46,200 was unemployed. Levels of unemployment were higher among selected groups. Among minorities and former steelworkers, employment ran 37 and 32 percent, respectively (Buss and Redburn 1983a, 1983b, 1987a, 1987b; Buss 1986).

■

Mayor Patrick Ungaro

Patrick Ungaro was a Youngstown native son. Born in 1941, he graduated from Youngstown public schools and received a bachelor’s degree in education from Youngstown State University in 1965 and a master ’s degree from Westminster College in Wilmington, Pennsylvania. His political career began in 1976 when he was elected councilman for Youngstown’s third ward. As a councilman, he became an active member of the Mahoning County Democratic Club and the Mahoning County Democratic Central Committee. He used his membership in these committees to showcase his political ambition and leadership qualities through sound policy proposals associated with rejuvenating Youngstown’s economy. As a charismatic and caring councilman, he held several town hall meetings in his ward to listen to people’s complaints, and he worked hard to help resolve

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

172

Page 172

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

them. For example, he worked with the city’s Law Department to draft new state legislations to improve the nursing home care in Youngstown. In 1982 he became president of the city council. As a Democratic councilman, Ungaro supported Mayor Vukovich’s policy to revitalize Youngstown’s economy. But he was not completely satisfied with the direction Vukovich was taking the city in the aftermath of steel mill closings. In 1983 this dissatisfaction motivated him to challenge Vukovich in the Democratic Party primary. Because of Youngstown’s hard economic times and the repeated failures of his administration to jump-start the economy, however, Vukovich ultimately gave up his bid for a third term. After Vukovich’s departure from the mayoral campaign, Patrick Ungaro was unanimously endorsed by the Democratic Central Committee. The primary election pitted Ungaro against Robert Spencer, a strong independent Democrat. Throughout the primary campaigns, Spencer painted Ungaro as the offspring of Youngstown’s machine politics who would perpetuate the status quo in terms of failed economic revitalization agenda. While Spencer spent most of his time on character assassination, Ungaro campaigned on what he would do to revitalize Youngstown’s ailing economy. He promised to use common sense to rebuild Youngstown’s image and economy from the ruins of the mill closings. His plan included enforcing a city residency rule, streamlining city government, coordinating economic development programs, rehabilitating housing, building and repairing infrastructure, and working with growth coalitions to address the city’s economic problems. Though Ungaro did not specifically mention brownfield redevelopment by name, his statement alluded to the use of such strategy. On primary election night, Ungaro narrowly defeated Spencer by only eighty-eight votes. It was the tightest and most controversial mayoral primary in the city’s history. In the 1983 November general election, Ungaro ran against and defeated Republican Tom D’Amico by a margin of 2,648 votes to become Youngstown’s forty-sixth mayor. Ungaro would go on to an unprecedented fourteen years as mayor, a career that spanned the city’s darkest economic moments. ■

Charting an Independent Course

As a councilman and mayoral candidate, Ungaro had not displayed political independence from the Youngstown Democratic Party machine, a fact Spencer had tried to turn into a primary campaign

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 173

PATRICK UNGARO—YOUNGSTOWN, OHIO

173

issue. Had he done so, Ungaro would not have been nominated as the party’s candidate for mayor. He was, however, an honest man, and he was disturbed that party leaders were accused of engaging in organized crime. Nor was he enamored with the image of Youngstown’s political culture, dating back to the 1950s, where public officials were presumed to be involved in a range of illicit practices such as bribery, gambling, money laundering, and racketeering. Feeling as he did and fresh from his mayoral election, Ungaro declared himself a political independent. He broke rank with the established political order and presented himself instead as a reform-oriented political leader. Regarding his independent streak, a mid-December 1997 editorial in the Youngstown region’s Business Journal observed that: from the start, Ungaro was a mayor who never shied away from speaking his mind and ignored party lines when the situation called for independent thinking. . . . Early on he became one of the first politicians in Mahoning County to distance himself from the Hanni family [the region’s political machine]—a move that ultimately led other political leaders to challenge the family’s dominance of the Mahoning County Democratic Party.

Ungaro declared his political independence immediately after becoming mayor, in part to refute Spencer’s primary allegation that he was in the tutelage of the political machine. The dire economic situation in which Youngstown found itself also precipitated this change. Ungaro believed that to significantly improve the economy of Youngstown and to gain the public trust he needed to do this, he had no choice but to break free from the city’s Democratic machine and the political culture it represented. On this point Ungaro observed: “I felt I had to be independent of all political powers and when I say political powers, I mean [organized crime] too. . . . I maintained my own identity good or bad, and I have no [organized crime boss] calling me to do anything” (Denney 1997: A3). Mayor Ungaro’s independence showed itself in several ways. For example, he ignored party lines and developed a strong personal and supportive relationship with the Republican governor, George Voinovich. In return, Voinovich regularly provided the Democratic mayor with moral and financial support for various city projects throughout Ungaro’s fourteen years in office. Ungaro also built and formed an array of strong interpersonal relationships and partnerships with public, private, and community leaders. These groups included quasi-government entities such as the Youngstown Community Improvement Corporation, the Youngstown

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

174

Page 174

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

Chamber of Commerce, religious organizations, environmental groups, universities, and the chief executive officers of local banks and real estate development companies. A deeply religious person, Ungaro used prayer breakfasts as a key device to build and maintain coalitions and strong interpersonal relationships with other politicians and community leaders from different political and institutional affiliations. Over time he utilized the forum publicly to recognize their collective and individual contributions to the city’s development. The prayer breakfast forum grew to become such a strong sociopolitical organizational apparatus that its deliberations were later turned over to a special body called the Mahoning Valley Association of Churches. In particular, the key benefit of the Breakfast Forum was that it created and provided a medium for socialization and politicking that facilitated brainstorming discussions among regime members about public issues. Since the deliberations of these meetings made headline news in the local media, they were also important venues through which public perception of the mayor and city hall could be influenced. The Breakfast Forum gave Ungaro a platform that he regularly used to build consensus and support for his policies among key community leaders before making them public. The maintenance of these delicate informal relationships and a strong working relationship with a majority of the city councilmen were essential to getting support for his economic development initiatives and in making his administration appear as “us,” not “them.” With broad-based public support, Ungaro was able to make gutsy and tough decisions, another characteristic of his leadership style. For example, in response to the continuous out-migration of Youngstown residents and businesses and the large stock of vacant homes and shrinking tax revenues these trends created, Ungaro proposed an unprecedented mandatory city residency requirement for all city government employees. In 1986 Youngstown voters overwhelmingly approved this residency requirement policy. Since its passage, the residency requirement has generated property tax income in the form of housing consumption within the city limits and stimulated a new market of goods and services. The taxes paid for these services indirectly supported city government operations and brought about new job opportunities. In addition to the residency requirement, Ungaro had pledged that he would streamline government if elected mayor. Thus when he proposed a cost-cutting measure that consolidated some departmental functions, he was merely living up to his campaign promises. He accomplished his streamlining proposal through layoffs and a pack-

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 175

PATRICK UNGARO—YOUNGSTOWN, OHIO

175

age of early retirement and buyout programs. Even though city employees were unionized, Ungaro took advantage of the city’s poor financial condition to bolster and justify his layoff policy without strong union or city hall opposition. Overall, staff positions were reduced from 1,900 in the previous administration to 850 during Ungaro’s administration. This staff reduction produced a savings of about $23.1 million annually (using a 1982 base dollar amount) for the city without any losses in the efficiency of service delivery.

■

Brownfield Redevelopment

The failures of the Vukovich administration and Youngstown’s continued economic decline put Ungaro’s new independent leadership style to an early test. To begin Youngstown’s economic revitalization, Ungaro first applied his leadership effort to job creation. Having learned from the failures of his predecessor, Ungaro vowed not to repeat the same mistakes of trying to attract only high-technology industries that would be incompatible with the existing resources. Instead, he chose to focus on such prospects as light industry and regional warehouse storage. Throughout his first term, however, these efforts were frustrated as the companies he hoped to attract to Youngstown chose instead to locate in the suburbs. A principal reason for these companies’ decisions was their perception that the best strategic locations in the city were potentially contaminated brownfield structures. After both coming to terms with the difficulties of attracting light industry to the city and reviewing all other job-creating options for Youngstown, Ungaro settled in his second term on the high-risk strategy of brownfield redevelopment as the cornerstone of his economic revitalization agenda. Since potential economic investors in the city perceived these sites to occupy the best strategic locations for new developments, the city would take the lead in turning its brownfields green again. In the mid-1980s, though, the use of brownfield as a developmental tool for an economically lagging community such as Youngstown was relatively unknown. When Mayor Ungaro started his brownfield redevelopment program in 1985, neither the USEPA nor the state of Ohio had adopted any legislation to encourage voluntary cleanup of brownfield properties. The state of Ohio did not pass its first voluntary action program until June 1994, years after Ungaro had implemented his voluntary cleanup program of medium-contaminated brownfield sites in Youngstown. Thus when Mayor Ungaro started his program, he did

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

176

Page 176

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

not have established state or national guidelines to follow. Rather, he borrowed a basic design implemented in 1980 by neighboring townships to clean contaminated industrial parks that had been branch plants of the defunct Youngstown Sheet and Tube steel mills. To this basic design, Ungaro added his own innovations. ■

The Strategy

One of the problems Ungaro had to contend with in redeveloping Youngstown’s brownfields was that under the Superfund law a financial lending institution could be sued for cleanup costs if found to hold a security interest in a contaminated property. To overcome this problem, Mayor Ungaro proposed using hold-harmless provisions as part of the agreement package to facilitate lending institutions’ willingness to loan money to would-be developers of brownfield sites in Youngstown or their end users, that is, tenants who rent a redeveloped brownfield property for commercial or industrial use. Under the terms of these financial contracts, the parties involved agreed not to hold one another responsible for damage or other liability issues arising out of the transaction. With these arrangements, lending institutions were assured that developers and end users of redeveloped contaminated properties could never be held liable for any environmental contaminants found by the USEPA during an inspection after property was reclaimed. Instead, the city of Youngstown would bear the burden of cleanup costs or fines. As a second component in his brownfield redevelopment strategy, Mayor Ungaro proposed selling publicly owned contaminated sites to private developers and end users for one dollar. The $1 sales were conditioned upon developers’ and end users’ willingness to both clean up the designated site to the satisfaction of the state’s environmental protection agency and create job opportunities for Youngstown unemployed and underemployed residents. The actual transfer of ownership of the brownfield site would take place only after the cleanup process had been completed and approved by the state. At the same time that the city would be selling publicly owned contaminated sites for $1, Ungaro proposed that it also purchase privately owned contaminated properties because those lands were strategically located at sites that were most attractive to investors. Aesthetically, it made common sense not to sandwich a redeveloped property with a contaminated one. Also, it was necessary to buy and redevelop contaminated private properties located next to publicly redeveloped sites in order not to constrain future expansion of companies located there. Earlier some of the existing growth companies

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 177

PATRICK UNGARO—YOUNGSTOWN, OHIO

177

had threatened to relocate to the suburbs if the mayor did not clean up adjacent contaminated private sites to facilitate their horizontal expansion. The mayor effectively used these threats to build further support for his private contaminated property buyback policy. Tax abatements were the fourth component of Ungaro’s brownfield redevelopment strategy. Specifically, Mayor Ungaro proposed using a ten-year tax abatement to lure businesses with good employment and income-generating opportunities to the city’s reclaimed industrial parks. The terms of the ten-year abatement agreement were that a prospective company would operate its business 100 percent free from real estate and personal property taxes. In exchange, at least 51 percent of the company’s workforce would consist of Youngstown residents. ■

Defending the Strategy

When Ungaro presented his policy of brownfield redevelopment to the city council, reactions were mixed. Members who strongly opposed the idea cited potential environmental problems and liability issues the city would face. They advised him to look for an alternative economic development strategy. Ungaro, though, presented a rational explanation for his proposal. In particular, he reminded council opponents of the number of companies that the city had lost to the surrounding suburbs since the beginning of his administration because those companies were unwilling to locate near or on brownfield sites, even though these companies conceded that the brownfields were the best sites from which to conduct their businesses. Other council members suggested that instead of redeveloping brownfields, Youngstown should develop new industrial parks. In response, Ungaro cautioned that opening new industrial parks would use up the city’s limited green space. These projects also would involve huge overhead costs associated with putting in new sanitary sewer and water lines and constructing new roadways and other necessary infrastructure supportive of plant locations. Overall, then, he argued, brownfield redevelopment would be more cost-efficient because of the existing infrastructure. In addition, this strategy had the advantage of preserving Youngstown’s limited greenfields. ■

Results

Once adopted and implemented, Ungaro’s brownfield redevelopment strategy began to have an impact. First, the mayor’s insistence on hold-harmless provisions and the city’s agreeing to bear the cleanup

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

178

Page 178

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

costs under this provision resulted in the smooth cleanup of Youngstown’s selected brownfield sites without any kind of interruption by Ohio state EPA officials. Second, $1 sales found developers and end users eager and ready to take advantage of the economic opportunities presented to them. For example, it was through a $1 sale that Mayor Ungaro sold a former contaminated site to the Corrections Corporation of America for the location of a private prison in the northeastern part of Youngstown. This correctional facility created nearly 400 new jobs. Ungaro’s insistence on tax abatement also proved effective. Overall, those businesses to whom abatements were awarded have invested over $750 million in Youngstown and helped to stabilize the city’s tax base. For example, on December 13, 1996, North Star Metal, a manufacturer of fabricated metal products and recipient of the ten-year abatement incentive, presented the city its first postabatement property tax payment of $1.6 million. In response, Ungaro pointed out that “the general feeling is that when companies receive a 10-year abatement, after the 10 years are over, the company leaves. There’s a lot of controversy surrounding tax abatements, but they’re important to economic development” (Vargo 1997). The hold-harmless agreement, $1 sales, and tax abatements operated smoothly. But when Mayor Ungaro started negotiations for privately owned brownfields, his redevelopment program stalled. Owners of these private properties asked far more than the fair market value for their lands, especially when the desired properties were located at strategic transportation routes such as railroad lines or major highway interchanges. Even though Mayor Ungaro was in dire need of lands for development, the city could not afford to pay inflated prices for them. As a result, sprawling tracts of vacant and mothballed brownfield lands remain evident along major beltways close to the city center. By the completion of the first phase of the redevelopment project, Ungaro’s brownfield redevelopment strategy attracted thirty light manufacturing and warehousing industrial companies to former contaminated industrial sites. These companies have produced high value-added products and created high-paying job opportunities for about 4,000 regional residents. In 1990, 12.8 percent of the Youngstown civilian workforce was unemployed. By the time Ungaro left office, the workforce in Youngstown had stabilized at 36,000 persons and an unemployment rate of 10.8 percent. This was down 11.5 percent from when Ungaro took office in 1984. Brownfield redevelopment in Youngstown has contributed to reshaping and revitalizing Youngstown’s economic landscape. In

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 179

PATRICK UNGARO—YOUNGSTOWN, OHIO

179

assessing Mayor Ungaro’s brownfield redevelopment program, an editorial in the August 27, 1997, Plain Dealer commented: Youngstown has found a formula for turning a deserted urban wasteland into an oasis of job-rich manufacturing sites. Land that once contained abandoned, heavily polluted steel mills now holds light manufacturing plants and expansive warehouses for Federal Express, Toys ‘R’ Us and other major American companies. . . . There are lessons to be gleaned from Youngstown’s battle back from the crippling loss of nearly 50,000 community-sustaining jobs beginning in the late 1970s. . . . The city has mounted its impressive rebound because it has been willing to gamble on a strategy too daunting for many other cities.

■

Lessons Learned

For his willingness to gamble on brownfield redevelopment, Patrick Ungaro will be remembered as one of Youngstown’s most innovative and pioneering mayors. In taking this gamble to employ a hybrid of conventional and nonconventional strategies to rebuild and sustain a decrepit urban economy, Ungaro’s efforts at brownfield redevelopment underscore the association between leadership and risk taking. His risk-taking leadership yielded significant results in generating tax revenues and employment opportunities that strengthen the city’s tax base. Ungaro has remarked: “I would say we have prepared ourselves better for the future. We have diversified. There’s everything from aerosol cans to health care products, from machinery to distribution and we’re more recession-proof” (Denney, 1997: A5). By laying a strong foundation for a diversified, sustainable economic base, Youngstown’s economic future now looks secure enough to withstand the vicissitudes of seasonal and structural fluctuations from the national or global economy. Ungaro’s leadership styles are worthy of emulation by others who would occupy such precarious positions as heads of government in the twenty-first century.

B-11

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 180

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 181

12 Charles Box and Regime Politics in Rockford, Illinois Keenan D. Grenell and Gerald T. Gabris

This chapter presents a case study of Rockford, Illinois, Mayor Charles Box and his leadership of that city’s economic development initiatives. Rockford is one among several white-majority communities in the United States to elect a black mayor. For a city that has traditionally ignored blacks in the local job market, the election of Mayor Charles Box in April 1989 was a remarkable event. Box’s ascent to prominence can best be understood in the context of his advocacy of intergroup cooperation, race-neutral politics, and coalition building around shared community interests. Mastery of these activities diluted some of the external pressures associated with being a black mayor in a predominantly white city and built bridges for continued electoral support from Rockford’s citizens. Second, as the first African American mayor of a city that was listed dead last among the 300 metropolitan areas Money Magazine ranked as the worst places to live in 1993 meant that Box was going to have to perform at a higher level of executive leadership than his white predecessor in order to transform Rockford’s image and economy. Third, Box understood that to be an effective urban leader, he had to become an active participant in the urban regime driving Rockford’s economic development. In light of Box’s experience in Rockford, this case study suggests that black mayors face a higher probability of economic development failure even though they provide a comparable if not superior leadership product. This chapter shows that this higher failure rate is due in part to significantly higher leadership and economic development expectations imposed on black mayors in contrast to their

181

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

182

Page 182

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

white counterparts. In addition, this chapter explains that black mayors in predominantly white urban communities experience substantially more severe cross-group pressure and expectations that in turn complicate their leadership role. But we begin with a discussion of the challenges and maturation of black mayoral leadership.

■

Challenges of Black Mayoral Leadership

African American mayors in urban areas have developed a distinctive leadership tradition. Yet the literature does little in analyzing the influence of urban black mayors as leaders in economic development (Pierannuzi and Hutcheson 1996). Instead, scholars depict black mayors as leaders in public policy processes such as cracking down on crime; delivering effective human services; and improving race relations, housing, and schools (Summers and Klinkner 1996; Winn and Palmer 1996; Henderson 1996; Orr and Stoker 1994) and as mobilizers of black political coalitions (Bingham and Hedge 1991; Bowman and Kearney 1993; Hill and Mladenka 1992; Jennings 1992; Wright 1996; Kleppner 1985). For many black public chief executives, mobilization of black political coalitions has been necessary to sustain a wave of black electoral activism. In addition to building on emerging black electoral power, the development of black agenda setting has been an important governing component to connect them with the essential political interest of their constituents. There have, however, been drawbacks associated with this approach. ■

The Challenge of Strategies and Policies

The first wave of African American mayors elected in urban cities were relegated to practicing political strategies and pursuing public policy agendas that retarded their potential for wider constituency support beyond the black community. In addition, they were constrained in their leadership efforts in economic development, as this issue area has historically been perceived best handled outside the domain of city hall. These failures to garner community-wide acceptance for the full mantle of governance and to be recognized as leaders in a policy arena that favors white private-sector leadership challenged black mayoral pioneers. First-generation black mayoral political strategies, which were separatist and rearranged city power structures along racial lines, have given way to models emphasizing appeals for racial harmony and neutrality and biracial coalition building for the economic well-

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 183

CHARLES BOX—ROCKFORD, ILLINOIS

183

being of urban communities. “Deracialization” is the label commonly assigned to this second-generation approach. Deracialization’s deemphasizing a black political agenda in order to achieve a broader majority-group governing consensus is a central notion of the “new black politics” approach (Albritton et al. 1992; Persons 1993; Preston et al. 1987; Perry 1996). Putting a deracialized leadership philosophy into practice is more complicated than it might appear, especially for black mayors who are elected in white-majority cities. From the onset, they are automatically thrust into a dualistic leadership role. First, they are viewed as an extension of the black community and can be (and are) expected to serve as advocate, protector, and champion of the black community’s interests. By eschewing this role, they risk ostracism and losing credibility with the political group that most likely breathed political life into their nascent careers. Second, if they side too much with white-majority interests, they may be perceived as mere extensions of powerful political interest groups with no ability to think and act independently. This condition also serves to weaken credibility and leadership effectiveness. According to K. Grenell and G. Gabris (1999), black mayors in white-majority cities must walk a fine line to have a chance of serving as a leader for the whole community. They must develop policy agendas that can appeal to both groups without becoming the perceived political captive of either. Predictably, this fence-walking strategy extracts a price. First, by actively avoiding identification with political groups, black mayors place themselves into a type of political vacuum. This can result in political isolation that makes the leader vulnerable to attack from several directions. Second, in order to achieve intergroup cooperation, the mayor may have to develop policy formulations that are so watered down that the fundamental effectiveness of the policy becomes suspect. Finessing policy outcomes without having to pay too steep a penalty can demand rather tricky and precise political maneuvering. ■

The Challenge of Pro-Growth

Perhaps the greatest challenge facing black mayors in predominantly white cities is adherence to the omnipotent dictates in communities whose leadership is pro-growth. As Michael C. Dawson stated (1994), it doesn’t matter what the mayor’s race or ethnicity is in a city dominated by pro-growth ideology. The pro-growth orientation demands a managed economic development process as opposed to a transformative public-sector knight in shining armor. Cities dominat-

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

184

Page 184

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

ed by such an orientation require mayors to find their way through the maze of public and private partnering to produce economic development results that work. Furthermore, mayors that have to govern in pro-growth-dominated cities are often forced to abdicate local government’s role in economic development. Since developmental problems are believed to be the direct result of city hall’s bureaucratic inertia and structural deficiencies that prohibit it from achieving needed economic development goals, economic decisionmaking is siphoned off to private or quasi-public corporations. The pressures of pro-growth often result in city hall’s phasing itself out of the theater by providing financial support to private-sector economic development organizations. Ultimately, governance of local economic development activity shifts to a public-private partnership, with the private sector holding majority/active control and local government assuming a subordinate/passive role. ■

The Challenge of Regime Governance

As part of their effort to contend with pro-growth coalitions, black mayors also have to struggle for acceptance from their cities’ urban regimes. Urban regimes involve relatively stable groups whose access to institutional resources enable them to play a substantial role in governance (Stone 1989). An urban regime encompasses the informal arrangements by which public and private entities negotiate mutually beneficial policy outcomes (Jones and Clemons 1993). In order to maximize both public and private interests, coalitions of local elites emerge. In theory these coalitions facilitate consensus decisionmaking regarding policy formulation in economic development (Spindler and Forrester 1993). As previously observed, black mayors often are excluded from these coalitions. To be effective urban leaders, they nevertheless must become active participants within the policy regimes of their communities. To do so, though, requires them to walk a governing and political tightrope. Involvement in regime politics connotes elitism and closed-door decisionmaking. Critics of regime politics argue that it is undemocratic and overly centralized. By becoming identified with dominantregime actors, black mayors risk the perception that they are the captives or lackeys of narrowly motivated political groups. Moreover, it may appear that their policy decisions result from backdoor negotiations that circumvent the openness afforded by a democratic political process. How Mayor Charles Box has chosen to grapple with these

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 185

CHARLES BOX—ROCKFORD, ILLINOIS

185

contending forces while developing his political career offers insight into the complexities of black mayors succeeding in white-majority cities with strong urban regime/growth coalitions driving economic development.

CASE STUDY ■

Rockford, Il.

As the second largest city in Illinois, Rockford is approximately 75 miles northwest of Chicago and 86 miles southwest of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. According to 1990 census data, the city’s population is 139,426, with a metropolitan-area population of 298,780. As the county seat of Winnebago County, Rockford has a mayor-council form of municipal government. Rockford is one of several predominantly white cities with a black mayoral chief executive. That fact is even more surprising given Rockford’s history of conservative politics and bedrock Republicanism. Like many other midwestern manufacturing communities, Rockford developed into two distinct geographic and economic areas. The first is a thriving northeast periphery. The second is a physically dying and decaying southwest corridor and downtown. According to one of Rockford’s leading citizens, “southwest Rockford is a land frozen in time.” The west side’s population is older and primarily African American, Hispanic, Asian, and Italian. It is an area where many Rockford observers believe a sense of community has been lost. To make matters worse, it is considered Rockford’s Dodge City because of its high crime rate. The west side’s problems are compounded by the paucity of viable economic activity. Like so many deteriorating neighborhoods in urban cities, southwest Rockford does not have a balance between minimum-wage jobs and higher-paying jobs necessary to survive and maintain a family. Because of initiatives largely pursued by Rockford’s pro-growth corporate regime, the better-paying jobs are now on the eastern periphery. In the 1940s and 1950s, city leaders fought to have Interstate 90 bypass Rockford’s inner core by routing an interchange to the cornfields east of town (Collier 1992). This action pushed development attention eastward, leaving Rockford’s west side with no connections to the interstate. Now Rockford’s predominantly white northeast periphery is booming with new commercial and resi-

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

186

Page 186

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

dential development. But access to the jobs generated from this growth is a problem for west-side residents. In addition, most northeast residents appear oblivious to the harsh realities of their westside neighbors (Collier 1992). Many of Rockford’s northeast citizens drive across the bridge that separates these two worlds and forget about the obvious realities each represents. ■

Economic Culture

Rockford’s economic culture could be characterized as blue-collar isolationism, based on a closed-system approach to economic development. Rockford city leaders believed that the greatest utilization of the area’s human capital was best served in local manufacturing operations. This way of thinking saw Rockford lose Northern Illinois University’s main campus to De Kalb, 40 miles to the southeast. Losing the university, it seems, was not nearly as bad as the threat of sharing popular control of the city with middle-class research and intellectual types. Given its blue-collar isolationism, Rockford developed into a factory town with all of the major community decisions controlled by factory owners. Rockford’s early industrialists provided workers with an environment to support them and their families, and in return the workers supported Rockford’s industrial growth. Even today workers and families are socialized to remain loyal to the industries that helped build the community. This value is passed down from one generation to the next. Each year half of the graduating high school seniors in the Rockford metropolitan area who go on to college attend the local two-year community college for the sole purpose of strengthening the competitiveness of local industries. As a factory town, Rockford has always relied heavily on manufacturing, particularly the durable goods industries such as tools, automobiles, and housing. During any period when the nation has suffered severely from a decline of employment in the manufacturing industry, Rockford’s economy also declined. For example, during the 1982 recession Rockford’s overdependence in these sectors led to the city experiencing the highest unemployment rate of any urban center. As in any crisis, local leaders began blaming each other for allowing the community to be ill equipped to handle the devastation of the recession. The business community was split between old family patriarchs who practiced a closed system of economic development and a group of corporate pro-growth leaders who wanted to open up Rockford to its neighbors and the world.

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 187

CHARLES BOX—ROCKFORD, ILLINOIS

■

187

The Council of 100 and the RLDC

Eventually, the corporate pro-growth leaders prevailed in the war over Rockford’s economic future. As a fruit of this victory, the coalition charted a new private-sector course that demanded the business community be more directly involved in guiding economic development. To accomplish this, the new leadership made two strategic moves. First, it created another level of business involvement in economic development by creating the Council of 100 and the Rockford Local Development Corporation (RLDC). It also secured from the city of Rockford a commitment to contribute $100,000 annually to each organization’s coffers. The Council of 100 was established in the early 1980s as the ultimate strategy to increase private-sector management of the Rockford area. The mission of the council was to expand, diversify, and strengthen the economic base of the Rockford area. The first sign of readjustment in the area’s political economy was the council’s self-annointment as the area’s lead economic development organization. Before the council arrived on the scene, the Rockford metropolitan area had several economic development organizations that engaged in separate activities. Since its establishment, however, the Council of 100 has gained unchallenged dominance over the area’s competing economic development organizations by directing them into a single, coordinated approach toward development. Achieving this status represented a strong case for the old adage, “He who has the gold rules.” Working in partnership with the Council of 100 has been the RLDC, a private, not-for-profit corporation. In September of 1979, the city of Rockford authorized $100,000 to capitalize it. The primary purpose of RLDC has been to market industrial property and develop financial assistance programs for area businesses. The Council of 100 and the RLDC together brought more aggressive and calculating energies and visions to economic development in Rockford than had the Chamber of Commerce. As one corporate executive said, The efforts to create economic development in the city prior to the dark days of the 1980s recession was largely the function of the Chamber of Commerce. . . . Their primary concern was for their own individual businesses and making sure that city hall kept government expenditures and property taxes low.

In addition to creating new economic development institutions and further enhancing its control over economic development, the

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

188

Page 188

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

new regime expanded its membership beyond traditional industrialists to include other businesses in the region, such as banks, real estate firms, and law firms. These new arrangements were designed to help the business coalition pursue a vision for Rockford that focused on building the city into a globally competitive metropolis, which meant pushing development to the top of the community agenda. It also meant removing city hall in Rockford from major and technically sophisticated economic development activities in order to concentrate on more traditional and acceptable governmental functions such as planning and zoning, neighborhood development, Community Development Block Grant activities, and microenterprise activities. As new corporate elites were moving into the area and existing corporate elites were changing in character, city hall was coerced into reorganizing its involvement and becoming a subsidizer and coinvestor instead of being directly visible in economic development.

■

Mayor Charles Box

Charles Box was born and raised on the southwest side of the city over which he would one day preside as mayor. The young Box is remembered mostly for his exploits in high school football and as a dedicated employee in his family’s barbecue restaurant. According to one of his former high school classmates, it was not uncommon to find Box still at the restaurant after midnight on Saturdays selling barbecue. In their opinion his work ethic was cultivated during those late-night shifts. After graduating from the University of Michigan Law School in 1976, Box landed a job as a member in one of Rockford’s most prominent law firms, Connolly, Oliver, Goddard, Coplan, and Close. His aggressiveness and go-getter behavior caught the attention of his mayoral predecessor, John McNamara. In 1981 McNamara appointed Box as legal director for the city. During his eight years under McNamara’s mentorship, Box learned the ins and outs of municipal government. Box was a quick study, heralded as Rockford’s finest city attorney ever. In 1987 McNamara appointed him city administrator. With McNamara’s endorsement and recognizable insider experience, Box entered the 1989 mayoral campaign. He presented the electorate with a vision of Rockford as an affordable, flourishing, safe city in which to raise a family, the type of city that could ensure employment and basic amenities to its citizens. In addition, his

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 189

CHARLES BOX—ROCKFORD, ILLINOIS

189

vision included a strong local economy based on Rockford’s manufacturing history while allowing for diversified service industries to compliment the city’s overall economic base. On election night Rockford’s native son carried all fourteen wards and received 63 percent of the popular vote. Box was elected to office by more votes than any mayor in the city’s history. His rise to chief executive was the achievement of a coalition of old-line Democrats, east Rockford liberals, blue-collar workers, sizable Republican crossovers, and African American voters. Box’s selection cannot be interpreted as representing the political incorporation of Rockford’s African American community into the city’s political structure or regime. African Americans represent only about 11 percent of the city’s population. They are concentrated in one main geographic area of the city, thereby diluting their political clout. Although they were an important part of Box’s electoral coalition, then, they were by no means its most important component. Box recognized this through the manner in which he approached economic development policy. Nevertheless, Box’s history-making feat caused some observers to remark that voters put the city’s general good ahead of narrow partisan politics and race. In addition, Box’s election hinted that the city’s voters were beginning to unite and might be ready for broader policy change (Sweeney 1991). For Box, being elected Rockford’s first African American mayor was fulfilling part of Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream. In his first election victory statement, Box observed: “The fulfillment of the dream means that people can look at candidates based on their qualifications and skills rather than race or religion. Twenty-one short years ago we mourned the loss of Dr. King, but Rockford has shown the world tonight that his dream is living and that hope is alive.” Even though Box considered his win as citizens making good on King’s dream, it was a personal achievement and one not strongly associated with the political and economic plight of African Americans in Rockford. Black community leaders believe Box strives to avoid real identification with a black political agenda, fails to support redistributive economic development policies, and has no specific set of social reforms. Instead, they say, Box’s mayoralty has been one largely attentive to the white business community. Box’s preoccupation with the white business community appears tied in part to the reality of Rockford’s electoral politics. Because of the city’s small African American population, Box must depend on business and regime support to stay in office, and since being elected

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

190

Page 190

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

his reelection has been his bottom line. In fact, Box has been reelected twice, securing 70 percent of the vote in 1993 but only slightly more than 50 percent of the vote in 1997. According to one political analyst in Rockford, Box’s slim electoral victory in the 1997 mayoral race can be attributed to many things. First, Rockford citizens in 1997 appeared to be less than enthusiastic regarding Box’s long tenure. His presence in office has almost become a way of life, and some people were curious about the prospect of someone else, even though Box is a popular public figure. In many ways what Box experienced in his third bid for mayor is not all that uncommon among third- and fourth-term mayors in urban areas. Second, some of Rockford’s citizens were angry at Box because he publicly sided with the courts’ contention that many of Rockford’s inner-city children had historically not received the best possible educational opportunities. This meant supporting the school district’s tax hike and imposed busing to adjust for obvious inequities. Third, the 1997 mayoral race was more competitive because Republicans put forth a more formidable candidate who made his entire campaign a referendum against Box. More important, his war chest rivaled Box’s campaign funds. Yet Box’s showing in 1997 was no worse than that of his predecessor, John McNamara, who captured only 51 percent of the popular vote in the 1981 and 1985 mayoral elections. Observers of Rockford politics feel that Box’s continued electoral success is closely associated with an incumbent administration running on its record—that is, McNamara’s administration: Box’s ascendancy and continuation as mayor has been a referendum on what can be characterized as the McNamara-Box administration. This interpretation has merit. It is evidenced in the manner in which Box has chosen to govern economic development. His style on this issue has not been dissimilar from that of his predecessor and mentor. In fact, upon taking office he retained the McNamara development team.

■

Mayor Box and Economic Development

As did his predecessor, Box understands that Rockford’s future depends on business and job creation. In pursuit of that future, he has refused to be sidetracked from the economic development course that he helped to chart during the McNamara administration. That course generally has emphasized economic growth through big-ticket items,

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 191

CHARLES BOX—ROCKFORD, ILLINOIS

191

namely, a proposed high-speed rail service linking Chicago’s O’Hare Airport to Rockford’s airport, airport expansion, east-side development, regionalism, annexation, and exporting. And yet for Box the reality of economic and other development in Rockford is more than just visionary plans and big-ticket items. It also involves real-life development problems that must be addressed with dispatch. That has meant sometimes abandoning projects already under consideration. For example, before Box became mayor, Rockford had planned to invest in a $60-million incinerator. To most it seemed like a good idea, but newly elected mayor Charles Box felt that the community needed to be better educated on the advisability of building an incinerator. Box saw two primary concerns that needed to be addressed before the plan moved forward: the actual cost of building an incinerator and the environmental consequences associated with the incinerator. When these concerns could not be alleviated satisfactorily, Box scrapped the original plan and proposed an alternative that the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency approved: extending the life of Rockford’s landfill. In emphasizing economic development, Box perceives himself as practicing a race-neutral, nondivisive brand of leadership reflecting a holistic approach to problem solving. With Rockford increasingly fractured along racial and class lines, bringing diverse groups together is a goal he strongly feels is necessary for economic development success. Reflecting his general leadership style, Box favors a broad partnership not only between public and private but between disparate community groups all working together. This means using governmental resources and clout for regulating cooperative interaction between groups and units of government otherwise accustomed to larger degrees of autonomy. A philosophy of facilitation and inclusiveness notwithstanding, in practice Box has favored Rockford’s white-dominated pro-growth coalition and regime to the exclusion of the city’s African American community. He has continued Rockford’s long history of intimately linking development policies to the preferences of the established business community; maintained financial support to private-sector economic development firms such as the Council of 100 and the RLDC; and acknowledged through the continuation of this financial support that economic development policy in Rockford is best guided by private movers and shakers. Accordingly, to advance Rockford’s enterprise zone, Box provided extensive amounts of direct public assistance to private firms—what his critics call “candy store giveaways,” including investment tax credits, interest deduc-

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

192

Page 192

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

tions on loans, job creation tax credits, machinery and equipment sales tax exemptions, property tax abatements, and enterprise zone pollution control facilities exemptions. Black leaders contend that Box does not show the same level of investment in the needs of African American neighborhoods and entrepreneurs as he does in the white-dominated growth coalition. They point to his unwillingness to support and help finance a blackowned grocery store in Rockford’s predominantly black southwest side. When residents approached Box with their proposal, the mayor told them that he would support it only if interested parties put serious money on the table from the beginning. Contending that he was an economic realist, Box let it be known that release of city funds depended on sound financial commitment from area residents. In fairness to Box, African American leaders who criticized him for his lukewarm support of the grocery store proposal also were critical of project leaders for failing to develop a solid business plan for the endeavor.

■

Regime Reaction to Box’s Leadership

Throughout his years in office, Mayor Box has endeavored to lead on matters of economic development. This leadership largely has entailed being a coinvestor leveraging public money with private dollars to sell Rockford as a location conducive to economic development. It also has involved working with business elites to try to address problems in the city public school system that are seen as bad for business prospects. Box further has worked to promote consensus among regime members regarding economic development issues and served as a buffer between regime actors and the African American community. Overall, then, Box’s leadership has been more supportive of private-sector economic decisionmakers than directive independent leadership. Given this type of leadership behavior over three terms in office, Box has received broad support from the business community and other regime actors. Yet Rockford’s economic elites caution against his trying to lead too much. Business leaders perceive themselves, and not Box, as the major force behind Rockford’s economic development renaissance. Though they acknowledge the need for his support, they consider this more as a helping role rather than a directive, controlling one. They also recognize that depending upon the project, business needs for mayoral support or any other public-sector support might be minimal at best.

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 193

CHARLES BOX—ROCKFORD, ILLINOIS

193

For instance, the average citizen in Rockford thinks that city hall was directly responsible for landing United Parcel Service (UPS), which brought 400–500 new jobs to the Rockford area. This win gave credibility to a community that had to compete with cities like Milwaukee and Madison, Wisconsin. Even though Mayor Box was involved, the deal was packaged by the Airport Authority, which in Rockford is a hybrid organization with both public- and privatesector members. Since the Airport Authority brought in a new executive director, the organization has placed greater emphasis on administration and on finalizing and implementing deals than playing politics. In addition, the announcement of the plan was kept low-key and its overall development kept quiet. Officials close to the story stated that from the beginning this was an unusual situation because multiple agencies, jurisdictions, and city hall units that normally participate in projects of this magnitude were never consulted. The Airport Authority demonstrated that it did not need or want involvement from public-sector economic development institutions or actors— namely, Mayor Charles Box.

■

Black Division over Box’s Leadership

Even though Box has successfully passed the overall community’s test by being reelected twice, it appears that he has paid a political price for his deracialized governing approach and continuation of his economic development policies, advancing the interests of whitedominated economic elites and urban regime. Several Rockford African American leaders have openly criticized him for not caring enough about the development needs in the black community. According to these leaders, the strategies employed by Box and the bureaucratic structure in place at city hall have done very little in the way of improving bare survival for west-side residents. Rather than the path Box has followed, black civic leaders critical of him prefer a more “redistributive” form of economic development. They want the city government officially to target economic development programs for run-down neighborhoods that would not receive direct help under a hands-off, profit-based economic development policy. They would like to see the city government loan money to minority businesses that have traditionally experienced high failure rates. They contend this strategy would transform neglected and blighted Rockford neighborhoods into renewed areas of economic vitality. Given their economic orientation, these black leaders contend that for the Box administration improving the economy and quality

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

194

Page 194

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

of life for southwest Rockford citizens has not been a high priority. They label the city’s developmental activities a Band-Aid approach to economic development, blasting Box and other economic development actors for establishing a weak system that has failed to devise activities with long-term economic development effects. Critics feel that existing programs are excellent concepts but weak in delivery when matched against the realities facing the black community. For them, the realities include a deteriorating school system, lack of accessibility to east-side jobs, minimum-wage jobs as opposed to opportunities to pull themselves above the poverty line, crime, homelessness, and absence of mentors for youth. Some black leaders argue that Rockford’s history is proof that economic development in the black community is not the same as economic development in Rockford’s predominantly white neighborhoods and that this has not changed much with a black mayor in office. One reason for this, they maintain, is that the economic development team that has been assembled lacks diversity; thus there is very little articulation of ideas for and interest in all segments of Rockford. Black leaders maintain that neither the philosophy nor the activities of the team are designed to assist Rockford’s poor, especially African Americans, to rise above the barriers to experience the economic development benefits attributable to the broader community. Given their concerns, many of Rockford’s black leaders have kept a careful eye on the city’s first African American mayor. This is not to say that Mayor Box is without friends in the black community: a small yet noticeable group of flourishing and influential black middle-class professionals who have experienced success in nontraditional African American professional ranks in Rockford support Box and city hall. Their jobs, income, board appointments, and status take them places beyond the imagination of the majority of Rockford’s African American population. As individuals who have been accepted outside the black community, this group is against race-targeted and race-conscious economic development policy in Rockford. Naturally, their beliefs generate support from Rockford’s well-established private sector. This support is the result of openly embracing ideas as such utilizing available resources, going beyond mere lip service, accepting and acting on developmental trends, and accumulating capital. Box shares the philosophy of Rockford’s small African American professional class because he, too, has been trained and socialized differently than many of the black leaders who ideologically oppose him. Since becoming mayor, Box has become a member

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

Page 195

CHARLES BOX—ROCKFORD, ILLINOIS

195

of the U.S. Conference of Mayors, Illinois Municipal League, and the Council of 100 and has traveled extensively both domestically and internationally promoting business opportunities in the Rockford metropolitan area. For Box and other black professionals in Rockford, the professional socialization and training that comes with opportunities such as these inculcate middle-class values that separate their interests from those of the black poor and community advocates who speak on their behalf.

■

Lessons Learned

Box’s leadership as Rockford’s mayor suggests several lessons for the economic development strategies of other African American mayors of middle-sized cities. First, black mayors need to practice a race-neutral, pragmatic political strategy. This may sound rather obvious. A black political leader aiming for success in a whitemajority community cannot win if he or she emphasizes the support of a narrow constituency. The leader must develop credibility as a nondivisive leader whose primary qualification is merit and competence rather than power acquisition through perceived preferential treatment or past injustices (no matter how true these may be). As in Mayor Box’s case, association with prior work in a white politicians’ administration facilitates such credibility. Additionally, effective African American executives in a white-dominated culture must cultivate a pragmatic political philosophy, remaining responsive to minority needs while at the same time assisting minorities in understanding the need to balance requests for development based on precepts of social equity with the raw political power wielded by whitemajority business interests. Second, black mayors’ business philosophy should be conservative, gradual, and stable. Generally, this means accepting the economic values of the dominant business community, which is white. It also means stressing the power of profit and competition over governmentally controlled economic development programs. Admittedly, this lesson may seem to conflict with the previous lesson in that it asks mayors claiming a race-neutral political stance to embrace an economic philosophy essentially controlled and dominated by the white majority. This is not easy to do. An African American elected leader cannot afford, however, to alienate white-dominant businesses for very long and still hope to generate support for areas of special need. The necessity to not alienate white business leaders suggests a

B-12

12/8/09

12:58 PM

196

Page 196

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

third lesson for African American mayors of middle-sized cities. Leadership through cooperation and commitment rather than confrontation and compliance is crucial for success. Generally, this means black elected leaders must be highly skilled in both interpersonal and intergroup dynamics. They must bring diverse groups together to facilitate a dialogue for problem solving without coming across as controlling or commanding. Conflict resolution skills are also crucial here, as well as team building (Dyer 1987; Blake and Mouton 1984) and strategic planning (Bryson 1988). This is one area where Mayor Box is both strong and weak simultaneously. Mayor Box has been enormously successful in obtaining intergroup cooperation among regime actors on a panoply of economic development issues. He has accomplished much of this through the application of his personal charisma and stature. Yet many regime actors also equate the mayor as the leader of a traditional governmental bureaucracy that has proven itself incompetent, ineffectual, and stagnant in the past. Regardless of the level, most citizens distrust government’s capacity to deliver the goods. Many see a need for government to be either reinvented or reengineered (Osborne and Gaebler 1992; Hammer and Champy 1993). Overall, then, it is possible to argue that black leaders should eschew association with traditional bureaucratic responses and strategies for fixing long-term problems. They need to embrace a vision that facilitates the reform and renewal of governmental organizations. One way this may be accomplished is through utilization of more contemporary bureaucratic change strategies such as strategic planning, organization development, and organizational design (Denhardt 1993). Mayor Box may be relying too much on his personal charisma and too little on broadly conceived strategic planning and team building for institutionalizing a longer-term economic development process that will carry on once he leaves office. Of course, the same could be said of white city administrators who wish to avoid seeing success turn into failure (Golembiewski and Gabris 1994). Other than this bureaucratic avoidance suggestion, Mayor Box demonstrates that independent thinkers, regardless of race, can play pivotal roles in the policy process of a white-majority community. The initial hurdle for African American politicians may be more difficult, but it can be surmounted and become more commonplace.

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 197

13 Vincent Cianci and Boosterism in Providence, Rhode Island Wilbur C. Rich

■

Which Providence?

When people talk about Providence, Rhode Island, they may hear the question, “Which Providence? The old, old Providence? The old Providence? Or the new Providence?” Founded in 1636 by Roger Williams, who was exiled from the Puritan Massachusetts Bay Colony for his religious dissent, the modern-day state of Rhode Island and its capital city, Providence, have undergone a profound demographic and economic transformation. As the nation enters the new millennium, it seems to be rediscovering the modern Providence. Forget the old image of a traditional New England small town. The modern Providence is remaking itself as a center of commerce and entertainment. This old mill town is fitting itself with bright lights just like the big cities. The newer neon version of Providence is being packaged as an avant-garde haven. Thanks, in part, to Vincent (Buddy) Cianci—the city’s flamboyant pitchman and mayor—and his contemporary boosterism, Providence is being noticed nationally. Cianci represents the prototype of an instinctual politician who is equally comfortable with old-style, backroom politics and the new media-oriented politics. With the decline of political parties, municipal politics is often played out in the media. Colorful politicians such as Cianci attract public attention and usually get reelected. They also keep their constituents interested in what happens in their city. Mayors such as Cianci not only draw the nation’s attention to their cities but also work to build civic pride among the residents. In carrying out these actions, mayors in postindustrial cities are increas-

197

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

198

Page 198

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

ingly required to demonstrate an ability to sell and promote their cities as exciting and prestigious residential spaces, as business friendly, and as centers of entertainment. These mayors are salespersons or boosters for their cities much like barkers at a carnival: they are expected to make things happen, draw attention to the show in the tent, and be a part of the show itself. This is not a job for the shy, self-conscious, and diffident individual. Gregariousness, humor, and optimism are part of the job description. The purpose of such leadership is to create excitement about the future. Buddy Cianci has mastered the technique of creating the show particularly well. To say he is the life of the party in Providence is an understatement. Nor can Buddy Cianci be accused of being a modest man. For example, he not only hawks the city but also his own brand of marinara sauce, with proceeds going to a scholarship fund (Gordon 1995: 6). He takes full credit for much of what happens in Providence. Cianci has come close to melding his personality with the so-called New Providence. That Cianci and other mayors find it necessary to be contemporary boosters for their cities underscores that modern mayoral leadership is more than the formal structure and authority of the office. It is also behavior and results. In effect, Cianci’s boosterism of Providence highlights that mayoral leadership is any act that advances the overall interest of the city. D. Katz and R. Kahn (1966: 334) make a similar observation when they write: the essence of leadership . . . has to do with that influential increment which goes beyond routine and taps the bases of power beyond those which are organizationally decreed. These include referential power, which depends upon personal liking between leader and follower, and expert power, which depends upon the knowledge and ability of the leaders. In contrast to these are the organizationally given powers of reward, punishment, and legitimate authority.

If Cianci is offering his character, credibility, and vision as collateral for his New Providence, what are the risks and dangers in this political arrangement? What use is he making of his referential powers? What qualifies him as an expert for the New Providence? Can a city with a tourist-retail-based economy sustain itself? What happens if there is organized opposition to Cianci’s vision? No mayor controls all the forces he or she faces, which has led some to predict future problems for Cianci’s New Providence. One problem that may await the city is that despite Cianci’s strategy of promoting it as a collective good, not everyone will bene-

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 199

VINCENT CIANCI—PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND

199

fit equally from its potential bounty. P. Blau and W. R. Scott (1962) teach that there are four basic groups that can be identified as beneficiaries of anticipated wealth to be created by the New Providence and Cianci’s boosterism: the residents, the business community, outside investors, and the public at large. To determine the prime beneficiary of Cianci’s efforts, it is necessary to delve into the marketing of the New Providence and Cianci’s role in it.

CASE STUDY ■

Place Marketing, Boosterism, and the New Providence

The concept of place marketing comes from Europe, where several old cities have promoted themselves as world-class tourist centers. For generations, these cities have catered to the tourist trade. Cities that once featured their manufacturing prowess, ancient castles, and cultural traditions have now converted their factories into museums, their mansions into hotels, and their workers into tourist guides. Cities like London, Paris, Madrid, and Prague make substantial amounts of their income from tourism. They are examples of place marketing on a global scale, appealing to a wide spectrum of the world’s traveling public. The purpose of this marketing is to lure people with disposable incomes to these cities. Holcomb (1993: 133) observed that the “primary goal of the place marketer is to construct a new image of the place to replace either a vague or negative image previously held by current or potential residents, investors and visitors.” Delivering a credible new image message to the public requires extraordinary skills and unusual ability to stay with the message. Throughout his long political career, Cianci has been the principal public spokesperson for place marketing Providence. Thus far he has kept his city engaged. The New Providence message of entrepreneurialism seems to be working. The public is not only supportive of the mayor’s effort to create a new image but tolerates his idiosyncratic and self-serving behavior. He is the merchant of the New Providence. Shameless boosterism is now the norm in Providence. Cianci has taken Providence to an advanced level of boosterism. R. Miranda and D. Rosdil (1995: 873–874) describe boosterism such as that Cianci practices as the celebration of “unfettered markets

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

200

Page 200

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

[that] seek[s] to impose as few restrictions on the investment process as possible; it exalts the value of efficiency over social objectives such as distributive justice.” When asking how one would describe the New Providence, Mayor Cianci answered, “A historical revitalized urban center.” He claims that Providence is one of the new centers for arts and the entertainment world. Relentlessly pitching his city to America is how Cianci defined his leadership of Providence. This “civic jingoism” has been linked to a “redemptive ideology of locality.” Regarding this point, K. Cox and A. Mair (1988: 318–319) observe: “Localist ideologies, promulgated by the business coalition exploit that feeling of loss by propagating a redemptive sense of identity. . . . Redemptive ideologies allow the business coalition to construct a sense of identity with a locality in which our place is pitted against other places in an ongoing struggle.” In other words, residents of the city are being led to believe that they deserve a New Providence and that they are a critical part of the new undertaking. This New Providence can work if the people keep their faith in the city leadership and believe in themselves. The spatial identity of Providence and, by inference, the identity of each resident are at stake. Once residents have been convinced that they need a new identity, the Providence growth coalition provides them with a manufactured one based on malls, arts, and entertainment. The expanded new service and retail industries in the New Providence, its advocates insist, will bring new jobs and, more important, a new sense of pride. The creation of the urban spectacle in Providence clearly is being enhanced by the charisma of Mayor Cianci. Apparently, people at all levels of society believe him when he promises a new identity for the city. They are being told that he has the personality to attract the media and upscale spenders to the city. Although the majority of the city’s residents are low-scale consumers, they appear to see no contradiction in following the leadership of a mayor who wants their support in investing their tax money to create upscale retail businesses. Mayor Cianci credits himself with the current fortunes of Providence. In the July 17, 1997, edition of the Detroit News, he exclaimed: “Look at it [Providence]. . . . Name me any mayor in America who wouldn’t want this in his city. It’s Venice.” He unabashedly asserts: “I want to be remembered as a mayor who had a vision” (Olson 1998: 37). Cianci might also have added that he would like to be remembered as a mayor whose vision actually materialized. On the surface it appears to have done just that. According to one Providence observer, “When Cianci first stepped into the mayor’s office in 1974,

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 201

VINCENT CIANCI—PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND

201

Providence was a ghost town. . . . We were in dire straits. . . . The downtown was deserted and the neighborhoods were in rough shape” (Kelly 1997: 10). By June 1997, though, Utne Reader ranked Providence ninth on a list of the ten most enlightened cities. It was called “bright lights, bright city.” Swing, a magazine for the twenty-something set, called Providence one of the ten best places to live (Milgrom 1997: 64). Providence also has been rated as the “best” place for artists to live. In a 1997 Brown University survey of 407 registered voters, 74 percent said downtown Providence looked better than it did five years before. Only 9 percent said it looked worse and 17 percent were unsure (Milgrom 1997: 64). The survey found that people were more likely to visit downtown Providence for dinning and entertainment than for other uses: 25 percent of state residents said that they had gone to downtown Providence five times or more in the previous year for dinning or entertainment (West et al. 1997: 1). Apparently, state employees, yuppies, and members of the arts and entertainment communities find the city amenable to their nontraditional lifestyles. Downcity (i.e., central Providence) is now the place to live for the urbane New Englander. Providence has become a genuine part of the art scene and not just because it is the home for the Rhode Island School of Design. The city has reached out to the art community and made it feel welcome. Artists pay no state sales tax on what they earn, and art buyers are exempt from sales taxes. Few cities can match the city’s welcome mat for artists. Mayor Cianci will tell anyone his city is the “Renaissance city” (Milgrom 1997: 67). He spares no hyperbole in his promotion of the city and himself. The question is whether the Providence renaissance is sustainable. As J. Teaford (1990) points out, history is replete with stories of rough roads to renaissance. Part of the problem relates to the election of what Teaford calls the “Messiah mayors,” that is, mayors who are expected to save their cities by themselves. Indeed, Cianci is not in many ways the prototype of a “Messiah mayor.” In his first term as mayor, he didn’t speak or behave in messianic terms, nor did he represent himself as the savior of the city. When Cianci returned to office, however, he embraced a more messianic persona. Some background information is necessary to understand this transformation.

■

Vincent Cianci and Providence Politics

The politics of Providence changed with the departure of the city patricians, once denizens of the old Providence. For much of the

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

202

Page 202

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

nineteenth century and for the first two decades of the twentieth century, Republicans controlled the city council and the important political decisions in city government. Although Providence had an independently elected mayor, that office possessed few formal powers and was no match for the city council. In addition, Republican control was cemented throughout much of this period by a property ownership requirement for voting in city council elections. Thus though the state was 66 percent Democrat and mostly immigrants, these persons generally had no property and could vote only in mayoral elections. In 1928 the property requirement for voting for the city council was dropped from the state constitution. This triggered the so-called Green revolution, named after Theodore Green, a Yankee Democrat who was elected governor in 1935. With the emergence of a new powerful white ethnic immigrant voting bloc, the Democrats took over state politics and control of the Providence city council. The old weak-mayor form of government was not suited to the new politics of Providence. The 1940 charter revision created a strong-mayor form of government that downgraded the power of the city council. In 1951 the Rhode Island state legislature also adopted home rule provisions. These structural changes created a new political context for Providence. It was now possible to set up a mayoralcentered governing regime, a regime that after only two decades would be led by the colorful Cianci. In the 1970s the Democratic Party was controlled by the old Irish. It was difficult for politicians of Italian American descent to break into Irish clubhouse politics. For this reason, Cianci started his political career in the early 1970s as a Republican assistant attorney general. In 1974 he entered his first campaign for mayor. According to Cianci, when he first ran for that office he had no name recognition. Somehow, though, he was able to build a campaign, embrace the right issues, and win a close election by a mere 709 votes. This winning margin came from the liberal east side, university, and minority communities. Elected mayor at the age of thirty-three, Cianci was the city’s first Italo-American mayor. He has now dominated Providence politics for over twenty-five years. In the early years, though, Cianci was the major political figure in a city rapidly succumbing to urban decline. Cianci came into office at one of the worst economic periods in Rhode Island history. The navy yard in Newport was closed by President Richard Nixon, and the state had a 15 percent unemployment rate. This was followed by the 1974 oil embargo and a recession during Gerald Ford’s administration.

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 203

VINCENT CIANCI—PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND

203

In his first terms (1974–1984), Cianci concentrated on getting federal monies for Providence. He applied for most of the federal development grants and used the money for projects ranging from parks to community development. Cianci was able to forge a relationship with many of the so-called community leaders in the various ethnic communities. By all accounts Cianci was a traditional middlesized-city mayor, forming election coalitions, allocating patronage, and building a strong political organization. It was during this period Cianci was able to create personal relationships with the nascent minority leaders. In 1984 Cianci’s career came crashing to the ground. He was forced to resign his office after he attacked a man for having an affair with his wife. He appeared before the Rhode Island Superior Court, pleaded no contest to assault charges, and received five years probation. Meanwhile, the city was sinking into a big corruption scandal. Cianci was never charged, but thirty members of his former administration were indicted on charges of extortion, larceny, and conspiracy. In assessing this period in Providence history, reporters E. Mehren and K. Tumulty (1991: 1) write that “coupled with the corruption sweep at city hall, Cianci’s felony conviction and ignominious exit from office only added to a curious mix of pride and self-loathing among Rhode Islanders—and a perception outside the state that Rhode Island’s eccentricities are not always endearing or amusing.” Cianci was contrite regarding the incident about his wife. He said: “I had one mistake that I paid the price for. Life goes on” (Mehren and Tumulty 1991: 2). Life did go on as Joseph Paolino Jr., son of the largest real estate owner in the city and president of the city council, became acting mayor. In 1986 Paolino was elected to a full term as mayor. During Paolino’s four years in office, plans for the New Providence were getting under way. The Capital Center Commission was established, Providence’s railroad tracks were moved underground, and the river was rerouted. A broad array of economic leaders was behind the redevelopment plans for the city. They included some old wealth as well as the nouveau riche white ethnics. White ethnics also were ensconced in critical political and economic positions. For example, Joseph DiStefano, in his capacity as chair of the Capital Center Commission, president and general counsel for the Providence and Worchester Railroad, and chair of the Rhode Island Board of Elections, became a major figure in the economic decisions for the New Providence. The mold for the New Providence was being set, and all that was needed was a salesman. That salesman

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

204

Page 204

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

was found when Buddy Cianci reentered Providence politics and took over once again as mayor. Because his no contest plea had resulted in his resignation, Cianci had not been part of Providence politics or the planning for the New Providence that took place during Paolino’s term as mayor. Cianci, though, was anxious to return to city politics. In 1990 he got his opportunity when a Rhode Island court ruled that Cianci’s plea was not a conviction, and therefore under Rhode Island law he was not disqualified from running for public office. With this legal victory in hand, Cianci entered the 1990 mayoral election as an independent and won in a three-way race by 317 votes. He said later: “I just feel like I fell asleep and woke up and was back in office again” (Mehren and Tumulty 1991: 1). Cianci’s return to political prominence can be attributed in part to the weakened state of Providence’s political parties. They can no longer be relied upon to mobilize party identifiers in municipal elections. As in most places today, candidates for public office in Providence are self-starters and run candidate-centered rather than party-centered campaigns. Thus elections are now little more than name recognition contests, and Cianci’s name recognition was high, even after being out of office for four years. Cianci also succeeded in resurrecting his political career because he is a risk taker. His first run for mayor in 1974 as a largely unknown assistant attorney general is evident of this style. So, too, is his 1990 campaign to return to office. His risk-taking style is captured as well in his exuberant embrace of the strong-mayor form of government and the authority it gives him to act. For example, in explaining why Providence has surpassed Hartford, Connecticut, in the race to be New England’s second city (just behind Boston), Cianci credits in part the presence of a strong-mayor form of government in his city and Hartford’s resistance to establishing that form. He asserts: “If you’re going to have a mayor, have a mayor that can fall or rise with his or her own ideas . . . someone who is accountable with the power to make things happen” (Swift 1997: 10). In addition to being a risk taker, Cianci has been described as not being overly partisan. But neither is he a reformer. To the contrary, he has been described as running the city like a “latter day Boss Tweed” (Berson 1994: 14). He has also been described as a hardball politician with a gift for attracting flattering publicity. Although he juggles several interests at once, most groups have a favorable opinion of him. Like Detroit’s Coleman Young, Cianci has been able to “assume command, project a vision, and prevent internecine strife” (Rich 1989: 36).

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 205

VINCENT CIANCI—PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND

■

205

Components of Cianci’s New Providence

The New Providence that Cianci promotes so well is one that partly trades on its close proximity to Boston. Located only 40 miles from Boston, with easy access by rail and car, Providence benefits from the spillover from the Boston economy. Providence also seems to be at a takeoff stage, particularly when compared to its much-maligned competitor city, Hartford. It seems to have more development assets at its disposal than Hartford. The ocean and two rivers—the Moshassuck and Woonasquatucket—are now at the service of the city. The city’s main wharf has over 4,000 feet of berthing space, which makes it a player in the shipping industry. The city also is in a great position to attract upscale waterfront property seekers. Though close to Boston, Cianci’s New Providence is reinventing itself so dramatically that it can no longer be thought of as only an appendage of that city. It now lays claim to being a very separate and distinct city. This has come about in part because the governing regime made an important marketing move when it decided to exempt the art community from sales taxes and provide a tax abatement to the mall. This development strategy is consistent with Paul Peterson’s (1981) market theory of urban politics. Accordingly, the city has attracted investors by using its tax code and amenities. The investors have created new retail businesses, residents, and traffic in Downcity. Cianci has also lobbied for federal funds for construction. The $1.1 billion spent on construction since 1990 includes large hunks of federal grants. Cianci takes full credit for the funneling of this money to Providence, noting, “You’ve heard of the movie ‘Other People’s Money.’ My forte was getting other people’s money” (Kelly 1997: 1). As the would-be second city in New England, Providence enjoys a perfect location as an arts and entertainment center. The Rhode Island Convention Center, a 350,000-square-foot, four-story facility with a 100,000-square-foot exhibit hall, is state owned but managed by a semiprivate corporation. The Providence Civic Center is a 14,500-seat facility with over 80,000 square feet of exhibit space. The city has enough meeting and exhibit space to handle a mediumsize convention. In addition, $100 million has been spent rerouting rivers and putting railroad tracks underground to create Waterplace Park. Mayor Cianci exclaimed: “We have moved more than railroad tracks and rivers. We have moved the heart and soul of an entire city” (McVicar 1996: 1). The riverfront development also has created space for the new $450-million Providence Place Complex Mall. Scheduled to open in

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

206

Page 206

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

August 1999, the 1.3-million-square-foot mall, which partially opened in August 1999, will house such upscale stores as Nordstrom, Brooks Brothers, and Lord & Taylor. Once it is completed, it will be the largest enclosed mall in New England. With 165 stores and parking for 4,000 cars, the mall expects to serve 10 million shoppers a year. Seven new movie theaters also are scheduled to open. The mall is a flagship development, and the Nordstrom store is critical to its success (Hall and Hubbard 1996: 162). Cianci asserts that the mall will “make Chestnut Hill [a high-end mall in Newton, Massachusetts, a suburb of Boston] look like a Kmart” (Coakley 1995: 83). The new mall, with ground-level gardens leading to Woonasquatucket River, will be located a short walk from highly touted riverfront restaurants. The city has promoted the development of these restaurants through a low-interest loan program. As a result, the city has a growing reputation for great Italian restaurants such as Capriccio. In 1997 the National Culinary Review compared Boston and Providence restaurants; it rated the latter better. Mayor Cianci takes great pride in the city’s reputation for fine cuisine. He asserts: “Naturally, I was pleased that Providence triumphed in the Providence-Boston restaurant challenge. I tasted victory all along, and now it’s time to savor it. The quality of this city’s dining scene is world class, so it’s only natural that the people’s choice would be Providence” (Beaulieu 1997: 6). Yet despite all of this new development, Providence has only 787 guest rooms in its downtown hotels. Four new hotels are planned. The Providence Biltmore has been restored and is located in the middle of town. Westin Hotel, the newest and most attractive hotel, is located near the financial district. The other hotels are budget facilities, not magnets for conventions. Elmer Cornwell, a Brown University political scientist and longtime observer of state and local politics in Rhode Island, cites two additional problems associated with the strategy to build a New Providence. In the city of Providence, the majority (52 percent) of land-based property is tax exempt. Fifteen percent of that is homestead exemption. Overall, the city cannot expect any property tax income from 38 percent of its land base. Nor can the city annex more land or expand its boundary for tax purposes. There is no vacant space in the city; it is built up to its boundaries. He concedes that the new Providence Place Mall will create some new jobs, but he worries because it will not increase the city tax base. Cornwell opines: “The city gave up a tax concession in order to get the Providence Place Mall. It [Providence] will only get a flat fee of $200,000 a year. If they [the mall developers] had to pay their real asset value, they

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 207

VINCENT CIANCI—PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND

207

would not be profitable.” Central to the whole city makeover, then, the mall clearly is not without risk. Again Cornwell observes: They will be taking people from the other malls. They plan to bring out the out-of-staters to the mall. Maybe they are right. I hope they are. . . . Taking from other malls will leave a vast expansion of tarmac where malls used to be. I don’t know how to make this mall work without making the other malls weaker. The mall is subsidized by the state and city. If it doesn’t make a profit with that, I don’t know what will.

The new mall is just one part of the built environment. Another magnet for tourists is the expanded and accessible T. F. Green Airport, which received a $209-million upgrade. In 1993 there were 187,032 boarding passengers, but by 1996 the number had risen to 288,153. Given all the traffic problems of Logan Airport in Boston, Green has emerged as the regional airport for southern New England. It has recently added new carriers, including the discount Southwest Airlines. The new electrified Amtrak rail service between Boston and Washington will help Providence bill itself as a short ride from New York. Moreover, the pitch for new people and businesses suggests that Providence is no longer staking its future on its manufacturing industries, including its well-known costume jewelry industry. It is now invested in the so-called FIRE industries (financial, investment, research, and education). Besides banks, insurance companies, American Express, and Data General, Providence is the home of several tax-exempt educational institutions such as Brown University, Rhode Island School of Design, Johnson and Wales University, and Providence College. More important, its hospital and health sections are major job creators. These institutions contribute approximately $60 million of actual revenue for the state economy and account for 5.6 percent of the entire state gross product. They also attract a different type of worker to Providence and need a different set of amenities. The service economy of the city includes health facilities such as Lifespan, a holding company for the merged facilities of Rhode Island Hospital and Miriam Hospital. Both are affiliated with Brown University and care for about 40,000 patients annually. The Hasbro Children’s Hospital and Emma Bradley Hospital, a pediatric psychiatric facility, are also a part of Lifespan. Other hospitals include a women’s and infants’ hospital, the Roger Williams Hospital, and a Veterans Administration hospital. Additional sources of service employment are financial institu-

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

208

Page 208

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

tions such as the Citizen Bank of Rhode Island, with $5 billion in assets. The Fleet Financial Group, now an $87-billion company, was started in Providence in 1791. They have since bought several smaller banks and moved to Boston. This was a great loss, but if Boston rental costs continue to go up, more companies may see Providence as an alternative headquarters site. In such cases Providence’s proximity to Boston matters. It allows the city to be a free rider in the overall development of the Boston metropolitan region. Indeed, Patrick Moscaritolo, president of the Greater Boston Convention and Visitors Bureau, asserts: “Providence is actually part of our sell when we’re selling Boston as the hub of New England” (Dye 1997: 5b). Given all these assets and resources, why are there naysayers?

■

Assessing Cianci’s New Providence

■

A New Providence for Everyone?

Mayor Cianci skillfully pitches his New Providence as a race-neutral utopia. On closer inspection, though, it appears less race neutral than race exclusive. Minorities are not featured in the New Providence. Marketing materials for the city do not show photographs of smiling African Americans, Asians, or Latinos. Despite visible minority elected officials, there is not a single minority individual at the center of decisionmaking for the New Providence. This exclusion appears due in part to Cianci’s carefully neutralizing potential opposition groups. He, his allies, and the media construe those who attempt to challenge his vision as voices of negativism or pessimism. Thus the political discourse on the New Providence is dominated by the economic vision outlined by Mayor Cianci. This exclusion of persons of color in the promotion of the New Providence, however, does not square with population trends. Since 1980 the city population rose from 156,804 to 160,728, an increase of 2.5 percent. For the first time in decades, the city’s Hispanics outnumber blacks. There are 24,984 Latinos, or 15.5 percent of the population in the city; blacks make up 14.8 percent of the population. Recently the city also has seen an influx of Southeastern Asians, particularly Cambodians, Hmong, and Vietnamese. Asians now compose 6 percent of the population. The new immigrants of color pose a different set of images and political problems for the city. For a variety of historical reasons, blacks are better organized politically than their Latino and Asian counterparts. African

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 209

VINCENT CIANCI—PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND

209

Americans came to Providence during an era of strong political parties and highly developed patronage systems. They have been able to elect representatives in the city council and state government. Yet black neighborhoods in Providence are no better off than they are in other New England communities. In the New Providence, there is still job and residential discrimination. ■

Separate Providences

As the city enters the new millennium, it faces a serious debate over the so-called downtown versus neighborhood rehabilitation strategies. Mayor Cianci has been very careful to make sure some of the Urban Development Action Grant funds are spent in the neighborhoods. Every neighborhood gets new sidewalks. The neighborhood centers are staffed by grassroots people. At the time of this study, though, there was very little or no organized opposition to downtown development that could result in greater resource allocation to Providence’s neighborhoods. Most of the ethnic and racial organizations, such as the Urban League, South Providence Development Corporation, Progresso Latino, and Center for Hispanic Policy and Advocacy, are service oriented. There is no overall alliance of groups dedicated to protect the interest of minorities in the New Providence. No agency is raising concerns that most of the newly created jobs will be low-wage, dead-end jobs. This is not to say African American and Hispanic groups have not pushed for more minority construction contracts. The Commonwealth Development Group—the Providence Place Mall developer—has established a goal of seeking to award 20 percent of all work to women and minorities. Overall though, the impact of macroeconomic decisions such as downtown development or the well-being of residents has been kept off the city agenda. Rather, elected officials focus on issues such as crime, drugs, housing, and welfare, issues that are amenable to attention-arousing rhetoric and casework. These recurrent quality-of-life issues, however, screen out debates over macroeconomic issues such as who gets what, when, and how in the New Providence that Cianci promotes so well. By juxtaposing the New Providence as a potential cornucopia of small opportunities and new jobs against the old Providence as a sure road to the economic abyss, the governing elite has been able to induce quiescence among the residents. This is done within the context of a continuing supply of new immigrant labor. These individuals are the least likely to raise such questions or to vote; they do not perceive the macroeconomic issues as threatening. Absent any massive urban-renewal-type displacement, it is unlikely

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

210

Page 210

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

that a radical critique of the advancing economic arrangements inherent in the New Providence will ever take place. This lack of a macroeconomic discourse is a classic example of nondecisionmaking, that is, the governing elites’ ability to frame the issues in the subcommunities and keep certain items off the decision agenda (Bachrach and Baratz 1970). Although Mayor Cianci is apparently sensitive to ethnic leaders and their organizations, it is clear that all are not benefiting from the New Providence. Instead, the various groups are living in separate Providences. For example, though the state population of Hispanics is growing at a rapid pace, whites seem to be oblivious to them and are more likely to report contact with African Americans and Jews than with Latinos. This suggests that Hispanics are not seen as a threat to whites. In terms of interethnic interactions, Asians have contact with a broader spectrum of other groups, whites have a narrower spectrum of contacts (Urban Associates 1998). Accordingly, it appears that in Providence there is a lack of social interaction and communication among the various enclaves of ethnic groups. Blacks and Hispanics seem to be working together on some issues such as a school dropout program. Whites and Asians, though, seem to be going it alone. Overall, this separation is not a good sign for the pending New Providence. In addition to living in separate Providences, racial groups have differing perceptions of their quality of life in the New Providence. In a survey entitled Rhode Island Race Relations Study, whites were found to be more satisfied with the quality of their lives than minorities, and Asians were found to be more satisfied than African Americans and Hispanics. This dissatisfaction among minorities appears to be attributed in part to income disparities. The study reported that African Americans were least satisfied with their household income (Urban Associates 1998). Second-generation nonwhites may expect more out of the city’s new and expanded economy. The inclusion of nonwhites in that economy will be difficult unless they are better educated. Given the reputation of Providence’s public schools, this is unlikely. ■

The Achilles’ Heel of the New Providence

The Providence public schools may be the Achilles’ heel of this entrepreneurial city so characterized by Cianci’s boosterism. Providence public schools seem to have all the problems associated with inner-city life. At $7,200 per student, Providence schools cost

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 211

VINCENT CIANCI—PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND

211

the second lowest in the state. Cianci seems quite aware of how the poor state of the public schools can undermine all that is being built in the New Providence. Cianci readily acknowledges the problem and has fought for more state aid. Although the city has received much of the state aid it has requested, it has not been enough to reverse the downward trend of Providence inner-city schools. A continuing problem for the Providence schools is the special needs of its minority students. Although composing only 30 percent of the city’s population, minorities make up 78 percent of the student population of 26,646. Hispanics make up 44 percent of the students in Providence public schools and are the largest single group represented in this population. In contrast, white students account for only 22 percent of the school population. In effect, Providence schools do not look like the rest of the state of Rhode Island. Commenting on the problems with Providence public schools, Cornwell observes that there has been an increase in the influx of immigrants. . . . This is a disadvantaged population with lots of kids. There is a need for bilingual education. Rhode Island spends more per student than most states yet our scores are terrible. The teacher unions are very powerful. Unions have fought charter schools. We have the worst charter school legislation in the nation.

Cornwell’s assessment notwithstanding, charter schools have supporters among leaders in Providence’s minority community. Dennis Langley, the executive director of the Urban League, explained why he backs the school charter system: he is both “opposed to social promotions in the [public] schools” and believes that “our students are not [being] equipped with academic skills to meet the world of work.” In assessing the sustainability of the New Providence, Cornwell observes that “education is the most pressing problem” for Mayor Cianci. School politics, though, are extremely complicated and largely dominated by a public school cartel consisting of a coalition of school activists, union leaders, and board of education bureaucrats who can easily defeat school reform measures (Rich 1996). Mayors, even those as skilled as Cianci, are no match for school politicians. Indeed, Cianci has yet to confront the public school cartel in Providence about the quality of education there. Instead, he has concentrated on changing the state formula for school funding. This may be politically wise, but unless the governance and curriculum of the schools are addressed, the prospects for marginalized groups’ becoming full partners in the New Providence are dim.

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

212 ■

Page 212

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

Lessons Learned

One of the problems of writing about Mayor Vincent Cianci and Providence is that one finds oneself drawn into the new image of the city. It is almost as if he is saying: “We are doing great things here, and your job as a reporter is to tell the world about our city.” One is never quite sure whether there are great forces driving the remaking of Providence with Mayor Cianci as its drum major or whether Cianci is a tireless image maker pulling his city into the next millennium. What emerges from this review of Cianci’s vision of the New Providence and his boosterism is a portrait of a city of enhanced opportunities, with businesspersons and investors as the prime beneficiaries and the residents as secondary beneficiaries. In fact, the New Providence may emerge at the expense of old distressed neighborhoods (Molotch 1993). Using Cleveland and Pittsburgh as his case studies, B. Holcomb (1993: 142) concludes that “a tautological relationship exists between the product and the packaging of post-industrial American cities.” One can observe some of this tension between the product and the package in the New Providence. So far, the selling of the city has been without serious and effective opposition. Rather, as Holcomb (1993: 141) fears, the “deconstructed discourses of the packaged newly post-industrial cities replicate the same images, amenities, and potentials and contain the same silences with respect to poverty, race and blight.” In other words, neither the city’s reinvention nor Cianci’s boosterism will change Providence’s social stratification. Cianci seems aware that a new facade will not cover the city’s poverty and blight. He does believe, however, that by promoting the New Providence, he will attract a more gentrified constituency. A cynic would say he is hoping that a rising tide will lift all boats. He will not admit it, but in order for Cianci’s scheme to work, Providence needs to be seen as a city friendly to upper-middle-class whites. Herein lies the irony: the more successful the city is, the more it will attract the poor and minorities. Finally, the city’s decision to build a downtown mall is a bold gamble about which Mayor Cianci asserts: “Every mayor in America salivates about that project.” As previously pointed out, though, locating a mall downtown is not without its perils. The 1997 Brown University poll of state residents found that only 8 percent of state residents have gone downtown to shop. In order for the downtown mall to work, this percentage will have to increase dramatically. Retail shoppers, however, are a fickle bunch. They will go where the new lights are. Keeping them happy shoppers who will return

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 213

VINCENT CIANCI—PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND

213

requires bells and whistles. Even the most expensive product has a limited shelf life. The history of downtown malls is not encouraging. The much-celebrated New Haven, Connecticut, downtown mall built in the 1970s failed. In other cities the results have been mixed. Modeled after such malls in larger cities, these projects are designed to outmall the suburban malls. Some malls will react by closing their doors, others by shifting their marketing to a different clientele. Still others will take downtown on by reinventing themselves as discount outlets. These economic actions and reactions underscore that some type of regional planning and cooperation is needed if Providence hopes to avoid being undercut by Boston and its suburbs. Upstarts do make an initial big splash, but once they start taking business from Boston malls, more competition is inevitable. The New Providence’s chances for sustained growth rest on the continued boom of the New England economy. The region has made a remarkable comeback since the recession of the 1980s. This growth is due mainly to the computer software and biomedical research industries. The city’s chances for success are also enhanced by being blessed with one of the nation’s best boosters. Selling Providence has become Buddy Cianci’s lifework, and he loves his work. His support is not just the wages of bonhomie; he obviously has tapped into the redemptive needs of his constituency. The secrets of Cianci’s success as mayor are the pro-growth coalition’s claims that there is money to be made in the New Providence; redemption is right around the corner, and the city’s future depends upon faith in his leadership. As Providence prepares to go into the new century, it is nearing a transition crisis as it also prepares to enter a post-Cianci era. Cianci has won reelection for an unprecedented sixth term, primarily because he has maintained the confidence of both his core constituency of working-class ethnic voters and members of the governing coalition such as Providence’s economic elites. Cianci also has enjoyed the advantages of incumbency, including visible achievements, plentiful campaign funds, and name recognition. Nor has he had any serious challenger in his last three campaigns. In an earlier work on Detroit Mayor Coleman Young, I observed that “few mayors hope to be a mayor ‘for all seasons’” (Rich 1989: 26). Cianci, though, does see himself as a mayor for all seasons. During his first term, he ran as a reform candidate and later as a Messiah mayor. The political environment changed, and Cianci was able to reinvent himself yet again. Cianci’s chameleon personality is part of what has endeared him to his constituency. He has been able to partially meld his personality with the image of the New Providence. One day it will be necessary to separate the two and

B-13

12/8/09

12:59 PM

214

Page 214

MAYORS AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT

move to an era without Cianci at the helm. For Providence to sustain itself, Cianci’s charisma will have to be replaced by more and other less-personalized, traditional, and permanent aspects of governing and sustainability. Whether Cianci really possesses any or all of the master sales skills attributed to him by the press and his constituency is not at issue. What matters is that this reputation is attributed to him by others. Moreover, it is difficult, if not impossible, to institutionalize charisma. If the new governing elite is successful in creating the New Providence with Cianci’s superboosterism, it also has to prepare itself for the next leader. The transition to the post-Cianci era will have to be made, and it could be difficult.

B-14

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 217

14 Mayoral Leadership in Middle-Sized Cities James R. Bowers and Wilbur C. Rich

Bernard Bass (1990: 8) writes that “leadership is often regarded as the single most critical factor in the success or failure of institutions.” Although perhaps not the single most important factor, leadership is crucial to the sustainability of middle-sized cities, and that is a fundamental premise upon which this book rests. An additional premise is recognition of Stone’s (1995: 97–98) assessment that mayoral leadership occurs when mayors are change agents, when they “impact on the flow of events” in such a way that “something happens that would otherwise not take place.” For Stone, the something that ought to happen is change that reallocates or redistributes from haves to have-nots. Both innovation and conservation—the latter being defined as the halting of a trend or the heading off of a threat that can undermine a city’s continued sustainability (Stone 1995)—can bring about this change. As the case studies presented in the preceding chapters highlight, there is a relationship between innovation and conservation. The case studies underscore that mayoral leadership more often than not is aimed at conservation. The innovations that do take place seem pointed more at stabilizing the consequences of long-term and negative trends and conserving what remains of their cities after years of urban decline, white and middle-class flight, public safety issues, fiscal crisis, decaying neighborhoods, and poorly performing public schools. Thus Youngstown Mayor Patrick Ungaro turned to an innovative brownfield redevelopment plan to conserve and reverse the economic downturn his city experienced with the closing of its steel mills. Similarly, Biloxi Mayor A. J. Holloway turned to casino

217

B-14

12/8/09

12:59 PM

218

Page 218

CONCLUSION

gambling to reverse the decline in that city’s traditional tourism industry. In varying degrees, the case studies also demonstrate that mayoral leadership can bring about redistributive change. Birmingham Mayor Richard Arrington engaged in a type of redistributive leadership by reining in that city’s racist police department and improving the relationship between it and Birmingham’s African American communities. Both Jackson Mayor Kane Ditto’s and St. Petersburg Mayor David Fisher’s efforts at promoting the political incorporation of their African American community into city government and politics and Rochester Mayor William A. Johnson Jr.’s effort to shift power away from that city’s education cartel also suggest redistributive leadership. In contrast, the economic development strategies of Rockford Mayor Charles Box, Elizabeth Mayor J. Christian Bollwage, and Providence Mayor Vincent Cianci underscore that everything described as leadership in the preceding chapters does not satisfy Stone’s (1995) criteria for change-producing leadership. Bollwage, Box, and Cianci focused almost exclusively on traditional economic development that benefited the “haves” of their cities, particularly those belonging to the growth coalitions. Previous research (e.g., Ammons and Newell 1989; Banfield 1965) also establishes that a city’s political-governing environment affects the likelihood that successful change-producing mayoral leadership will occur. This environment includes the structure of city government, particularly the formal powers of the mayor. It also includes such important contextual variables as the city’s history, ethnicity, economy, and political traditions. Collectively, these political-governing variables define the extent to which mayors are at the center of their city’s leadership environment. More often than not, mayors, particularly elected ones, come to recognize that although they may be at the political centers of their cities, they are not necessarily at the centers of those cities’ political and economic power (Rich 1989: 25). Thus the successful managing of the political-governing environment in which they act becomes crucial to their ability to lead and bring about desired change. This interplay of political-governing environmental variables and mayoral reactions to them runs throughout the leadership efforts of the twelve mayors presented in the case studies. Several of the mayors had to contend with a change from council-manager government to strong-mayor form of government. Thus Jackson Mayor Kane Ditto had to build and institutionalize that office, as his predecessor had largely ignored doing so. In a somewhat different vein,

B-14

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 219

MAYORAL LEADERSHIP IN MIDDLE-SIZED CITIES

219

Grand Rapids Mayor John Logie has experienced jurisdictional concerns over local autonomy as he has pushed forward with his metropolitan rebate proposal. The case studies also suggest that the political-governing environment with which mayors have to contend can either hinder or help their leadership efforts. A tradition of illegal gambling ultimately aided Mayor A. J. Holloway’s and others’ efforts first to bring casino gambling to Biloxi and then to expand it. In contrast, to reduce the Birmingham Police Department’s abuse of that city’s African American community, Mayor Richard Arrington had to confront and overcome Birmingham’s traditional southern political culture emphasizing segregation, white supremacy, and the political disenfranchisement of black people. The case studies presented in the preceding chapters additionally reinforce earlier research recognizing the importance of personal or individual variables specific to the mayors themselves for effective leadership. For instance, Rochester Mayor William A. Johnson’s frustration during his first term over education reform of the public school system gives rise to the importance of prior political-governing experience to successful mayoral leadership. Johnson, as discussed in Chapter 6, entered office without any previous electoral or governing experience other than his upset victory in the 1993 Democratic Party primary. As a reform-oriented outsider, he was not sufficiently steeped in the partisan and personal nature of Rochester education politics or its close ties to Monroe County Democratic Party politics. Accordingly, he lacked the political instincts necessary to understand the school board opposition to his reform agenda. This inexperience led Johnson to a number of political miscalculations that contributed to stalled efforts to reform Rochester’s public school system. A similar lack of political experience was evident in Albuquerque Mayor David Rusk. As with Johnson, Rusk was more comfortable with his idea of the “right thing” than with the realities of the city political environment in which he had to govern. His aloof and regal relationship with the Albuquerque city council, difficulties working with that city’s real estate developers, and his inability to maintain or enlarge his electoral coalition sufficient to be reelected to a second term were all rooted, at least in part, in his political inexperience. Closely related to prior experience are the leadership styles mayors employ to bring about change. Several of the mayors studied in the preceding chapters reinforce Rich’s (1989) assertion that a risktaking leadership style is relevant to achieving change-producing

B-14

12/8/09

12:59 PM

220

Page 220

CONCLUSION

leadership. Rich (1989: 34) notes that “risk-taking is an unusual use of power, which is rooted in the belief that power cannot be depleted—that there is an endless supply. The joy of exercising power is thus triggered by its value as a risk and as an endless resource in a game of change.” Rich (1989: 36) also writes that two types of risktaking leadership styles are apparent. The first, reform-oriented risk taking, “loves to experiment . . . and endorse grandiose plans. The more resistance they receive, the more convinced they are that their course is right. They are prone to actions that upset other politicians and attract audiences.” When reform-oriented risk-taking mayors exercise leadership, change can occur. Youngstown Mayor Patrick Ungaro’s willingness to break free of that city’s entrenched Democratic Party organization and his embrace of brownfield redevelopment at a time when such economic development strategies were in their infancy is one example of successful risk taking that produced positive effects for a city’s economic well-being. But as Rochester Mayor Johnson’s first-term frustration with education reform in that city illustrates, the mere willingness to engage in risk taking is not sufficient in and of itself to result in change-producing mayoral leadership. Prior political and governing experience and an understanding of a city’s political-governing environment also are essential to mayoral success. The second kind of risk taking Rich (1989: 35) addresses is partisan oriented. Here, mayors engage in risk taking largely to advance the partisan advantage of their political parties or the political party factions to which they belong. The leadership Elizabeth Mayor J. Christian Bollwage exercised over economic development in that city appears at least in part to reflect this partisan-oriented risk taking. As observed in Chapter 8, Mayor Bollwage risked so much financial and political capital in the development of Jersey Gardens Mall that the ultimate success of his political career rests in the balance. If successful, however, the risk taking associated with the mall’s development would help to secure control over city government and politics for Bollwage and his faction of Elizabeth’s Democratic Party. Unlike reform-oriented risk taking, then, partisan risk taking is less about the community benefits of policy change and more about the political advantage associated with change. Besides reform-oriented risk taking, adopting a program entrepreneur style of leadership also can produce change. As Kotter and Lawrence (1974: 21) describe, in addition to risk taking, a program entrepreneur style of leadership entails originality, initiative, energy, openness, organizational ability, and promotional ingenuity. As the case study on Biloxi Mayor A. J. Holloway suggests, these traits can

B-14

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 221

MAYORAL LEADERSHIP IN MIDDLE-SIZED CITIES

221

come together in ways that enhance mayors’ ability to promote the sustainability of their cities and balance the positive and negative effects of economic development. The chapter on Providence Mayor Vincent Cianci sheds further light on an aspect of entrepreneurial leadership. Its focus on promotional ingenuity, or boosterism, underscores the importance of mayoral marketing and selling of cities to promote their sustainability. Though it is unclear how much of the economic development taking place in Providence originated with Cianci and how much he merely championed private-sector development plans, the case study nevertheless raises the possibility that city booster may be a separate role for some mayors. It is, at the very least, a truncated application of entrepreneurial leadership. Several of the case studies also draw attention to the importance of mayoral leadership styles’ being appropriate for and compatible with both the political-governing environment in which they are carried out and the policy areas to which they are applied. Thus upon being elected Rochester Mayor Johnson’s outsider orientation contributed to frustrating his efforts at bringing about reform in the city’s public school system. It inhibited him from playing the political and partisan roles necessary to achieve that reform. To successfully push his education reform agenda required him to be the city’s top Democrat, something during his first term he steadfastly refused to do. Hartford Mayor Mike Peters also demonstrates a curious link between mayors’ leadership style and the political-governing environment over which they preside. Peters’s style was highly compatible with the Hartford political culture’s rejection of strong mayoral leadership and acceptance of partisan-oriented council-manager government. Yet in this instance the compatibility between the two actually contributed to ineffective mayoral leadership and the forfeiture of leadership responsibility and opportunities to other political and private-sector actors, including the state’s governor and the “new barons.” The case study of St. Petersburg Mayor David Fischer underscores another important facet of mayoral leadership: it is adaptable. Mayor Fischer adapted his leadership style over his three terms from a ceremonial role to a caretaker role to, ultimately, an entrepreneurial role. The first shift accompanied St. Petersburg’s change in form of city government, from council-manager to strong mayor. The mayor’s second change, to a more entrepreneurial style of leadership, appears to have been brought about in part by the riots that erupted in St. Petersburg in 1996 and the need to respond to their causes.

B-14

12/8/09

12:59 PM

222

Page 222

CONCLUSION

Overall, Fischer’s various transformations suggest that mayors can change their leadership style and orientation during their tenure in office in response to changing structural, political, and policy demands. Several of the case studies also stress that mayoral predisposition toward change-oriented leadership, particularly redistributive change, is associated with the personal political ends mayors pursue while in office. As Stone (1995: 109) writes: “Mayoral goals . . . are limited by the ambitions of local executives to move into a larger political arena. The professional politician, looking to move up the career ladder, may leave much of the leadership potential of the mayoralty underdeveloped.” Not only are goals limited by the desire to advance politically, but they also can be limited by the desire to conserve or preserve the position mayors already possess. As previously noted, Elizabeth Mayor Bollwage engaged in some forms of limited risk taking to advance the political fortunes of his faction of the city’s Democratic Party. The same can be said about Rockford’s first African American mayor, Charles Box. Mayor Box defined his own reelection as a principal goal of his administration. To accomplish this goal, he sought the continued support of Rockford’s growth coalition by promoting its development projects rather than engaging in leadership oriented at redistributive change that would benefit Rockford’s African American community. One of the most important observations about the twelve mayors discussed in the preceding chapters is the corroboration of Stone’s (1995: 107) emphasis on the importance of mayors’ controlling the existing governing and political infrastructure, or building new ones that they can control. This control is necessary for exercising effective mayoral leadership and then institutionalizing its goals and achievements. Accomplishing this important organizational task allows mayors to better utilize individual resources to offset contextual constraints on their ability to lead. In so doing, mayors are better able to coalign processes such as agenda setting, network building, and task accomplishment; political-governing environmental factors such as the formal structure of city government and the distribution of community power; and individual factors such as their own personality and governing style (Ammons and Newell 1989; Kotter and Lawrence 1974). Jackson Mayor Kane Ditto clearly understood the significance of a supportive political-governing infrastructure. The emphasis he placed on building both the formal office of mayor that was neglected by his predecessor and community-focused organization attests to this. Grand Rapids Mayor John Logie’s participation in and support

B-14

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 223

MAYORAL LEADERSHIP IN MIDDLE-SIZED CITIES

223

for both the Grand Valley Metropolitan Council and the Urban Core Mayors Association further point to the relationship between a supportive political-governing infrastructure and successful mayoral leadership. Birmingham Mayor Richard Arrington presents perhaps the strongest recognition by any of the twelve mayors of the important connection between a supportive political-governing infrastructure and his own ability to successfully effect change. As pointed out in Chapter 7, a key part of Arrington’s successful leadership was his decision to build a political infrastructure outside of the formal structure of city government. In Birmingham and throughout the county, the Jefferson County Citizens Coalition became the principal organization mobilizing Birmingham’s African American community. Because of its endorsement process, the JCCC also became an organization through which Arrington secured the support of white candidates and officeholders. Through this effective political organization, Arrington also was able to overcome other structural limitations imposed on him through the city’s weak-mayor form of government. Constructing a leadership infrastructure and coaligning processes, structures, and forces that might otherwise constrain their leadership efforts is necessary for mayors if they hope to remain relevant to and participate in defining the long-term sustainability of their cities. When mayors do not learn this and other lessons suggested by the leadership experiences of the twelve mayors reported on in the preceding chapters, their leadership and responsibility for the sustainability of their cities are either transferred or forfeited to other political or economic elites. When this happens, mayors are no longer in any meaningful way at the political centers of their cities. Without this locational advantage, they cannot be change agents, or “persons whose acts affect other people more than other people’s acts affect them” (Bass 1990: 19–20). As a result, both the mayoralty and the individuals who occupy it are diminished, and their cities are denied their most natural and logical source of leadership.

B-14

12/8/09

12:59 PM

Page 224

B-Ref

12/8/09

1:00 PM

Page 225

REFERENCES

Abusalih, A. A. 1994. Casinos, tourism rejuvenation, and coastal landscape impacts Biloxi, Mississippi. M.S. thesis, Department of Geosciences, Mississippi State University. Adams, D., and H. V. Savitch. 1997. Central cities and suburbs. In Ronald K. Vogel (ed.), Handbook of Research on Urban Politics and Policy in the United States. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 170–184. Albritton, R., et al. 1992. A new look at the new black politics. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Political Science Association, Chicago, Ill. Albuquerque, City of. 1980. An Economic Development Strategy for the City of Albuquerque 1980. Albuquerque: Municipal Development Department, Planning Division. Allison, G. 1980. Public and private management: Are they fundamentally alike in all unimportant respects? Proceedings of the Public Management Research Conference. Washington, D.C.: Office of Personnel Management, OPM document 127-53-1, 27–38. Amatos, C. 1981. Experts say old economic woes to linger, but picture should improve. Albuquerque Journal, January 2, A1. Ammons, D. N., and Charldean Newell. 1989. City Executives. Albany: State University of New York Press. Angry words mark debate by candidates. 1977. Albuquerque Journal, September 16, A1–A2. Anyon, J. 1997. Ghetto Schooling: A Political Economy of Urban Educational Reform. New York: Teacher’s College Press, Columbia University. Bachelor, L. 1994. Regime maintenance, solution sets, and urban economic development. Urban Affairs Quarterly 29, no. 4: 596–616. Bachrach, P., and Morton Baratz. 1970. Power and Poverty: Theory and Practice. New York: Oxford University Press. Banfield, E. C. 1965. Big City Politics. New York: Random House.

225

B-Ref

12/8/09

226

1:00 PM

Page 226

REFERENCES

Barnard, C. I. 1938. The Functions of the Executive. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Bass, Bernard M. 1990. Bass and Stogdill’s Handbook of Leadership. New York: Free Press. Bayley, D. H., and Harold Mendelsohn. 1969. Minorities and the Police; Confrontation in America. New York: Free Press. Beaulieu, L. 1997. Divine Providence. National Culinary Review (March): 6–7. Beenstock, M. 1983. The World Economy in Transition. London: George Allen & Unwin. Bellaby, M. D. 1997a. Johnson: Boost Janey’s power. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, March 12, 5A. ———. 1997b. Johnson falls short in meeting school objectives. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, May 20, 7A. Benton, J. E., and John L. Daly. 1993. Providing services in an era of declining fiscal fortunes: The dilemma confronting local government during the 1990’s. Political Chronicle (Spring/Summer 1993): 11–16. Bernick, M. 1987. Urban Illusions. Westport, Conn.: Praeger. Berson, T. 1994. Not just any buddy. Rhode Island Monthly, April 14. Beyle, T. 1996. Governors: The middlemen and women in our political system. In Virginia Gray and Herbert Jacob (eds.), Politics in the American States. Washington, D.C.: CQ Press, 207–252. Bingham, R. D. 1986. State and Local Government in an Urban Society. New York: Random House. Bingham, R. D., and David Hedge. 1991. State and Local Government in a Changing Society. New York: McGraw-Hill. Birritteri, A. 1993. Elizabeth’s redevelopment back on track. New Jersey Business, January, 28–30, 52–53. ———. 1997. New energy transforms Elizabeth. New Jersey Business, April, 81–85. Blake, R., and J. Mouton. 1984. Solving Costly Organizational Conflicts. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Blau, P., and W. R. Scott. 1962. Formal Organizations. San Francisco: Chandler. Blue, F., et al. 1995. Mahoning Memories: A History of Youngstown and Mahoning County. Virginia Beach, Va.: Donning. Bluestone, B., and B. Harrison. 1982. The Deindustrialization of America: Plant Closings, Community Abandonment and the Dismantling of Basic Industry. New York: Basic Books. Bollwage, J. R. 1997. Elizabeth’s urban enterprise zone: Building bridges between government and business. New Jersey Municipalities, June, 12, 46, 48, 50, 51. Bowers, J. R. 1995. Mayors as visionary leaders: Some considerations and illustrations. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Political Science Association. ———. 1997. Two faces of meaningful citizen participation: Neighbors building neighborhoods in Rochester, NY. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Urban Affairs Association. Bowman, A., and R. C. Kearney. 1993. State and Local Government. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Boyer, E. L. 1991. Elementary and secondary education. In David W.

B-Ref

12/8/09

1:00 PM

Page 227

REFERENCES

227

Hornbeck and Lester M. Salamon (eds.), Human Capital and America’s Future. Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 171–192. Browning, R. P. 1997a. Can people of color achieve in city government? The setting and the issues. In R. P. Browning, D. R. Marshall, and D. H. Tabb (eds.), Racial Politics in American Cities. 2nd ed. New York: Longman, 3–13. ———. 1997b. Has political incorporation been achieved? Is it enough? In R. P. Browning, D. R. Marshall, and D. H. Tabb (eds.), Racial Politics in American Cities. 2nd ed. New York: Longman, 277–298. Browning, R. P., D. R. Marshall, and D. H. Tabb. 1985. Protest Is Not Enough: The Struggle of Blacks and Hispanics in Urban Politics. Berkeley: University of California Press. ——— (eds.). 1997. Racial Politics in American Cities. 2nd ed. New York: Longman. Bryson, J. 1988. Strategic Planning for Public and NonProfit Organizations. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Burks, S. 1979. Survey views reasons for tax hike rejection. Albuquerque Journal, February 22, A3. Burns, J. M. 1978. Leadership. New York: Harper and Row. Buss, T. F. 1986. Assessing the accuracy of Bureau of Labor Statistics monthly unemployment rates. Industrial and Labor Relations Review 39: 241–250. Buss, T. F., and F. S. Redburn. 1983a. Mass Unemployment. Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage. ———. 1983b. Shutdown at Youngstown. Albany: State University of New York Press. ———. 1987a. The Fire Runs Out: Long Term Effects of a Plant Shutdown. Detroit: Wayne State University Press. ———. 1987b. Hidden Unemployment: Discouraged Workers and Public Policy. New York: Praeger. Buss, T. F., and Roger J. Vaughan. 1986. Revitalizing the Mahoning Valley. Youngstown, Ohio: Center for Urban Studies, Youngstown State University. Butler, G. 1921. History of Youngstown and the Mahoning Valley, Ohio. Vol. 1. New York: American Historical Society. Caldwell, A. 1991. Fischer, McDonald votes unexpected. St. Petersburg (Fla.) Times February 28. Campbell, A., and H. Schuman. 1969. Racial attitudes in fifteen American cities. Supplemental Studies for the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office. Campbell, B. 1979. The mayor and his aides. Albuquerque Journal, June 10, B1, B4. Cantor, G. 1998. Failure is not an option. Detroit News, February 8. Castells, M., and P. Hall. 1996. Technopoles: Mines and foundries of the informational economy. In R. LeGates and F. Stout (eds.), The City Reader. London: Routledge, 475–483. Clavel, P., and N. Kleniewski. 1990. Space for progressive local policy: Examples from the United States and the United Kingdom. In L. Logan and T. Swanstrom (eds.), Beyond City Limits: Urban Policy and Economic Restructuring in Comparative Perspective. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 199–234.

B-Ref

12/8/09

228

1:00 PM

Page 228

REFERENCES

Coakley, T. 1995. In Rhode Island, a center of pride. Boston Sunday Globe, March 19, 17–19. Collier, L. 1992. West side pride: Can it survive? Rockford Magazine, September, 16–22. Cox, K., and A. M. Mair. 1988. Locality and community in the politics of local economic development. Annals of the Association of American Geographers 78, no. 2: 318–319. Craig, G. 1994b. City to school district: Get with the program. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, November 16, 6E. ———. 1994a. Policy clash at city hall. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, November 3, 1B–2B. Craig, G., and E. Rosenberg. 1994b. School plan arrives without acrimony. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, October 19, 1B. Cunningham, J. V. 1970. Urban Leadership in the Sixties. Cambridge, Mass.: Schenkman. Dahl, R. A. 1961. Who Governs? New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press. ———. 1982. Dilemmas of Pluralist Democracy. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press. Davis, T., and K. D. Margolis. 1997. Brownfields: A Comprehensive Guide to Redeveloping Contaminated Property. Chicago: American Bar Association. Dawson, M. C. 1994. Behind the Mule: Race and Class in AfricanAmerican Politics. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. DeLaMar, R. 1997. A city on the edge. New Jersey Monthly, June, reprint. DeLeon, R. 1992. Left Coast City: Progressive Politics in San Francisco, 1975–1991. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Denhardt, R. 1993. The Pursuit of Significance. Belmont, Calif.: Wadsworth. Denney, G. 1997. Mayor takes a look back. Vindicator, November 23, A5. DiGaetano, A. 1989. Urban political regime formation: A study in contrast. Journal or Urban Affairs 11, no. 3: 261–281. Dunbar, W. F. 1970. Michigan: A History of the Wolverine State. Grand Rapids, Mich.: William B. Eerdmans. Dye, L. 1997. New Providence a model city. Boston Sunday Globe, January 12, B5. Dyer, W. 1987. Team Building. Reading, Mass.: Addison-Wesley. Eadington, W. R. 1995. Economic development and the introduction of casinos: Myths and realities. Economic Development Review (Fall): 51–54. ———. 1996. The legalization of casinos: Police objective, regulatory alternatives, and cost/benefit considerations. Journal of Travel Research 34, no. 3 (Winter): 3–8. Edelman, M. 1964. The Symbolic Uses of Politics. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Eisinger, P. K. 1988. The Rise of the Entrepreneurial State: State and Local Development Policy in the United States. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Elazar, D. J. 1972. American Federalism: A View from the States. New York: Thomas Crowell. Eldersveld, S. 1995. Party Conflict and Community Development: Postwar Politics in Ann Arbor. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

B-Ref

12/8/09

1:00 PM

Page 229

REFERENCES

229

Elizabeth, City of. 1988–1994. Final Statements of Community Development and Projected Uses of Funds. Elizabeth, N.J.: City of Elizabeth. Elizabeth Development Company. 1995–1997. HUD Consolidated Plans. Elizabeth, N.J.: Elizabeth Development Company. ———. 1997. In the Zone, no. 3. Elkin, D. 1995. Testing competing explanations for the adoption of type II policies. Urban Affairs Review 30, no. 6: 809–839. Elkins, S. 1987. City and regime in the American Republic. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Erikson, E. 1958. Young Man Luther: A Study in Psychoanalysis and History. New York: Norton. Fainstein, S., and N. Fainstein. 1989. The ambivalent state economic development policy in the U.S. federal system under the Reagan administration. Urban Affairs Quarterly 25: 41–62. Fasenfest, D. 1986. Community politics and urban development: Poletown, Detroit, and General Motors. Urban Affairs Quarterly 22, 101–123. Faust, F. 1995. Hard-luck southern city bets its future on casinos. St. Louis (Mo.) Post-Dispatch, May 15, 14BP. Ferman, B. 1985. Governing the Ungovernable City: Political Skill, Leadership, and the Modern Mayor. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. ———. 1996. Challenging the Growth Machine. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Fisher, R. 1993. Grassroots organizing worldwide: Common ground, historical roots, and the tension between democracy and state. In R. Fisher and J. Klings (eds.), Mobilizing the Community: Local Politics in the Era of the Global City. Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1–27. Franckiewicz, V. J. 1993. The states ante up: An analysis of casino gaming statutes. Loyola Law Review 38: 1123–1157. Franklin, J. L. 1989. Back to Birmingham: Richard Arrington, Jr. and His Times. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. Frey Foundation. 1997. Today’s Winners—Tomorrow’s Losers: How Urban, Suburban and Rural Areas of Greater Grand Rapids Are Being Threatened by Urban Sprawl. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Frey Foundation. Frieden, B. J., and L. B. Sagalyn. 1989. Downtown Inc.: How America Rebuilds Cities. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press. Friedman, J., S. Hakim, and J. Weinblatt. 1989. Casino gambling as a “growth pole” strategy and its effect on crime. Journal of Regional Science 29, no. 4: 615–623. Friedrich, R. J. 1980. Police use of force: Individuals, situations, and organizations. Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 452 (November): 82–97. Furuseth, O. 1992. Uneven social and economic development. In I. R. Bowler, C. R. Bryant, and M. D. Nellis (eds.), Contemporary Rural Systems in Transition, Vol. 2: Economy and Society. London: CAB International, 17–28. Garber, J. 1990. Law and the possibilities for a just urban political economy. Journal of Urban Affairs 12, no. 1: 1–15. ———. 1996. Reinventing what? The uncertain context of local government

B-Ref

12/8/09

230

1:00 PM

Page 230

REFERENCES

administration. In J. Gargan (ed.), Handbook of Local Government Administration. New York: Marcel Dekker, 13–29. Gardner, J. 1990. On Leadership. New York: Free Press. Gillette, B. 1998. Imperial palace adds two floors to hotel without permission from city. Mississippi Business Journal, July 6, 1. Gold, J. R. and Stephen V. Ward. 1994. Place Promotion: The Use of Publicity and Marketing to Sell Towns and Regions. Chichester, Sussex: John Wiley. Goldsmith, S. 1997. The Twenty-First Century City. Washington, D.C.: Regnery. Golembiewski, R., and G. Gabris. 1994. Today everyday organization: A diagnostic model for assessing adaptation cycles. Public Administration Review 54: 525–531. Gordon, M. 1995. Buddy Cianci turns his passion for cooking into a recipe for hope. Focus Magazine, July, 6–7. Grand Valley Metropolitan Council. 1997. Mission Statement. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Grand Valley Metropolitan Council. Greenberg, E. S. 1971. Introduction models of the political process: Implications for the black community. In Edward S. Greenberg, Neal Milner, and David J. Olson (eds.), Black Politics: The Inevitability of Conflict. New York: Oxford University Press, 3–15. Greenberg, P. 1992. Not quite the pot of gold. State Legislatures 18 (December): 24–27. Grenell, K., and G. Gabris. 1999. Black Mayor, White Power: A Study in Municipal Politics. New Haven, Conn.: Greenwood. Grinols, E. L. 1995. Gambling as economic policy: Enumerating why losses exceed gains. Illinois Business Review (Spring): 6–12. Gruberg, M. 1996. A Case Study in U.S. Urban Leadership. Brookfield, Vt.: Avebury. Gurwitt, R. 1996. The magician of Hartford. Governing 9 (July): 30–32. Gustke, L. D. 1993. Improving Rural Tourism Extension and Research in the South. Final report submitted to H. Doss Brodnax Jr., director, Southern Rural Development Center, March 29, 1–15. Haeberle, S. H. 1997. Exploring the effects of single-member districts on an urban political system. Urban Affairs Review 33 (November): 287–297. ———. 1998. Community projects and citizen participation. Social Science Quarterly 69 (December): 1014–1021. Hall, P., and P. Hubbard. 1996. The entrepreneurial city: New urban politics, new urban geographies. Progress in Human Geography 20, no. 2: 162. Hamilton, C. 1979. The patron-recipient relationship and minority politics in New York City. Political Science Quarterly 94 (Summer): 211–227. Hammer, M., and J. Champy. 1993. Reengineering the Corporation. New York: Harper. Harding, A. 1994. Urban regimes and growth machines: Toward a crossnational research agenda. Urban Affairs Quarterly 29, no. 3: 357–358. Hargrove, E. 1973. Review essay: Presidential personality and revisionist views of the presidency. American Journal of Political Science 17, no. 4: 819–835. Harper, J. 1996. A wary coexistence. St. Petersburg (Fla.) Times, October 27. Harrison, B., and S. Kanter. 1987. The political economy of state job-cre-

B-Ref

12/8/09

1:00 PM

Page 231

REFERENCES

231

ation business strategy. Journal of the American Institute of Planners 44: 424–435. Harvey, D. 1973. Social Justice and the City. Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press. Harvey, J. 1974. Managing agreement in organizations: The Abilene paradox. Organizational Dynamics 63: 80. Heilbroner R., and A. Singer. 1984. The Economic Transformation of America: 1600–Present. San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. Henderson, L. J. 1996. The governance of Kurt Schmoke as mayor of Baltimore. In Huey Perry (ed.), Race, Politics, and Governance in the United States. Gainesville: University of Florida Press, 165–175. Hero, Rodney E. 1992. Latinos and the U.S. Political System: Two-Tiered Pluralism. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Hill, E. W., H. Wolman, and C. Cook Ford III. 1995. Can suburbs survive without their central cities? Examining the suburban dependence hypothesis. Urban Affairs Review 31, no. 2: 147–174. Hill, K. Q., and K. R. Mladenica. 1992. Democratic Governance in American States and Cities. Pacific Grove, Calif.: Brooks/Cole. Holcomb, B. 1993. Revisioning place: De- and reconstructing the image of the industrial city. In G. Kearns and C. Philo (eds.), City as Culture, Capital, Past and Present. New York: Pergamon Press, 133. Holli, M. G. 1997. American mayors: The best and the worst since 1960. Social Science Quarterly 78 (March): 149–157. Hopkins, K. 1994a. Elizabeth defies New Jersey. Home News Tribune, May 5, A1–A4. ———. 1994b. Malls plan worries minorities. Home News Tribune, November 14, C1–C2. ———. 1994c. Pickets against taxes. Home News Tribune, May 18, F11. ———. 1994d. State allows debt overhaul. Home News Tribune, August 18, C1–C2. ———. 1995. $108M budget calls for big cuts in taxes. Home News Tribune, November 27, C1. Hoppe, R. A. 1985. Economic Structure and Change in Persistently LowIncome Nonmetro Counties. Rural Development Research Report 50, Economic Research Service, U.S. Department of Agriculture. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office. House, B., and G. Craig. 1994. Rochester seems stuck in school bill. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, June 3, 1A, 10A. Howard P. E. 1997. St. Pete unveils ambitious plan. Tampa (Fla.) Tribune, May 30. Huddlestone, J. 1984. Tax increment financing as a state development policy. Growth and Change 15: 11–17. Jackson, City of, Department of Planning and Development. 1995. Population and Economic Study: Comprehensive Plan. Vol. 1. Jackson, Miss.: Department of Planning and Development. James, F. 1984. Urban economic development: A zero-sum game? In R. Bingham and J. Blaine (eds.), Urban Economic Development. Newbury Park, Calif.: Sage. Jennings, J. 1992. The Politics of Black Empowerment: The Transformation of Black Activism in Urban America. Detroit: Wayne State University Press.

B-Ref

12/8/09

232

1:00 PM

Page 232

REFERENCES

Johnson, W. A., Jr. 1985. A call to action. Rochester, NY, Times-Union, October 28. ———. 1993. Living Within Our Means: A Blueprint for Change. Rochester, N.Y.: Johnson Mayoral Campaign. ———. 1995. State of the city address. ———. 1997. Rochester, a Renaissance City: A Vision for the Present. Rochester, N.Y.: Johnson Mayoral Campaign. Jones, B., 1989. Political Leadership and Politics: New Perspectives in Political Science. Lawrence: University of Kansas Press. ———. 1990. An uneasy certitude in urban political economy (book review essay). Urban Affairs Quarterly 25, no. 3: 524–531. Jones, B., and L. Bachelor. 1993. The Sustaining Hand. 2nd ed. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Jones, C. 1977. They selected, we elected . . . now it’s Mayor Rusk. Albuquerque Journal, December 1, B1–B2. Jones, C., and M. Clemons. 1993. A model of racial crossover voting: An assessment of the Wilder victory. In Georgia Persons (ed.), Dilemmas of Black Politics: Issues of Leadership and Strategies. New York: Harper, 128–146. Jones, M. 1990. Black mayoral leadership in Atlanta: A comment. National Political Science Review 2: 138–144. Judd, D., and M. Parkinson. 1990. Patterns of leadership. In D. Judd and M. Parkinson (eds.), Leadership and Urban Regeneration. Newbury Park, Calif.: Sage, 295–307. Judd, D., and Todd Swanstrom. 1994. City Politics: Private Power and Public Policy. New York: HarperCollins. Judge, D., G. Stoker, and H. Wolman. 1995. Theories of Urban Politics. London: Sage. Kadlecek, James M. 1997. Cooperation among local governments. National Civic Review 86 (Summer): 175–179. Kantor, P., and H. Savitch. 1993. Can politicians bargain with business? A theoretical and comparative perspective on urban development. Urban Affairs Review 29, no. 2: 230–255. Kantor, P., H. Savitch, and S. Haddock. 1997. The political economy of urban regimes: A comparative perspective. Urban Affairs Review 32, no. 3: 348–377. Katz, D., and R. Kahn. 1966. The Social Psychology of Organization. New York: John Wiley & Sons. Keating, M. 1993. The politics of economic development: Political change and local development policies in the United States, Britain, and France. Urban Affairs Quarterly 28, no. 3: 373–396. Keiser, R. 1994. Chicago politics, canceled model (book review essay). Urban Affairs Quarterly 30, no. 1: 173–181. Kellerman, B. 1986. Introduction. In B. Kellerman (ed.), Political Leadership: A Source Book. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, xiii–xv. Kelly, R. 1997. In Providence, rebirth of hope. Springfield (Mass.) Union News, January 24, 10. Kleinberg, B. 1995. Urban America in Transformation: Perspectives on Urban Policy and Development. Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage.

B-Ref

12/8/09

1:00 PM

Page 233

REFERENCES

233

Kleppner, P. 1985. Chicago Divided: The Making of a Black Mayor. De Kalb: Northern Illinois University Press. Koff, S. 1992. Survey bears out divisiveness of Curtsinger. St. Petersburg (Fla.) Times, March 6. Kotter, J. 1990. A Force for Change: How Leadership Differs from Management. New York: Free Press. Kotter, J., and P. R. Lawrence. 1974. Mayors in Action: Five Approaches to Urban Governance. New York: Wiley Interscience. Ladd, H. 1994. Big-city finances. In E. Peterson (ed.), Big-City Politics, Governance, and Fiscal Constraints. Washington, D.C.: Urban Institute Press, 201–269. LaMonte, E. S. 1995. Politics and Welfare in Birmingham, 1900–1975. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. Lazare, D. 1991. Collapse of a city: Growth and decay of Camden, New Jersey. Dissent (Spring): 267–275. Leadership, democracy, and the new public management. 1998. Public Administration Review (May/June). Ledebur, L. C., and William R. Barnes. 1993. All in It Together: Cities, Suburbs, and Local Economic Regions. Washington, D.C.: National League of Cities. Lehman, T., and J. Weiss. 1980. A Citizen Survey: How Albuquerqueans Feel About Their City. Albuquerque: Albuquerque Urban Observatory. Levine, M. A. 1980. Goal-oriented leadership and the limits of entrepreneurship. Western Political Quarterly 33 (September): 401–416. Logan, J., and H. Molotch. 1987. Urban Fortunes: The Political Economy of Place. Berkeley: University of California Press. Lovell, S. 1995. MetroMall, Elizabeth celebrate beginning of an era. Star Ledger, November 9, 39. Lowi, T. J. 1964. American business, public policy, case-studies and political theory. World Politics 16 (July): 677–715. ———. 1969. The End of Liberalism. New York: W. W. Norton. Lupsha, P. 1987. Structural change and innovations: Elites and Albuquerque politics in the 1980s. In Clarence Stone and Harvey Sanders (eds.), The Politics of Urban Development. Lawrence: University of Kansas Press, 230–243. ———. 1988. The role of politics and political culture in New Mexico’s economic development. In Hank Jenkins-Smith and Gilbert St. Clair (eds.), An Economic Development Strategy for New Mexico. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Institute for Public Policy, 78–85. Lupsha, P., and F. Chris Garcia. 1982. Urban politics in New Mexico: Continuity and change. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Southwestern Political Science Association. Manley, J. F. 1983. Neo-pluralism: A class analysis of pluralism I and pluralism II. American Political Science Review 77 (June): 368–383. Marcuse, P. 1997. The enclave, the citadel, and the ghetto: What has changed in the post-Fordist U.S. city. Urban Affairs Review 33, no. 2: 228–264. Marini, F. (ed.). 1971. Toward a New Public Administration: The Minnowbrook Perspective. Scranton, Pa.: Chandler.

B-Ref

12/8/09

234

1:00 PM

Page 234

REFERENCES

Markusen, A. 1994. Sticky Places in Slippery Space: The Political Economy of Postwar Fast-Growth Regions. Piscataway, N.J.: Center for Urban Policy Research. Marlin, M. 1984. Industrial revenue bonds: Evolution of subsidy. Growth and Change 16: 30–35. Martin, F. S., and Robert U. Goehlert. 1987. The American Presidency: A Bibliography. Washington, D.C.: Congressional Quarterly. McClain, Paula D., and Joseph Stewart Jr. 1998. Can We All Get Along? Racial and Ethnic Minorities in American Politics. 2nd ed. Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press. McCormick, J. P., II, and C. E. Jones. 1993. The conceptualization of deracialization: Thinking through the dilemma. In Georgia Persons (ed.), Dilemmas of Black Politics: Issues of Leadership and Strategy. New York: HarperCollins, 66–84. McGovern, S. 1997. Mayoral leadership and economic development policy: The case of Ed Rendell’s Philadelphia. Policy and Politics 25, no. 2: 153–172. McVicar, D. M. 1996. Providence Renaissance. Providence (R.I.) JournalBulletin, June 21, 1–8B. Mehren, E., and K. Tumulty. 1991. He’s still their Buddy. Los Angeles Times, January 18, 1–2. Meyer-Arendt, K. J. 1995. Casino gaming in Mississippi: Location, location, location. Economic Development Review 13, no. 4: 31. Meyer-Arendt, K. J., and A. A. Abusalih. 1994. Casino gambling on the Mississippi coast: Landscape change and coastal management issues. The Coast Organizing for the Future. Conference proceedings for the fourteenth annual conference of the Coastal Society, Charleston, S.C., April 17–21. Michigan Society of Planning Officials. 1995. Patterns on the Land. Lansing: Michigan Society of Planning Officials. Milgrom, M. 1997. The 10 best places to live. Swing, July/August, 64. Mills, C. W. 1956. The Power Elite. New York: Oxford University Press. Miranda, R., and D. Rosdil. 1995. From boosterism to qualitative growth. Urban Affairs Review 30, no. 6: 868–879. Molotch, H. 1993. The political economy of growth machines. Journal of Urban Affairs 15: 29–53. Morgan, D. R., and R. E. England. 1996. Managing Urban America. 4th ed. Chatham, N.J.: Chatham House. Morrison, M. K. C. 1987. Black Political Mobilization: Leadership, Power and Mass Behavior. Albany: State University of New York Press. The most enlightened towns in America. 1992. Utne Reader, June, 55–56. Much of industrial land not usable, study says. Albuquerque Journal, August 26, B1. Murphy, T. P., and J. Rehfuss. 1976. Urban Politics in the Suburban Era. Homewood, Ill.: Dorsey Press. Neustadt, R. E. 1960. Presidential Power: The Politics of Leadership. New York: John Wiley and Sons. 1996–97 New Jersey school report card. 1998. Elizabeth, N.J., Star-Ledger, February 5, 23–24. Norris, S. 1994. Johnson assesses his year. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, December 30, 1A, 6A.

B-Ref

12/8/09

1:00 PM

Page 235

REFERENCES

235

———. 1995. Mayor shows school chief he’s no devil. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, May 3, 6E. Ochrym, R. G. 1983. Gambling in Atlantic City: The “grand vision” blurs. National Civic Review 82 (December): 591–596. Olinger D. 1987. City ready to prosper, Ulrich says. St. Petersburg (Fla.) Times. May 26. Olson, N. 1998. Vincent A. Cianci Jr.: “Mayor with a mission.” InSyne 1 (December/January), 37. Orfield, M. 1997. Metropolitics: A Regional Agenda for Community and Stability. Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution. Orr, M., and G. Stoker. 1994. Urban regimes and leadership in Detroit. Urban Affairs Quarterly 1 (September): 48–73. Osborne, D., and T. Gaebler. 1992. Reinventing Government. Reading, Mass.: Addison-Wesley. Palermo, D. 1996. New money in Ol’ Miss. Las Vegas Review Journal, May 19, 12A. Parenti, M. 1970. Power and pluralism: A view from the bottom. Journal of Politics 32 (August): 501–530. Pate, A. M., and L. A. Fridell. 1993. Police Use of Force: Official Reports, Citizen Complaints and Legal Consequences. Washington, D.C.: Police Foundation. Peirce, N. R. 1998. Urban policies for our times. In Urban Vision Summit Proceedings. Lansing, Mich.: Bipartisan House Urban Caucus, 3–19. Peirce, N. R., Curtis W. Johnson, and John S. Hall. 1993. Citistates: How Urban America Can Prosper in a Competitive World. Washington, D.C.: Seven Locks. Perry, Huey L. 1976. Political Participation and Social Equality: An Assessment of the Impact of Political Participation in Two Alabama Localities. Ann Arbor, Mich.: UMI Dissertation Services. ———. 1984. Black participation and representation in national energy policy. In Mitchell F. Rice and Woodrow Jones Jr. (eds.), Contemporary Public Policy Perspectives and Black Americans: Issues in an Era of Retrenchment Politics. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 73–92. ———. 1990a. Black politics and mayoral leadership in Birmingham and New Orleans. National Political Science Review 2: 154–160. ———. 1990b. The evolution and impact of biracial coalitions and black mayors in Birmingham and New Orleans. In R. P. Browning, D. R. Marshall, and D. H. Tabb (eds.), Racial Politics in American Cities. New York: Longman, 140–152. ———. 1991a. Exploring the meaning and implications of deracialization in American urban politics. Urban Affairs Quarterly 27 (December): 185–191. ———. 1991b. Pluralist theory and national black politics in the United States. Polity 23 (Summer): 549–565. ———. 1992. The political reincorporation of southern blacks: The case of Birmingham. National Political Science Review 3: 230–237. ———. 1996. Race, Politics, and Governance in the United States. Gainesville: University of Florida Press. ———. 1997. The evolution and impact of biracial coalitions and Black mayors in Birmingham and New Orleans. In R. P. Browning, D. R.

B-Ref

12/8/09

236

1:00 PM

Page 236

REFERENCES

Marshall, and D. H. Tabb (eds.), Racial Politics in American Cities. 2nd ed. New York: Longman, 179–200. Perry H. L., and Judith C. Delmas. 1992. A Report on Police Abuse in New Orleans, Louisiana. Report prepared for the New Orleans Louisiana Human Relations Commission. Perry, H. L., and A. Stokes. 1987. Politics and power in the Sunbelt: Mayor Morial of New Orleans. In Michael B. Preston, Lenneal J. Henderson Jr., and Paul Puryear (eds.), The New Black Politics: The Search for Political Power. 2nd ed. New York: Longman, 222–255. Persons, G. 1991. The steel industry in Ohio: An industry in transition. In John Blair and Keith Ewald (eds.), Manufacturing Development Policy: Economic Restructuring in Ohio. Dayton, Ohio: Wright State University Press, 87–112. ——— (ed.). 1993. Dilemmas of Black Politics: Issues of Leadership Strategy. New York: Harper. Peterson, G. E. (ed.). 1994. Big-City Politics, Governance, and Fiscal Constraints. Washington, D.C.: Urban Institute. Peterson, L. 1992. A political “natural”: State Dem exec tabbed to head Elizabeth policy branch. Star-Ledger. Peterson, P. 1981. City Limits. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Phillips, E., and R. LeGates. 1981. City Lights: An Introduction to Urban Studies. New York: Oxford University Press. Picard, J. 1996. Developer joins megamall project. Home News Tribune, September 19, C1. Pierannunzi, C. A., and John D. Hutcheson Jr. 1991. Deracialization in the Deep South: Local politics in Atlanta. Urban Affairs Quarterly 27 (December): 192–201. ——— . 1996. The rise and fall of deracialization: Andrew Young as mayor and gubernatorial candidate. In Huey Perry (ed.), Race, Politics, and Governance in the United States. Gainesville: University of Florida Press. Pinderhughes, D. M. 1986. Race and Ethnicity in Chicago Politics. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Pohlmann, M. 1990. Black Politics in Conservative America. New York: Longman. ———. 1999. Black Politics in Conservative America. 3rd ed. New York: Longman. Pohlmann, M., and M. P. Kirby. 1996. Racial Politics at the Crossroads. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press. Popkin, S. 1991. The Reasoning Voter. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Pressman, J. L. 1972. Preconditions of mayoral leadership. American Political Science Review 66: 511–524. Preston, M. 1990. Big-city black mayors: An overview. National Political Science Review 2: 131–137. Preston, M., L. Henderson Jr., and P. Puryear. 1987. The New Black Politics: The Search for Political Power. New York: Longman. Proceedings of the Public Management Research Conference. 1998. Public Administration Review (May/June). Quirk, P. J. 1989. The cooperative resolution of policy conflict. American Political Science Review 83, no. 3: 905–921. Reed, A., Jr. 1987. A critique of neo-progressivism in theorizing about local

B-Ref

12/8/09

1:00 PM

Page 237

REFERENCES

237

development: A case from Atlanta. In C. Stone and H. Sanders (eds.), The Politics of Urban Development. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 183–216. Reiss, A. J., Jr. 1968. Police brutality: Answers to key questions. Transaction 5: 10–19. Rich, W. C. 1989. Coleman Young and Detroit Politics. Detroit: Wayne State University Press. ———. 1991. Detroit: From Motor City to service hub. In H. V. Savitch and John C. Thomas (eds.), Big City Politics in Transition. Newbury, Calif.: Sage, 64–65. ———. 1996. Black Mayors and School Politics. New York: Garland. Richards, B. 1971. The rise and fall and rise—maybe—of Elizabeth. New Jersey Business, April. Rigos, P. N., and R. Diamond. 1998. Neighborhood policy and responsiveness after regime change: The case of St. Petersburg, Florida. State and Polity 2 (November): 145–161. Rigos, P. N., and D. Paulson. 1996. Urban development, policy failure, and regime change in a manager-council city: The case of St. Petersburg, Florida. Urban Affairs Review 32: 244–263. Robbins, C. 1974. David Rusk: Restoring an urban sense. El Independente and the New Mexico Independent, March 22. ———. 1979. El Jefe. New Mexico Business Journal, June, 47. Rose, A. M. 1967. The Power Structure: Political Process in American Society. New York: Oxford University Press. Rosenberg, E. 1994a. City, school board spar again. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, July 14, 1B. ———. 1994b. 25 seek schools’ top post. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, November 30, 1B. ———. 1995a. Janey gains support as new school chief. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, March 23, 1A. ———. 1995b. Mayor: Community has too little input. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, January 25, 1B–2B. ———. 1997. School board fights limits on power. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, June 26, 1B. Rosentraub, M., and P. Helmke. 1996. Location theory, a growth coalition and a regime in the development of a medium-sized city. Urban Affairs Review 31, no. 4: 482–507. Rubin, H. 1988. Shoot anything that flies; claim anything that falls: Conversations with economic development practitioners. Economic Development Quarterly 2: 236–251. ———. 1990. Working in a turbulent environment: Perspectives of economic development practitioners. Economic Development Quarterly 4: 113–127. ———. 1992. Doing development: What works and why? Urban Affairs Quarterly 28: 355–362. Rubin, H., and H. Rubin. 1987. Economic development incentives: The poor (cities) pay more. Urban Affairs Quarterly 23: 37–62. Ruchelman, L. 1969. Big City Mayors: The Crisis in Urban Politics. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Rusk, David. 1995. Cities Without Suburbs. 2nd ed. Washington, D.C.: Woodrow Wilson Center Press. Salmore, B., and S. Salmore. 1993. New Jersey Politics and Government:

B-Ref

12/8/09

238

1:00 PM

Page 238

REFERENCES

Suburban Politics Comes of Age. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Sassen S. 1996. The global city. In S. Fainstein and S. Campbell (eds.), Readings in Urban Theory. Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 61–71. Savitch, H. V., D. Collins, D. Sanders, and J. P. Markham. 1993. Ties that bind: Central cities, suburbs, and the new metropolitan region. Economic Development Quarterly 7, no. 4: 341–357. Savitch, H. V., and John C. Thomas (eds.). 1991. Big City Politics in Transition. Newbury Park, Calif.: Sage. Savitch, H. V., and R. K. Vogel. 1996. Perspectives for the present and lessons for the future. In H. V. Savitch and Ronald K. Vogel (eds.), Regional Politics: America in a Post-City Age. Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage, 275–302. Smith, A. C. 1997a. City drops anti-drug “weeding” program. St. Petersburg (Fla.) Times, December 10. ———. 1997b. City Hall watches job security vanish. St. Petersburg (Fla.) Times, April 15. ———. 1997c. St. Petersburg gets 1st black police chief. St. Petersburg (Fla.) Times, June 12. Sonenshein, Raphael J. 1993. Politics in Black and White: Race and Power in Los Angeles. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ———. 1994. Is this the end? Biracial coalition in the 1993 Los Angeles mayoral election. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Political Science Association, Washington, D.C., September l–4. ———. 1997a. Post-incorporation politics in Los Angeles. In R. P. Browning, D. R. Marshall, and D. H. Tabb (eds.), Racial Politics in American Cities. 2nd ed. New York: Longman, 39–61. ———. 1997b. The prospects for multiracial coalitions: Lessons from America’s three largest cities. In R. P. Browning, D. R. Marshall, and D. H. Tabb (eds.), Racial Politics in American Cities. 2nd ed. New York: Longman, 259–276. Spindler, C., and J. Forrester. 1993. Economic development policy preferences among competing models. Urban Affairs Quarterly 29, no. 1: 28–53. Spohn, L. 1998. New Mexico leads nation in percentage spent for research. Albuquerque Tribune, April 27, A2. Squires, G. B. 1989. Unequal Partnerships: The Political Economy of Urban Redevelopment in Postwar America. New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press. Stone, C. 1987. The study of the politics of urban development. In C. Stone and H. Sanders (eds.), Politics of Urban Development. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 3–22. ———. 1989. Regime Politics: Governing Atlanta, 1946–1988. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. ———. 1993. Urban regimes and the capacity to govern. Journal of Urban Affairs 15: 1–26. ———. 1995. Political leadership in urban politics. In D. Judge, G. Stoker, and H. Wolman (eds.), Theories of Urban Politics. Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage, 96–116. Stone, C. N., Marion E. Orr, and David Imbroscio. 1991. The reshaping of

B-Ref

12/8/09

1:00 PM

Page 239

REFERENCES

239

urban leadership in U.S. cities. In M. Gottdiener and Chris R. Pickvane (eds.), Urban Life in Transition. Newbury, Calif.: Sage, 222–239. Stone, C. N., and C. A. Pierannunzi. 1997. Atlanta and the limited reach of electoral control. In R. P. Browning, D. R. Marshall, and D. H. Tabb (eds.), Racial Politics in American Cities. 2nd ed. New York: Longman, 163–178. Summers, M., and P. A. Klinkner. 1996. The election and governance of John Daniels as mayor of New Haven. In Huey Perry (ed.), Race, Politics, and Governance in the United States. Gainesville: University of Florida Press, 127–150. Svara, J. 1987. Mayoral leadership in council-manager cities: Preconditions versus preconceptions. Journal of Politics 49, no. 2: 207–227. ———. 1990. Official Leadership in the City: Patterns of Conflict and Cooperation. New York: Oxford University Press. ———. 1995. Institutional powers and mayoral leadership. State and Local Government Review 27, no. 1: 71–83. Svara, J. H., et al. 1994. Facilitative Leadership in Local Government. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Sweeney, C. 1991. Mayor Box at mid-term: Keeping taxes low and understanding Rockford’s Mr. Larson. Illinois Issues, May, 10–13. Swift, M. l997. The art of a city. Hartford (Conn.) Courant, May 4, 10. Teaford, J. 1990. The Rough Road to Renaissance. Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press. Thompson, W. N. 1984. Casino legalizations: A stalled movement. State Government 57, no. 2: 60–65. Turner, L. 1998. Elizabeth, N.J. named top enterprise zone. Nation’s Cities Weekly, March 30, 8. Two cities sing song of revival. 1992. Detroit News Outlook, July 27, 5B. Twyman, A. 1998. Private utility to serve Elizabeth. Elizabeth, N.J., StarLedger. May 28, 41, 48. U.S. Bureau of the Census. 1991. 1990 Census of Population and Housing. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office. ———. 1992. Census of population 1990: Number of inhabitants. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office. U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development. 1998. State of the Cities. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office. U.S. Department of Justice, Civil Rights Division, Criminal Section. 1991. Police Brutality Study. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office. U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, Region 5, Office of Public Affairs. 1996. Basic Brownfield Facts. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office. Urban Associate, Inc. 1998. Rhode Island Race Relations. Study conducted for the National Conference of Community and Justice. Vargo, S. 1997. Seeing green through the brownfields distinguishes city. Youngstown Business Journal, August 15, p. 16. Waste, R. J. 1998. Independent Cities. New York: Oxford University Press. Weaver, J. H., Michael T. Rock, and Kenneth Kusterer. 1997. Achieving Broad-Based Sustainable Development: Governance, Environment, and Growth with Equity. West Hartford, Conn.: Kumarian Press. Wertheimer, L. K. 1994. Board choice may cut tensions. Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle, January 4, 8A.

B-Ref

12/8/09

240

1:00 PM

Page 240

REFERENCES

West, D., J. Hazen, T. Anton, and J. Combs. 1997. R.I. voters praise renaissance of downtown Providence, support bill that would limit takeover of hospital by for profit health-care companies. Public Opinion Survey. Brown University News Bureau, June 21–23. Whelan, R. K., and A. H. Young. 1998. Detroit and New Orleans: Black mayors and downtown development. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Political Science Association, Boston, September 3–6. White, J. R. 1982. Analysis and evaluation of the raw materials used in the Eaton (Hopewell) Furnace. Ohio Journal of Science 82: 23–37. Whitmire, T. 1996. Once defiled, Providence, R.I. now an example of renewal. Las Vegas Review-Journal and Las Vegas Sun, May 12, 7b. Wikstrom, N. 1977. Councils of Governments: A Study of Political Incrementalism. Chicago: Nelson-Hall. ———. 1979. The mayor as policy leader in the council-manager form of government: A view from the field. Public Administration Review 39, no. 3: 270–276. Wilson, D. 1993. Everyday life, spatiality and inner city disinvestment in a US city. International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 4: 578–594. Winn, M., and E. G. Palmer. 1996. The election of Norman B. Rice as mayor of Seattle. In Huey Perry (ed.), Race, Politics, and Governance in the United States. Gainesville: University of Florida Press. Wolman, H., and C. Ford III. 1996. The assumptive world of local political elites: An examination of mayoral cognitive structures in metropolitan Detroit. Urban Affairs Review 32, no. 1: 87–108. Wolman, H., J. Strate, and A. Melchior. 1996. Does changing mayors matter? Journal of Politics 58, no. 1: 201–223. Wong, K. 1990. City Choices: Education and Housing. Albany: State University of New York Press. Worden, R. E. 1989. Situational and attitudinal explanations of police behavior: Theoretical reappraisals and empirical assessments. Law and Society Review 23: 667–711. ———. 1996. The causes of police brutality: Theory and evidence on police use of force. In William A. Geller and Hans Toch (eds.), Police Violence: Understanding and Controlling Police Abuse of Force. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press. Wright, S. 1996. The deracialization strategy and African American mayoral candidates in Memphis mayoral elections. In Huey Perry (ed.), Race, Politics, and Governance in the United States. Gainesville: University of Florida Press. Yates, D. 1978. The Ungovernable City: The Politics of Urban Problems and Policy Making. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press. Ziegler, J. M. 1972. Should the mayor run the schools? City 6 (Winter): 15–19.

B-Contri

12/8/09

1:01 PM

Page 241

THE CONTRIBUTORS

Frank Akpadock is a faculty member of the Public Service Institute, Center for Urban Studies, Youngstown State University, Youngstown, Ohio. Paul C. Baker is a former reporter, news director, and talk show host with twenty years of experience covering politics and public affairs. James R. Bowers is a professor of political science, St. John Fisher College, Rochester, N.Y. Gerald T. Gabris is a professor of public administration, Northern Illinois University, De Kalb, Ill. Keenan D. Grenell is an associate professor of political science and public administration, Auburn University, Auburn, Ga. Rex L. LaMore is state director of the Center for Urban Affairs Community and Economic Development Program and a senior academic specialist with the Urban and Regional Planning Program at Michigan State University, Lansing. Clyde D. McKee is a professor of political science, Trinity College, Hartford, Conn. Richard T. Middleton IV is a doctoral candidate in political science, University of Missouri–Columbia. Charles H. Moore is an associate professor of political science and department chair, Millsaps College, Jackson, Miss. Ambe Njoh is an associate professor of public administration, University of South Florida–St. Petersburg Campus. Darryl F. Paulson is a professor of political science and coordi-

241

B-Contri

12/8/09

242

1:01 PM

Page 242

THE CONTRIBUTORS

nator of undergraduate programs, University of South Florida–St. Petersburg Campus. Huey L. Perry is a professor of political science and chancellor’s fellow at the School of Public Policy and Urban Affairs, Southern University–Baton Rouge, La. Mark A. Peterson is an assistant professor of political science, Washburn University, Topeka, Kans. Wilbur C. Rich is a professor of political science, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. Platon N. Rigos is an associate professor of political science, University of South Florida–Tampa Campus. Daniel Schulgasser is an independent political scientist living and working in Newark, N.J. Faron Supanich-Goldner is a program assistant to the center for Urban Affairs Community and Economic Development Program, Michigan State University, Lansing. Sharon D. Wright is an assistant professor of political science and black studies, University of Missouri–Columbia.

B-Indexrev

12/8/09

1:02 PM

Page 243

INDEX

Abusalih, A. A., 155 Adam, D., 52 Adrian Block, 44 Adrian Landing, 44, 46 Albuquerque, New Mexico, 137, 140–142, 144, 217 Ammon, D., 218, 222 Archer, Dennis, 1, 68, 82 Arrington, Richard, 2, 103, 108, 110, 117, 118, 203, 219, 223 Athanson, George, 34–35, 37 Bachelor, Lynn, 122, 128 Bachrach, P., 210 Bailey, John, 32–33, 36 Banfield, Edward, 218 Baratz, M., 210 Bass, Bernard, 217, 223 Bayley, D. H., 105–106 Beaulieu, L., 206 Beenstock, M., 167 Bellaby, M., 85, 96, 97, 106 Bernick, M., 81 Berson, T., 204 Beyle, T., 83 Biloxi, Mississippi, 151–152, 154, 157, 165, 217 Bingham, R. D., 50 Birmingham, Alabama, 2, 103, 109, 218 Birritteri, A., 123, 128 “The Bishops,” 36

Blake, R., 196 Blau, Peter, 199 Blue, F. 169 Bluestone, B., 167 Bollwage, J. Christian, 121, 124, 127 Boosterism: Biloxi, 153, 159–160; Hartford, 43–44; Providence, 199, 221; Rockford, 191 Bowers, James, R., 100 Bowman, A., 226 Box, Charles, 181, 188, 192–193, 196, 222 Boyle, E. L., 81, 82 Brownfield Development, 175–179 Browning, Rufus, 66, 67 Brown University, 212 Bryson, J., 196 Burks, S., 146 Burns, J. M., 9 Business Journal, 173 Buss, T., 170 Butler, G., 169 Caldwell, A., 74 Campbell, A., 105 Campbell, B., 144 Cantor, G., 82 Carbone, Nicholas, 34–35, 36 Casino gambling, 155, 159 Castells, M., 122 Chamber of Commerce: Elizabeth, 131; Hartford, 33; Jackson, 17

243

B-Indexrev

12/8/09

244

1:02 PM

Page 244

INDEX

Champy, J., 196 Cianci, Vincent (Buddy), 197–198, 200, 202–204, 212, 221 Clavel, P., 128 Coakley, T., 206 Collier, L. 185, 186 Collins, D., 50 Community Development Corporation (CDC), 11, 19 Community Development Block (CDBG), 133 Corning, Erastus, 1 Cornwell, Elmer, 206–207, 211 Council-manager government, 28–30, 40, 72 Council of government, (COGs), 51 Cox, K., 200 Craig, G., 88, 89 Curry, Archie, 87, 89 Dahl, Robert, 17, 158 Daley, Richard J., 1, 113 Dank, Dale, 15, 20 Davis, T., 168 Dawson, Michael, 183 DeLaMar, R., 128 Denney, G., 173 Democratic Party: Elizabeth, 125, 134, 200; Hartford, 27, 32–33, 36, 39–40; Providence, 202; Rochester, 91, 99–100; Youngstown, 171 Demographic changes: Elizabeth, 123–124, 134; Grand Rapids, 54–55; Hartford, 31, 37; Jackson, 14; Providence, 208; Rochester, 84; Rockford, 185; St. Petersburg, 65 Denhardt, R., 196 Deracialization, 66, 68 Detroit News, 200 DiGaetano, A., 134 Ditto, Kane, 10, 14, 16–19, 24–25, 69 Dobelle, Evan, 43, 40, 46 Dunbar, W. F., 55 Dunn, Thomas G., 121 Dye, L., 208 Dyer, W., 196 Easington, W. R., 152 Economic development: Albuquerque,

140–141; Biloxi, 156–157; Elizabeth City, 125, 129; Hartford, 42–44; Jackson, 14; Providence, 205–220; Rockford, 187–188, 190; St. Petersburg, 71; Youngstown, 169, 171 Eldersveld, S., 124 Elections: Albuquerque, 148–149; Providence, 202–203; Rochester, 86, 94–95; Rockford, 198, 190–192; St. Petersburg, 73–74, 77, 79; Youngtown, 171–172 Elizabeth, New Jersey, 123–124 Elizabeth Development Company (EDC), 126, 128, 132, 133 Elkins, Steven, 122, 133 England, R. E., 13 Fainstein, N., 167 Fasenfest, David, 137 Faust, F., 156 Ferman, Barbara, 12, 122, 124, 126, 132, 132, 134 Filer, John, 36–37 Fiscal Independence Agreement, (FIA), 84, 87, 88 Fiscal problems: Jackson, 18, 22–23; Rochester, 84 Fischer, David, 65, 76, 218 Ford, C., 122 Franckiewicz, V. J., 229 Franklin, Jimmie L. 111, 114 Frey Foundation, 55–56 Fridell, L. A., 105 Frieden, B. J., 151 Friedrich, R. J., 104 Furuseth, O., 152 Gabris, G., 196 Gaebler , Ted, 12, 195, 196 Garber, J., 121 Gardner, John, 230 Gillette, B., 161 Goldsmith, Steven, 82 Gordon, M., 198 Grand Rapids, 54, 57 Grand Valley Metropolitan Council, 58–59 Greenberg, E. S., 107 Greenberg, P., 152 Grenell, K., 183 Grinols, E. L., 152 Growth machine, 126, 137

B-Indexrev

12/8/09

1:02 PM

Page 245

INDEX

Gruberg, Martin, ix Gurwitt, Robert, 40 Gustke, L. D., 152 Haddock, S., 127 Haeberle, S. H., 113 Hakins, S., 152 Halat, Pete, 156, 158, 160 Hall, John, 50 Hall, P., 206 Hammer, M., 196 Harding, A., 163 Hargrove, E., 122 Harper, J., 71 Hartford, Connecticut, 27–28, 30–32, 45, 221 Hartford Courant, 44 Hartford Times, 33 Hedge, David, 59, 182 Heilbroner, R., 167 Helmke, P., 130, 134 Hero, R., 107 Hill, E. W., 50 Hill, K. Q., 192 Holcomb, B., 199, 212 Holli, Melvin, 2 Holloway, A. J., 157, 164, 167 Hopkins, K., 127, 132 Hoppe, R. A., 153 Hubbard, P., 206 HUD (Department of Housing and Urban Development), 35, 83 Huddlestone, J., 168 House, B., 88 IKEA home furnishings, 123, 129– 130 Intergovernmental cooperation: Grand Rapids, 49, 58, 60; Hartford, 43–44; transportation, 59 Jackson, Mississippi, 13–15 James, F., 129–130 Janey, Clifford, 95, 97 Jefferson County Citizens Coalition (JCCC) 113, 323 Johnson, William A., 86, 96, 98, 87, 100, 219 Jones, Bryan, 3–4 Jones, C., 184 Jones, Mack, 122 Judd, Dennis, 127, 135, 155, 157

245

Kadlecek, James, 63 Kantor, Paul, 130 Katz, D., 198 Keating, M., 131 Keiser, R., 124 Kellerman, B., 122 Kelly, R., 201 Kirby, Michael, x Kleinberg, B., 50 Kleppner, P., 182 Koff, S., 71 Kotter, Milton, 2, 3, 66, 121, 153, 200, 222 Ladd, H., 13 LaMonte, E. S., 110 Lawrence, Paul, 2, 3, 66, 121, 153, 200, 222 Lazare, D., 123 Leadership styles: caretaking, 1, 153–154; cheerleader, 42; director type, 58; entrepreneurial, 152; facilitative, 157, 125; postmodernist, 124; rational, 57–58; risktaking, 200; salesman, 198 LeGates, R., 122 Lehman, T., 146 Levine, M. A., 82 Logan, John, 139, 143 Logie, John , 49, 56–57, 60, 61–63 Lovell, S., 129 Lowi, Theodore, 12, 117 Lugar, Richard, 52 Lupsha, Peter, 143, 149, 150 Manley, J., 107 Marcuse, P., 123 Margolis, K. D., 168 Marini, F., 12 Markham, J. P., 50 Markusen, A., 141 Marshall, Dale, 66, 67 McClain, P., 107 McCormick, J., 66 McGovern, S., 131 McVicar, D. M., 205 Mehren, E., 302–204 Melchior, A., 121 Mendelsohn, H., 105–106 Metropolitan Council, 62 Meyer-Arendt, K. J., 155–156 Michigan State University, 61 Mills, C. W., 107

B-Indexrev

12/8/09

1:02 PM

Page 246

246 Milner, Thirman, 37 Miranda, R., 199 Mississippi Economic Council, 17 Mississippi Gaming and Control; Act of 1990, 156, 159 Molotch, Harvey, 122, 126, 139, 212 Money Magazine, 181 Morgan, David, 13 Morrison, M. K. C., 107–108 Mouton, R., 196 Murphy, T. P., 55 National Culinary Review, 206 “New Bishops,” 43 Newell, C., 218, 222 New Providence, 197–198, 205, 208, 213 New York Times, 43, 121 Norris, S., 86, 95 Ochrym, R. G., 152 Olinger, D., 73 Olson, N., 200 Orr, Marion, 101, 182 Osborne, David, 12, 130, 195 Palermo, D., 156, 159 Paolino, Joseph, 203–204 Parkinson, C., 218, 222 Pate, A. M., 105 Peirce, N. R., 49–50, 52, 56, 64 Perry, Carrie, 37–40 Perry, Huey, ix, 2, 66, 68 110, 113, 115–116 Persons, Georgia, 183 Peters, Mike, 27–28, 40–43, 45 Peterson, G., x Peterson, Paul, 13, 128, 138, 205 Pierannuzi, C., 66, 69, 182 Picard, J., 129 Pinderhughes, D., 107 Phillip, E., 122 Plain Dealer, 179 Pohlman, M., x, 106 Police-community relations: Birmingham, 104, 114; St. Petersburg, 65–66, 69–72 Pressman, Jeffrey, 4, 5, 29–30, 41, 154, 159 Preston, M. L., 145, 183 Providence, Rhode Island, 197, 202 Quirk, P. J., 52–53

INDEX

Race relations: Birmingham, 109–110; Providence, 209–120; Rockford, 193–194; St. Petersburg, 77–79 Redburn, F. S., 171 Redemptive ideology of locality, 200 Rehfuss, J., 52 Reiss, A. J., 104 Rendell, Ed, 1 Republican Party: Grand Rapids, 56; Hartford, 45; Indianopolis, 52 Rhode Island Race Relation Study, 210 Rice, Norman, 68 Rich, Wilbur, 4, 68, 82, 99–100, 204, 213, 218, 220 Richard, B., 123, 127 Rigos, P., 77 Risktakers, 220 Robbins, C., 142, 143, 144 Rochester, New York, 81, 83 Rock, Michael, 151 Rockford, Illinois, 181, 185–186 Rockford Local Development Corporation (RLDC), 187 Rose, A. M., 107, 108 Rosenberg E., 90, 95, 96 Rosentraub, Mark, 130 Ruchelman, Leonard, ix Rusk, David, 147–148 Ryan, Thomas, 88 Sagalyn, L. B., 151 Salmore, D., 123 Salmore, S., 123 Sassen, S., 122 Savitch, H. V., 1, 50, 51, 52 Schools: Providence, 211; Rochester, 81–83, 84–85 Schuman, H., 105 Seibels, George, 115 Slow growth, 142, 144 Smith, A. C., 78 Sonenshein, Raphael, 66, 68, 80 Spohn, L., 141 Squires, G. B., 151 St. Petersburg, 69, 72, 80 St. Petersburg Times, 73, 74 Stewart, J., 107 Stone, Clarence, 3, 4, 6, 9, 10, 67, 99, 101, 114, 121, 131, 134, 154, 217, 222

B-Indexrev

12/8/09

1:02 PM

Page 247

INDEX

Strate, J., 121 Sun Herald, 161 Swanstrom, T., 155, 157 Swing, 201 Svara, J., 2, 30, 43, 53–54, 63, 122 Tabb, D., 66, 67 Teaford, Jon, 1, 201 Thompson, W. N., 239 Toledo, Ohio, 2 Trinity College, 43 Tumulty, K., 203, 204 Turner, L., 123 Twyman, A., 127 UEZ (urban enterprise zone), 123, 128 Urban Core Mayors, 61–63 Urban Development Action Grant (UDAGS), 170 Ulrich, Robert 72–73 Ungaro, Patrick, 168, 175, 176, 217, 220 Unte Reader, 201 U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (USEPA) 168, 175, 176 Vann, David, 110–111

247

Vargo, S., 178 Vaughan, R., 170, 171 Vogel, R. K., 50, 51, 63 Vukovich, Joseph, 170–172 Washington Post, 34 Waste, R., 9 Weaver, J. H., 152 Weinblatt, J., 152 Weiss, J., 146 Wertheimer, L. K., 87 West, D. J., 201 Whelan, Robert, 153 White, L. K., 169 White, Michael, 1, 68 Wikstrom, N., 51, 53–54 Wolman, Harold, 50, 121, 125 Wong, K., 133 Worden, Robert, 105 Wright, S., 182 Yates, Douglas, 122, 132 Young, Alma, 153 Young, Coleman, 68, 138, 204 Youngtown, Ohio, 169, 170, 177, 179 Ziegler, Harmon, 81–82

B-Indexrev

12/8/09

1:02 PM

Page 248

B-About

12/8/09

1:02 PM

Page 249

ABOUT THE BOOK

From Providence, Rhode Island, to Sacramento, California, from Rockford, Illinois, to Albuquerque, New Mexico, what mayors do— and how they do it—is crucially important to sustaining and revitalizing U.S. cities. Proceeding from this premise, Governing MiddleSized Cities presents twelve case studies of mayoral leadership and creativity. Each study provides a brief background sketch of the case city, places the mayor’s leadership style and skills within a conceptual framework, illustrates the mayor’s approach to a specific urban issue (e.g., education, crime, economic development, the political incorporation of minorities), and discusses the effectiveness of that approach. The authors also suggest lessons that can be learned from the cases. Organized to correspond closely to the key topics discussed in courses on urban politics, the book provides well-developed examples of essential aspects of urban governance, showing the importance of local chief executives in advancing the sustainability of the nation’s cities. James R. Bowers is professor of political science at St. John Fisher College. His publications include American Stories: Case Studies in Politics and Government and Pro-Choice and Anti-Abortion: Constitutional Theory and Public Policy. Wilbur C. Rich is professor of political science at Wellesley College. He is author of Black Mayors and School Politics: The Failure of Reform in Detroit, Gary and Newark Schools and The Politics of Minority Coalitions: Race, Ethnicity, and Shared Uncertainty.

249

B-About

12/8/09

1:02 PM

Page 250