New Geography

Tag: Pennsylvania

  • Rust Belt: Can Micro-Suburbs Stay Independent?

    The Ohio suburb of East Cleveland abuts the core city to its west and north, and in terms of physical appearance the boundary between the two is indistinct. A century ago, the City of Cleveland unsuccessfully attempted to annex East Cleveland on two occasions. These days, Cleveland is unlikely to perceive its eastern neighbor as much of a catch. East Cleveland fell on hard times during the deindustrialization that took place throughout the Cuyahoga Valley: since 1970, it has lost more than half of its population. Nearly 40% of the 2010 population falls below the poverty level.

    East Cleveland’s residents and depressed real estate do not contribute a tax base by which the city can provide fundamental services. In this way, it’s no different than numerous exceedingly small towns and micro suburbs scattered nationwide. Can it — and other places like it — survive? And, if so, how?

    East Cleveland’s ‘solution’ is to shift the burden to motorists by tackling them with hefty speeding tickets. The 2.5-mile stretch of Euclid Avenue that passes through town is one of the city’s few revenue-raisers; a sidewalk sign promises camera monitoring and $90 speeding tickets.

    East Cleveland is a “Community of Strict Enforcement” that may not have high road fatalities, but the city’s socioeconomics give it few other options to generate the revenue it needs. The placard on the sidewalk (seen above) undoubtedly owes its existence to the debacle that a few years back brought about the demise of another Ohio town, New Rome.

    New Rome, outside Columbus, was a tiny village of only about nine city blocks (approximately twelve acres) that, even at its peak, no more than 150 people called home; the 2000 Census estimated its population at 60. It would probably have gone completely ignored if it weren’t for a four-block stretch of U.S. 40 (West Broad Street in Columbus) that fell within the town’s corporate limits. Within New Rome’s 1000-foot segment of highway, the speed limit dropped from 45 mph to 35. The New Rome Police Department had every right to issue $90 citations to motorists going 42 mph within this speed trap — and it did. The village of a dozen ramshackle houses, three apartment buildings, and a handful of small businesses earned nearly all its revenue from traffic tickets. With no other real public agencies, the money paid for the police force (which at times had as many as 14 employees, one quarter of the then-population) and the village council.

    A few neighbors eventually grew so frustrated that they launched the website New Rome Sucks. And after a series of corruption revelations, the town attracted the attention of the Franklin County Prosecutor and Ohio Attorney General Jim Petro, who determined that, after decades of incompetent management, New Rome should be abolished. Eventually, Petro convinced the Ohio General Assembly to pass a law allowing the state to seek dissolution of a village under 150 people if the State Auditor found that it provided few public services and demonstrated a pattern of wrongdoing. In 2004, the Village of New Rome was irrevocably absorbed into Prairie Township of Franklin County, Ohio.

    In most municipalities, good governance is a selling point. However, New Rome’s malfeasance was unequivocally a reflection of the will of its constituents. They got the racket that a majority of them apparently wanted. And eventually the village forfeited its very existence.

    While a New Rome could realistically emerge anywhere in the country, it is worth questioning whether the municipal incorporation structure in Ohio — and other states — particularly abets the process. Tiny municipalities exist everywhere. But they seem particularly prevalent in the industrial heartland. Cleveland’s Cuyahoga County has 57 incorporated municipalities; Columbus’ Franklin County has 25; Cincinnati’s Hamilton County has 38. Most states to Ohio’s northeast are almost completely incorporated: William Penn mandated this characteristic in his original charter for Pennsylvania. New Jersey is 99% incorporated. It is not uncommon to find boroughs as small as New Rome in both of these states; the Philadelphia suburb of Millbourne, for example, measures only .07 square miles.

    Conversely, southern states are more likely to opt for either expanses of unincorporated urbanized land (which characterizes the vast New Orleans suburb of Metairie) or mega-municipalities, such as the “town” of Gilbert outside Phoenix, with a population over 200,000.

    The majority of shrinking cities — and towns, villages, boroughs, and townships — now are clustered in the Northeast and the Midwest. “Home Rule” provisions in the Ohio state constitution, and similar legislation elsewhere in these regions, coupled with a small population, allow for a disproportionate amount of self-actualization… for better or worse. Cleveland’s most prosperous micro-suburbs have wielded it effectively to stem the erosion of their tax base.

    Does this broad-brush distinction between North and South yield any conclusions? At the very least, Rust Belt states must carefully weigh the benefits of entitling tiny populations to remain as independent towns. Otherwise, the only way many communities in a metropolitan mosaic will ever paint themselves out of the red is through surreptitious speed traps.

    Eric McAfee is an itinerant urban planner/emergency manager who fuses his cross county (and trans-national) travels and love of contemporary landscapes into his blog, American Dirt, where a different version of this article appeared.

    Photo in East Cleveland by the author.

  • Forged in Pittsburgh: The Football Industry & The Steelers

    When will the Labor Department come up with a statistic (GEP or Gross Entertainment Product) to measure to extent to which the economy is dependent on fun? The Pittsburgh Steelers are, at the very least, the emotional heart of Pittsburgh. In season on Sundays, the faithful wear their jerseys to church, and the city takes a reverential pause during the games, as it did during last Sunday’s AFC championship competition. Football wins in Pittsburgh are best understood as divine rapture, delivered by Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger, despite his pre-season time in purgatory.

    The football industry has its factory lines across the river from downtown Pittsburgh. A joint venture between the Pittsburgh Steelers, the University of Pittsburgh, and local government accounted for the financial package that replaced Three Rivers Stadium with Heinz Field, a hulking monolith that, instead of producing steel by night, hosts football games on about twenty days a year.

    At the same time, the city replaced the baseball stadium and added on to the convention center, for a total expenditure of $809 million. Costs allocated to Heinz Field are estimated to be $281 million, although the accounting is more impenetrable than the Steel Curtain.

    Why would a city struggling to replace jobs lost to Asia put millions into two stadiums that are little more productive than Crusader fortresses in the Levant?

    Some answers might be found in the Obama appointment of the Steelers’ owner, Dan Rooney, as U.S. ambassador to Ireland. Presumably, Rooney and some local unions had delivered Pennsylvania to the Democrats over the course of many elections, and their reward was a sweetheart contract to build a football stadium and an ambassadorship.

    The arrangement casts professional football in the guise of a protected guild, although perhaps one as vulnerable as steel tubing is to competitive destruction.

    Were professional football not to enjoy an antitrust exemption, the Koreans and the Chinese might be supplying games for costs far less than those requiring a publicly funded stadium ($158 million directly) in which the Rooneys pocket the $125,000 per year from each of the high-end sky boxes.

    The first time I went to Pittsburgh, in 1972, I came up the Ohio Valley on a series of buses that stopped in places like Moundsville, Wheeling, Steubenville, and Weirton. Pittsburgh was an iron and steel city, although the London fog of soot no longer hung over the downtown. Still, it looked more like the past than the future, with the riverbanks lined with rusting barges and empty steel mills as forlorn as an Edward Hopper painting. The trip came after two weeks in Appalachia, studying coal mining for a High School project, together with my friend and classmate, Kevin Glynn.

    Approached from the south, Pittsburgh felt like the coal and iron ore capital of America, where train, road, and river traffic came together to form the crossroads of the carbon revolution. Opposition to cap-and-trade explains why Pennsylvania recently voted Republican.

    As we made our way up the Ohio Valley, Kevin and I went by car plants, rail yards, smelters, and gas flares, which, had I known more about economics, I might have recognized as the eternal flame of industrial America. Heavy industry was then moving to the Far East, which left downtown Pittsburgh with the air of a frontier settlement in which the saloon and the company store had closed.

    We stayed in a shabby hotel, went to a baseball game, and caught a night train home to New York, having liked Pittsburgh more than we expected. After the narrow valleys of West Virginia and claustrophobia of the fading coal mines, Pittsburgh had felt expansive, and the three rivers that converged off Fort Pitt suggested that the city had currents to wider worlds, as Abraham Lincoln found when he drifted from Kentucky to New Orleans.

    Thirty-eight years after my first visit, I recently came back to Pittsburgh, this time on the aft, open deck of a private railroad car, as if whistle-stopping in a political campaign.

    Although the private rail car offered excellent food, wine tasting, and good company, what interested me most was to see how Pittsburgh had changed since 1972. A friend who owns the car, New York Central 3, invited me to join him, and the excursion gave me the feeling that I was touring Rust Belt America in a steel gondola.

    I made much of the trip west on an outdoor folding chair that gave me a box seat as the train crossed the Alleghenies and moved toward Pittsburgh through the historically drenched valleys around Conemaugh and Johnstown, site of the flood, nature’s 9/11. At each stop I wondered the extent to which Smokestack American was underwater.

    In 1889 the dam of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club, above Johnstown, is said to have contained 20,000,000 tons of water before it broke, equivalent to the amount that goes over Niagara Falls in 36 minutes. A wind tunnel preceded the wall of water that killed 2,000. Another kind of tsunami has since swept over the modern American steel industry.

    Along the banks of the Monongahela and Allegheny rivers, the Pittsburgh steel mills that once belched fire are gone, replaced by highways, empty spaces, apartment blocks, and hotels. Much of the local steel production has been outsourced to Eastern Europe, reminding me that I had seen a train emblazoned “US Steel Serbia,” on a trip to the Balkans.

    The extent to which Pittsburgh has shifted into the service economy was clear, with universities, hospitals, government office buildings, and sports complexes accounting for the local growth industries.

    At the Western Pennsylvania Sports Museum, I collected some notes on the extent to which football is among the region’s thriving investments. A wall map shows the location of the many local quarterbacks exported to the professional ranks. I marveled at finding names like Dan Marino, George Blanda, Joe Montana, and Jim Kelly in places that once produced things like barbed wire.

    My Pittsburgh touring ended in nearby Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, in homage to quarterback Joe Namath (of the New York Jets), who grew up on several of its gritty streets. A steel products company still operated in the town, but the mill appeared to be closed. Beaver Falls lives on the fumes of a community college and its sporting legends. In his memoirs, Namath writes that the area is “the home of more All-Americans per square mile, I’ll bet, than any other section of the country.”

    I found the houses where Joe Willie grew up, including rooms over a bar & grill then called the 1223 Club, which may explain Joe’s remark that he liked his girls blond and his Johnny Walker Red. Inside the bar both are still available.

    On the way back to the station, I drove past the location of Fort Pitt, the battles for which, as Fort Duquesne, had ignited the global Seven Years War (1756 – 1763) between the English and the French. A young officer, George Washington, conducted a blundering campaign against the then-French held fort, but his reputation survived.

    In the 1750s, Pittsburgh was the heart of the New World, as it was later the industrial capital of an industrial nation. Today, the only wars being fought around the Ohio Valley relate to foreign trade and the Super Bowl.

    Pittsburgh Steelers Photo by pitt6rng

    Matthew Stevenson is the author of Remembering the Twentieth Century Limited, a collection of historical essays. He is also editor of Rules of the Game: The Best Sports Writing from Harper’s Magazine.

  • A Mass Transit New England Ramble

    To escape the summer crowds in the Hamptons, I rode the S92 bus (fare $1.50) for almost three hours, as it cruised the south and north forks of Long Island, before leaving me at the ferry that connects Orient Point to New London, Connecticut.

    I might end up late to some meetings, but this way I could monitor the progress of the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009, at least as it pertains to the more than $8 billion earmarked for high-speed trains, if not buses and ferries.

    Not many Hampton People leave on a local bus, which in this case was filled with Latino day laborers, giving it the air of a John Steinbeck novel. I was headed to New England, and I wanted to see if I could make a circuit to Providence, Boston, Amherst, and Keene entirely on public transportation.

    Conclusion: Mass transit works better as a White House sound bite than as a way to get around New England.

    The S92 rolled through the Hamptons to Riverhead, the county seat, where the Latinos got off, leaving me with the driver (from Masuria in Poland) to pass by the North Fork vineyards, which are vast and sophisticated. When I was young, only winos drank Long Island vintages; now it can cost $40 a bottle.

    The ferry to New London made the crossing in local fog banks, which obscured Plum Gut, but parted for the run into New London, the American Gibraltar. I saw a surfacing submarine and, at the ferry terminal, a sculpture of the playwright Eugene O’Neill, shown as a boy gazing out to sea (even though he spent most of his adult life looking at bad marriages rather than the waves).

    The train to Providence ran along the snug harbors around Mystic and Stonington, although inexplicably it arrived forty-five minutes late. Brown University and some local technology companies are the reason that the Rhode Island capital does not feel like a failed mill town. My friend on the local newspaper whispered that the well reputed university is long on celebrity children, and short on academic excellence.

    I switched to the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority (MBTA) for the hour run into Boston’s Back Bay Station. It ran with the air conditioning on full blast, as if it were a rolling meat locker. The rail car had wifi, a commuter train novelty for me, and much appreciated.

    The $15 billion Big Dig, to bury the city’s interstates, not to mention the U.S. Treasury, is largely completed. Even so, much of downtown feels like an exit ramp, usually named after one of the Kennedys. Boston is not one of the cities where I am at home, but I appreciate the glimpses of the Freedom Trail and thinking I might have to make way for ducklings.

    After my Boston meetings, I headed for Amherst in central Massachusetts. Traveling by bus would have meant changing in Springfield, as would have Amtrak (estimated travel time, about four hours). Instead, I took a MBTA commuter train to North Leominster, a gritty mill town now given over to Jiffy Lube and donuts.

    The Amherst area has thousand of students from eastern Massachusetts, but few plans to improve its bus or train connections. Nor is it possible to take public transportation from Amherst one hour north to Keene, New Hampshire. Had I wanted to do so, I would have had to first go south to Springfield, then back up to Bellows Falls, Vermont, spend the night, and connect the following morning to Keene on Greyhound (“safe, reliable, courteous, and slow”).

    I surrendered and rented a car.

    Before leaving Amherst, I visited the Emily Dickinson House, where I had the good luck to join Ms. Casey Clark’s tour. She made the reclusive Emily come to life: by quoting from her work (“Forever is composed of nows”), and pointing to the solitary window table where Dickinson wrote many of her 1,800 poems, the passionate Tweets of the nineteenth century.

    I had not been to Amherst College since October 1963, when as a nine-year old boy I was taken to see President John F. Kennedy dedicate the new Robert Frost Library.

    On this visit, I recalled seeing JFK’s helicopter land on the football field, and his motorcade along the main street. His bright red hair and toothy smile are etched in memory. He sat on the back of an open car; the President as prom queen. Even to a rapturous boy, he looked vulnerable. Less than a month later, he died in the same convertible.

    For the benefit of my university-bound children, I joined a campus tour. After exhaustive inspections of laundry rooms, showers, dorms, lounges, and food courts — why are colleges marketed as subdivisions? — I gave up and drove to Brattleboro, Vermont, another mill town that is trying make a go of spinning cappuccino.

    My New England ramble ended on Amtrak’s Vermonter, a train that goes from northern Vermont to Washington, probably in about the same amount of time that the Indians took to make the journey in canoes. The train poked across Massachusetts, idled in Springfield, and then picked up speed south of Hartford, where we crossed the Connecticut River.

    The biggest problem with American public transportation is that it lacks a critical mass. The infrequent service is more of a problem than the slow speeds, which could be padded over with comfortable seats, wifi, and better coffee. Amtrak has only one train a day north of Springfield, which in turn has one train to Boston and spotty bus service. Little wonder everyone drives.

    Why throw money at high-speed rail when Amtrak runs on such dilatory schedules? Spend the money, instead, on more traditional rail cars and engines, which are in short supply, or hire some Swiss conductors and engineers to keep to the schedules.

    Amherst to Princeton, New Jersey, where I was headed, is a five–hour car ride. I made the trip by train in a leisurely eight hours, with the proximity of an AmCafé and a power outlet for my computer, to write this article.

    I appreciated not having to drive on the interstate or sit on a cramped bus, although the station waits were maddening. The train crew changes were frequent, suggesting a company hostage to union rules and feather bedding. To my knowledge, Emily Dickinson never wrote a poem about Amtrak. If she had, it might read:

    I cast my Fate upon the Rails –
    As if a spirit on Indian trails –
    We stopped, and shuddered, and watched our steps –
    And sweated during A/C fails

    Leaving out the $80 cost of the rental car, my travels cost less than $125. And although I loved being on trains and ferries, there is something shabby about public transportation, as though it’s headed for obscurity, rather than for the President’s brave, new high-speed world.

    Back home, the question on my mind was: If you had $8 billion, would you let Amtrak manage it?

    Matthew Stevenson is the author of Remembering the Twentieth Century Limited, winner of Foreword’s bronze award for best travel essays at this year’s BEA. He is also editor of Rules of the Game: The Best Sports Writing from Harper’s Magazine. He lives in Switzerland.

    Photo: Black-backed gull and Sea Jet high-speed ferry, New London, Ct.
    By L’eau Bleue

  • Is Pennsylvania History?

    On a recent whirlwind through Pennsylvania, I thought of James Carville, who popularized the notion that “It’s Philadelphia on one side, Pittsburgh on the other, and Alabama in the middle.” It’s a clever line, but between the Ohio and Delaware rivers he is missing a great American tapestry: the wreck of the Penn-Central, United flight 93’s final frantic moments, the social history of the Johnstown flood, and whether a state of steel and coal is past or present.

    Pennsylvania also reflects some broad truths about the nation, in particular, that stimulus plans can take forty years, the Amish have it right, the Civil War remains a personal wound, and Amtrak will never be the agent of high-speed rail.

    My first stop was Harrisburg, and I got there on a train that crossed through Amish country. I would imagine that as a community the Amish have the lowest debt-to-equity ratio in the country. There is something timeless and inspiring about their red barns and silos that flickered across the train windows, and no one needs to exhort the Amish to “Go Green.”

    In Harrisburg, as if a character in a novel by Theodore Dreiser, I walked with my grip from the station to a restaurant in the shadow of the state capitol. Later that evening I went to a high school graduation in the Concert Forum Hall, an elegant rotunda that was finished in the depths of the Depression.

    Around the circular walls are huge maps and timelines of world history. I passed the slow moments of the ceremony following Hadrian on his way into the Syrian desert and Marco Polo to the court of the Great Khan.

    Will the current stimulus money produce any buildings of such greatness? Somehow I doubt it. When the train went through Philadelphia, I saw a cheerful sign in an empty rail yard, with wording to the effect that the hot government money would get Americans back to work. The boast sounded unconvincing, as if everyone knows that stimulus money will end up funding deficits, national security advisors, and weapons contractors.

    General Robert E. Lee thought so much of Harrisburg and its strategic rail bridges that twice he embarked on campaigns to cut the main line of the Pennsylvania Railroad, and twice he failed, first at Antietam and then Gettysburg. The bridges over the Susquehanna remain, and their stone arches echo Avignon. The downtown — which looks in need of some stimulus — recalls the urban loneliness of Edward Hopper.

    From Harrisburg I drove west to Chambersburg and Mercersburg, strategic hamlets in the Civil War, but now a long way from the information superhighway. In 1864 Lee’s general, John McCausland, burned Chambersburg to the ground when the citizens failed to post his demanded ransom, which was $100,000 in gold, or $500,000 in currency (even terrorists are leery of inflated money); later, Chambersburg was the only northern town razed during in the war.

    President James Buchanan grew up in Mercersburg, a sleepy town notable today for its distinguished prep school. The log cabin in which he was born is now on the campus of Mercersburg Academy, and a nearby plaque notes that Buchanan served as U.S. Senator, ambassador to Russia and Great Britain, and Secretary of State before becoming the fifteenth president, impressive achievements for someone whose presidency is remembered as a failure, ruined by the Dred Scott decision and the drift to Civil War, which he did little to prevent.

    In a more recent conflict, United flight 93 crashed west of Mercersburg, near Shanksville, which echos the lonely farmland over which so much of the Civil War was fought. Conspiracy theories (a rare American growth industry) postulate that no plane crashed at Shanksville or that the one that did was destroyed by a missile, perhaps on orders from the trigger-happy Dick Cheney. (President Bush was finishing up My Pet Goat with the school kids.) Other theories claim that engine parts were found eight miles from the crash site and no plane debris larger than small fragments were located.

    A visit to the temporary Flight 93 memorial, however, puts to rest these and a number of other 9/11 conspiracy theories. About eighty percent of the plane was found at the site, although much of its was buried in the soft earth that had been strip mined; many local residents saw the plane hurtling intact toward the ground; the only debris found miles from the crash site was paper; and one of the engines flew several hundred yards — not miles — from the impact crater.

    The memorial to the victims of Flight 93 is budgeted to cost about $50 million, some of which has been privately raised. In design, it looks like the Vietnam Memorial in the middle of nowhere. No doubt it was a flush Congress that authorized the expenditure, even though the temporary memorial, a simple American flag at the crash site and a makeshift observation deck, looks like a better use of government resources. (Think of American tragedies remembered only with a statue in a traffic circle.)

    Forty Americans died at Shanksville. The death toll at Johnstown, just up the road, was more than two thousand when in 1889 a dam above the city broke and a wall of water washed over the gritty mill town. The tragedy is recalled in a series of memorials around the Little Conemaugh River Valley, and at a flood museum in Johnstown, which more recently has lost most of its steel production and its jobs.

    Not even the local filming of the 1977 movie Slap Shot with Paul Newman could save the economy of Johnstown, now laced with boarded storefronts, although it’s fun in the main square to imagine the presence of Coach Reggie Dunlop and the Hansons (“They brought their fuckin’ TOYS with ’em!”).

    A morality tale as well as a local disaster, blame for the Johnstown flood falls on The South Fork Fishing & Hunting Club, a mountain retreat of the super rich — Carnegie and Frick were members — that callously ignored warning signs that its South Fork Dam might give out. No wonder its so hard to win as a Republican in central Pennsylvania.

    I spent the night in Pittsburgh, no longer a steel city, but one given over to the service economy: in this case, sports stadiums, universities, finance, and hospitals. Old America made steel rails; new America entertains the masses.

    I left Pittsburgh on the The Pennsylvanian, Amtrak’s daily service to Philadelphia and New York, a remnant of the Pennsylvania Railroad, once the largest corporation on earth. After the Pennsylvania Railroad merged with the New York Central in 1968, the combined company failed less than three years later. The writer L.J. Davis said “it was more a death watch than a merger.” Penn-Central was the Enron of the 1970s. When it failed, it was the biggest bankruptcy in U.S. history.

    Here’s an overlooked cautionary tale about the delayed time reactions of government’s economic interventions: played out over thirty years, the Penn-Central merger was a big success. It took, however, the deregulation of the freight railroad business and the sale of the assets of Conrail (the successor to the bankruptcy) to the Norfolk Southern and CSX. When the dust settled, Penn-Central left the Northeast with two privately-owned railroads that are everything the shareholders had hoped for in 1968.

    On my return trip east, the train crossed the Allegheny Mountains on the Horseshoe Curve, ambled through Altoona and Lewistown, and then paused for almost forty-five minutes in Harrisburg and Philadelphia—an odd schedule for a railroad now talking up high-speed rail. Keep in mind that all the rail stimulus billions will bring is a return to the train speeds reached in the 1920s… the perfect metaphor for the illusions of government investment.

    What makes me hopeful about Pennsylvania’s future? I see optimism in the Amish red barns, the three rivers in Pittsburgh, the endurance of Johnstown, the four tracks of the main line, the federal-era houses in Harrisburg, the life of the Susquehanna, and the roadside markers like one in Chambersburg that reads: “On June 26, 1863, Gen. Robert E. Lee, and staff, entered this square.”

    What’s not to admire about a state that keeps its history so alive? I only wish it still had a steel industry and the Broadway Limited.

    Flickr Photo by Runner Jenny: 155th Pennsylvania Zouave Monument, Little Round Top, Gettysburg.

    Matthew Stevenson is the author of Remembering the Twentieth Century Limited, winner of Foreword’s bronze award for best travel essays at this year’s BEA. He is also editor of Rules of the Game: The Best Sports Writing from Harper’s Magazine. He lives in Switzerland.

  • The Republican Party, Pennsylvania and Arlen Specter

    Senator Arlen Specter switched parties. A five term Senator switching parties is certainly news, but it also represents a far greater statement about the challenges facing the Republican Party in Pennsylvania going forward.

    Pennsylvania has been a dependable “Blue State” in presidential races since 1988. Currently, Democrats have a 1.2 million voter registration advantage. Less than a decade ago the margin was less than 500,000. What changed over the past decade?

    The changes in the political and demographic make-up of the five county Philadelphia region forced Specter’s flip. Specter’s base had been eroding as a result of other popular Democratic politicians seeking statewide and national offices and needing moderate Republicans to switch parties to support them in tough Primary Elections.

    It began with now Governor Ed Rendell who faced a fierce Primary Election in 2002 against Bob Casey, Jr. – the son of a former Pennsylvania Governor. The former Philadelphia Mayor needed a strong turnout in the Philadelphia area and he managed to flip more than one hundred thousand Republicans for the primary.

    Rendell defeated Casey by 162,648 votes statewide, but his victory total was 305,641 in the five county Philadelphia area where he won 81.3% of the vote and 56.5% of his total vote statewide.

    The 2002 primary proved the central role of the Philadelphia region, especially the suburbs. Rendell was able to win even while losing the total vote in the other 62 counties of Pennsylvania. The shift in moderate Republicans in the suburbs to Rendell was the critical factor.

    This was again the case in the general election; Rendell would carry this region by 515,000 votes on his way to winning his first term as Governor by 323,827.

    The 2002 election marked a turning point in Pennsylvania politics. From that point forward no candidate for statewide office could win without carrying at least one of the four suburban Philadelphia counties. All were becoming increasingly Democratic in voter registration.

    In the 2004 Primary, Arlen Specter faced conservative ex-Congressman Pat Toomey. Specter likely underestimated the impact of the change is southeast voting patterns. He was overconfident that his moderate Republican suburban base would carry the day. They did, but more narrowly than most suspected. Specter won the election by 17,146 votes statewide but he carried the southeast by 41,719 votes.

    Like Rendell in 2002, Specter lost the rest of the state but won in the five county region by enough of a margin to secure victory statewide. Unlike Rendell, his total in the southeast region only accounted for 31.4% of his statewide total votes as compared to Rendell’s 56.5%.

    Also, significant was the fact that he only defeated Toomey, who is far more conservative than former Senator Rick Santorum, by 34,669 votes in the four suburban counties. The moderate base was shifting to the Democrats, leaving the remnants of the GOP more conservative. This was a harbinger of Specter’s diminishing prospects as a Republican.

    Specter won the primary with 166,944 votes from the southeast region. Two years earlier in the primary, Mike Fisher, the Republican candidate from Pittsburgh who was running for Governor without opposition, won 161,103 Republican votes in this region. Fisher outpolled Specter’s 2004 vote in 2 of the 5 counties. It was only the last minute support Specter received from President George W. Bush and Senator Rick Santorum that saved Specter from defeat in 2004.

    In the General Election, Specter walloped his Democratic opponent Joe Hoeffel, a former southeast Congressman and Montgomery County Commissioner, by nearly 600,000. He would carry all five counties in the southeast by wide margins mainly because he had significant support from Democrats and Independents.

    The trend of greater Democratic power – and Specter’s dependence on them – continued to build. In 2006, Bob Casey defeated incumbent Senator Rick Santorum by 17.4 percentage points statewide despite the fact that Santorum would spend $31 million and was the number three in Republican Senate Leadership. Casey would carry all five counties in the southeast region proving that conservative Republicans could no longer win in this critical area in a contested General Election. By 2008, Barack Obama put the icing on the cake. The President racked up huge margins in the southeast repeating what Rendell had done in 2002. The change was now complete.

    It is safe to say that Arlen Specter simply could not win a Republican Primary Election in 2010. This said it is also safe to say that he would have likely won the General Election with relative ease regardless of who was the Democratic candidate. This is the dilemma that faced a Republican Party increasingly alienated from Specter, but facing increasingly stiff odds in its former suburban Philadelphia strongholds.

    The question now is will the Republican Party stand with conservative Pat Toomey to challenge Democrat Arlen Specter in the General Election? With promised support from President Obama, Vice President Biden and Governor Rendell the likelihood of a primary challenge for Specter is remote in his new party.

    Revenge is rarely as sweet as anticipated. It seems unlikely that a conservative Republican can win statewide without support in the Philadelphia suburbs. But data and history show that this is highly unlikely for a conservative Republican. There’s a cost to party purification. Unless the Republicans can find a way to appeal to the wayward suburban voters, it will take a major shift in the political dynamic – perhaps a more decided Democratic move to the left – to put Pennsylvania back in play.

    Dennis M. Powell is president and CEO of Massey Powell an issues management consulting company located in Plymouth Meeting, PA.

    Photo: KyleCassidy

  • Moving to Flyover Country

    As the international financial crisis and the US economy have worsened, there have been various reports about more people “staying put,” not moving from one part of the country to another. There is some truth in this, but the latest US Bureau of the Census estimates indicate the people are still moving, and in big numbers.

    In the year ended June 30, 2008, 670,000 people moved between states. This is down substantially from the peak years of 2005 to 2007, when housing prices in California and its suburbs of Nevada and Arizona, Florida, the Northeast and the Northwest reached record heights never seen before. In those years, people could elicit considerable and unprecedented financial gain by moving to parts of the country where the housing bubble had not visited or had done less damage. A household could buy in Indianapolis, Dallas-Fort Worth or Atlanta and save more than $1,000,000 in purchase price and mortgage payments compared to a comparable house in San Diego, Los Angeles or the San Francisco Bay area. In 2006, net domestic migration between states peaked at 1,200,000.

    Still, despite the reduction from the most extreme bubble years, last year’s interstate migration numbers still exceeded those of 2001, 2002 and 2003 and nearly equaled 2004. Lost in the discussions of the decline has been the continuation of a seemingly inexorable secular trend: the continued migration to the “Flyover County” that many of the coastal urban elites tend to dismiss as insignificant and even unlivable. What residents of Elitia reject, millions are embracing.

    Can 3,500,000 Movers be Wrong? The new data shows a strong trend of domestic migration to Flyover Country. Between 2000 and 2008, 3,500,000 residents moved to Flyover Country. This is roughly equal to the movement of the entire population of the City of Los Angeles. Moreover, the trend has been accelerating. In the last four years, the number of people relative to the population leaving Elitia’s promised lands has increased by 60 percent.

    The Lost Empire: New York has lost residents at a rate exceeding that of any other state or the District of Columbia. Not even the destructive winds of Katrina and Rita, the malfeasance of the Army Corps of Engineers or even mis-governance – from Washington to Baton Rouge and New Orleans itself – could drive people out as effectively as the Empire State. New York has lost 1,575,000 domestic migrants since 2000, nearly equal to the population of Manhattan.

    New York’s net domestic migration loss is equal to 8.1 percent of its 2000 population, compared to Louisiana’s 7.1 percent loss. New York has even outdone that perpetual exporter of residents, the District of Columbia, which lost a mere 7.6 percent through domestic migration.

    From Golden State to Fool’s Gold State: Then there is California, which has added more people over the past 50 years than live in Australia. How things have changed. Early in the decade, the Golden State was suffering somewhat modest domestic migration losses. But by 2005, with house prices escalating wildly relative to incomes, California won the race to the bottom. Each year since then, California has driven away more people than any other state.

    What’s Right with Pennsylvania: There are anomalies, however. One of the leading parlor games is “what’s wrong with Pennsylvania” stories. From the Philadelphia Inquirer to Washington’s Brookings Institution, there has probably been more hand wringing about Pennsylvania than about all other states combined. Yet things have changed materially, and largely for the better. Although Pennsylvania continues to lose domestic migrants, the rate has been far less than elsewhere in the Northeast. Between 2000 and 2008, Pennsylvania lost less than 50,000 domestic migrants. Its neighboring states – New York, New Jersey, Maryland and Ohio (Delaware and West Virginia have had small gains) – have lost more than 2,300,000 domestic migrants or nearly 50 domestic migrants for every one leaving Pennsylvania. Among states with more than 10,000,000 population, only Florida and Texas have done better in domestic migration than Pennsylvania.

    That’s pretty good company for a state so many have declared to be on life support. Indeed, it is time to ask “what’s right about Pennsylvania?” One answer might be that Pennsylvania home prices did not explode relative to incomes (a distortion avoided because of Pennsylvania’s generally more liberal land use regulations). The American Dream – at least for those who are aspiring to achieve it – has shifted from New York, New Jersey and Maryland to Pennsylvania. This is evident from the housing construction on the west bank of the Delaware River and just over the Maryland line in York, Adams and Franklin counties.

    Florida: A Changing Story: Flyover Country’s gains are impressive. Florida has attracted the largest number of residents from other states, at 1,250,000 since 2000. This amounts to a 7.6 percent increase compared to the state’s 2000 population. However, things are changing. As the state’s housing became unaffordable, domestic migration dropped and then stopped. By 2007, domestic migration fell more than 80 percent from average of earlier years. Then, Florida slipped into a loss of 9,000 domestic migrants in 2008.

    Southern Gains: The rest of the South generally avoided the worst of the housing bubble. Texas has added 700,000 domestic migrants since 2000. The state displaced Florida as the leading destination for domestic migrants and has held that position since 2006. North Carolina has added 580,000 domestic migrants; Georgia added 525,000, South Carolina 270,000 and Tennessee 240,000. Even Arkansas and Alabama, although held in low esteem on the coasts, gained more domestic migrants than any state in the Northeast.

    Escaping from California: Nevada has been a big draw for domestic migration, adding 365,000 new residents. This is 18.3 percent of its 2000 population, the highest rate in the nation. Arizona added 700,000, or 13.7 percent of its population. Much of this growth has been driven by Californians fleeing out of control housing prices, though their own more recently developing bubbles have probably contributed to somewhat reduced domestic migration gains In recent years.

    Basket Cases in Flyover Country: However, not all is well in Flyover Country. Michigan lost 109,000 residents to other states in 2008 alone, for the deepest percentage loss in the nation (1.1 percent). Since 2000, Michigan experienced a 4.7 percent domestic migration loss, equal to the decline in Massachusetts. Further, based upon current rates, Michigan next year will probably be the first state to ever drop from above to below 10,000,000 residents. Illinois and Ohio have also suffered substantial domestic migration losses, at 4.6 percent and 3.0 percent respectively.

    Where from Here? It is, of course, impossible to tell whether these trends will continue. Domestic migration could fall even more precipitously if economic times continue to worsen.

    We cannot predict whether seemingly unlikely trends, such as net in-migration to South Dakota and West Virginia, will continue in the longer run. Will Florida’s losses continue or intensify, or will it resume its position as a magnet for residents of other states? Has the magnet of California truly lost its attraction? Will the improving trends in the Midwest begin to make up for half a century of migration losses? Only time will tell.

    Resource: State Population & Migration: 2000-2008 (http://www.demographia.com/db-statemigra2008.pdf)

    Wendell Cox is a Visiting Professor, Conservatoire National des Arts et Metiers, Paris. He was born in Los Angeles and was appointed to three terms on the Los Angeles County Transportation Commission by Mayor Tom Bradley. He is the author of “War on the Dream: How Anti-Sprawl Policy Threatens the Quality of Life.”

  • Postindustrial Strength Brain Drain Policy

    In the discussions of the stimulus and infrastructure problem, little attention has yet been paid to addressing brain drain. Yet for many regions – particularly in the old industrial heartland – no issue could be more critical.

    Perhaps the most important investment in regional human capital occurs at local schools. Enterprise looks to the secondary and post-secondary institutions within the area for labor. In this regard, it makes sense to fund better learning with local and state taxes as long as that talent remains within that geography.

    Older industrial age cities and states are particularly dependent on a parochial labor pool. That’s the political legacy of the industrial economy. Workers tended to put down deep roots and this lack of geographic mobility made unions the only means to fight depressed wages.

    But the conventional solution for regional decline has been greater ‘investments’ in education. Yet increasingly high local and state taxes for education no longer make sense. In fact it can be argued that Rust Belt cities such as Pittsburgh have often been victims of their own success. Excellent schools – particularly in the suburban periphery – increased the geographic mobility of the next generation. When tough times hit in the late 70s and early 80s, these young adults were ready to embrace opportunity wherever it may be. When they left for Houston, Phoenix or Tampa, they took all those tax dollars with them.

    Out-migration isn’t a problem when your region is benefiting from some other place’s investment in human capital. But if no one is moving to your city or state, then retention of talent becomes a matter of economic survival. This is difficult to accomplish when your graduates are smart enough to know about greater opportunities that exist all the way across the country. It is also made worse when your local businesses are loath to pay the prevailing national market rate for the labor it needs.

    In this sense then, plugging brain drain can help depress wages and make a place like Charlotte that much more attractive to Rust Belt graduates. Remember, captains of industry made a lot of money exploiting captive labor markets.

    The dependence on local talent also disrupts network migration. Cities that must attract “foreign” workers develop pathways that make it easier for future workers to move there. It also helps connect the local economy to the global one, as has occurred on the west coast, with Asian immigrants opening connections to Pacific Rim economies and in south Florida, where Cuban migration has created a dynamic international business sector.

    Furthermore, getting newcomers helps outsource the costs of cultivating human capital. Low tax regimes bank on in-migration. Poor local schools don’t really matter when the best and brightest from the Rust Belt are moving into your brand spanking new crystal palaces. In this sense, the “legacy economy” is subsidizing Sun Belt boomtowns.

    The Rust Belt needs to learn from the Sun Belt. The game is all about attraction. The geographic mobility of talent within the Rust Belt would be a good place to start. Instead of squeezing the local labor pool, pave a new path to a fellow postindustrial city with a similar tax burden and effectively starve the boomtowns. Your neighboring legacy economy feels the same pain you do. Talent churning between the two locales beats the futility of fighting brain drain.

    Even growth states such as Georgia are overly concerned with who leaves. Sun Belt (i.e. growth) states obsess the out-migration of native graduates as much as Rust Belt (i.e. shrinking) states do. The same policy boondoggle in Ohio exists in Georgia. Across the board, there is a prejudice for homegrown talent.

    In contrast, I think older, now shrinking cities must embrace out-migration and focus more on growing the numbers of newcomers. These people will bring the new ideas and connections regions like ours need. Leave the self-destructive nativism to the Sun Belt.

    Read Jim Russell’s Rust Belt writings at Burgh Diaspora.

  • Rust Belt Realities: Pittsburgh Needs New Leaders, New Ideas and New Citizens

    The current recession provides a new opportunity for Pittsburgh’s elite to feel good about itself. With other boom economies from Phoenix to Miami on the skids – and other old Rust Belt cities like Detroit, Cleveland and Buffalo even more down on their luck – the slow-growth achievements of the Pittsburgh region may seem rather impressive.

    Yet at the same time, the downturn also poses longer-term challenges for which the local leadership is likely to have no answers.

    In large part, Pittsburgh’s “success,” such as it is, has been based on what may be called a “legacy economy,” essentially funded by the residues of its rich entrepreneurial past. This includes the hospitals, universities and nonprofits whose endowments have underwritten the expansion of medical services and education, which have emerged as among the region’s few growth sectors.

    The other great advantage Pittsburgh has – as do potentially other shrinking Rust Belt burgs – is lower housing prices. That’s the good news. But the lack of a great surge in housing prices during the real estate “bubble” also testifies to the region’s general lack of overall attractiveness and its languid job market.

    The current national economic meltdown now changes these realities, and in ways that may not allow Pittsburgh and other slow-growth burgs as much comfort as they might wish.

    For one thing, the “legacy” economy is almost certain to start shrinking as the portfolio investments of universities, hospitals and nonprofits begin to erode. After all, these institutions rode the boom elsewhere for a long time; they now will reap the consequences of that dependence.

    Perhaps even more important, the great housing advantage seems certain to weaken as a net positive. As prices in Florida, Arizona and even California begin to decline, Rust Belt residents who’ve been thinking of moving to warm weather, more dynamic economies and lively entrepreneurial environments will now have their chance.

    To thrive, Pittsburgh simply cannot rely on being somewhere that is a good place to go to school, get sick or die. It needs to offer restless, entrepreneurial people an opportunity to succeed and do something new.

    As local blogger Jim Russell notes, the real problem with his hometown is not that people leave, but that others do not come to replace them. People always leave places, but exciting locales – Los Angeles, New York, Seattle, Houston or San Francisco – also attract large numbers of new people. The immigrants, many of them seeking the “main chance,” are generally the people who shake things up and bring new energy to places.

    Who seeks their “main chance” in Pittsburgh? Certainly not foreign immigrants, who are staying away in droves. Metropolitan Pittsburgh has one of the lowest percentages of foreign-born residents in the nation. Even Detroit, with its sizable Arab population, has some sort of ethnic vibe.

    In the short run, some might argue, not having immigrants relieves the stress on schools and eases potential social tensions. Yet in the America that is emerging, these newcomers represent arguably the most dynamic new element and harbingers of the future. By 2000, one in five American children already were the progeny of immigrants, mostly Asian or Latino; by 2015 they will make up as much as one-third of American kids.

    Rather than compliment itself on not exhausting itself by running too fast, the Pittsburgh region should think about producing enough of a pulse to attract immigrants and aggressive young people. A place that reassures itself on the basis of its stable, homogeneous and rapidly aging population seems doomed to achieve little better than self-satisfied stagnation.

    City leaders may be proud to see Pittsburgh hailed in the media – most recently by USA Today and the Cleveland Plain Dealer – as a poster child for urban “renaissance,” yet these glowing accounts are clearly not inspiring many people to settle there.

    Indeed, in a nation with the most vigorous demographics in the advanced industrial world, the City of Pittsburgh continues to suffer one of the most precipitous declines in population. Like the former East Germany, the town needs more coffins than cribs. Even the suburbs of Pittsburgh have been losing population.

    More worrisome, there seems no strategy – or even an inclination of needing one – to change this reality. Rather than stimulate the grassroots economy, the region for decades has sought to revive itself by spending billions on new stadia, arenas, convention centers and cultural facilities, sometimes in the process demolishing vibrant working-class neighborhoods or local business districts. Meanwhile, the roads and bridges of the city – which continues to battle bankruptcy – are in a constant state of disrepair.

    Every time I read about or visit Pittsburgh, the powers that be have a new project to prove to themselves that the city actually has a life. Most recently, it’s a lame-brained scheme to create a 1.2-mile, $435 million (at least) transit tunnel under the Allegheny River to connect Downtown’s heavily subsidized office towers to the North Shore’s even more heavily taxpayer-funded pro sports stadiums and a future casino.

    Yet, in reality, Pittsburgh’s “Tunnel to Nowhere” is simply part of the same old brain-dead development strategy that may impress visiting journalists or conventioneers but creates little in the way of good new jobs or long-term opportunities.

    You have to think about what the energetic people who come to a community really want – things like economic opportunities, single-family houses and good schools for their kids. Who but speculators and city officials cares about luring the latest ESPN Zone or Planet Hollywood? These kinds of venues are simply commodities now, with no sense of place and available in any city of decent size willing to subsidize them.

    So what should the Pittsburgh region do differently?

    The first thing would be to consider using its scarce public funds to revive the old urban neighborhoods and leafy suburbs that constitute Pittsburgh’s greatest competitive advantage. These are places that may attract students now, but to matter in the long term, some of these young people must stay after they graduate. This will be particularly critical as the current “echo boom” begins to fade and the now record-high number of students begins to drop.

    Second, the region should target growing small businesses. The era when Pittsburgh was a big-business town is all but over. In 1960, 22 Fortune 500 companies were headquartered there. Now it’s roughly a third that number. High taxes, tiresome regulatory regimes and the enormous burden created by outsized city employee pensions have hit the small entrepreneur hardest. Addressing these issues is more important to them than new arts venues or jazz clubs.

    Finally, the city needs a shtick to call its own. It might look at its historic strengths as an innovative engineering city. Pittsburgh could look also to its hinterland, a region rich in beauty and resources, as part of its competitive advantage.

    All of these things could provide linchpins for a true renaissance – one driven not by public relations and shiny new subsidized edifices, but by the energy of its people.

    That’s what has always made for great cities – and what will do so well after this current recession has passed into memory. Pittsburgh has the potential to catch the inevitable next wave that will emerge after the crisis, but only if it can get past its long-standing celebration of mediocrity.

    This article originally appeared at Pittsburgh Tribune-Review.

    Joel Kotkin is executive editor of NewGeography.com and is a presidential fellow in urban futures at Chapman University. He is author of The City: A Global History and is finishing a book on the American future.

  • How About a Rural Stimulus?

    In Pennsylvania, public and private funds mainly are directed into areas where people live and where people vote. As a result urban Pennsylvania has significant advantages over rural communities in securing public funds and private investment.

    Although rural Pennsylvania comprises a significant percentage of Pennsylvania’s geography it contains a very low percentage of the overall population and its political clout is dwindling. According to Trends in Rural Pennsylvania March/April 2003 overview of the state’s population, urban counties outnumber the population of rural by a ratio of more than 3 to 1.

    Politically rural and small town Pennsylvania once wielded considerable power. The “T” which ran up the center of Pennsylvania and east to west across the northern tier of the state was key to Republican victories statewide. In recent elections, it has been the southeastern region that has dominated politics. It has reached the point where it can be safely stated that no candidate can win statewide in Pennsylvania without carrying at least one of the five southeastern counties.

    All this puts rural Pennsylvania at a distinct disadvantage, particularly in terms of basic infrastructure. Rural Pennsylvania has 57,065 miles of highway compared to 62,577 in urban counties. Local governments receive only about 10 percent of state revenues from the Motor License Fund and the rest is funded by local taxes.

    In rural Pennsylvania, because miles of roadway responsibility are funded by a smaller tax base per mile, the choice is between higher taxes or ignoring the problem. More and more, residents in small, rural communities are driving on outdated highways and over creaky bridges. In many ways, highway infrastructure is moving backwards in time as bridges close or become weight restricted isolating rural communities.

    Mass transit is another issue in the divide. Pennsylvania has 46 fixed transit systems. Twenty-four serve small urban areas and another twenty service rural communities. This said the two systems that serve the cities of Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, SEPTA and PAAT, receive roughly 90 percent of all transit monies in the state.

    Transit receives about $900 in annual state subsidies. These funds come from a wide-variety of sources and are distributed under a myriad of conditions most of which the rural systems cannot meet. The result is the budgets of rural systems must rely more on passenger receipts and local subsidies than the much larger systems.

    In 2007, as part of an effort to find more funds for roads, bridges and transit, Act 44 was passed. Under this legislation Interstate 80 would be tolled. This superhighway runs through rural Pennsylvania. In blunt terms, the politics played out that rural Pennsylvania was being tolled to fund transit in Philadelphia. The only reason I-80 has not been tolled yet has been because the U.S. Department of Transportation rejected Pennsylvania’s proposal.

    There are other dramatic differences between the two Pennsylvanias in terms of basis infrastructure. Census data show that 36 percent of people in rural Pennsylvania get their drinking water from wells or some other sources. There are 5,697 active drinking water systems in rural Pennsylvania of which 70 percent are owned by investors or individuals according to n Trends in Rural Pennsylvania May/June 2004. Most of the sewer and other basic water systems are antiquated. The American Society of Civil Engineers’ that rural Pennsylvania needs $5.26 billion invested over the next 20 years in drinking water infrastructure and more than $6 billion over the same period to update sewage.

    Yet when Pennsylvania speaks about the upcoming stimulus, the primary voices are urban, epitomized by Governor Ed Rendell, a former Mayor of Philadelphia and fervent urbanist. We can expect that he will be working hard for more stimulus in the big cities, including for such things as the $800 million expansion of the Pennsylvania Convention Center which is now under way.(link to piece on this) Once again demographics and politics could be working against rural and small town communities where projects are on a much smaller scale, but equally important to the welfare of areas of rural Pennsylvania.

    Like many similar places around the country, rural Pennsylvania has many assets that would benefit from new infrastructure. It is an area of tremendous natural beauty and bountiful recreational opportunities. Most of these areas have good school systems and are safe areas to live. They could contribute to the nation’s economic recovery and provide an alternative for many urban residents who want improved quality of life or are thinking about retiring to an area that is less expensive. The problem is we have to get our own state officials, and the Obama administration to start paying attention.

    Dennis M. Powell is president and CEO of Massey Powell an issues management consulting company located in Plymouth Meeting, PA.

  • Pittsburgh Turns 250 Years Old Today

    But instead of a nice birthday card, my home town of Pittsburgh could use a sympathy card. It’s been a tough last 100 years for a once great and powerful city.

    The first 150 years were not so bad. On Nov. 25, 1758 British Gen. John Forbes named the city for prime minister William Pitt after chasing the French from the militarily and economically strategic triangle of land where the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers meet to form the Ohio.

    Historically, we started off on a roll, thanks to our strategic location on the rivers, North America’s first oil and gas boom, and lots of coal. By 1909, when social scientist Paul Kellogg cataloged the city’s industrial might in “The Pittsburgh Survey,” he said it was not just “first among American cities in the production of iron and steel” but also “first in electrical apparatus and supplies.”

    “In coal and coke, tin plate, glass, cork, and sheet metal … its output is a national asset,” Kellogg wrote, adding that Pittsburgh’s banking capital exceeded “that of the banks of the North Sea empires and its payroll that of whole groups of American states.” “Here,” Kellogg claimed without exaggeration, “is a town, then, big with its works.”

    Unfortunately, that world famous powerhouse of iron and steel is long gone. Today the Pittsburgh region’s de-industrialized economy runs mainly on providing health care for its aging populace, the education of about 140,000 college students and the construction of taxpayer-subsidized professional sports stadia and mass-transit boondoggles.

    In her 1969 book The Economy of Cities, Jane Jacobs traced the origins of Pittsburgh’s economic downturn all the way back to 1910. But its demise, she claimed, was abetted and accelerated after World War II by its downtown political and corporate powerbrokers. These are the direct ancestors of the civic movers-and-shapers, government redevelopment planners and political hacks who have been mismanaging our city so horribly for the last 20 years.

    The post-WW II power elites cleaned up Pittsburgh’s poisoned three rivers and Venutian atmosphere, but Jacobs said they also worked overtime to protect incumbent steel and manufacturing industries and discourage new industries from being born. They also launched misbegotten urban renewal projects in three poor and/or black neighborhoods – the Hill District, East Liberty and the North Side – whose destructive effects still afflict the city.

    As most Americans know, having its biggest economic eggs in heavy manufacturing turned out not to be such a good long-term plan for Pittsburgh when the steel industry collapsed in the 1970s and 1980s. Its metropolitan population went into its nationally famous free-fall. In 1960, there were 2.4 million people in metro Pittsburgh and 604,000 in the city of Pittsburgh. Metro Pittsburgh was the 12th biggest TV market in the USA. Today, Pittsburgh metro has a population of 2.3 million and – incredibly – there are just 310,000 souls left in a city that peaked in 1950 with 676,000 people. Metropolitan Pittsburgh is ranked 26th today.

    As its population has shrunk, the region has emulated the demographics of Western Europe and Russia. Its population is disproportionately old (24 percent are 65 or older, about twice the national average) and since 1990 more Pittsburghers have died each year than have been born – a net loss of 25,000 people since 2000 alone. It also has fewer foreign-born immigrants (about 3 percent) than any major American metro area.

    This is all the more the shame since the city boasts many priceless assets. These include a relatively low crime rate, great old middle-class city neighborhoods, affordable suburban homes in good school districts, top universities like Carnegie-Mellon and Pitt, major league sports teams, big-time cultural attractions and a beautiful landscape of hills, hollows and wide rivers.

    These assets are one reason why “Places Rated Almanac” crowned it the country’s most livable city in 1985 and again last year. In 1985 The New York Times immediately dispatched a reporter to Pittsburgh to check out the claim and he wrote back that “With its breathtaking skyline, its scenic waterfront, its cozily vibrant downtown, its rich mixture of cultural amenities, its warm neighborhoods and its scrubbed-clean skies, it no longer is the smoky, smelly, gritty mill town of yesteryear.”

    Pittsburgh – which, for the record, hadn’t been “The Smoky City” since about 1950 – is re-discovered by the bicoastal media every few years. Brendan Gill of the New Yorker came here in 1990 and famously raved about the beautiful terrain, the old architecture and ethnic neighborhoods and said if it were a European city people would travel hundreds of miles out of their way to visit it.

    So if the place is so great why are people – especially young people – leaving in droves? For one thing pay scales are low and the general populace, though friendly and unassuming, fully embraces not risk-taking but the two unofficial regional religions – unionism and Steelerism.

    When it comes to pop culture and new retail chain outlets, Pittsburgh’s at least 5 years behind L.A. or San Francisco, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Pittsburgh remains a fine city in which to raise a family, grow old and die. What travel writers never seem to notice when they parachute into town however, is the chronically sorry state of Pittsburgh’s public sector.

    A one-party (Democrat) town since 1934, the city of Pittsburgh has been run like Argentina ever since. Over-taxed, over-regulated, over-planned, quick to abuse its eminent domain powers, it’s now virtually bankrupt. Its finances are now overseen by the state. Its budget flirts with red ink each year. On the horizon loom huge pension liabilities that it can’t possibly pay.

    City Hall can barely provide a decent level of basic services. Meanwhile, they find money to subsidize downtown retailers who often go bust and leave. The city’s redevelopment gurus have handed out tens of millions of taxpayers’ cash to private businesses. The most recent example was giving PNC Financial $48 million in public subsidies to build its new and superfluous skyscraper downtown where vacancy rates, pre-recession, stood well in the double digits.

    Pittsburgh’s public school district is equally inept and even more expensive. It spends well over $20,000 a year per student while enrollment – nearly 40,000 in 1998 – is down to 26,600 and falling. The graduation rate is 64 percent, according to a recent Rand Corp. study. Local school and property taxes are among the highest in the country.

    The region’s roads and parkways are in bad shape – can you spell p-o-t-h-o-l-e? – and designed for 1950s traffic counts. The city of Pittsburgh’s parking tax could be the highest on Earth – 40 percent. City firefighters have some of the highest public salaries in town – and trade their votes for sweetheart contracts.

    The poster child for mismanaged government bodies, however, is Pittsburgh’s public transit monopoly, the Port Authority of Allegheny County. For the last 20 years, as its ridership has fallen steadily and its annual budget has hit $350 million, it consistently enriched its union workers and managers with high salaries, super-generous benefits and pensions.

    Port Authority budgets have outpaced inflation since 1980 and with fares covering about a third of operating costs, it has had to ask for higher and higher subsidies from the state to keep its mostly empty buses lumbering around town. Since the late 1970s, it has spent upwards of $2 billion (in current dollars) on three dedicated busways and a rinky-dink light-rail system that serves about 12,500 suburban round-trip commuters a day.

    The transit agency’s proudest boondoggle, however, is the North Shore Connector, aka “The Transit Tunnel to Nowhere.” Arguably the premier transit boondoggle in North America today, it’ll cost $435 million (a low-balled figure that hasn’t been adjusted to reflect reality in several years) for a 1.2-mile twin light-rail transit tunnel under the Allegheny River from Downtown to the taxpayer-subsidized pro sports stadiums and not far from the new casino.

    The tunnel’s construction currently is tearing up a huge chunk of the North Shore between PNC Park and Heinz Field. It is projected (most dubiously, of course) to carry 16,000 passengers a day – by 2030. A local think tank, the Allegheny Institute, worked out the per-trip subsidy to be $15.50. Set to be completed in 2011, it will be a miracle if the project comes in under $600 million.

    Today Pittsburgh’s regional economy is what it’s been for the last 40 years – stagnant at best. Yet perversely, but predictably, its civic boosters are trying to sell the anemic economy as something to be thankful for because it is “recession-proof.” Since Pittsburgh never had a housing bubble, the spin goes, the foreclosure crisis will hardly affect it. Because Pittsburgh has all those extra citizens on Social Security, the economic meltdown will be less severe. Maybe becoming a morgue might be even safer.

    Yet somehow the local spinmeisters continue to put a bright spin on Pittsburgh’s century-long death spiral. For example, USA Today recently cranked out a big upbeat feature on how wonderful Pittsburgh is – without mentioning such unseemly things as high taxes, bankruptcies or out-of-control government agencies.

    And on Sunday, Nov. 23, the Cleveland Plain Dealer – hometown paper of a city arguably in even worse shape – published a similarly glowing piece of chamber-of-commerce journalism with the headline “Pittsburgh’s renaissance holds lesson for Cleveland.” It began with the sentence “The city that once defined rust belt decay might show the rest of the nation how to weather a recession.”

    True to form, it went on to say that while the rest of the country “reels in debt and despair, Pittsburgh is on the move: A new $200 million downtown office tower, upscale condos, a casino, a new hockey arena and a riverfront convention center.”

    What the Plain Dealer never bothered to note, of course, was that the office tower, the pricy condos and the hockey arena were not being built in downtown Pittsburgh because they actually made economic sense. They were being built only because local politicians had handed millions of dollars in public subsidies to their private, well-connected owners. If this is the road to an urban renaissance, it’s certainly an expensive one. Most likely, it will prove the path to yet another dead end.

    Bill Steigerwald, born and raised in Pittsburgh, is a former L.A. Times copy editor and free-lancer who also worked as a docudrama researcher for CBS-TV in Hollywood before becoming an associate editor and columnist for the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review.