by Alex Marshall, Editor, Spotlight on the Region
From 1967 to 1982, the stock market was flat. On average, a dollar invested in the stock market when Lyndon Johnson was president would end up worth about the same 15 years later when Ronald Reagan was the nation's leader.
Not coincidentally, this was roughly the period of New York City's long decline, when the transit system deteriorated, when crime rates soared, when municipal services of every sort, from trash collection to social services, were burdened and frustrated. It was a time when, most famously, the state had to take the city's finances under its wing, so broken and battered had become the city's budget.
All this comes to mind via an unusual avenue: the splendid performance the city put on last month, when a jet airplane crashed into the Hudson River and impromptu teamwork by both officials and civilians managed to pluck 155 passengers and crew from icy waters without a single death.
Probably like others around the world, tears came to my eyes when I read of how a swarm of ferries and other boats instantly materialized around the jet to help it; how a rescue helicopter arrived within minutes, and a skilled diver jumped without hesitation into the icy waters to rescue floating passengers.
I was reminded of 9/11, not by the presence of an airplane or the potential for tragedy, but in how those around the emergency mobilized instantly, often on an impromptu basis. And I'm not just thinking of the immediate days after 9/11. I remember the impressive performance of the city's Department of Design and Construction, which dismantled the smoking wreckage of the World Trade Towers in about seven months, less than half the time and cost predicted by officials, and how PATH and subway service were restored ahead of schedule.
And all this prompted me to think: the city has changed. When I was in my early 20s, now unbelievably a generation ago, New York City symbolized decay, inefficiency, sloth and greed. Smoking, graffiti-covered trains lurched through a crime-filled city where people feared for their lives. The city lost 640,000 jobs over an eight-year period and "white flight" to the suburbs was at its peak. Government seemed helpless, its members trapped in a bureaucratic fog. It was every man for himself.
Watching the rescuers though last month, I thought: "Once, the city symbolized qualities the rest of the country wanted to avoid. Now the city represents qualities the rest of the country want: resiliency, efficiency, creativity and courage."
But then came a second thought, and less pleasant one: Have we the city really changed? Or do we simply have more money? That is, are we the city's residents collectively no more courageous, honorable or trustworthy than we were 25 years ago? Are or we simply operating at a time when virtuous qualities are easier to tap?
I would like to believe that something fundamental changed in the city's culture. In standard histories of the city, the fall of the 1970s is attributed in large part to the overreaching philosophies of liberals, who hadn't the backbone to stick to standard accounting methods, eliminate squeegee men and make welfare recipients work.
There is some truth to this narrative, frankly, but seldom are the workings of the stock market mentioned in the same breath. Which, whatever you think of welfare reform, isn't fair, because this city and region were and are so dependent on Wall Street and the general FIRE (Finance Insurance and Real Estate) sector.
If the stock market had soared in the 1970s, would the city and region have faced the same crises they did? I don't think so.
Now in 2009, we face what could be another period of flat or declining stock prices and of a turning away from financial industries in general as a path to wealth. In a few years, will this city that looks so virtuous now return to some newer version of its older, less lovable self? Will crime rates soar again, and help to thy neighbor decline?
I'm no economic determinist. We and the city can choose. So I'm betting that, regardless of what happens on Wall Street and related industries, the answer is no. We have collectively learned the virtues of working together. Though times might get hard, that won't change.
One undeniable lesson that was drawn from the 1970s is that we as a region have reinvented ourselves before, not just once but many times. We've succeeded because despite our famously adversarial and loud politics, we also have managed to ultimately come together in times of adversity, to achieve political consensus when other cities and regions haven't. Consequently we've been able to tackle the fiscal crisis and transit collapse of the '70s, disinvestment in the '80s, crime in the '90s and 9/11 and failing schools in the '00s.
So in the internal and external battles between optimism and pessimism, as the city and region face quite probably a new series of struggles, I side with the optimists. We will face whatever new challenge before us and will ultimately reinvent ourselves in ways necessary to not just survive, but to thrive.
From 1967 to 1982, the stock market was flat. On average, a dollar invested in the stock market when Lyndon Johnson was president would end up worth about the same 15 years later when Ronald Reagan was the nation's leader.
Not coincidentally, this was roughly the period of New York City's long decline, when the transit system deteriorated, when crime rates soared, when municipal services of every sort, from trash collection to social services, were burdened and frustrated. It was a time when, most famously, the state had to take the city's finances under its wing, so broken and battered had become the city's budget.
All this comes to mind via an unusual avenue: the splendid performance the city put on last month, when a jet airplane crashed into the Hudson River and impromptu teamwork by both officials and civilians managed to pluck 155 passengers and crew from icy waters without a single death.
Probably like others around the world, tears came to my eyes when I read of how a swarm of ferries and other boats instantly materialized around the jet to help it; how a rescue helicopter arrived within minutes, and a skilled diver jumped without hesitation into the icy waters to rescue floating passengers.
I was reminded of 9/11, not by the presence of an airplane or the potential for tragedy, but in how those around the emergency mobilized instantly, often on an impromptu basis. And I'm not just thinking of the immediate days after 9/11. I remember the impressive performance of the city's Department of Design and Construction, which dismantled the smoking wreckage of the World Trade Towers in about seven months, less than half the time and cost predicted by officials, and how PATH and subway service were restored ahead of schedule.
And all this prompted me to think: the city has changed. When I was in my early 20s, now unbelievably a generation ago, New York City symbolized decay, inefficiency, sloth and greed. Smoking, graffiti-covered trains lurched through a crime-filled city where people feared for their lives. The city lost 640,000 jobs over an eight-year period and "white flight" to the suburbs was at its peak. Government seemed helpless, its members trapped in a bureaucratic fog. It was every man for himself.
Watching the rescuers though last month, I thought: "Once, the city symbolized qualities the rest of the country wanted to avoid. Now the city represents qualities the rest of the country want: resiliency, efficiency, creativity and courage."
But then came a second thought, and less pleasant one: Have we the city really changed? Or do we simply have more money? That is, are we the city's residents collectively no more courageous, honorable or trustworthy than we were 25 years ago? Are or we simply operating at a time when virtuous qualities are easier to tap?
I would like to believe that something fundamental changed in the city's culture. In standard histories of the city, the fall of the 1970s is attributed in large part to the overreaching philosophies of liberals, who hadn't the backbone to stick to standard accounting methods, eliminate squeegee men and make welfare recipients work.
There is some truth to this narrative, frankly, but seldom are the workings of the stock market mentioned in the same breath. Which, whatever you think of welfare reform, isn't fair, because this city and region were and are so dependent on Wall Street and the general FIRE (Finance Insurance and Real Estate) sector.
If the stock market had soared in the 1970s, would the city and region have faced the same crises they did? I don't think so.
Now in 2009, we face what could be another period of flat or declining stock prices and of a turning away from financial industries in general as a path to wealth. In a few years, will this city that looks so virtuous now return to some newer version of its older, less lovable self? Will crime rates soar again, and help to thy neighbor decline?
I'm no economic determinist. We and the city can choose. So I'm betting that, regardless of what happens on Wall Street and related industries, the answer is no. We have collectively learned the virtues of working together. Though times might get hard, that won't change.
One undeniable lesson that was drawn from the 1970s is that we as a region have reinvented ourselves before, not just once but many times. We've succeeded because despite our famously adversarial and loud politics, we also have managed to ultimately come together in times of adversity, to achieve political consensus when other cities and regions haven't. Consequently we've been able to tackle the fiscal crisis and transit collapse of the '70s, disinvestment in the '80s, crime in the '90s and 9/11 and failing schools in the '00s.
So in the internal and external battles between optimism and pessimism, as the city and region face quite probably a new series of struggles, I side with the optimists. We will face whatever new challenge before us and will ultimately reinvent ourselves in ways necessary to not just survive, but to thrive.
@RegionalPlan