New Geography

Author: Daniel Jelski

  • The Right Steps to a Post-College Job

    What will become of today’s middle class college students after they graduate? Opposing points of view come, on one side, from a voice of the education establishment, the American Association of Colleges & Universities (AACU), and on the other from rhetorical bomb thrower and author Aaron Clarey Worthless: The Young Person’s Indispensible Guide to Choosing the Right Major.

    Clarey asks: Who has your family hired recently? Whenever you buy a car, or drive on a road, or use a computer you indirectly hire an engineer. And when you put money in a bank, or go to the doctor, or consult an accountant, those people provide a useful service. But when did you ever hire a person competent in feminist theories? When did you last hire a sociologist or a philosopher, or a historian? Chances are – never – unless you were forced to by the involuntary expenditure of your tax dollars. Those degrees, according to Clarey, are worthless.

    If Clarey is dismissive of intellectual pursuits, the AACU is the opposite. Part of its justification for liberal education:

    “Many of the questions shaping higher education today spring from an interdependent world community in the midst of profound social, political, economic, and cultural realignments. Systems are being redesigned, relationships renegotiated, and modes of commerce and communication transformed. The problems we face—as individuals and societies—are urgent and increasingly defined as global: environment and development, health and disease, conflict and insecurity, poverty and hopelessness. Similarly, the goals of democracy, freedom, equity, justice, and peace are increasingly understood to encompass the globe and play out across multiple and complex cultures. Such global challenges cut across academic disciplines and require perspectives beyond the training and experience of most faculty members.”

    While Clarey is an engaging and entertaining writer, the AACU webpage is turgid. Clarey writes for students and their parents; the AACU page is directed to college administrators and faculty. Beyond that, two words pepper the AACU website, but appear not at all in Clarey’s book: “globalization” and “21st Century.”

    Clarey definitely has the easier job when it comes to entertainment value. He scores a lot of points ridiculing the women’s studies major, a pinata full of belly laughs. And surely, if any major is worthless it is women’s studies. That’s just too easy a target, and it’s hard to give Clarey much credit for the criticisms.

    He’s on much weaker ground when he attacks historically legitimate disciplines such as English, philosophy, or history. “English has got to be the most worthless degree in the entire English-speaking world. The reason why should be blindingly obvious. You already speak English.” This is a silly argument, however entertaining. The problem with English is not that it is “worthless,” but rather that it has very little economic value. It’s been oversold – there are way too many English majors for the market to absorb.

    The AACU has a much harder task: defending the value of the liberal arts. The difficulty of the read thus roughly corresponds to the difficulty of the task. Their webpage underplays any claim of direct economic benefit from a liberal education. The supposed benefits lie in citizenship, global awareness, and political sensibility, etc. But an argument for liberal education that ignores earning a living is a weak argument.

    For all the talk about globalization, the AACU clearly has no clue as to what it really is. For college students, it means only one thing: lower salaries. Exceptions include those rare geniuses in business or the culture that beat the odds. But for the remaining 99%, a college degree is a commodity. They are competing against similarly educated people in China, India, Brazil, and around the world. All they have to offer the marketplace is a skill – surgery, law, accounting, programming, writing, etc. – that they must perform at least as well and as cheaply as the competition or a computer.

    For an example of the value of a liberal arts degree, a WSJ article describes “Eric Probola, who got a bachelor’s degree in global cultural studies from Point Park University in Pittsburgh in 2010, accepted an administrative assistant’s job at a nonprofit there for less than $30,000 a year.” Many, many BA graduates are working as secretaries, plumbers, and pizza deliverers. I know more who are going back to school to get nursing degrees. Why didn’t they do it right the first time?

    The AACU uses the term “21st Century” as shorthand for “we’re hip and we’re planning for the future.” Clarey, on the other hand, doesn’t account for the future at all. His solution is that students should major in disciplines that are well paid today, and he chooses engineering as the best example.

    Ten years ago he might have suggested law school, when it really was a ticket into the upper middle class. Since then, both technology and globalization have put paid to that. The same trends may occur in engineering and other disciplines. Clarey doesn’t address this possibility at all.

    In response, I’m guessing that he might say something like, ‘OK, I’m sorry about the lawyers. I really am. And maybe you’re right that ten or twenty years from now engineers will suffer the same fate. I can’t predict the future, and neither can you. But I do know that a student graduating in engineering today will move into a well-paid, upper middle class job. A student graduating in Environmental Policy Studies, with a senior thesis entitled “The Role of Women Farmers on Environmental Sustainability in Southern Malawi,” will not.’ Fair enough. Still, Clarey would benefit from studying the Three Laws of Future Employment.

    The AACU argument goes something like this:

    1. Globalization means that problems (climate change, human rights, etc.) that once were local become global.
    2. Governments, NGOs, and the United Nations, along with multinational corporations, will all take steps to address these pressing concerns.
    3. Students majoring in the liberal arts will increasingly find jobs managing global polity.
    4. Thus students who understand culture, politics, people, language, and science will be in demand.

    In a word, the liberal arts represent the future.

    In my view every step in this chain of reasoning is flawed. But the fatal flaw is economic. Where will governments, NGOs or the UN get the money to hire all these liberal arts students? Are American pensioners going to sacrifice their social security checks to employ the Malawi expert above, or are Malawi farmers going to chip in part of their $3/day profit for the purpose? Clarey is right: most liberal arts graduates will not earn a middle class living. Economically speaking, the degrees are worthless.

    Photo of Student on Steps from the University of Denver.

    Daniel Jelski is a professor of chemistry at SUNY New Paltz, and formerly served as the dean of science and engineering.

  • The Three Laws of Future Employment

    As a college educator I am tasked with preparing today’s students for their future careers.

    Implicit is that I should know more about the future than most people. I do not – at least not in the sense of specific predictions. But I can suggest some boundaries on the path forward.

    Let’s start with the three Laws of Future Employment. Law #1: People will get jobs doing things that computers can’t do. Law #2: A global market place will result in lower pay and fewer opportunities for many careers. (But also in cheaper and better products and a higher standard of living for American consumers.) Law #3: Professional people will more likely be freelancers and less likely to have a steady job.

    Usually taken for granted is that future jobs depend on STEM disciplines (science, technology, engineering, and math). This view is eloquently expounded by Thomas Friedman, who argues that the US is falling behind China and India in educating for STEM careers.

    Alex Tabarrok makes a case for STEM in his excellent little e-book, Launching the Innovation Renaissance. He points out that “the US graduated just 5,036 chemical engineers in 2009, no more than we did 25 years ago. In electrical engineering there were only 11,619 graduates in 2009, about half the number of 25 years ago.” Similarly, the numbers of US computer science grads is flat over the past quarter century. Thus Tabarrok believes the US is falling behind in innovation and related technologies.

    But Tabarrok and much of the conventional wisdom are  wrong. The job that electrical engineers did 25 years ago has almost nothing to do with the job they do today. Computers now do much of the work that people used to do – computers design circuits, do all the drafting, plan the manufacturing, etc. It used to be that an electrical engineer designed the electronics in your car. To some extent they still do, but today even the smallest components come with operating systems – in other words, your car is programmed rather than designed. Electrical engineering is a career that follows Law #1: much of it has been (and will continue to be) computerized out of existence.

    Computer science careers illustrate Law #2. Computer science services are among the most tradable in the world. It is literally a global job market. Thus the number of computer scientists graduating from American colleges is an irrelevant number. Further, computer science jobs are themselves being computerized. The job description for today’s computer scientist is only tenuously related to what they did 25 years ago.

    Laws #1 & 2 predict that there will likely be fewer STEM jobs in the future – they are both easily computerized and tradable. People will always be employed in STEM disciplines, many of them highly paid, but they’ll be paid for smarts rather than education. The disciplines will be much more competitive, with older and less talented workers left on the sidelines. Tom Friedman and Alex Tabarrok, reflecting conventional wisdom,  are mistaken in maintaining that increasing STEM education is a key to future economic competitiveness.

    So if computerized, tradable skills won’t create much new employment, if any, what will? Clearly, it will be non-tradable skills that can’t be computerized. At their most valuable these jobs depend on human-human interaction – empathy. Counseling (of any sort: psychiatric, financial, weight loss, etc.), sales, customer service, management, and personal services all rely on empathy, as does waitressing. While much teaching can be computerized, what remains will depend more on empathy than anything else. “They don’t care what you know, but they will know if you care,” is a maxim future teachers should take to heart.

    According to Ronald Coase it is generally cheaper to engage freelance labor than to hire employees, unless the market transaction costs are too high. The internet lowers transaction costs and makes smaller firms (fewer employees) more economical. Thus we arrive at the Third Law of Future Employment: professional people will more likely be freelancers and less likely to have jobs. This already happens in computer science: projects are put out to bid on websites for global competition. Much journalism today is freelance, as is graphic design, engineering, or any number of other skills. The third law predicts this trend will grow.

    The bottom line is that today’s young people need to develop an individually unique set of marketable skills for tomorrow’s job market. A marketable skill is more than an education (which is not a skill), and also more than just job training (a skill, but no larger expertise). The useful benchmark is it takes 10,000 hours to become expert in something.

    I recently had a student – an English major – in my chemistry class. He had no good reason for being there; he could have fulfilled requirements with much less effort. So I asked him why?

    “It fit into my schedule and I felt like doing it. I like it.”

    “What are you going to do with an English degree?” I asked.

    “I’m writing a novel. It’s about cowboys.”

    Now conventional wisdom says this guy is all wet. Alex Tabarrok would have him drop the English degree in favor of chemistry (or chemical engineering). His English professors will say that his chances of publishing a novel (much less earning a living off one) are next to zero. SUNY Chancellor Nancy Zimpher has Six Big Ideas for SUNY – and my student doesn’t fit into any of them.

    But think about the skill set needed to write a novel, of which writing may be the least of it. He has to have something to write about, which means nurturing a general curiosity about the world – not just cowboys, but apparently also chemistry. He learns to be a keen observer of people: their appearance, what they wear, their character, mannerisms, and language. He develops the self-discipline and self-confidence to finish a project because it is intrinsically important, not because people say “Wow, that’s wonderful. You’re writing a novel!” Because of his novel my student becomes expert in many skills that can translate into a wonderful career.

    How is that different from mere education? The typical English major writes papers comparing Proust with Balzac. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it isn’t building the 10,000 hours.  It simply amounts to following directions carefully, and eventually collecting a credential. True expertise, by contrast, is something self-generated, following your own passion and talents. This isn’t to say education is always a waste of time, but it will no longer be sufficient to build a career.

    So here is my career advice to today’s students:

    • If you passionately like something and are good at it, then do that. STEM, for example, will always have a place for smart, hardworking people. Likewise, good writing can’t be computerized, but you need both talent and passion to be successful.
    • Start work on the 10,000 hours. Your education may help, but very little you do in school contributes to the total. Be it car detailing, truck driving, computer programming, drawing, writing – acquire an expert skill in something. Write a novel.
    • Empathize if you can. Computers can’t do that. Jobs that involve empathy (along with other skills) will always be in demand.
    • If you got it, flaunt it. That’s something else computers can’t do. Beauty has value, especially for women but also for men. This is wonderfully described in Catherine Hakim’s book, Erotic Capital. Even if you don’t got it, take advantage of youth. Acquire a fashion sense, take care of yourself, look as good as you can.

    Work hard. Have fun. Get rich.

    Daniel Jelski is a professor of chemistry at New Paltz, and previously served as dean of New Paltz’s School of Science & Engineering.

  • How to Save Chicago

    The title raises the obvious question: Does Chicago need saving?

    I guess the answer is clear. Aaron Renn published a reviewofthe 2010 census, and for Chicago it was not pretty. Since 2000 the city lost over 200,000 people: nearly 7.5% of its Black residents, and almost 6% on non-Hispanic Whites. Only the Hispanic population grew, but at an anemic 3.4%. Even the metro area writ large isn’t doing all that well, growing by only 3.9% (against the nation’s 10%).

    Los Angeles, described as “a city in secular decline" appealed to the schadenfreude in my heart. As a Chicago booster, the decline of an arch-rival is emotionally (if irrationally) satisfying. But sadly, many of LA’s problems are Chicago’s issues as well: a decline of the central business district, an exodus of major businesses, the disproportionate influence of real estate on local politics, and ethnic politics. Add to that a still vibrant Outfit (mob), a lousy climate, and apart from Lake Michigan, little in the way of natural distinction, and you don’t have a pretty picture.

    Even some gentrification seems to be wearing thin. Walking along Clark St. there are plenty of empty store fronts. It’s beginning to look a little dreary (though still far from a slum).

    That all sounds pretty desperate. But there is some good news as well.

    • My wife and I inadvertently got off the Skyway one exit too soon and wound up driving down 87th St. to Stony Island. This is a thriving, middle-class Black neighborhood. Every storefront was occupied, and there was no graffiti! (Unlike graffiti-scarred Rome, which we also recently visited.)
    • Public transport is alive and well in Chicago. Trains and buses are clean, graffiti-free, and the passengers are civilized.
    • There is lots of affordable housing. Plenty of “luxury apartments” are for rent along Clark St. One can buy a perfectly nice condo for $100K or less. Many neighborhoods have been redeveloped and are really nice; Logan Square is a good example. This is the good side of the real estate bust, and gives the city a huge advantage over, say, New York or San Francisco.
    • Lakeshore Drive, Michigan Avenue, Wacker Drive, and even State Street are as fabulous as ever, especially in nice weather.

    So there is hope, but the patient is sick, and if things don’t change then Chicago could go the way of St. Louis or Detroit.

    So how can Chicago be saved? Here is my advice to Rahm Emanuel, the new Mayor.

    • Forget about the old business model – the world has changed. The days of small-time manufacturing or major banking centers are over. The notion that The Loop is going to be the home of large corporations is past. So concentrate on the new world: what can Chicago do well? I count three things: Residential, Retail, and Tourism. And Chicago has (quite inadvertently) done the residential part right. It’s the other stuff that needs attention.
    • Remember why Sears Roebuck started in Chicago: it was the center of the country. The Windy City is still is the center of the country. It should have the World’s Busiest Airport. It still is the railroad capital of America. It could be the retail capital of America. Chicago – The Loop, Michigan Avenue, Woodfield Mall, all of it – can be where America comes to shop. If relative pipsqueak Minneapolis can make a success of the Mall of America, just think what Chicago can do.
    • So – first step – lower sales taxes! We paid over 10% tax at a restaurant on Rush St. That’s crazy! Reduce sales taxes to 4% (or eliminate them entirely). Perhaps this will mean a decline in government revenue, but so what? It will create thousands of jobs and billions in business. (If politicians were really interested in their constituents rather than their own perks, this would be a no-brainer.)
    • Maintain the neighborhoods. I know the stockyards are long gone, but where is that really good steakhouse in Bridgeport? Likewise, I’m happy to drive to 87th and Stony Island for dinner and good music, but you need to ensure my safety. The city doesn’t need more real estate – it needs more cops, public transit, art, advertising, and street lights.
    • Free parking on Sundays. I know the city has taken a lot of flak for parking, but in principle it works. I parked within a couple of blocks of a fancy restaurant on Rush St. on a Friday night ($6). I parked within a block of Clark & Diversey so my wife could go shopping ($2). Before the new meters I would have had to drive around for an hour to find a place to park, and then it’d be many blocks away. Now it’s easy, and (compared to wasting time and gas) not expensive.

    But free parking on Sundays would bring them in from the suburbs in droves! New York does that, and that’s the only day we drive down to the City. Cut folks a break – it’s good business.

    • Improve public transit. That doesn’t mean new trains, but it does mean more safety. Let me take the train to Chinatown at night and have it be an enjoyable experience. Where is the convenient bus to Hyde Park? Why can’t I buy a tourist day-pass or a weekend pass for the CTA at my local station? And why do the ticket vending machines not accept credit cards? Oh, and if you do have an extra train or two, why not run A and B express trains on the Red Line? They did that 25 years ago.
    • Keep the cows. I don’t mean the stockyards, I mean the art. Of course the actual street-corner cows are passe, but Marilyn Monroe isn’t – she works. Use your architecture, your waterfront, your grand vistas. Use your imagination.

    Here is the key:  for Mayor Emanuel and for all politicians. The citizens have to earn money before you can tax it. Exorbitant sales taxes just spoil it for everybody. Yes, I know you need to spend money on schools and welfare and public-employee pensions. But you can’t do that if the money isn’t there in the first place.

    So get Chicago open for business. Lower sales taxes. Ensure public safety downtown and in the neighborhoods. Invest a little in mass transit. Give up just a bit of the parking revenue. Chicago is a great tourist and shopping destination, better than Rome in every way except ruins. Allow your citizens to cash in before Chicago itself becomes a ruin.

    Daniel Jelski is Dean of Science & Engineering State University of New York at New Paltz.

    Photo by smik67.

  • The Forty-Fifth Parallel

    When I was a kid growing up in Oregon, we’d occasionally drive north on I-5 to Portland. Just north of Salem we’d pass a sign that read (if memory serves) “The 45th Parallel: Halfway between the equator and the north pole.”

    I wish I’d stopped and taken a picture of myself straddling the parallel. It would go with a collection of similar straddles: across the equator in Uganda, across the Arctic Circle in Finland, and across the 42nd parallel.

    Yes, for if you go south on I-5 (or almost any other road) the 42nd parallel, 7/15ths of the way from the equator to the north pole, is very well marked. It says “Welcome to California.” For 42 is the southern boundary of Oregon and Idaho, against California, Nevada and Utah. Likewise, heading south from Syracuse on I-81, just past Binghamton, it’s marked as “Welcome to Pennsylvania.”

    Other latitudes form important state lines: the four corners is at the 37th parallel and the 109th meridian. Colorado’s northern boundary follows the 41st parallel. And famously, the 49th parallel comprises the largest part of the US-Canada border.

    The special 45th parallel, however, is explicitly reflected in political geography in only two places: it forms Montana’s southern boundary with Wyoming. And more significantly, it forms the northern boundary of New York and Vermont against Quebec.

    Only four states lie entirely north of the 45th parallel: Alaska, Washington, Montana (almost), and North Dakota. The biggest cities are Seattle and Portland. The parallel divides the Minneapolis-St. Paul area. So counting six million from Washington, 2 million each from Oregon and Minnesota, and about 3 million from everywhere else, approximately 13 million Americans live north of the 45th parallel – or 4% of our population.

    Now consider Canada. That country’s southernmost reach is Middle Island in Lake Erie, just south of the 42nd parallel. (My mother often told me that Canada was south of California.) The 45th parallel passes north of Barrie, Ontario, which means the Toronto Metro area and Western Ontario are to the south. Further east, St. John, NB lies just to the north, but Halifax, NS is just to the south. Montreal, Ottawa, and all western cities are north of 45. I’ll guess that about 25 million of Canada’s 34 million people live north of the 45th – about 74% of the population.

    So while almost all Americans live to the south, a large majority of Canadians live to the north. So if one wants to distinguish the US from Canada by a single straight line, the 45th is as good as any. It is much better than the iconic 49th, since the largest Canadian cities are well south of that latitude.

    Heading east, the 45th passes through the southern tip of Crimea, and splits Kazakhstan and Mongolia in half. The only parts of Russia lying south are Vladivostok and the northern Caucasus. Japan, China and the Central Asian republics are almost all to the south.

    In Europe, the parallel runs through Southern France and Northern Italy. To a very rough approximation, it follows the Pyrenees-Alps mountains. In the continental EU, only Bulgaria, Greece, Spain and Portugal lie entirely to the south.

    The parallel wouldn’t have been the worst way to split up the former Yugoslavia: Zagreb is to the north, and Belgrade in the south. Further, the Serbian region of Vojvodina and the Romanian region of Transylvania are north. These areas both have large Hungarian minorities, formerly part of the Austro-Hungarian empire. Irredentist movements in Hungary might happily settle for a boundary at the 45.

    A reasonable population estimate for north of the 45th counts 200 million in the former USSR, 370 million in Europe, and 30 million in Canada, for a total of 600 million, or 10% of the world’s population.

    If the earth were a perfect sphere, then 29.3% of the surface area of the northern hemisphere would lie north of the parallel (this is a reasonably straightforward calculus problem; try it if you’re so inclined). As the earth is actually an ellipsoid, the number is somewhat smaller. Since about 5 billion people live in the Northern Hemisphere, only about 12% of them live north of 45. (Only about one million people live south of 45 S.)

    Is this surprising? Not really – one wouldn’t expect many people to be living at the north pole. But come to think of it, you’ll be surprised by how surprising this number really is.

    A reasonable rule of thumb is that cities at the same latitude will have the same average annual temperature, as they get the same amount of sunshine at the same times. Thus while Minneapolis certainly has colder winters and hotter summers than Portland, on average it should come out right. I learned this again on my last visit to Portland – summer nights in Portland are cold!

    But the rule of thumb doesn’t apply when something truly bizarre affects the climate. And that bizarre thing is the Gulf Stream, which heats Europe 5+ degrees latitude more than it should. Thus Milan (at 45) has a San Francisco climate; London, Paris and Berlin feel like Portland; Oslo, Helsinki and St. Petersburg are similar to Vancouver; and even Murmansk can’t be worse off than Anchorage.

    Thus the surprise is not how few people live north of 45, but rather how many. For of the 600 million northerly souls, only 5% of them live in North America. That means that subarctic Eurasia has nearly 20 times the population, but probably only 3 times the land area. Thus there is a seven-fold higher population density in northern Eurasia than there is in North America. I’m surprised.

    To quantify the surprise, the appropriate Gulf Stream comparison line through Europe might be at the 52nd parallel rather than 45. I chose that latitude as it roughly corresponds to the Baltic coast. Thus France, Germany, Benelux, Ukraine, Poland, and major parts of European Russia lie between 45 and 52, along with smaller countries. Estimating that combined population at about 400 million, and subtracting that from the 600 million, we get a more reasonable sub-arctic population estimate of about 200 million.

    So 200 million live in the northerly Eastern hemisphere, and 35 million live in Canada – a ratio of nearly six to one. I’m still surprised, but can no longer account for the discrepancy. Is life really that much easier in Finland?

    There is another half-way latitude worth mentioning. What latitude splits the earth’s surface in half? If you did the above calculus assignment, you will immediately know the answer: the 30th parallel. Half the earth’s surface lies within 30 degrees of the equator, and half beyond. The 30th parallel does not correspond to any political geography – it goes through Jacksonville, Baton Rouge, Beaumont, and Austin, before entering Mexico southeast of El Paso.

    So the United States mostly lies between the 30th and 45th parallels. Now isn’t that just the very best of temperate climes?

    Daniel Jelski is Dean of Science & Engineering State University of New York at New Paltz.

  • The Nile Flows North

    “How can a river flow north?” the real estate lady asked me. “I mean, it’s impossible.” The offending river, within whose watershed I proposed to buy a house, is the Wallkill. It rises in Northern New Jersey – near Sparta – and passes by Middletown, NY, and through Montgomery, Walden, the eponymous town of Wallkill, New Paltz, Rosendale, and finally (with a complication) drains into the Hudson River at Kingston, NY – approximately 100 miles north of its source.

    In defense of the American public school system, I add that my realtor was born and educated in Europe.

    A colleague of mine (I work at a university) said at least semi-seriously that, except for the Nile, the Wallkill is the only river in the world that flows north.

    Now where have I heard that before? I used to live in DeKalb, Illinois. It was common wisdom in those parts (indeed, if memory serves, even stated in the student newspaper), that – except for the Nile – the Kishwaukee River is the only river in the world that flows north.

    You’ve all heard of that, of course: the famous, north-flowing Kishwaukee? The only problem is that only the South Branch (sort of) flows north. The main course, if anything, heads south.

    I grew up in Eugene, OR, at the headwaters of the Willamette, which really does flow north. But I don’t recall any of my high school chums telling me about the Willamette and the Nile. Maybe they knew me too well. Or perhaps that’s because so many other rivers in Oregon flow north: the Deschutes, the John Day, and the Hood. Even the Oregon portion of the Snake flows north.

    I do understand that in Cairo the word on the street is that, except for the Willamette, the Nile is the only river in the world that flows north. Odd, since in Sudan for about 200 miles, the Nile River actually flows south.

    So what accounts for this urban legend that (fill in the blank) river and the Nile are the only two rivers that flow north? I can think of three reasons.

    First, had I pressed her, the reason that my Realtor likely would have given: Rivers flow down, south is down on the map, and therefore rivers must flow south. OK, so that one is silly. My European Realtor should consider the Rhine, Elbe, Neisse, Vistula, and (arguably) the Seine or the Havel.

    My colleague, on the other hand, is smarter. He asked for an example of another north-flowing river, and I (pulling his chain) mentioned the St. Lawrence.

    “But that doesn’t really flow north.”

    And it is true, it flows only northerly. But that begs the question: how true to the compass does a river actually have to flow before it counts with the Nile? Clearly, if you define “north” narrowly enough, then very few rivers flow north – not even the Nile.

    I gave him better examples: The Mackenzie, Churchill, Red (ND), Fox (WI), San Joaquin, Bitterroot, Yellowstone, Madison, Jefferson, Lualaba.

    The Lualaba? That, my friend could argue, surely shouldn’t be on the list, though it flows nearly due north for almost 1000 miles. After all, it is just a different name for the Congo, upstream from Kisangani Falls. But nobody really knew that: for at least two centuries it was thought that the Lualaba drained into the Nile, surely establishing its northward credential. It was only in 1877 that Henry Morgan Stanley (of “Dr. Livingstone, I presume” fame) took a boat down the Lualaba all the way to its mouth at the Atlantic Ocean.

    Lest you think that multi-named rivers exist only in uncharted Africa, think again. Our very own Niagara River flows due north, from Lake Erie to Lake Ontario, and is just an extension of the St. Lawrence.

    The Lena, the Ob, and the Don flow north, all of which drain into the Russian arctic.

    But that brings us to the third reason for this persistent legend: that it’s true. No, I am not wearing a tinfoil hat, but even the most improbable urban legends have a grain of truth. I’ll argue this one does, and here is why.

    Most of the world’s continents are in the northern hemisphere, and conversely, oceans are disproportionately in the southern. Thus, to reach the ocean, rivers must on average flow south.

    We are all subject to the Mercator fallacy, and assume that the northern coast is as long as the southern. But it isn’t. The northern shores of Russia, Alaska and Canada are much, much shorter than the southern coasts of Asia, Europe and North America. Thus, just by the odds, there have to be many fewer rivers flowing north than flowing south. I do believe this is true.

    How could one prove that? I don’t know. It would be a lot of work – counting rivers, controlling for south-heading-north-flowing ones, etc., etc. Not worth the candle. So I’ll just accept my hypothesis as both reasonable and true.

    I’m not willing to give my real estate agent much credit. But my university colleague is not quite as far off the mark as you might have originally thought. North-flowing rivers are, indeed, relatively rare.

    The Richelieu, Monongahela, Shenandoah, and the St. Mary’s (FL).

    I’ve listed all the ones I can think of. Can you think of more? Creeks, brooks, streams and canals don’t count. And neither does the St. Lawrence. But other than that, I’m curious what you’ll come up with.

    Except for the Nile.

    Daniel Jelski is Dean of Science & Engineering State University of New York at New Paltz.

  • “A” is for Avenue

    Pity poor Matamoras, PA, population 2,600, located on the Delaware River where Pennsylvania, New York and New Jersey all come together. The town has only two named streets: Delaware Drive (parallel to the river), and Pennsylvania Ave. (perpendicular).

    Other streets parallel to the river are numbered: 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and so on, up to 10th. The avenues, perpendicular to the river, start with Avenue A in the north, and continue to Avenue S, in the south. Pennsylvania Ave., the main drag, is between “K” and “L”.

    What a boring little town!

    For another egregious example, consider Springfield, OR. The main street, imaginatively named Main Street, runs E-W, between South A Street and A Street. The other names are predictable: B Street, C Street, and…well, you get the idea. And, surprise, surprise, the N-S streets are numbered, from 1st all the way up to 75th Street (it seems there are no avenues in Springfield). Now Springfield, with nearly 60,000 people, does have a few more named streets than Matamoras (K Street has been renamed Centennial Blvd.), but not many.

    Where does this sad state of affairs come from? I will guess it started in Washington, DC, where Pierre Charles L’Enfant was imported from France to design the city. He brought with him the malign influence of the French Revolution: an irrational belief in hyper-rationality. And so Washington is on a strict grid, with lettered streets running E-W, and numbered streets N-S.

    Superimposed on this grid are streets named for states, most famously Pennsylvania Ave. To a very crude approximation, the States form a separate, looser grid offset by 30 degrees, though in reality they go every which way. Allegedly they provide grand vistas, and I guess they do. You’d have to tear down the Treasury Department to get the full effect.

    In my view, the lettered grid streets are boring, and the state streets are unpredictable. Thus Washington is simultaneously hyper-rational and nearly unnavigable – the worst of both worlds. Beyond the federal triangle it isn’t a very attractive city, either.

    So now consider New York City, or specifically, Manhattan. This appears even worse than Washington, what with all roads numbered. N-S roads (parallel to the primary axis of the island) are called Avenues, and are numbered from 1st Avenue in the east, the 12th Avenue along the Hudson. The E-W roads (along the island’s minor axis) are also numbered, designated Streets, starting with 1st Street (just north of Houston), and ending at 220th Street, at the northern tip of the island. Thus the corner of 33rd St. and 3rd Ave. is a perfectly legitimate address, as could be 8th Ave. and 88th St.

    But it is even worse than this. The widest point of the island is on the Lower East Side, and hence there is a chunk of real estate east of First Avenue. Not wanting to give tenement houses imaginative addresses, the Avenues are lettered: Avenue A, Avenue B, Avenue C and Avenue D. (When I first visited New York as an adult in the 1970’s, this area was too dangerous to walk around even during the day. In recent years I’ve explored the Lower East Side on foot with no problems and great enjoyment.)

    But unlike Matamoras, or Springfield, or even Washington, New York City works. Why?

    The Commissioners’ Plan of 1811 that platted the city of New York turns out to be a work of great genius. The key insight is asymmetry, or more accurately, anisotropy. Or, in colloquial terms that any New Yorker will understand, the difference between long blocks and short blocks.

    For in Matamoras, Springfield, or Washington (or Chicago, or almost any other city you can name), the blocks are square. But not in New York – there the blocks are rectangular at a ratio of approximately 3 to 1. The long blocks, between the Avenues, are approximately 6 blocks to the mile. The short blocks, between streets, are approximately 20 blocks to the mile. Note the word “approximate.” The Commissioners were smart enough to build in slight variations based on circumstance – no hyper-rationality here.

    It is impossible to exaggerate the importance of this fact. To pick a modest example, consider the Empire State Building. That building occupies half a city block between 33rd and 34th Streets on the west side of 5th Avenue (extending half way to 6th Avenue). This half block lends the building its unique aspect ratio – approximately 1.5:1 (close to the Golden Ratio). Think how much more interesting the architecture is than a building (e.g., the Sears Tower) forced into a square block. A square Empire State Building wouldn’t look the same at all.

    The Avenues, few and far between, are all broad boulevards with magnificent views. Consider 5th Avenue, looking downtown to the Washington Square Arch, or uptown toward Rockefeller Center. Indeed, every Avenue, from First through at least Ninth, rewards the pedestrian with a fantastic view. On this, New York beats Washington. (West of 9th Avenue, the wag might argue, just gets too close to New Jersey to be nice.)

    Instead, do you want a little side street? Pick a number – almost any number will do – between 1 and 220, and walk cross town. Pleasant, quiet and interesting neighborhoods await. There are a few numbers – 14th St., 23rd St., 34th St., 42nd St. – which, by the Commissioners’ design, are wider traffic thoroughfares, and impressive in their own right.

    New York has two other features worthy of note. One is Central Park, between 5th Avenue and 8th Avenue, from 59th Street to 110th Street. The facetious address I listed above (8th Avenue at 88th St.) doesn’t quite exist, for the Avenue along that stretch is known as Central Park West. But allowing for that difference, at 88th St. it would be a very elegant address indeed.

    The second feature is the country road along the Hudson that the Commissioners rechristened as a fantastic parade route. Today we know it as Broadway. It does not follow the grid, but instead starts at Battery Park and meanders its way north and west the entire length of the island. It intersects the grid at memorable locations: Union Square, Herald Square, Times Square, Columbus Circle, and more. Please don’t forget the Flatiron Building at 23rd St. (Madison Square).

    There’s more: I haven’t talked about Lower Manhattan at all, nor any of the wonderful things you can do, see and eat. But I’m out of space, so I’ll leave it here for now. I’ve never lived in New York City. Now that I live nearby, I take the train and walk the Commissioners’ streets as often as I can. Hope you can do that, too: New York is the greatest city in the world.

    Daniel Jelski is Dean of Science & Engineering State University of New York at New Paltz.

  • Counting Counties

    I was about seven years old when I got my first copy of the Rand McNally Road Atlas (RMRA), and I’ve rarely been more than 50 feet away from one ever since. Unless I was out of the country, there has probably never been a day when I haven’t looked at it at least once.

    The obvious question that a kid would ask is: What is the smallest county in the United States? In those days, RMRA alphabetized counties separately from cities and towns in the index, so it was a simple matter to go through and search for the smallest one. But I didn’t have the patience to sort through all 50 states; instead I tried to use some cleverness.

    I assumed that the smallest county would not be in populous states, so I excluded places like California and New York. Further, the RMRA didn’t list any counties for Alaska (nor does it today), so that state didn’t count. Thus the logical choice (for a kid) was Wyoming – the least populous state in the union (then excluding Alaska). But I soon noticed that Wyoming only had 23 counties – so despite the small overall population, it seemed unlikely that any of them were very small. Indeed, Wyoming has no counties with fewer than 1000 people.

    So the trick was not only to find a sparsely populated state, but also one with a lot of counties. North Dakota, with less than 700,000 people but with 53 counties, fits the bill. And indeed, I came across Arthur County, population 444, which seemed a likely candidate.

    But South Dakota has 66 counties and Nebraska 93, so it is possible that a smaller county existed in one of those two states. No joy – Arthur was smaller than any of those 159.

    I confidently went out into the world thinking Arthur County, ND was the smallest county in the United States.

    But then it dawned on me that Texas had 254 counties. In those days it wasn’t the population behemoth that it is today, and with only 269,000 square miles, a lot of those counties had to be pretty small.

    And so I found it – Loving County – population 67. That’s its population today; I can’t recall the number from the 1950 census (which would have been the number I found), but I think it was very close to that. And Loving County really is the smallest county (by population) in the United States even now.

    So am I telling you anything you didn’t already know? Probably not – I’m guessing most readers of this blog have long since learned this little bit of trivia. And you learned it from Wikipedia, here. You will also discover that Arthur County is only fifth on the list, bigger than three counties in Texas.

    Wikipedia makes it just much too easy! Imagine, if you will, that I’d had Wikipedia as a child. Think of all the articles I could write for this blog containing utterly useless information about everything. No more cleverness or labor required – all data is right there at your fingertips.

    Now maybe I can play one-up-man-ship with Wikipedia? Through careful study of the RMRA, I discovered three states that have exclaves: New York, Kentucky and Hawaii.

    * Liberty Island and the parts of Ellis Island that belong to New York are surrounded by New Jersey. These are also exclaves of New York County (Manhattan).
    * The westernmost part of Kentucky (part of Fulton County) cannot be reached without crossing Missouri or Tennessee.
    * Oahu and Kauai are separated by more than 24 miles, which means that one has to cross international waters to get from one to the other. (But since they are different counties, neither Honolulu nor Kauai counties have exclaves.)

    I also note that Brookline, MA is in Norfolk County, separated from the rest of the county by Middlesex and Somerset counties.

    So there, Wikipedia! Oh – alright – not so fast. See here. I haven’t had the courage to go through it all and see what I’m missing. Why bother?

    There are some questions for which the RMRA is not especially useful. For example, what are the largest and smallest counties by land area? Excluding Alaska (and by all means, let’s exclude Alaska), then simply by inspection any kid will tell you that San Bernardino, CA, is the biggest county in the country. At 20,000 square miles, it is almost as big as West Virginia.

    What is the smallest county? Before resorting to Wikipedia, I spent a sleepless night pondering this problem. I thought Hawaii’s Kalawao County might fit the bill. Boy was I wrong!

    Kalawao County is what’s left over from Father Damien’s leper colony on the north coast of Molokai. At midnight, I thought it was just the famous little peninsula that juts offshore. However my American Road Atlas (published by Langenscheidt, and nicer but considerably pricier than the RMRA) shows the county is considerably bigger than that – by about 2 or 3 times.

    And what about RMRA? Shockingly, it doesn’t show Kalawao County at all, neither on the map nor in the index! I don’t think it ever has. I find this bothersome.

    Nevertheless, neither atlas cites areas of any county, so it really is necessary to turn to Wikipedia. Wonderfully enough, Wikipedia does not have a list of the smallest counties by area – they only list the smallest county in each state – and then you have to look at a state list. Now there’s a good job here for some kid!

    The matter is complicated because Virginia has a series of independent cities – the smallest of which is Falls Church. At 2.2 square miles, this is the smallest county-like subdivision in the US. But it isn’t a county. The smallest actual county is Arlington County, VA, at 26 square miles (compared to Kalawao’s 52).

    Now what subtle distinction in local governance disqualifies Falls Church, and grants Arlington the status of smallest county? I have no idea.

    A county that I’ve never heard of – Colorado’s Broomfield County – has only 28 square miles. It surrounds a suburb of Denver by the same name – how it got to be its own county I have no idea. And Bristol County, RI, clocks in at 45.

    But this is not the worst. I can surely be forgiven for overlooking city-states in Virginia or anomalies in Colorado. What is harder to understand is how I missed Manhattan! New York County (which includes Manhattan, some smaller islands, and Marble Hill) comes in at 34 square miles. This, surely, would have been a better midnight guess for the smallest county in the country.

    Wikipedia makes me feel old, rendering the skills of a lifetime obsolete. Just the other week my daughter suggested I needed to buy a GPS.

    Never!

    Daniel Jelski is Dean of Science & Engineering State University of New York at New Paltz.

  • Road Decay

    These days, you’ll have to get your kicks on Interstate 44.

    US Route 66 – that road of legend and lore – exists mostly as a memory. Only in Oklahoma is the number posted intermittently along a road parallel to the interstate.

    Now I’m not especially sentimental, and I’m a generation too young to have really gotten into the Route 66 shtick. As the older folks pass away, Route 66 will decay entirely.

    There is something evocative about highways in this country. In the original incarnation, highways had names. Terre Haute, IN, for example, sat at the intersection of The National Road and the Dixie Bee Highway – or at least did until the federal government assigned numbers back in the 1920s. Now it’s at the junction of US Routes 40 & 41.

    Still, it doesn’t take much tradition for numbers to be almost as meaningful as names. The words “101” and “Pacific Coast Highway” are interchangeable. Florida’s wonderfully-numbered “A1A” is a fantastic drive. And what truck driver doesn’t know that Interstate 80 goes from the George Washington Bridge to the San Francisco Bay Bridge?

    A great road trip is to pick an appropriate highway and just follow it across the country. I did that with US 2, which runs from Michigan to Washington State along the Canadian border. I started at Duluth and headed west, through North Dakota, Glacier National Park, and into Washington State. I also once drove US 20 from Chicago all the way out to Oregon, via the Grand Tetons. These roads are healthy, being great tourist routes unaffected by interstates.

    A road I would love to drive is US 52 – surely one of the oddest routes in the country. It starts in Charleston, SC, and heads due north(!) into North Carolina and Virginia, and on into West Virginia. There it parallels the Kentucky border to Huntington, where it crosses the Ohio River.

    Then heading west along the river to Cincinnati, and hence to Indianapolis, it becomes the major road to Lafayette. Skirting the southern Chicago suburbs through Joliet, it crosses the Mississippi River at Savanna, IL. Onwards to Dubuque, Rochester, MN and Minneapolis.

    Then it gets boring, sharing I-94 all the way through Fargo, and further west to Jamestown, ND. There it finally leaves the interstate and is the main road northwest to Minot. It continues northwest along the Des Lacs river, and finally ends at the Saskatchewan border at Portal, ND.

    From South Carolina to North Dakota! Did somebody have a sense of humor? Or just a very fertile imagination? US 52 doesn’t follow any logical migration path, trade route, or compass direction. It’s useless for commerce – but it’s a fantastic tourist road. I’ll drive it myself someday (though not along the interstate: Minnesota needs to separate it from I-94).

    A less happy example is US 40, previously known as The National Road that once extended from Washington, DC, to San Francisco. Today it goes from Baltimore to (almost) Salt Lake City, the interstate having displaced it west of there. But that’s not the worst of it. For much of the route in Indiana and Illinois, traffic has mostly been diverted onto I-70. Many Illinois towns – Marshall, Casey, Greenup, and even the former state capital, Vandalia – were once bustling stops along US 40. Today they are nearly ghost towns. US 40 has become a little country road with very little traffic – pretty, but somehow depressing.

    An exception is Effingham, at the junction of US Routes 40 & 45. Of course that’s not important: it is also where I-57 and I-70 meet. For about six miles around town they share the same road. This is Truck Stop Alley, and travelers of a certain age will remember the now defunct Dixie Trucker’s Home. Effingham (when I was last there in 2007) is a thriving little place.

    US 40 – at least in Illinois – exists in name only, which I guess is an improvement over US 66.

    The US highway system has faded in large part because of the interstates. When first built, the interstate highway system seemed very rational. Major N-S routes were 5, 15, 25, 35, 55, 65, 75, and 95. E-W roads were 10, 20, 40, 70, 80, 90, and 94. In those days I could have drawn a free-hand map of all major interstate highways.

    The real I-80 went to San Francisco, but they built a spur from Salt Lake City to Portland, OR, calling it I-80N, and Portland was proud to be on I-80. Of course it made no sense, and at some point the road was renumbered as I-84.

    Then they built a route around New York City, from Scranton to Boston – also I-84. And let’s not forget I-86 that extends for about 50 miles in Idaho. Or I-82 in Washington State. Or I-39 from Bloomington, IL, to Wausau, WI – not to be confused with I-43 from Beloit to Green Bay, WI. And then there’s I-99, a monument to pork in Pennsylvania, and I-88 in Illinois.

    You get the idea: whatever logic lies behind the interstate numbering system has descended into chaos. Nobody can keep track of this anymore. I blame most of this on federal highway rules, more lenient speed limits on roads with interstate designation, and further, federal tax dollars to help build interstate highways. But this has perverse consequences.

    Consider State Route 17. Mostly I mean New York State 17, but the road extended with the same number from near Erie, PA to Kearney, NJ. In New York it is known as the Southern Tier Expressway.

    This is another great tourist route: the wine country along the Lake Erie shore, across Lake Chautauqua near the Chautauqua Institution, around Allegany State Park, through wild Cattaraugus and Allegany counties, past Elmira, birthplace of Mark Twain, the Corning Glass plant, the Woodstock Concert site, the Hudson Highlands, and that beautiful shopping mall: the Garden State Plaza. It’s all been known as Route 17 for generations.

    No more.

    From Erie to Binghamton it’s now designated I-86 – same as that little blip of a road in Idaho.

    Were I Federal Geography Czar, I’d restore Route 17. And more: I’d push it through the Holland Tunnel and the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel, and then replace current NYS 27 all the way out to Montauk, at the eastern tip of Long Island. Now THAT would be a road worth driving.

    Daniel Jelski is Dean of Science & Engineering State University of New York at New Paltz.

  • From Mahwah to Rahway

    I have never lived in New Jersey. Indeed, of the 49 states where I have driven a car, New Jersey was 47th or 48th on the list. And it is only in the last couple of years that I’ve lived close enough to visit the state regularly – I now live less than an hour from Mahwah.

    Years ago, I made some initial hypotheses about the Garden State:

    1. New Jersey is extraordinarily wealthy.
    2. New Jersey has the best highway system in the country.
    3. New Jersey deserves the moniker “The Garden State.”
    4. New Jersey embodies the American Dream.

    Let’s see how these have withstood the test of time.

    I spent a year in Africa in 1996-97, and visited New Jersey shortly after my return. By comparison, everything seemed wealthy – supermarkets, Walmart, hot & cold running water, public parks. But add to that the mile upon mile of suburban homes, each with a well-maintained yard, an SUV or two parked out in front, and real estate prices that I certainly couldn’t have afforded. Is it any wonder that I thought the streets were paved with gold? Driving along I-80 in my 12 year old Ford Taurus, surrounded by Mercedes, Lexus, Volvo and Acura cars, I felt like a country bumpkin cousin come for a visit.

    We stayed with some friends who lived in city center Passaic, an old rust belt town. Not rich – I agree – but hardly poor. Suffice it to say that the poverty rate in New Jersey (real poverty – not the fictional sort compiled by the Census Bureau) is vanishingly small.

    The Great Recession has tarnished this view a bit, but still, New Jersey is a fabulously wealthy state. Is there any other place in the world where so many are so rich?

    As a native Oregonian traveling back east for the first time, I expected crumbling highways, littered sidewalks, huge traffic jams, hopelessly polluted air, and so forth. On this score, New Jersey disappoints. Indeed, I was astonished at how well maintained and how efficient the road network was. And if – adjusted for the amount of traffic – New Jersey doesn’t have the best highway system in the world, it certainly comes close.

    There are many highways – Routes 17, 23 and 46 come to mind – that are four-lane divided highways with few or no traffic lights, but are not limited access. This turns out to be very efficient. Local businesses are well-served (they don’t all have to congregate at exits), traffic still flows at 55 mph or so, and they don’t compromise safety too much. The amount of traffic that uses Route 23 between Butler and US 46 is phenomenal, and yet the road also serves as a main commercial street for a large region.

    It is for highways like this that the term “jug handle” was invented, for in order to turn left or to make a u-turn, it is necessary to exit right and go around the jug handle. I heard this term first (and only) in New Jersey.

    Still, I have some complaints. The toll collections on the Turnpike or the Garden State Parkway are hopelessly inefficient, and lead to huge traffic jams. Further, signage throughout the state is less than ideal; if you don’t know where you’re going, you can get very lost in New Jersey. And the Great Recession has changed things: I’ve noticed more potholes and less maintenance in the past couple of years.

    The highways seem to have a bias against Philadelphia. Some bizarre Rube Goldberg contraption connects Philly with the New Jersey Turnpike. And famously, I-95 – otherwise uninterrupted from Presque Isle to Miami – skips the stretch from New Brunswick to Trenton. Philadelphia from my house is at least 30 miles farther than it needs to be (not that that’s been any problem). Was W.C. Fields a New Jersey native?

    New Jersey is a beautiful state. Coming from the West, one crosses the Delaware River on I-80, and then crosses spectacular mountains for the first 30 miles or so. The Jersey Shore is very nice – all the way down to Cape May (excepting, perhaps, Atlantic City). The Palisades are wonderful, as is the Hoboken/Jersey City skyline as seen from the Staten Island Ferry.

    Finally, New Jersey embodies the American Dream. My wife and I make a monthly shopping run to Jersey City for ethnic food. Journal Square is a place that always makes me feel patriotic, for there one finds Indian, Honduran, Cuban, Filipino, Chinese, Thai, Korean, Mexican, and who knows what other kinds of grocery stores and restaurants. Nearby Newark Avenue is little India west of Kennedy Ave., and little Manila on the other side. Only in America? Maybe on a much smaller scale also in Canada or Australia. But Jersey City is living proof of the universal principles on which our country is founded: Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.

    I know many immigrants who, over the course of 20 years, moved from a shared room in Jersey City, to an apartment in a place like Passaic, to a suburban home in Pompton Lakes or Woodbridge. The American Dream is real and happens every day in New Jersey.

    The Great Recession may have set this back a few years, but there is enough entrepreneurial energy in a place like Jersey City to more than justify faith in the future of America.

    Is this a great country, or what?

    I had a colleague who, when I asked where she grew up, shamefacedly and apologetically admitted “New Jersey.” I recall a Kojak episode where all the bad guys came from “Jersey.” There’s the Woody Allen quip: “the spirit of the Lord inhabits the entire universe except for some parts of Northern New Jersey.”

    There are politicians who want to make the American Dream unaffordable, if not actually illegal. New Jersey gets a bad rap. But I like New Jersey. And some day – when I’m rich – I might get a chance to actually live there.

    Daniel Jelski is Dean of Science & Engineering State University of New York at New Paltz.

  • It’s Crowded Out Here

    Do you know that where I’m sitting right now, the population density is 2,787,840 people per square mile?

    And here are two other numbers (from Wikipedia) that you shouldn’t believe: The population density of Manhattan is 71,201/sq mi. And of Australia: 7.3/sq mi.

    And now a number that might just be credible: Hong Kong has 2,346.1/sq mi.

    My personal population density I got by allotting myself 10 square feet, and then extrapolating to a square mile. True, as far as it goes, but this must be what Mark Twain meant by “lies, damned lies, and statistics.”

    Population densities (PDs) have meaning only if averaged over some relevant space. The size of that space is a matter of geographical judgment, and cannot simply be left to the statistician’s computer.

    Australia’s is easy to discredit: 90% of the country is empty desert. The habitable land (on which the population survives) is much smaller, and the relevant population density must therefore be (a still low) 70-80 people per square mile.

    So let’s consider some relevant spaces. We’ll start in Indiana, come back to New York, and end up in Hong Kong.

    Indiana is a state where the population is fairly evenly dispersed: there are no large uninhabited spaces, and likewise, no megacities of enormous density. The PD is 169.5/sq. mile.

    In Table 1, I have taken 2000 census data and ranked Indiana counties by population, reporting also the land area and the density.

    		Geographic area

    Population

    Land
    area
    Pop.
    Density/sq.
    mi of land

    Cumulative Population
    Cumulative area
    Cumulative Density
    Anti-cumulative Density
    		 
    		Indiana
    6,080,485
    35,867
    169.50
    		 
    #
    		 COUNTY
    1
    		 Marion County
    860,457
    396.25
    2,171.50
    860,457
    396.25
    2,171.50
    169.53
    2
    		 Lake County
    484,556
    496.98
    975.00
    1,345,012
    893.23
    1,505.79
    147.16
    3
    		 Allen County
    331,846
    657.25
    504.90
    1,676,858
    1,550.48
    1,081.51
    135.40
    4
    		 St. Joseph County
    265,577
    457.34
    580.70
    1,942,435
    2,007.82
    967.43
    128.32
    5
    		 Elkhart County
    182,788
    463.81
    394.10
    2,125,223
    2,471.63
    859.85
    122.21
    6
    		 Hamilton County
    182,734
    397.94
    459.20
    2,307,957
    2,869.57
    804.29
    118.44
    7
    		 Vanderburgh County
    171,916
    234.57
    732.90
    2,479,873
    3,104.14
    798.89
    114.33
    8
    		 Tippecanoe County
    148,937
    499.79
    298.00
    2,628,811
    3,603.93
    729.43
    109.90
    9
    		 Porter County
    146,798
    418.11
    351.10
    2,775,609
    4,022.04
    690.10
    106.99
    10
    		 Madison County
    133,378
    452.13
    295.00
    2,908,987
    4,474.17
    650.17
    103.78
    11
    		 Monroe County
    120,553
    394.35
    305.70
    3,029,540
    4,868.52
    622.27
    101.03
    12
    		 Delaware County
    118,774
    393.29
    302.00
    3,148,314
    5,261.81
    598.33
    98.42
    13
    		 Johnson County
    115,204
    320.19
    359.80
    3,263,518
    5,582.00
    584.65
    95.81
    14
    		 LaPorte County
    110,136
    598.24
    184.10
    3,373,654
    6,180.24
    545.88
    93.02
    15
    		 Vigo County
    105,864
    403.29
    262.50
    3,479,518
    6,583.53
    528.52
    91.18
    16
    		 Hendricks County
    104,099
    408.39
    254.90
    3,583,616
    6,991.92
    512.54
    88.82
    17
    		 Clark County
    96,460
    375.04
    257.20
    3,680,077
    7,366.96
    499.54
    86.47
    18
    		 Howard County
    84,961
    293.07
    289.90
    3,765,038
    7,660.03
    491.52
    84.23
    19
    		 Kosciusko County
    74,068
    537.5
    137.80
    3,839,105
    8,197.53
    468.32
    82.09
    20
    		 Grant County
    73,408
    414.03
    177.30
    3,912,513
    8,611.56
    454.33
    81.01
    21
    		 Bartholomew County
    71,441
    406.84
    175.60
    3,983,954
    9,018.40
    441.76
    79.54
    22
    		 Wayne County
    71,109
    403.57
    176.20
    4,055,063
    9,421.97
    430.38
    78.09
    23
    		 Floyd County
    70,818
    148
    478.50
    4,125,881
    9,569.97
    431.13
    76.59
    24
    		 Morgan County
    66,702
    406.47
    164.10
    4,192,582
    9,976.44
    420.25
    74.33
    25
    		 Hancock County
    55,377
    306.12
    180.90
    4,247,960
    10,282.56
    413.12
    72.92
    26
    		 Warrick County
    52,387
    384.07
    136.40
    4,300,347
    10,666.63
    403.16
    71.63
    27
    		 Henry County
    48,527
    392.93
    123.50
    4,348,874
    11,059.56
    393.22
    70.64
    28
    		 Noble County
    46,291
    411.11
    112.60
    4,395,165
    11,470.67
    383.17
    69.80
    29
    		 Dearborn County
    46,117
    305.21
    151.10
    4,441,282
    11,775.88
    377.15
    69.08
    30
    		 Boone County
    46,091
    422.85
    109.00
    4,487,372
    12,198.73
    367.86
    68.04
    31
    		 Lawrence County
    45,915
    448.83
    102.30
    4,533,288
    12,647.56
    358.43
    67.31
    32
    		 Marshall County
    45,138
    444.27
    101.60
    4,578,426
    13,091.83
    349.72
    66.63
    33
    		 Shelby County
    43,451
    412.64
    105.30
    4,621,877
    13,504.47
    342.25
    65.95
    34
    		 Jackson County
    41,356
    509.31
    81.20
    4,663,233
    14,013.78
    332.76
    65.23
    35
    		 Cass County
    40,915
    412.87
    99.10
    4,704,148
    14,426.65
    326.07
    64.85
    36
    		 DeKalb County
    40,280
    362.88
    111.00
    4,744,428
    14,789.53
    320.80
    64.19
    37
    		 Dubois County
    39,654
    430.09
    92.20
    4,784,082
    15,219.62
    314.34
    63.39
    38
    		 Knox County
    39,255
    515.83
    76.10
    4,823,337
    15,735.45
    306.53
    62.79
    39
    		 Huntington County
    38,068
    382.59
    99.50
    4,861,404
    16,118.04
    301.61
    62.45
    40
    		 Montgomery County
    37,636
    504.51
    74.60
    4,899,041
    16,622.55
    294.72
    61.73
    41
    		 Miami County
    36,097
    375.62
    96.10
    4,935,138
    16,998.17
    290.33
    61.39
    42
    		 Putnam County
    36,023
    480.31
    75.00
    4,971,161
    17,478.48
    284.42
    60.70
    43
    		 Wabash County
    34,954
    413.17
    84.60
    5,006,115
    17,891.65
    279.80
    60.33
    44
    		 LaGrange County
    34,920
    379.56
    92.00
    5,041,035
    18,271.21
    275.90
    59.77
    45
    		 Harrison County
    34,305
    485.22
    70.70
    5,075,340
    18,756.43
    270.59
    59.07
    46
    		 Clinton County
    33,866
    405.1
    83.60
    5,109,206
    19,161.53
    266.64
    58.74
    47
    		 Adams County
    33,631
    339.36
    99.10
    5,142,837
    19,500.89
    263.72
    58.14
    48
    		 Steuben County
    33,218
    308.72
    107.60
    5,176,055
    19,809.61
    261.29
    57.29
    49
    		 Greene County
    33,154
    541.73
    61.20
    5,209,209
    20,351.34
    255.96
    56.33
    50
    		 Gibson County
    32,504
    488.78
    66.50
    5,241,713
    20,840.12
    251.52
    56.15
    51
    		 Jefferson County
    31,692
    361.37
    87.70
    5,273,405
    21,201.49
    248.73
    55.82
    52
    		 Whitley County
    30,700
    335.52
    91.50
    5,304,105
    21,537.01
    246.28
    55.03
    53
    		 Jasper County
    30,065
    559.87
    53.70
    5,334,170
    22,096.88
    241.40
    54.18
    54
    		 Daviess County
    29,802
    430.66
    69.20
    5,363,972
    22,527.54
    238.11
    54.20
    55
    		 Wells County
    27,599
    369.96
    74.60
    5,391,571
    22,897.50
    235.47
    53.71
    56
    		 Jennings County
    27,537
    377.22
    73.00
    5,419,108
    23,274.72
    232.83
    53.12
    57
    		 Randolph County
    27,396
    452.83
    60.50
    5,446,504
    23,727.55
    229.54
    52.52
    58
    		 Washington County
    27,213
    514.42
    52.90
    5,473,717
    24,241.97
    225.80
    52.23
    59
    		 Posey County
    27,043
    408.5
    66.20
    5,500,760
    24,650.47
    223.15
    52.20
    60
    		 Clay County
    26,571
    357.62
    74.30
    5,527,331
    25,008.09
    221.02
    51.69
    61
    		 Ripley County
    26,514
    446.36
    59.40
    5,553,844
    25,454.45
    218.19
    50.94
    62
    		 Fayette County
    25,580
    214.96
    119.00
    5,579,425
    25,669.41
    217.36
    50.58
    63
    		 White County
    25,262
    505.24
    50.00
    5,604,687
    26,174.65
    214.13
    49.14
    64
    		 Decatur County
    24,554
    372.6
    65.90
    5,629,241
    26,547.25
    212.05
    49.09
    65
    		 Starke County
    23,569
    309.31
    76.20
    5,652,810
    26,856.56
    210.48
    48.42
    66
    		 Scott County
    22,961
    190.39
    120.60
    5,675,772
    27,046.95
    209.85
    47.46
    67
    		 Franklin County
    22,156
    386
    57.40
    5,697,928
    27,432.95
    207.70
    45.89
    68
    		 Owen County
    21,801
    385.18
    56.60
    5,719,729
    27,818.13
    205.61
    45.36
    69
    		 Jay County
    21,791
    383.64
    56.80
    5,741,520
    28,201.77
    203.59
    44.82
    70
    		 Sullivan County
    21,734
    447.2
    48.60
    5,763,254
    28,648.97
    201.17
    44.22
    71
    		 Fulton County
    20,526
    368.51
    55.70
    5,783,780
    29,017.48
    199.32
    43.95
    72
    		 Spencer County
    20,373
    398.69
    51.10
    5,804,153
    29,416.17
    197.31
    43.32
    73
    		 Carroll County
    20,176
    372.26
    54.20
    5,824,329
    29,788.43
    195.52
    42.84
    74
    		 Orange County
    19,297
    399.52
    48.30
    5,843,626
    30,187.95
    193.57
    42.14
    75
    		 Perry County
    18,917
    381.39
    49.60
    5,862,543
    30,569.34
    191.78
    41.71
    76
    		 Rush County
    18,250
    408.28
    44.70
    5,880,793
    30,977.62
    189.84
    41.14
    77
    		 Fountain County
    17,964
    395.69
    45.40
    5,898,758
    31,373.31
    188.02
    40.84
    78
    		 Parke County
    17,257
    444.77
    38.80
    5,916,015
    31,818.08
    185.93
    40.44
    79
    		 Vermillion County
    16,801
    256.89
    65.40
    5,932,815
    32,074.97
    184.97
    40.62
    80
    		 Tipton County
    16,587
    260.39
    63.70
    5,949,402
    32,335.36
    183.99
    38.94
    81
    		 Brown County
    14,957
    312.26
    47.90
    5,964,359
    32,647.62
    182.69
    37.12
    82
    		 Newton County
    14,547
    401.85
    36.20
    5,978,906
    33,049.47
    180.91
    36.07
    83
    		 Blackford County
    14,050
    165.1
    85.10
    5,992,956
    33,214.57
    180.43
    36.05
    84
    		 Pulaski County
    13,748
    433.68
    31.70
    6,006,704
    33,648.25
    178.51
    33.00
    85
    		 Pike County
    12,842
    336.18
    38.20
    6,019,546
    33,984.43
    177.13
    33.25
    86
    		 Crawford County
    10,729
    305.68
    35.10
    6,030,275
    34,290.11
    175.86
    32.37
    87
    		 Martin County
    10,353
    336.14
    30.80
    6,040,629
    34,626.25
    174.45
    31.84
    88
    		 Benton County
    9,426
    406.31
    23.20
    6,050,055
    35,032.56
    172.70
    32.13
    89
    		 Switzerland County
    9,068
    221.18
    41.00
    6,059,123
    35,253.74
    171.87
    36.47
    90
    		 Warren County
    8,429
    364.88
    23.10
    6,067,552
    35,618.62
    170.35
    34.84
    91
    		 Union County
    7,351
    161.55
    45.50
    6,074,903
    35,780.17
    169.78
    52.09
    92
    		 Ohio County
    5,619
    86.72
    64.80
    6,080,522
    35,866.89
    169.53
    64.37

    There are big differences from one part of the state to another. Marion County (Indianapolis) is the most populous, with PD = 2171. At the other extreme, Warren County has the smallest density (90 of 92 by population), with PD = 23.1, or 100-fold smaller. Does averaging these numbers make any sense?

    I have calculated what I call the Cumulative Density (CD). For Marion County, being the most populous, the CD is simply the PD for that county. For Lake County (Gary-Hammond, and #2 in population), the CD is the sum of the populations of the two counties, divided by the sum of their land areas, and so on. For Ohio County (smallest by population) all populations and all land areas are added, and CD = PD for the state.

    Similarly, I have calculated the Anti-cumulative density (aCD), which is the same thing, but now starting at the bottom of the table. The aCD for Ohio County equals the PD for Ohio County, whereas the aCD for Marion County equals that for the state as a whole.

    So what does this mean in terms of observables? Consider the drive from Indianapolis to St. Louis, westbound on I-70. This is a heavily traveled road, with lots of truck traffic. The largest city along this stretch is Terre Haute, in Vigo County.

    Now consider an alternate, parallel route: the four-lane highway – US 40 (known for much of its stretch as the National Road). This has very little traffic, and almost no truck traffic. Why?

    The interstate connects metropolitan areas, and hence traffic on the interstate will reflect the cumulative density. The parallel side roads such as US 40 carry mostly local traffic, and thus traffic should be proportional to the anti-cumulative density.

    So the cumulative density for Vigo County is 528/sq mile, a number that averages in Indianapolis and its collar counties. On the other hand, the anti-cumulative density is 91/sq mile, or approximately 6 times smaller. Indeed, a factor of six is probably a good estimate for the traffic difference between I-70 and US 40. So for a more relaxing trip to Indy – if somewhat slower – take US 40.

    The population density of Manhattan is almost as absurd as my personal population density. Manhattan is not an appropriate average: one needs to include reasonable hinterland space from which the island draws its food, water and labor. The metropolitan area does just fine.

    Table 2 shows census data for Downstate New York, defined as the metro area most generously understood. This includes much of the Catskill Park from which the City gets its water. This area has 12.9 million people spread over 5100 square miles, for a PD of 2,530. (Including relevant parts of NJ reduces this number to 2140.)

    Geographic area
    Population
    Land
    area
    Pop. Density    		 Cumulative Population Cumulative area Cumulative Density Anti-cumulative Density
    New York 18,976,457 47213.79 401.90
    Upstate New York 6,109,043 42128.85 145.01
    # COUNTY
    1 Kings County 2,465,326 70.61 34,916.60 2,465,326 70.61 34,914.69 2,530.49
    2 Queens County 2,229,379 109.24 20,409.00 4,694,705 179.85 26,103.45 2,074.47
    3 New York County 1,537,195 22.96 66,940.10 6,231,900 202.81 30,727.77 1,666.17
    4 Suffolk County 1,419,369 912.2 1,556.00 7,651,269 1,115.01 6,862.06 1,359.14
    5 Nassau County 1,334,544 286.69 4,655.00 8,985,813 1,401.70 6,410.65 1,313.91
    6 Bronx County 1,332,650 42.03 31,709.30 10,318,463 1,443.73 7,147.09 1,053.86
    7 Westchester County 923,459 432.82 2,133.60 11,241,922 1,876.55 5,990.74 700.03
    8 Richmond County 443,728 58.48 7,587.90 11,685,650 1,935.03 6,039.00 506.64
    9 Orange County 341,367 816.34 418.20 12,027,017 2,751.37 4,371.28 375.17
    10 Rockland County 286,753 174.22 1,645.90 12,313,770 2,925.59 4,208.99 360.13
    11 Dutchess County 280,150 801.59 349.50 12,593,920 3,727.18 3,378.94 256.39
    12 Ulster County 177,749 1126.48 157.80 12,771,669 4,853.66 2,631.35 201.43
    13 Putnam County 95,745 231.28 414.00 12,867,414 5,084.94 2,530.49 413.98
    Total Downstate New York 12,867,414 5084.94 2,530.49
    New Jersey 6,208,552 3838.53 1,617.43
    Total Metro 19,075,966 8,923 2,137.73

    This isn’t Indiana anymore! Metro New York City really is more densely populated than the Hoosier state – by about a factor of 10. The aCD where I live (Ulster County) is double that of Vigo County, and indeed, my local highways are at least twice as busy.

    But it would be a mistake to average in all of New York State into a single PD number. The census tells us that NYS has 401/sq. mile, but that is Mark-Twain-land. Upstate New York – beyond the political – has only tenuous connections with the City.

    Table 3 shows the census data for all upstate counties in New York – the PD is 145/sq mile, or sparser than Indiana. Indeed, Hamilton County, entirely within the Adirondack Park, only has 3/sq. mile! I once lived in Chautauqua County (aCD = 71), and can compare upstate NY, Indiana, and downstate NY; my car insurance rates have varied proportionally to the aCD.

    Geographic area Pop.
    Land
    area
    Pop. Density    		 Cumulative Population Cumulative area Cumulative Density Anti-cumulative Density
    Upstate New York 6,109,043 42128.85 145.01
    # COUNTY
    1 Erie County 950,265 1044.21 910.00 950,265 1,044.21 910.03 145.01
    2 Monroe County 735,343 659.29 1,115.30 1,685,608 1,703.50 989.50 125.56
    3 Onondaga County 458,336 780.29 587.40 2,143,944 2,483.79 863.17 109.42
    4 Albany County 294,565 523.45 562.70 2,438,509 3,007.24 810.88 100.01
    5 Oneida County 235,469 1212.7 194.20 2,673,978 4,219.94 633.65 93.82
    6 Niagara County 219,846 522.95 420.40 2,893,824 4,742.89 610.14 90.61
    7 Saratoga County 200,635 811.84 247.10 3,094,459 5,554.73 557.09 86.00
    8 Broome County 200,536 706.82 283.70 3,294,995 6,261.55 526.23 82.42
    9 Rensselaer County 152,538 653.96 233.30 3,447,533 6,915.51 498.52 78.46
    10 Schenectady County 146,555 206.1 711.10 3,594,088 7,121.61 504.67 75.58
    11 Chautauqua County 139,750 1062.05 131.60 3,733,838 8,183.66 456.26 71.84
    12 Oswego County 122,377 953.3 128.40 3,856,215 9,136.96 422.05 69.97
    13 St. Lawrence County 111,931 2685.6 41.70 3,968,146 11,822.56 335.64 68.28
    14 Jefferson County 111,738 1272.2 87.80 4,079,884 13,094.76 311.57 70.64
    15 Ontario County 100,224 644.38 155.50 4,180,108 13,739.14 304.25 69.89
    16 Steuben County 98,726 1392.64 70.90 4,278,834 15,131.78 282.77 67.94
    17 Tompkins County 96,501 476.05 202.70 4,375,335 15,607.83 280.33 67.79
    18 Wayne County 93,765 604.21 155.20 4,469,100 16,212.04 275.67 65.37
    19 Chemung County 91,070 408.17 223.10 4,560,170 16,620.21 274.37 63.28
    20 Cattaraugus County 83,955 1309.85 64.10 4,644,125 17,930.06 259.01 60.72
    21 Cayuga County 81,963 693.18 118.20 4,726,088 18,623.24 253.77 60.54
    22 Clinton County 79,894 1038.95 76.90 4,805,982 19,662.19 244.43 58.84
    23 Sullivan County 73,966 969.71 76.30 4,879,948 20,631.90 236.52 58.00
    24 Madison County 69,441 655.86 105.90 4,949,389 21,287.76 232.50 57.18
    25 Herkimer County 64,427 1411.25 45.70 5,013,816 22,699.01 220.88 55.64
    26 Livingston County 64,328 632.13 101.80 5,078,144 23,331.14 217.66 56.37
    27 Warren County 63,303 869.29 72.80 5,141,447 24,200.43 212.45 54.84
    28 Columbia County 63,094 635.73 99.20 5,204,541 24,836.16 209.55 53.97
    29 Otsego County 61,676 1002.8 61.50 5,266,217 25,838.96 203.81 52.31
    30 Washington County 61,042 835.44 73.10 5,327,259 26,674.40 199.71 51.74
    31 Genesee County 60,370 494.11 122.20 5,387,629 27,168.51 198.30 50.59
    32 Fulton County 55,073 496.17 111.00 5,442,702 27,664.68 196.74 48.22
    33 Tioga County 51,784 518.69 99.80 5,494,486 28,183.37 194.95 46.07
    34 Chenango County 51,401 894.36 57.50 5,545,887 29,077.73 190.73 44.07
    35 Franklin County 51,134 1631.49 31.30 5,597,021 30,709.22 182.26 43.15
    36 Allegany County 49,927 1030.22 48.50 5,646,948 31,739.44 177.92 44.84
    37 Montgomery County 49,708 404.82 122.80 5,696,656 32,144.26 177.22 44.48
    38 Cortland County 48,599 499.65 97.30 5,745,255 32,643.91 176.00 41.30
    39 Greene County 48,195 647.75 74.40 5,793,450 33,291.66 174.02 38.35
    40 Delaware County 48,055 1446.37 33.20 5,841,505 34,738.03 168.16 35.71
    41 Orleans County 44,171 391.4 112.90 5,885,676 35,129.43 167.54 36.20
    42 Wyoming County 43,424 592.91 73.20 5,929,100 35,722.34 165.98 31.91
    43 Essex County 38,851 1796.8 21.60 5,967,951 37,519.14 159.06 28.09
    44 Seneca County 33,342 324.91 102.60 6,001,293 37,844.05 158.58 30.61
    45 Schoharie County 31,582 622.02 50.80 6,032,875 38,466.07 156.84 25.15
    46 Lewis County 26,944 1275.42 21.10 6,059,819 39,741.49 152.48 20.80
    47 Yates County 24,621 338.24 72.80 6,084,440 40,079.73 151.81 20.62
    48 Schuyler County 19,224 328.71 58.50 6,103,664 40,408.44 151.05 12.01
    49 Hamilton County 5,379 1720.39 3.10 6,109,043 42,128.83 145.01 3.13

    And finally, a word on Hong Kong. I’ve never been there, and haven’t looked up any statistics other than the Wikipedia number, but I tend to believe that. It seems remarkably close to the New York metro number, which I hypothesize is a reasonable density for any large mega-city in the world.

    Do you know that where I’m sitting right now, the population density is 2,140 people per square mile?

    Now that’s a number you can believe in.

    Daniel Jelski is Dean of Science & Engineering State University of New York at New Paltz.