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redevelopment in 
St. Louis: the 
greatest good for 
the smallest 
number • how 
can St. Louis look 
so good and be so 
bad? • St. Louis 
on the comeback 
trail • Chicago’s 
theater scene: 
hustling is a way 
of life • death of 
a rural village • 
the new Kansas 
City: it glitters— 
what else? • 
judging American 
cities: an elusive 



Readers are invited to submit 
items for publication, 
indicating whether 
the sender can be identified. 
Items must be fully doc'umented 
and not require any comment. 

Besides program cuts and curtailments of services and a freeze on all public 
employee wages, Proposition 13 brought Californians admission fees to public 
parks, playgrounds, pools, libraries and museums. The L.A. Museum of Art 
instituted a $1.50 fee, and daily attendance dropped from 1400 to 370. When one 
admission-free day per month was designated, attendance jumped to 1211 on that 

Guests at the Marriott Hotel are all white, if you can tell by the cover of the 
services directory. It shows twelve people: two black waiters, one Chinese cook 
and nine smiling, recreating Caucasians. 

A Missouri duck hunter on the Osage River, already twice over his limit, shot 
down five mallards and then accepted the help of a passer-by in collecting them. 
He offered some ducks to the stranger, saying he was afraid to get caught with so 
many. He needn’t have worried; the good Samaritan was a Miller County conser- 
vation agent. 

“New foundations,” the phrase Carter used to describe the economic stability he 
hopes to effect for the nation, has been used before. It occurs in the Communist 
Party’s anthem. The Internationale: 

No more tradition's chains shall bind us, 

Arise, ye slaves! No more in thrall! 

The earth shall rise on new foundations, 

We have been naught, we shall be all. 

The increased popularity of home delivered births is reported as a health setback. 
Home deliveries in Missouri still account for less than one percent of all births but 
the number has steadily grown in the last five years. Missouri reported 580 home 
delivery births in 1978 compared with 241 in 1973 when the total was the lowest 
in 20 years. The mortality rate during the first 27 days of life is nearly twice as 
high for home deliveries as for hospital deliveries. 

A multi-million dollar advertising campaign by Aetna Life & Casualty Company 
deals with product liability on insurance reforms. One Aetna ad shows a family 
watching a new game show called “Liability Jackpot,” to persuade the public that 
product liability law is in great need of reform. The ads give the impression that 
juries have gone out of control and emphasize $1 million jury awards. A Subcom- 
mittee of the House Small Business Committee found that the average award for 
bodily injury was less than $4,000. 

Before the snail darter gets all the credit for stopping construction of the 
95-percent-completed TELLICO Dam in Tennessee, it should be noted that the 
Cabinet-level board which halted construction said its decision was largely in- 
fluenced by the uneconomical use of the river and the surrounding farmland. 
Charles F. Schulze, chairman of the president’s Council of Economic Advisors, 
declared: “just the cost of finishing it compared against the benefits, shows 
it doesn’t pay, which says something about the original analysis.” 

Cover and 

page 15: Bill Kessler 
Page Two 


During the recent newspaper strike in St. Louis, the staff of FOCUS/ 
Midwest was involved in publishing a metropolitan interim newspaper, the 
St. Louis Times. The editorial and production demands of the Times made 
it impossible to maintain a regular publication schedule. With this issue 
(No. 80, March- April 1979), a regular bimonthly schedule is being renewed. 

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The Publisher 

FOC U ^jMid west 



FOCUS/Midwost, Volume 13, Number 80. 
Application to mail at second class postage 
rates is pending at St. Louis, Mo. Published 
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Allow one month for address changes. Ad- 
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uscript, ' March-April 1979. Copyright © 
1979 by FOCUS/Midwest Publishing Co., 
Inc. No portion of this magazine may be 
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FOCUS/Midwest is indexed by the Public 
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American Bibliographical Center, the 
Annual Bibliography of English Language 
and Literature (Leeds, England), and the 
Index of American Periodical Verse, and 
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stracts and America: History and Life. 

Editor and Publisher/Charles L. Klotzer 
Poetry Editor/Dan Jaffa 
Art Editor/Mark M. Perlberg 
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Editor of "Research/Conclusions" by the 
Institute of Social and Behavioral Pathol- 
ogy/Lawrence Freedman 


(Editorial Contributors are not responsible 
for the editorial policy of FOCUS/Midwest.) 
Irving Achtenberg. Douglas B. Anderson. Irl 
B. Baris, Harry Barnard, Eugene L. Baum, 
Lucille H. Bluford, H.T. Blumenihal, Leo 
Bohanon, Eugene Buder, Harry J. Cargas, 
David B. Carpenter, David L. Colton, Leon 
M. Despres, Pierre de Vise. Irving Dilllard, 
Russell C. Doll, J. W. Downey. James L. C. 
Ford. Jules B. Gerard. Elmer Gertz. David 
M. Grant. Leonard Hall, Harold Hartogensis, 
Robert J. Havighurst, John Kearney, Jack 
A. Kirkland, Herman Kogan, William B, 
Lloyd. Jr., Curtis D. MacDougall. J. Norman 
McDonough. Ralph Mansfield, Martin E. 
Marty, Abner J. Mikva. Florence Moog, 
Harry T. Moore. Constance Osgood, Alex- 
ander Polikoff, James D. H. Reefer, Don 
Rose. Anthony Scariano, Sherwin A. 
Swartz, John M. Swomloy, Jr., Tyler 
Thompson, Park J. White. 


EDITORIALS / Demagogues on the march, again, 
go slow on (dismantling schools; 

George Anastaplo vin(dicate(d. 







Dennis R. Judd 



Alvin Mushkatel 



BE SO BAD? / E. Terrence Jones 





WAY OF LIFE / Jill Vanneman , 


“ALL SACRIFICED . . ."/ Mark Perlberg 





Dale A. Neuman 



Donald E. Strickland 





Letter to May / David A. Sohn 
Some are flight summer fancy; 

I want to take you / Wladyslaw Cieszynski 
Thinking / Doreen Fitzgerald 

ANNUAL INDEX / All items published in Volume 12, 






International Standard Serial Number: 
US ISSN 0015-508X 

Page Three 

Demagogues on the march, 

Barely a season passes by in which the 
electorate isn’t subjected to new political 
gimmickry. The latest cure-all is a bal- 
anced federal budget. We are told that a 
balanced budget would stop inflation 
and have salutary effects on an array of 
other economic ills, from insufficient 
economic growth to excessive taxation 
— you name it. 

Typically, the campaign never fo- 
cusses on any particular waste in govern- 
ment but is a broad and indiscriminate 
attack. The promoters have avoided 
citing too many specific spending pro- 
posals which would edienate one or an- 
other interest group. 

Chief sponsor of this drive is the 
National Taxpayers Union (NTU), a pri- 
vate group which claims that by sum- 
mer the required 34 states will have 
issued the call for a constitutional con- 
vention to consider a balance-the-bud- 
get amendment. Others — the Howard 
Jarvis types, ultra-conservatives, 
fly-by-night operators — have also 
latched onto this issue and are promot- 
ing it nationally. Its surface appeal (cut- 
ting spending) dovetails with many 
other tax-limiting efforts. This conserva- 
tive push can count on strong public 
support. According to an Associated 
Press and NBC News poll, 70 percent 
of the public favors a balanced budget 
while only 18 percent opposes it. NTU 
knows what to exploit. It has grown 
from 20,000 members in 1976 to 
100,000 today, its budget from $1.1 
million to $2 million today. 

The mounting political pressure has' 
already caused the scheduling of hearings 
by both Senate and House committees. 
Rep. Peter W. Rodino Jr. (D., N.J.) in 
announcing the hearings said, “A new 
political wave has been sweeping across 
America, and it is beginning to break 
over Washington.” 

Many forget, suggests Sen. Gary Hart 
(D. Colo.), that a balanced budget can be 
easily achieved by cutting federal funds 
earmarked for state and local govern- 
ments, now totalling $82.9 billion, inclu- 
ding $2.28 billion in federal revenue 
sharing. State and local officials who 
tend to jump on popular bandwagons 
may want to consider this possibility. 

Few economists of repute support the 
balance-the-budget movement. Even 
Milton Friedman is a critic. It is a mis- 
take to assume that a balanced budget 
can curb inflation. A budget can be bal- 

Page Four 


anced not only by reducing the deficit 
but also by raising taxes. H 

Is the size of the federal debt so H 
important? Actually, as a percentage of 
total debt it has declined in every year 
between 1945 and 1978 except for the H 
recession years 1975-76. From 61.7% in H 
1954 it dropped to 28.4% in 1979. If the H 
size of the deficit incurred by an un- 
balanced budget determines inflation, H 

prices should have dropped. H 

A budget is a tool, a symbolic reflec- 
tion of statistics which can be arranged H 
in many ways. The budget totals are II 
arbitrary. If the items currently off the 
budget were to be included, the 1978 H 
deficit would be $59 billion rather than H 
$48 billion. On the other hand, items 
can be dropped from the budget without H 
spending one cent less for them. Adop- 
ting a limitation would simply impose H 
more budgetary subterfuges. State gov- 
emments, for example, usually do not H 
include capital expenditures in their bud- H 
gets. The federal government does. H 

Accounting for them separately would 
help balance the budget but would not H 
result in any reduction in spending. 

The balance-the-budget drive is an H 
attractive strate^ to increase public sup- 
port, membership, and financing of var- 
ious conservative groups. The NTU, for H 
example, claims to be non-partisan. B 

Records on file with the Federal Elec- B 
tion Commission show that the group B 
has funded only conservative and ultra- B 

conservative candidates. B 

Even more chilling than the drive to B 
boost the ultra conservative movement is B 
the call for a constitutional convention. B 
The call, said Rep. Varber B. Conable 
(R., N.Y.) amounts to playing “constitu- B 
tional roulette.” FOCUS/Midwest has B 

previously discussed the inherent dangers 
of calling a convention. The implicit un- B 
certainties are innumerable. The likeli- B 
hood exists that such a convention could 
become a runaway and rewrite the coun- B 
try’s fundamental laws. Good-bye Bill of B 
Rights, First Amendment, and other B 

safeguards. The last time a convention 
was called, the delegates were merely to 
rewrite the Articles of Confederation. In- 
stead, they came up with a completely B 
new document. This can happen again B 
The complexity and the technical B 

aspects will keep many from becoming B 
involved or even informed about this B 
campaign to balance the budget; it’s too B 
dry a subject for cocktail parties. B 

The complexity and the technical 
aspects will keep many from becoming 
involved or even informed about this B 



campaign; it’s too dry a subject for cock- 
tail parties. 

The innocent supporters of this cam- 
paign must be shown that a technically 
balanced federal budget is a meaningless 
exercise. However, an actual reduction 
of spending may indeed affect the eco- 
nomic welfare. And the one budget item 
which has grown relentlessly is defense. 

President Carter’s request for $135 bil- 
lion for the military in fiscal 1980 has 
been made in face of the Pentagon’s own 
estimate that it will have some $22.4 
billion in unobligated balances — funds 
appropriated but not yet under contract 
to be spent. While Carter would give no 
domestic program any more in fiscal 
1980 than in 1979 — after allowing for 
inflation — the Pentagon would receive a 
1.7 percent increase,. Actual spending by 
the Pentagon would increase by an esti- 
mated 3.1 percent. 

The march of the demagogues cannot 
be stopped. But many campfollowers 
may resent being used in an essentially 
futile campaign, while they could be 
directly effective by supporting cuts in 
defense spending. A collective effort to 
counteract the balance-the-budget move 
is overdue. 

Go slow on 
dismantling schools 

Public education officials who abandon 
school buildings for lack of students 
might do well to take note of U.S. Cen- 
sus Bureau projections. As 1950s-boom 
babies reach childbearing age themselves 
in the next decade, the Bureau predicts 
at least a “slight” increase in live births. 
A middle-of-the-road estimate based on a 
fertility rate of 2.1 children per mother 
would see a peak in the mid-1980s, in- 
dicating that the kindergarten class of 
1990 would represent the vanguard of 
larger school enrollments. 

Page Five 


So it is possible that superfluous 
buildings might be needed again in ten 
years. Might it not be more sensible to 
hold on to them than risk having to 
build new ones in the foreseeable future? 
Some school districts are finding new 
uses for them — Headstart programs, pre- 
schools, social service agencies and day- 
care centers, for example. 

Considering what inflation does to 
construction costs and a general need for 
better resource utilization, we urge that 
school buildings not become victims of 
the “throw-away” mentality. 

George Anastaplo vindicated 

The inaugural issue of FOCUS/Midwest 
(June 1962) highlighted an article by 
Irving Dilliard on George Anastaplo and 
the outrageous conduct of the “Illinois 
Committe on Character and Fitness” 
which voted not to recommend him to 
the bar. Anastaplo is now a lecturer at 
the University of Chicago and professor 
of political science at Rosary College. He 
had refused to answer questions as to his 
political beliefs and, moreover, affirmed 
his belief in the Declaration of Indepen- 
dence: “whenever the particular govern- 
ment in power becomes destructive of 
these ends [life, liberty and the pursuit 
of happiness] it is the right of the people 
to alter or to abolish it, and thereupon 
to establish a new government.” 

During the McCarthy era, such daring 
was not tolerated. Anastaplo even lost 
the case before the U.S. Supreme Court 
in 1961 except for a dissenting opinion 
by Justice Hugo Black. 

After 28 years, the Illinois Committee 
has reversed itself and recommended to 
the Illinois Supreme Court that George 
Anastaplo be admitted to the bar. 
Anastaplo is not so sure that he wel- 
comes admission. A lecturer and writer 
of many books and papers, he finds that 
his admission “may even obstruct 
people’s view of how things really are.” 
He argues that it may not be in the 
public interest to admit him, “if only as 
a salutary reminder to the bar of how it 
can go wrong.” 

Today, by the mettle of his brilliance 
and energy, George Anastaplo is larger 
than the Illinois bar. While he certainly 
does not need their belated endorsement 
as to his “character and fitness,” it is a 
wrong of yesterday which must be 
righted. The bar is to be commended for 
admitting the error of its ways and may 
the “Anastaplo case” forever remind it 
of its fallibility. 

Volume 13, Number 80 

by Rodney Wright 

If the number of people who vote 
in elections is accurate indication of 
public interest, then non-presidential 
elections are generally boring events 
for the American citizenry. While 
turnout in presidential elections has 
declined from 63.8% in 1960 to 54.4% 
in 1976, turnout in non-presidential 
elections has dropped even more. 

Curtis Cans, director of the Commit- 
tee for the Study of the American 
electorate, tells us that Brendon Byrne 
was re-elected governor in New Jersey 
this fall with 15% of the eligible vote. 
Mayor Ed Koch was elected in New 
York City with less than 12% of the 
potential votes, and that the outcome 
of the highly controversial Proposition 
13 in California was decided with only 
about 40% of the eligible voters cast- 
ing their ballots. 

Most people believe that people 
ought to vote, and that voting is a 
civic responsibility. Nevertheless, they ^ 
stay away from the polls in droves. 

Why do people fail to vote? One argu- 
ment is that people are relatively con- 
tent and thus feel no need to become 
active. Others allege that the elector- 
ate is presented with “no meaningful 
choices”; therefore, there isn’t much 
reason to vote. Inherent in both of 
these arguments is the notion that 
people pursue their own self-interest. 
Thus, if and when the resolution of 
any electoral conflict is perceived by 
many to affect their own well-being, 
a higher turnout should result. 

The Turnout 

This introduces one of the more 
notable aspects of the 1978 Missouri 
elections: the unusually high turnout. 
Though the 1.57 million who voted 
was short of the 1.82 million forecast 
by Secretary of State James C. Kirk- 
patrick, it was the highest number of 
votes cast in a Missouri off-year elec- 
tion since 1934. The high turnout 
was the product of an election issue 
which many voters perceived as having 

Rodney Wright teaches political 
science at Southern Illinois University, 

Page Six 

significant impact on their, or the 
state’s, economic welfare — the pro- 
posed “right-to-work” amendment. But 
the post election euphoria about this 
“record turnout” must be tempered 
with some data that place the election 
in perspective. The 1.57 million votes 
in 1978 is substantially below the 
1.95 million cast in 1976 and is under 
one-half of the eligible electorate. 


The most hotly contested election 
was not between candidates, but be- 
tween proponents and opponents of 
the right-to-work amendment. To il- 
lustrate this, 32,570 more Missourians 
voted on the amendment than voted in 
the election for state auditor, the 
only statewide office on the ballot. In 
normal elections statewide candidate 
contests draw far more votes than pro- 
posed constitutional amendments. 

The amendment was placed on the 
ballot by a petition drive spearheaded 
by the National “Right- to-Work” orga- 
nization. It was made clear that Mis- 
souri was selected as a bellwether to 
test the possibilities for success in in- 
dustrial states. Missouri seemed to be 
the perfect target state because of its 
large union membership, large rural 
population and southern influence. 

Specifically, the 23rd amendment 
proposed making union security 
clauses a violation of the Missouri con- 
stitution. These clauses are negotiated 
into labor contracts and make union 
membership (or the paying of union 
dues) a prerequisite for employment. 
Organized labor viewed this amend- 
ment as a threat to unionism. And 
though labor locals had in the past 
been generally unsuccessful in efforts 
to coordinate their election efforts 
statewide, the unions organized 
through the United Labor Committee 
and conducted a well-financed and 
well organized campaign to defeat 
amendment 23. Part of the credit for 
the labor effort must be given to polit- 
ical consultant Matt Reese, who co- 
ordinated the campaign. Reese seems 
to have a midas touch in Missouri 

At the outset it was clear that orga- 
nized labor had enough potential votes 
to defeat the amendment. The prob- 
lem was to get the membership to 
vote and to vote in the right direction. 
Labor has generally met with little 
success in their efforts to increase the 
labor vote turnout. To further compli- 
cate the issue, early polls indicated 
that many (as many as one-half) of 
the union membership in Missouri sup- 
ported right-to-work. In fact, many 
union members’ names appeared on 
the petitions to place the amendment 

on the ballot. Thus, labor’s electoral 
strategy had to involve issue education, 
registration and a subsequent get-out- 
the-vote effort. 

Both proponents and opponents 
waged expensive media campaigns. 

Each side presented data to illustrate 
that its position would provide eco- 
nomic benefits in Missouri. Labor s 
media campaign often made a very 
“conservative” argument: “we’ve got 
it good in Missouri, let’s keep what 
we’ve got.” Labor also attacked the^^ 
powerful symbol of “right-to-work.” 
Much like the abortion slogan of 
“right-to-life,” the words “right-to- 
work” evoke strong sentiment. Thus 
labor always referred to the amend- 
ment as the “so-called right-to-work 
amendment.” (Interestingly, while the 
liberal St. Louis Post-Dispatch always 
used quotation marks around the 
term, the conservative St. Louis Globe- 
Democrat did not.) They also encour- 
aged people to vote against amendment 
23 rather than to vote against right-to- 

The proponents’ early media ef- 
forts emphasized that right-to-work 
was best for everyone, including labor. 
Later in the campaign, this strategy 
• was apparently abandoned and some 
of the right-to-work television adver- 
tisements clearly appealed to anti “big 
labor” attitudes. 

The survey data published before 
the election made labor the election 
night favorite. Thus the outcome was 
not surprising. What was surprising 
was the magnitude of the labor vic- 
tory (nearly 60%), and also the geo- 
graphical distribution of the vote. 

Early predictions were that the urban 
areas would crank out large margins 
for labor that would be whittled away 
by the votes in the outstate counties. 
The question was whether the lead 
would be whittled into a right-to-wo / 
victory. To be sure, labor won big u 
tories in Missouri’s two major metro ^ ) 
politan areas. 

The vote in these metropolitan 
counties accounts for nearly 58% of 
the total state vote. Therefore, the 
large lead of 276,707 in “no” votes 
was virtually insurmountable outstate. 
But rather than substantial losses out- 
state, labor actually won a close elec- 
tion (348,557 to 313,862), receiving 
52.6% of the vote. The right-to-work 
amendment received over 60% of the 
vote in only 14 counties. Those 14 
counties are clustered along the Iowa 
and Arkansas borders. The average 
number of votes cast in these counties 
was only 3,572. Thus they are among 
the very smallest of Missouri counties. 
Of Missouri’s 115 counties, the right- 
to-work amendment was defeated in 

FOCUS I Midwest 

Bond Ashcroft 

72. There was simply no good news in 
the election returns for the right-to- 
work backers. 

Many suggested before the election 
that the large turnout produced by the 
right-to-work controversy would have 
a large impact on other Missouri elec- 
tions. And since much of the increased 
turnout was among labor union mem- 
berships it was expected that Demo- 
cratic candidates would benefit. 

State Auditor 

The office of state auditor was the 
only statewide position up for election 
This election was interesting because 
it represented a comeback attempt by 
former Governor Warren Hearnes. The 
Hearnes comeback was unsuccessful, 
though, when Republican James An- 
tonio won by a narrow margin (51.9% 
to 48.1%). Antonio had served as 
deputy auditor under the last two ad- 
ministrations and was endorsed. by the 
present auditor Thomas Keyes — a 
Democrat appointed by Governor Joe 
Teasdale. Antonio adopted a cam- 
paign strategy similar to the one used 
by Democrat George Lehr when he 
was elected auditor in 1974. Antonio 
stressed the need for professionalism 
in the auditor’s office, and emphasized 

j^ualifications as a certified public 

. juntant. This seems to be a salient 

iiment in Missouri. And this argu- 
.ent, coupled with Hearnes’ unpop- 
ularity among many voters, led to the 
Antonio victory. 

Hearnes ran very well in the south- 
east part of Missouri, his home area. 

He also did well in most of the metro- 
politan area counties, certainly benefit- 
ing from the high right-to-work turn- 
out. A devastating blow to his election 
chances were struck in St. Louis Coun- 
ty, the largest county in the state (24% 
of the total vote). In statewide elec- 
tions a Democratic candidate must 
generally break even in St. Louis Coun- 
ty to have a good chance of winning. 
Hearnes received 43.7% of the vote in 
the county. Had he received 52% of 
the vote, he would have won the elec- 

Volume 13, Number 80 

Phelps McNary 

U.S. Congress 

Missouri has ten U.S. congressional 
seats. Of these ten elections, eight 
were easy wins for the incumbents. 
They were: Incumbent congressmen 
Bill Clay (D) in the 1st district, Rich- 
ard Gephardt (D) in the 3rd, Ike Skel- 
ton (D) in the 4th, Richard Bolling (D) 
in the 5th, Gene Taylor (R) in the 7th, 
Richard Ichord (D) in the 8th, Harold 
Volkmer (D) in the 9th, and Bill Burli- 
son (D) in the 10th won landslide vic- 
tories. The close races anticipated in 
the 2nd and 6th district were not as 
close as predicted, and the incumbents 

Robert Young in the 2nd, and Tom 
Coleman in the 6th won their seats in 
1976. Young won a very close elec- 
tion benefiting from a somewhat 
splintered Republican party. Cole- 
man’s victory was considered a fluke. 
His 1976 opponent, Morgan Maxfield, 
looked to be on his way to an easy vic- 
tory when a series of scandals devas- 
tated his campaign. Young and Cole- 
man were thought to be vulnerable in 

Young’s opponent was Bob Chase, 
a former St. Louis newscaster. Chase, 
in a vigorous campaign, accused Young 
of fiscal extravagance and irresponsi- 
bility. Young countered with citing 
his ability, as an experienced legislator, 
to “get things done” for St. Louis 
County. Coleman’s opponent was a 
Missouri state senator, Phil Snowden. 
Though initially Snowden was thought 
to have a good chance to upset Cole- 
man (Democrats outnumber Repub- 
licans in the 6th by 2 to 1), his cam- 
paign never really got off the ground. 

In his post election comments. 

Chase argued that he was defeated by 
the right-to-work issue. Young, a mem- 
ber of the pipefitters union, probably 
benefited more than anyone from the 
amendment being on the ballot. But 
credit must be given to Young for 
very effectively using his two years in 
office to solidify his grasp on his con- 
gressional seat. And the same can be 
said for Coleman. Both would seem, 
barring unforeseen circumstances, to 
have safe congressional seats. 

I The State Legislature 

Though Republicans hoped to 
make significant inroads into Demo- 
cratic control of the Missouri state 
legislature. Democrats actually picked 
up a few seats. Democrats gained five 
seats in the house (to a 117-46 margin), 
and one seat in the senate (a 23-11 
edge). Again the right-to-work vote 
probably paid dividends for the Demo- 
cratic candidates. Normally, in an off- 
year election. Republicans could hope 
to make significant gains in the state 
legislature. Instead, they fell to their 
lowest level since the Democratic 
landslide in 1964. While very success- 
ful at contesting statewide elections, 
the Republican party has lost 20 seats 
in the house in the last two elections. 

In general, the election was con- 
sistent with past elections, in that a 
Republican candidate did well state- 
wide while the party did poorly in its 
attempt to gain seats in the state leg- 
islature. For future elections, the Re- 
publican party is becoming very top 
heavy in available candidates to run 
for governor, particularly given the ap- 
parent reluctance of any Republican to 
run against Tom Eagleton for his U.S. 
Senate seat. Names mentioned as pos- 
sible candidates are former governor 
Christopher Bond, Attorney General 
John Ashcroft, Lt. Governor William 
Phelps, and St. Louis County Super- 
visor Gene McNary (who waged a very 
successful re-election campaign in the 
November elections). Republicans, 
who hold a tenuous position in Mis- 
souri electoral politics, cannot afford 
a bitter primary election contest. 

The re-election margins by Congress- 
men Gephardt, Skelton, and Volkmer 
demonstrate that they are very young 
and effective candidates. Each was 
first elected in 1976. In their re-elec- 
tion bids Volkmer and Skelton re- 
ceived over 70% of the vote, Gephardt, 
somewhat amazingly, received over 
80% of the vote. Because of their ap- 
parent vote-getting ability, each will 
be looked to as potential candidates 
when Senator John Danforth runs tor 
re-election in 1982. 

The Missouri electorate, in 1978, 
seemed content to conserve or main- 
tain the existing political environment. 
The right-to-work amendment was 
defeated so badly that another attempt 
to get it ratified in the near future 
seems unlikely. All ten of Missouri’s 
U.S. Congressmen were re-elected 
with comfortable margins. And the 
voters did nothing to alter the Demo- 
cratic dominance of the state legisla- 
ture. Missouri voters spoke in large 
numbers, but they spoke in favor of 
the status quo. 

Page Seven 

by Sheldon Gardner 

The fall elections confirmed 
two trends in our politics. The first is 
the decline of the political party as a 
meaningful symbol in politics, and its 
corollary increase of charismatic or 
personality politics. The second trend 
is the continuing decline of the Re- 
publican party. This might be best 
summarized in the comment of a 
minor Republican official, who in 
looking at the election returns said 
“Party loyalty is becoming more and 
more meaningless except that ours is 
more meaningless than theirs.” 

The election in Illinois was best 
described by a Democratic committee- 
man who commented that, “The elec- 
tion results were great, we lost the top 
of the ticket, but carried everything 

The three strong ticket Republican 
leaders — Percy, Thompson, and Scott 
— won decisively, but did little to pull 
in the rest of their state ticket. It 
appears that in Illinois there are no 
coat tails. When the voters are un- 
decided, they have a tendency to 
identify with the Democrats and to 
reject the Republicans. This spells con- 
stant trouble for the Republicans, since 
their landslide victories bring in no one 
else besides the landslide victors. 

Before the campaigns heated up, it 
would have been diWcult to imagine 
the defeat of any of the three incum- 
bent Republican candidates. Charles 
Percy was thought to be an invincible 
candidate for U.S. Senator. Governor 
Thompson, who came off an immense 
victory two years ago, seemed to be 
undefeatable. The campaign against 
Attorney-General Scott never took 

The Democrats, faced with a tough 
but probably losing race, could not 
present their strongest candidates, but 
only their most anxious. Alex Seith, 

Sheldon Gardner is a Chicago attorney. 
Page Eight 

Percy*s opponent, came out of no- 
where with a finely tuned hate cam- 
paign, reminiscent of Joe McCarthy 
and Richard Nixon. Seith proceeded 
to mold his positions to oppose Percy. 
He poured about $750,000 of his own 
money into his huge campaign chest. 
Seith created a plausible threat, and 
Percy reacted, mostly by trying to 
appeal to conservatives. At times it 
seems as if the media, especially the 
Chicago Sun-Times, helped create the 
media candidacy of Seith, only to then 
create Percy*s comeback. The influ- 
ence of the media explains the sur- 
prising shift to Seith and the equally 
startling swing back to Percy. There 
was a reality to the public*s mood, 
however. Seith*s strategy of shooting 
at every possible liberal position held 
by Percy found ready acceptance in 
the conservative Republican communi- 
ty, which had sought to chastise its 
overly liberal senator. 

Senator Percy*s remark about PLO 
Leader Arafat being a moderate aKfexi- 
ated the Jewish community, who al- 
though traditionally Democratic, were 
Percy supporters. Until the campaign 
focused on Seith instead of Percy, 
Percy was suffering from a loss of his 
conserv^ative constituency without 
picking up his usual liberal and Jewish 
support. Late in the campaign the 
media came to Percy*s rescue, particu- 
larly with Mike Royko*s columns, 
pointing to Seith as a “bad buy.** A 
new vitality was thrown into the cam- 
paign. Liberal independents found 
something to aho\>t, and made 
an issue of Seith’s scurrilious cam- 
paign. A survey of selected areas in- 
dicated that Percy ran considerably 
stronger than Thompson in the Lake- 
front area with its heavy Jewish and 
liberal voting pattern. Percy ran well 

ahead of Thompson in the black areas, 
and ran an even race with Seith in the 
•; middle-class black community. Percy’s 
strength relative to Thompson shrank 
. as one pulled away from the Lakefront 
and black areas to the southwest and 
northwest corners of the city and con- 
tinued to shrink as one moved out to 
the more conservative suburbs. Down- 
state, the falling off was even more 
drastic, with Percy running well be- 
hind Thompson. However, since 
Thompson won by such a large major- 
ity, Percy’s vote totals still allowed 
him to win a strong victory, with al- 
most 55% compared to Thompson’s 

The Gubernatorial Race 

There were few surprises in the 
gubernatorial race. Thompson won by 
the greatest margin ever given any in- 
cumbent Illinois governor. Illinois, 
like most states, has a tendency to 
turn against its governors for trying to 
do what is an impossible job in keep- 
ing state government going. However, 
Thompson’s strategy of getting along 
with everybody and living with the 
Democratic machine, generally suc- 
ceeded. Thompson had to tread water 
for the first two year term in order to 
get elected for a four year term. Super- 
ficially, one may feel that Thompson’s 
failure to gain control of either house 
of the legislature was a loss, since both 
houses saw slight Republican gains, 
UxougAi liot enough to gain control. 
However, some political analysts be- 
lieve that Thompson’s desire to run 
for president could be helped by the 
fact that he does not control the legis- 
lature. Whatever his achievements, 
they stand out so much more. Repub- 
lican leadership in Illinois has been 
such that the governor can exert control 
only by skillfully using patronage. If a 
governor such as Ogilvie could not con- 
trol his own party, it is extremely 
doubtful that Thompson could. 
Thompson has a better relationship 
with the strong Republican minority 
in the legislature, and is good at horse 
trading with the Democrats. If he can 
translate these political assets into 
programs, he can then point to the 
gains which he had made. If these 
concern issues of economy and effi- 
ciency (taxes and spending*), he will be 
enormously popular. And he has the 
Democrats over a barrel. The Demo- 
cratic legislators themselves are caught 
with the commitment to vote for effi- 
ciency and economy. By stressing that 
he has a mandate on these issues, 
Thompson can become a leader of the 
current popular mood against spending 
and bureaucracy. 


Challenger Mike Bakalis, like the 
other two principal Democratic chal- 
lengers, Alex Seith and Richard Troy, 
was a hustling, aggressive opponent 
Although a man with no big political 
base — he did not come from Cook 
County — he gets along well with the 
Cook County machine. Bakalis left 
the office of Comptroller, where re- 
election was reasonably certain, and 
ran in an almost hopeless gubernatorial 
race. Why? Bakalis, like many other 
politicians, figures that he can move 
ahead only if he is able to take on and 
win a big race. In a year when the race 
was readily winable, he would not 
have the political power to gain slat- 
ing. Therefore he ran and lost, making 
the party obligated to him for a future 

The Other Races 

In the race for attorney-general, 
incumbent Bill Scott was probably 
the most popular Republican candi- 
date in Illinois history. Not only was 
he unbeatable, but Dick Troy’s cam- 
paign fell on its face. Troy was never 
able to cut into Scott’s popularity. • 
Even the federal probe of Scott’s past 
campaign spending came to naught. 
Both Troy and Seith suffered from 
the same problem. In order to swing 
an ax and clobber an incumbent, the 
critic must himself have some credi- 
bility. Richard Troy, the son-in-law 
and political heir of Matt Bieszcat, one 
of the strongest and most patronage- 
oriented of the Chicago Democi;atic 
committeemen, could not attack the 
patronage practices of Scott without 
sounding a hollow ring. Troy’s political 
career may well be over after Scott’s 
devastating two-to-one victory. 

The balance of the ticket proved of 
little interest. Alan Dixon slaughtered 
his Republican opponent. Sharon 
Sharp was personally attractive but 
politically ineffectual. Sharp made a 
big issue of Dixon’s issuing of special 
license plates, including her own. 
Dixon, a long-time office holder, 
widely regarded as a decent and honor- 
able man, crushed her by almost three 
to one. Sharp exits as one of the worst 
state candidates in recent state history. 
This will be an unfortunate setback for 
women candidates, although she had 
played little part in the activities of 
Republican women. 

The races for treasurer and comp- 
troller excited little voter interest. The 
race between former Champaign Coun- 
ty Treasurer Jim Skelton and former 
metropolitan sanitary district trustee 
Jerome Constantino proved to be a 
race of negatives. Skelton proposed to 
reverse a policy established and fol- 
lowed by the former state treasurers 

Volume 13, Number 80 

Scott, Stevenson, and Dixon, who 
used state deposits to encourage cre- 
ative investments by the banks hold- 
ing the state funds. Constantino sim- 
ply was not a credible candidate to 
reform-minded voters as he was 
accused of ties to both the “West 
Side Block” and the Teamsters, but 
Constantino won by a sizable margin. 

The race for comptroller saw Rol- 
land Burris become the first black to 
be elected to a statewide office. Burris 
originally was an independent and a 
Walker appointee. He made his peace 
with the black regulars in the machine 
and represented them on the ticket. 

He was opposed by John Castle, the 
son of Latham Castle, a well known 
Republican attorney-general, and a 
Thompson state appointee. Both men 
were well qualified. 

After the Republicans swept the 
top of the ticket, the Democrats came 
through. Where there is no personality 
for the voter to turn to there is no 
party loyalty to Republicans. In Illinois, 
the undecided voter with no strong 
candidate preference usually turns to 
the Democratic ticket. 

The Republican county ticket was 
a disaster. The sole Republican office 
holder, Delores Foster, the Thompson 
appointee to the metropolitan sanitary 
district to fill the vacancy left by the 
resignation of Republican Joan Ander- 
son, was defeated. No Republican even 
waged a credible campaign. 

Most of the blame for the poor 
showing must be placed upon the Re- 
publican party leadership, which seems 
to have little or no concern with Re- 
publican success in Cook County. In 
addition, the campaign of Donald 
Mulack was one of the most inept 
campaigns in recent history. Mulack’s 
comment that the sheriffs office 
under incumbent Sheriff Dick Elrod 
had too many Jews and blacks was a 
classic blunder. 

The rest of the Republican cam- 
paigns were equally ineffective. Even 
the Republican campaigns for the ap- 
pellate court judge’s positions, with 

fine candidates and good financing, 
had great difficulty, principally be- 
cause of the weak candidates on the 
rest of the county tickets. 

If the Republican party is so weak 
that it cannot be a meaningful opposi- 
tion party in Cook County, and if the 
independents cannot by themselves 
win on a county-wide basis in either 
the Democratic party primary or in 
the general election, the machine will 
win by default. This is especially ironic 
since the strength of the machine has 
eroded in recent years. The key to 
success in past years was putting to- 
gether the independent vote either 
with enough dissident Democrats in a 
primary or with enough Republicans 
in a general election to win. Although 
the independent movement suffered 
greatly from the loss of many alder- 
manic and legislative candidates, the 
number of independent voters has 
increased. However, without a sub- 
stantive base from Republican voters 
and a Republican par^ that can find 
and finance candidates, it is impossible 
to imagine a winning coalition for 
county offices. 

Republican strength in the city con- 
tinues to decline. Mulack carried only 
one ward, the 41st. The Republicans 
showed little of their past strength in 
the northwest and southwest side. 

The independent vote carried the 
Lakefront from Evanston into the 
middle-class black wards of the far 
south side. But the city remains strong- 
ly dominated by the Democratic 
machine. The county races average 
60% Democratic and 40% Republican. 

In an interesting fashion, the de- 
feat of chief Judge Boyle shows that 
this 60% margin was quite accurate. 

He was only able to secure a vote of 
slightly over 59% and was defeated in 
a retention race that required a 60% 
affirmative vote. Such are the strange 
quirks of Illinois politics. 

Subscription Dept. 
928a N. McKnight 
St. Louis, Mo. 63132 


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Page Nine 

beyond the facade 


^2 urban 



EDITOR'S NOTE- The quality of urban revival is the theme of this issue. Editorial contribi^wm 
assembled and edited by Dennis R. Judd, for eight years professor of political sconce at Washington 
University and now head of the political science department at the University of Denvei^ The 
ousness of urban survival emerges from every article. Some are more 

the reader is left with the feeling: shouldn't we do more to provide for the basics of adequate food, housing 
and health as well as to ensure the vitality and creativity of our cities? 

The collection of essays which 
make up this special edition of 
FOCUSIMidwest comment upon the 
cultural and political character of 
three midwestern cities: St. Louis, 
Kansas City, and Chicago. Of course, 
only selected aspects of life in these 
cities are covered. The areas highlight- 
ed in one usually can be applied to 
other cities. The commonality of prob- 
lems in our cities is overwhelming. 

Midwestern cities tend to envince 
an air of self-doubt about their status 
as great cities. No doubt this atmo- 
sphere reflects, in part, the economic 
decline and slow population growth 
characteristic of the midwest over the 
past thirty years. St. Louis is probably 
the purest case of this identity crisis. 
Most St Louisans seem to envince an 
ambivalence about the city; during my 
eight years there — from 1970 to 1978 

— I shared in this feeling. Many of St. 
Louis’ best qualities are also its worst 

— depending on one’s point of view. 
For example, St. Louis has a remark- 
able small-town atmosphere despite 
the size of the metropolitan area. The 
advantage of this is that it has a great 
deal of day-to-day comfort, perhaps 
too much of it It seems more like a 
village than a city. Each of ite com- 
ponent parts — the South side, the 
North side, the West end, etc., 

tain a distinctly separate identity. The 
suburbs also plsy up their unique 
aspects, the result being a lot of sepa- 
rate but contiguous communities 
rather than the Metropolis of the 
Superman legend (that series, remem- 
ber, was filmed in St. Louis). This fact 
is best illustrated by the bumper stick- 
ers in the West end, which boast of 
“Euclid, Missouri,” Euclid being no 
more than an active thoroughfare with 
some nightlife. 

This issue does not attempt to pre- 
sent a comprehensive view of the city 
and its environs. However, there are 
important observations offered which 
get at the heart of what makes St. 
Louis tick. When looking at redevelop- 
ment in St. Louis, Alvin Mushkatel 
asks, “redevelopment for whom. 
Unless this question is asked more 
pointedly than in the p^t, redevelop- 
ment and renovation will “save” the 
city only for the middle class and the 
business community. In the same way 

Volume 13, Number 80 

that Gaslight Square was fated to fail 
partly because it was a middle class 
island of tourism in the midst of great 
poverty and physical dilapidation, the 
current phase of redevelopment has to 
be considered precarious when it, too, 
constitutes an island of middle class 
tourism or residential exclusiveness in 
the midst of poverty. 

E. Terrence Jones identifies two 
primary aspects of St. Louis’ develop- 
ment which help determine the quality 
of life for its residents: uncontrolled 
urban sprawl, and amateur govern- 
ment. In many respects, the two go 
hand in hand; that is, the multiplicity 
of tiny governments in the St Louis 
metropolitan area practically guar- 
antees that governance will not be 
especially competent. As Jones points 
out, residents of the St Louis area do 
not seem to demand much of the gov- 
ernment This attitude is a well-mean- 
ing conservatism gone awry: small gov- 
ernment is seen as the equivalent of 
less taxation, which invariably is inter- 
preted as an unqualified blessing. 
Jones points out that there are great 
costs in this particular view of what 
government can or ought to do. 

Dale Newman’s article on Kansas 
City is a most comprehensive and re- 
vealing portrait of the city. Unlike St. 
Louis, Kansas City has, over the past 
few years, received a tremendously 
favorable national press. In part, this 
has reflected a conscious strategy by 
the city to promote its image. And it 
has worked — who has not seen the 
glittering descriptions of the city in 
national magazines and newspapers? In 
little over a decade, Kansas City has 
transformed itself from an alleged cow 
town to a reputed “city on the move.” 

Does this mean that Kansas City 
has become a more “liveable” city? 
Newman examines this question in 
some detail, and provides us with some 
surprising answers. As he points out, 
there is a great difference between the 
veneer of big city transformation and 
revitalization, and the actual impact 
on cultural and civic life. In many 
cases, Kansas City’s renewal has been 
quite ephemeral and therefore exciting 
— but not necessarily enduring. 

Jill Vanneman, in her essay on the 
theater in Chicago, examines the rath- 
er shaky financial position of the off- 

loop theater companies in that city. As 
she points out, small theater com- 
panies rely upon corporate support for 
their continued existence. It is odd 
that something so central to the qual- 
ity of life is so finandally vulnerable, 
even in a big, complex city like Chi- 
cago. If the cultural vitality of other 
cities likewise is dependent upon pri- 
vate philanthropy, then the recent 
renaissance of the central cities is, 

indeed, precarious. 

Ed Funk’s essay on “Death or a 
Rural Village” is a delightful essay of 
the changes brought about by urban 
growth. The transformation of Tinley, 
Dlinois, from a rural vOlage to an 
archetypical example of suburban 
sprawl is a familiar feature of the 
American landscape over the last two 
decades. His rather nostalgic portoyal 
of life in the early suburban village 
may strike some as overly romantic, 
but this judgment itself no 
fleets the adjustments we have all had 
to make to modem American 
life. Too often, we view super high- 
ways, urban sprawl, and intercity ghet- 
tos as “natural” conditions of life in 
America. Funk’s essay show mat 
these are not so “natural. We have 
simply adjusted our life styles an 
values so that they seem to have 
always been there. Nevertheless, Funk 
admits that he would have a hard ume 
returning to tiie small suburb toat he 
remembers, partly because the life 
style it represents has become mwe 
imaginary than real. Small towns do 
not fulfill the aspirations of most 
people. Modem life styles require great 
mobility, reliance upon mass conmu- 
nications, and, consequentiy, a ^rtain 
amount of anonymity — a detachment 
from community. 

Obviously, even lifestyle is not so 
much a “given” as a choice 
This is precisely why it is so 
to measure the “quality of life. As 
Don Strickland points out in his essay* 
how to measure the “quality of life is 
both the “grand-daddy of all ques- 
tions” and also one of the most diffi- 
cult or perhaps impossible to answer. 
It all depends on whose values are rep- 
resented in the questions, as well as in 
the answers. 

Dennis R, Judd 
Page Eleven 

redevelopment in St. Louis: 

the greatest 

good for the 

TThe beautiful broad-leaved, green 
trees and fine old brick homes in St. 
Louis offer considerable camouflage 
for a city facing massive inequality and 
racial segregation. The quality of life 
for black and whites living in north St. 
Louis has deteriorated seriously since 
1970. The north St. Louis housing 
stock has been ignored by both private 
redevelopment and governmental re- 
habilitation programs. As a result, 
physical rehabilitation of the once 
beautiful housing stock on the north 
side has not and will not be realized. 
Instead, one finds a rising number of 
vacancies, abandoned homes and 
apartment buildings, and the remains 
of arson -destroyed buildings. This ne- 
glect for physical structures, which 
represent the basic housing of thou- 
sands, translates into a declining qual- 
ity of life for north St. Louis residents 
- a life filled with fear and the perva- 
sive presence of a deteriorating envi- 

To understand why this deteriora- 
tion and abandonment has occurred, 
one must understand the major com- 
ponents of national and local govern- 
mental policy and its relation to pri- 
vate enterprise. Whether intentionally 
or not, this linkage between govern- 
mental policy and private enterprise 
has led to increased segregation and 
the destruction of people’s homes. 

A popular fad these days is to 
proclaim the imminent resurrection of 
OEPT cities. George WejQideJj Director erf > 
the Center for Urban Programs in St. 
Louis University, recently told the 
Christian Science Monitor that, as a 
metropolitan region, St. Louis will 
maintain its health. Citing the redevel- 
opment in- the central business district 
and along the riverfront, Wendel con- 
cluded that the “. . . nucleus of a new 
St. Louis region” is well underway. 
Indeed, public and private actors have 
played vigorous roles in the rebirth of 
St. Louis’ central business district and 
some' of the central west end. Sadly, 

Page Twelve 

one cost of this core rehabilitation has 
been a lack of redevelopment by the 
major public and private institutions in 
the northern sector of the city. St. 
Louis finds itself in the curious posi- 
tion of rebuilding its CBD, while has- 
tening the decline of residences on its 
north side. 

Since the early 1970s, govern- 
mental policy has been fashioned into 
a pattern of redevelopment designed 
to save the central business district and 
a central corridor, but to salvage little 
else. Federal policy has encouraged 
this pattern of rehabilitation through 
the Community Development Act of 
1974. Anthony Downs, one of the 
chief consultants involved in the 
shaping of the Community Develop- 
ment Act of 1974, outlined three 
major types of areas within cities: 
healthy, transitional and deteriorated. 
Deteriorated areas were considered 
poor investments for governmental 
and private funds. Instead, it was rec- 
ommended that governmental funding 
be concentrated in highly visible pro- 
grams located in transitional neigh- 
borhoods. These programs would spur 
private investment in such areas, 
thereby increasing the private ^ctor s 

confidence in redevelopnient. To suc- 
cessfully achieve this objective these 
funds must be spent wisely and pru- 
dently; investment in deteriorated 
areas is viewed by business as neither 
wise nor prudent. 

TAe DMy of St. fyotfis M BdoptPd 

its own redevelopment program based 
upon the logic underlying the Commu- 
nity Development Act. In 1973, the 
city commissioned Team IV, Inc., 
planning design and development con- 
sultants, to undertake a city-wide plan- 
ning study. 

The Team IV report became the 
focus of considerable conflict in St. 
Louis. In their preface to the Febru- 
ary, 1976 draft comprehensive plan. 
Team IV defended themselves from 
what they considered to be unfair crit- 

by Alvin Mushkatel 

icism, stemming from what they con- 
sidered a misunderstanding in their 
initial draft of the plan. The nature of 
this criticism and the Team IV defense 
provide significant insight into what 
appears to be official city policy in 
deed, if not in name. 

Team IV suggested dividing areas 
of the city into three categories: de- 
pletion, redevelopment and conserva- 
tion. Depletion areas would be 
allowed to deteriorate and would re- 
ceive very little, if any, funding for 
physical rehabilitation. Black resi- 
dents ladled the report “racist,” and 
accused it of being designed to justify 
the exclusion of north St. Louis from 
redevelopment efforts. However, 
Team IV maintained that this was 
not the case; they claimed to have 
envisioned these areas as mere “pock- 

weas ot the community. Team IV 

mended ^ad recon^ 
mended decreasing public services in 

the depletion areas. They claimed to 
teve recommended that service leveU 
maintained, but advised the S 
tion of a . . no growth policy unHi 
firm market and adequate^ nuhr ^ 

sources arc available.” 

Such private sector nraot- 
redlining had long reflected . 
opment priorities like those 
ated by government officials 
ing the location of large-g^alp 
opment projep^- -• ^ 

Horn itr^ 

'fally north St. Louis has been aban- 

The accompanying map sketches 
niajor new redevelopment projects 
approved by the city through 1977. 
This diagram also depicts the severe 
residential racial segregation in St. 
J^uis. These data have been drawn 
Irom an excellent housing study of the 
entire metro region headed by Gary 
Tobin of Washington University, and is 
available from tlie Last-West Gateway 

FOCUS IMidwest 

CITY OF ST. LOUIS 1976: Racial 
composition of census tracts and 
tracts with major redevelopment / 

Major redevelopment 

1 Pershing- 


2 Maryland Plaza 

3 Washington U. 

4 Newtown St. Louis 

5 Lafayette Town 

6 Lasalle Park 

7 Laclede’s Land* 

Convention Ctr. 



black or under- 
going rapid racial 

industrial or 

Coordinating Council of St. Louis. As 
can be seen, major redevelopment is 
located in the central business district 
and along a corridor stretching from 
downtown to the western city limit 
bounded by Washington University. 

The sector of the city lying north 
of this redevelopment corridor is pre- 
dominantly black, whereas the sector 
south of the corridor is almost exclu- 
sively white. According to 1970 census 
data, blacks constitute 67.1% of the 
population in census tracts on the 
north side. If we utilize Tobin’s 1974 
data, and exclude the six primarily 
white census tracts, blacks constitute 
about 80% of north St. Louis’ popula- 
tion. In sharp contrast, 1970 census 
data indicate that only 1.4% of south 
St. Louis’ population is black. More- 
over, in 1974 no census tracts were 
reported to be undergoing rapid racial 

It is against this background that 
St. Louis’ rehabilitation projects 
should be evaluated. The major 
downtown redevelopment projects in- 
clude the Civic and Convention Cen- 
ters, and Laclede’s Landing along the 
riverfront — new commercial facilities 
primarily benefiting downtown busi- 
nesses. The other projects along the 
corridor are a mixture of commercial 
and housing developments. Seven 
projects will account for 10,000 
of new or rehabilitated housing. The 
Maryland Plaza redevelopment project 
in the central west end most likely 
will serve as the commercial focus for 
the corridor redevelopment. Current 
projections indicate that costs will ex- 
ceed $250 million. These seven proj- 
ects represent more redevelopment 
activity than has occurred throughout 
the entire city during the past ten 

years. . , . . * 

Significantly, in the last eight 
years only two redevelopment proj- 
ects have been located outside this 
central corridor: Lafayette Square in 
the south and Jeff-Vander-Lou on the 
near northside. Neither of these re- 

habiJitatjon projects were flhUJJCM }))/ 

large corporations, but were sup- 
ported instead by non-profit organiz^ 
tions. Their beginnings can be traced 
to the innovative efforts of a few 
bold urban pioneers committed to 
these areas of the city. Both projects 
were undertaken nearly ten years ago 
and are not considered part of the 
city’s redevelopment activity. 

Major corporations have invested an 
impressive $250 million in the creation 
of this central corridor of redevelop- 
ment funds. At the time of this writ- 
ing, the City Council and the Commu- 
nity Development Agency are dead- 
locked over how $56 million of CDA 

Page Thirteen 

Volume 13y Number 80 

funds should be spent. Part of the cur- 
rent conflict reflects the continuing 
belief held by north St. Louis residents 
that they have been “written off” by 
the city government. 

A forced resolution of this conflict 
between city council and the Commu- 
nity Development Agency soon may 
be triggered by the federal govern- 
ment, which is threatening to reclaim 
its funds unless agreement is reached. 
Despite its serious need, St. Louis 
may find itself in the unique, un- 
enviable position of having to return 
CDA funds untouched to the federal 

Although the city has not been 
able to contribute the same kind of 
financial backing that private corpora- 
tions have, it has aided development 
projects by providing support services. 
Areas of the city ear-marked for re- 
development have had old streets re- 
paved and new ones built. Street lights 
and other support activities also are 

If we trace the areas where ap- 
proved redevelopment has been pro- 
posed or is under way, it becomes 
clear that “transitional” or “healthy” 
areas have been designated for rehabili- 
tation. In these areas, income levels 
have dropped below that for the met- 
ropolitan region as a whole, but they 
have not plunged to the levels found in 
“deteriorated” areas. Additionally, the 
racial composition of redevelopment 

areas is revealing. Census tracts con- 
taining the redevelopment projects are 
36% non-white, compared with the 
67% non-white found north of the cor- 
ridor and the 1.4% found in the south- 
ern half of the city. Using 1974 school 
enrollment figures to locate areas that 
underwent rapid racial change from 
1970 to 1974, we find such transition 
in only two of the thirteen census 
tracts in which rehabilitation is taking 

W^iereas private investment has 
ensured vigorous redevelopment activ- 
ity in the transitional “buffer zone,” 
the city’s north side has been virtually 
ignored by savings and loan institu- 
tions. In 1976, 46 of the 51 tracts 
located north of the redevelopment 
corridor fell in the bottom quartile of 
metropolitan St. Louis recipients of 
mortgage lending. Although the city’s 
south side has not been the target of 
major redevelopment projects, its resi- 
dents or potential residents, unlike 
those living on the north side, have 
been able to secure mortgages from 
private lending institutions. 

Northside home buyers not only 
have found it nearly impossible to 
acquire mortgages from private 
sources, but they also have found it 
difficult to obtain Federal National 

Busch Stadium, St. Louis 

Mortgage Association funds. FNMA 
money is designated for areas and buy- 
ers considered high risks by private 
lending institutions. But according to 
the Tobin study, only 25 (of 51) tracts 
in the north side had even been con- 
sidered for FNMA funds as of 1977, 
and nine of these 25 census tracts are 
located immediately adjacent to the 
central corridor where redevelopmejk. 
was planned. ^ 

From the perspective of privi 
developers and city administratot^ 
investment in transitional areas ma> 
hold the greatest chance for economic 
success, both in terms of obtaining 
funding and halting further deteriora- 
tion. However, the poor minorities 
who have resided in these areas may 
find themselves priced out of the mar- 
ket once development is accomplished, 
and as a consequence, may be forced 
to move. South St. Louis is not a real- 
istic alternative for non-whites, hence, 
movement into the poorer housing 
stock of north side St. Louir. or into 
similar areas in St. Louis County seems 

Such incorporated areas as Univer- 
sity City, Wellston, Kinloch, Berkeley 
and Normandy have undergone rapid 
racial transition in recent years. The 
pattern of racial segregation which has 
characterized St. Louis city proper, is 
beginning to extend itself county- 
wide, with north county becoming 
increasingly black, while south county 
remains almost exclusively white. Un- 
fortunately, having moved to north 
county, new residents frequently en- 
counter living conditions similar to the 
segregated ghetto in the city; and in 
addition they must cope with the hos- 
tility of white residents. 

The media may be filled with opti- 
mistic proclamations concerning the 
good health of the St. Louis metro- 
politan region. However, from the per- 
spective of north St. Louis city resi- 
dents, the quality of life is anything 
but healthy. Abandonment has 
reached the 40% level in some north- 
side census tracts. Homes are dilap- 
idated, inadequate heat and plumbing 
is common, and overcrowding is a 
frequent occurrence. The lack of re- 
development activity, or even interest, 
on the part of private and public insti- 
tutions leads to the discouraging prog- 
nosis of continuing blight and irrever- 
sible deterioration. In St. Louis, re- 
development of the central city pro- 
vides the greatest good for the smallest 

Almn H. Mushhalel teaches land use 
planning and state and local politics at 
the University of Denver. He was on 
the faculty of University of Missouri, 
St. Louis, for two years. 

Page Fourteen 


Look at that St. Louis skyline,” 
A.J. Cervantes used to say during his 
1977 mayoral campaign. “Isn’t it 
beautiful! Doesn’t it make you feel 
good about St. Louis!” 

St. Louis’ cityscape does look 
bottcr in tho 1970s tlian it did in thG 
1950s, and exuberant salesmen like 
Cervantes can make all our hearts a bit 
warmer as — with our backs toward 
East St. Louis - we admire the Arch 
and its supporting cast. But ^though 
the St. Louis area - and especially 
downtown - has some new finery, the 
stainless steel clothes hide an under- 
nourished body. Stripping an indigent 
of his rags and dressing him in a 
tuxedo might make him look wealthy 
— but, coat and tails and top hat not- 
withstanding, he is still impoverished. 

While St. Louis’ buildings went up, 
its economy stagnated, its residents 
physical safety remained endangered, 
its population’s health failed to 
improve, its air stayed hazardous, and 
its housing stock deteriorated. 

Tlie symptoms of the St. Louis 
malaise abound. According to the 
most reliable measurement of crime 
(the national victimization survey), 42 
out of every 1,000 City of St. Louis 
residents aged twelve or older were 
victims of a major crime against a per- 
son (murder, forcible rape, aggravated 
assault) in 1971-1972; by 1974-1975, 
the rate had risen to 48 out of 1,000. 
During the first six years of the 1970s, 
over twelve thousand City of St. Louis 
dwelling units were demolished. 
Throughout the last decade, the infant 
mortality rate in the St. Louis area has 
continued to be well above the 

Volume 13y Number 80 

national average. In 1976, 76,000 St. 
Louis area residents actively sought 
jobs — but could not find them. Thou- 
sands more were so discouraged that 
they had stopped looking. 

The St. Louis area’s quality-of-life 
performance did not go completely 
unnoticed. Between 1970 and 1975, 
the St. Louis area population declined 
from 2,411,000 to 2,367,000. For the 
same period, 122,000 more persons — 
66 per day, left the St. Louis area than 
moved into it. Many people vote with 
their feet, and the podiatric balloting 
was and is going against St. Louis. 

How can St. Louis look so good 
and be so bad? Why, take the river- 
front and Lafayette Square and Shaw’s 
Garden and the Central West End and 
Westport Plaza and .... How can an 
area have all these fine things — and 
more — and still be subpar? 

There are many reasons. Some — ■ 
like the vicissitudes of the national 
economy (the demand for auto- 
mobiles, for instance) — are totally 
beyond local control. Others — like 
the decision to build a new fighter 
plane — are largely insulated from 
local influence although a skilled and 
experienced Congressional delegation 
can help. 

There are other obstacles to a 
better St. Louis that are within our 
collective selves. Some ideas in our 
heads — long believed but seldom 
assessed — hold us back. These infor- 
mal norms affect our perspective of St. 
Louis and influence the way key St. 
Louis institutions operate. Two of 
these counterproductive norms are 
especially damaging: a confusion 

between quantity and quality and a 
belief in amateur government. 

Only the most starry-eyed demog- 
rapher could expect the St. Louis 
area’s population to grow substantially 
during the foreseeable future. 
Although most forecasters agree that 
the metropolitan area will have about 
two-and-a-half million residents (give 
or take a couple of hundred thousand) 
between now and 2000, many St 
Louisans — including a large num- 
ber of the key policy-makers act as 
if population growth was eternal. 
Steady growth, upward trend lines, 
big-bigger-biggest is part of many 
Americans’ secular creed; it is little 
wonder that many find it difficult to 
deny faith. 

But unless St. Louisans begin to 
realize that there are about as many of 
us living here today as will live here 
tomorrow, we will continue to pursue 
policies which — although they benefit 
a minority in the short-run — will cost 
the majority both in the short-run and 
the long-run. 

The region’s land use behavior pro- 
vides the most dramatic example of a 
growth mentality gone awry. We con- 
tinue to abandon and abandon at the 
core while we build and build at the 
periphery. In 1976 and 1977, for 
example, building permits were issued 
for 27,943 private housing units in the 

E. Terrence Jones teaches in the 
Department of Political Science, Uni- 
versity of Missouri St. Louis, and is an 
urban specialist. 

Page Fifteen 

St. Louis metropolitan area. Most of 
these (about seventy-seven percent) 
were for units in the western and 
southern extremes of St. Louis County 
and in Franklin, Jefferson, and St. 
Charles counties. Another eighteen 
percent were in the eastern portions of 
the area’s Illinois counties. Only about 
five percent of the new units will be 
located in the City of St. Louis and 
inner portions of St. Louis County. 

New construction on the periphery 
has, of course, some benefits: con- 
sumers have a wider choice of locales, 
home builders have larger profits, land 
speculators have more wins, construc- 
tion crafts have more work. 

These benefits, however, are over- 
whelmed by the costs of fringe expan- 
sion. Private dwelling units do not a 
city make. Cities also require streets, 
sewers, public lighting, water mains, 
electric transformers, telephone ex- 
changes, and many other public and 
quasi-public capital facilities. 

If there were more St. Louisans, 
then we would need more homes and 
more public investment. But — for the 
most part — we already have enough 
public facilities to support our present 
and future population. If we are to be 
a wise area which conserves its scarce 
resources, then we should get the most 
of our present capital stock instead of 
thoughtlessly creating a need for 

Moving from Jennings to St. 
Charles or from Affton to Jefferson 
County is not a wholly private matter 
in an area with a relatively fixed pop- 
ulation. Such moves disperse people 
over a wider area, and all of us ulti- 
mately pay a portion of the additional 
cost. If another bridge must be built 
over the Missouri River, we all pay for 
it through higher state and federal 
taxes. If Union Electric must construct 
new transformers in the fringe coun- 
ties, we all pay for them through 
higher utility rates. If more people 
must drive longer distances between 
home and work, all of our lungs pay 
for it. 

New construction need not occur 
primarily at the metropolitan area’s 
edge. Consumers can still have diverse 
choices, home builders can still make 
money, land speculators can still win, 
and construction crafts can still work 
if most new construction occurred 
within the core instead of at the 
periphery. But — for this to happen ~ 
our way of looking at urban growth 
and our laissez faire attitude toward 
regional land use policies must change. 
The collective costs of a sprawling 
expansion must be better recognized 
and, wherever possible, these costs 
should be attached to the actual 
expansion structure. Let those moving 


to the periphery pay both the individ- 
ual and the collective price. If that 
were done, then the outward move- 
ment would be drastically reduced. 

We can get more quality out of a 
given quantity if we discourage geo- 
graphic dispersal. Instead, most 
encourage it, some tolerate it, and 
only a few oppose it. In tomorrow’s 
zero-population-growth metropolis, to 
expand is to revitalize and to build is 
to rehabilitate. 

ot so long ago, almost all of the 
goods and services consumed by St. 
Louisans were produced or provided 
by the private sector. During the past 
few decades, however, we have de- 
manded more public goods and serv- 
ices and our demands have not gone 
unanswered. Public sewers have 
replaced private septic tanks (except in 
much of the fringe area), public buses 
have taken over private systems, public 
recreation facilities have been added at 
a faster rate than private ones, and so 

These public goods and services 
influence our lives in many important 
ways. One’s nose and one’s health will 
be better if one’s neighbor up the hill 
is hooked into a MSD sewer line rather 
than if he or she has a leaky septic 
tank. One’s commuting time will be 

\f the trat\^i^oTta.t.vow 

system operates efficiently and effec- 
tively. One’s leisure time will be more 
enjoyable if there are public parks 
located near one’s home. 

The connection should be clear. 
Since we do more things through gov- 
ernments — things which can and do 
affect the quality of life — we .should 
be more concerned about how well or 
poorly public goods and services are 
produced and delivered. For starters 
since government is a labor-intensive 
enterprise, we might want to have the 
best available public workforce. The 
better the producers and deliverers 
the better the product and the deliv- 

But, established in the American 
tradition - and especially ingrained in 
the St. Louis variant - is the notion 
that it may take an expert to do a 
good job of running a business, but 
just about anybody can operate a gov- 
ernment. And, in the St. Louis area, 
just about anybody does. 

St. Louis* belief in public adminis- 
tration amateurism shows up in several 
ways. First, a large number of muni- 
cipalities in the St. Louis area have no 
fulltime professional employees. For 
these cities, municipal government 
consists of some well-intentioned 
elected officials who must earn a living 
elsewhere, a clerk or two with little or 

no professional training, and a few 
undersupervised line personnel. Such 
cities have no capacity to anticipate, 
to plan, to evaluate, to monitor, or do 
the other things that — ■ taken together 
— make for good management. 

Second, compared to similar metro- 
politan areas, the St. Louis public 
employees are decidedly underpaid. 
Tlie $25,000 ceiling on City of St. 
^uis positions is the most obvious 
indicator of this public penury. Such a 
limit has helped many City depart- 
ments remain mismanaged for years at 
a time. Administrators do not live 
solely on idealism and challenge for- 
ever, and ultimately the opportunity 
to combine those with more dollars in 
^ becomes impossible to 

K salaries are not 

much higher m other parts of the St. 
^uis region), then the rest of the sal- 
v^ depressed. Some 

win stni ''V persons 

governments get 

they do'not pay’lor'* 

private stockholderr^'theT'T'*' 

effective and efficient ma^emern^At 
public stockholders, thef . 
ineffective and inefficient aa 

Uo.. Wisans accS 
of the bumbling bureaucm 
consequently have a so wh * 
new reaction to amateur^a 
tion. Until St. Louica« a^ministia- 
about demanding and serious 

ifctor’g nnrf ^ the public 

uneven^ will be decidedly 

Contributing to St. Louis’ accept- 
ance of inadequate public goods and 
services is the media’s inattention to 
bureaucratic performance. Most public 
aitairs coverage is confined to the 
initiation, formulation, and adoption 
phases of policy-making. Much is said 
a out new proposals and legislative 
an executive debates, discussions and 
compromises, frequently with a 
w ose-political-career-is-being-helped- 
or-hurt-motif. Much is also written 
about policy initiation, aided by the 
dmm-beating of governmental public 
relations specialists. But little is writ- 
ten about how, or even whether, a 
program was implemented or eval- 
uated. Readers are often told that Pro- 
gram X will accomplish Y and Z for 
St. Louis but, unless blatant scandals 
occur, seldom is there any follow-up 
on whatever happened to Program X. 
Only for sports contests do we get the 
final score. 

Moreover, the noticeable increase in 
continued on page 30 


St. Louis 




by Dennis R. Judd 

ring the deep snows of early Jan- 
uary, I had lunch with a native New 
Yorker who was negotiating a fourth 
year in St. Louis. Naturally, the topic 
turned to comparisons of lifestyles, 
general happiness, and etc., and I 
asked why she was still in St. Louis. 
“Because this place is simply too com- 
fortable.” She paused between bites, 
then added, “everywhere you live has 
trade-offs. New York keeps the adren- 
alin pumping, but at the cost of ex- 
haustion and general social tension. 
Hero, you enn act like you’re in a city 
-- even If It doofl fiopm n littio filow - 
but you can do it at your own speed. 
People out here don’t value that 

That lunch-time conversation got 
me thinking about life in St Louis, 
especially her later remarks about the 
selfconsciousness of the place. Prob- 
ably no big city in the United States 
has been so inflicted with self-exam- 
ination of its psyche as St Louis. It 
has been labelled “the city that hates 
itself.” The A to Z campaign simply 
exudes doubt and lack of confidence; 
it would be difficult to imagine that a 
Chicago, New York, or San Francisco 
would consider such a campaign ap- 
propriate. More than enough has been 
written about this selfconsciousness. It 
may be time to explain why it de- 
veloped to such a degree, and to assess 
its impact on the city. 

The central feature of St. Louis’ 
development over the last twenty-five 
years is summed up in one word: sub- 
urbanization. The St. Louis Metro- 
politan Area is one of the most sub- 
urbanized urban areas in the United 
States. During the 1950s, St. Louis 

lost 12.5 percent of its population and 
during the next decade it lost 17 per- 
cent. Over this twenty-year period, it 
lost a larger percentage of its popula- 
tion than any other big city in the 
United States. From a population of 
857,000, recorded in l^oO, it declined 
to 750,000 by 1960 and to 622,000 
by 1970. By 1977, the population of 
the city was estimated to be between 
515,000 and 525,000. 

Just as important was the decline in 
economic vitality. From 1958 to 
1972, St. Louis City’s share of the 
Area s employment In retailing 
dropped from 56 percent to 27 per- 
cent, and from 56 percent to 29 per- 
cent in manufacturing. Between 1954 
and 1967 the city lost 1300 retailing 
jobs, compared to St. Louis County’s 
gain of 2800. The trend of the 1960s 
continued unabated into the present 

But movement of population, in- 
dustry, and commerce out of the city 
was not probably its worst problem. 
More important was the fact that city 
boundaries failed to keep up with this 
expansion at the periphery. St. Louis’ 
city limits, for example, were the same 
in 1976 as 100 years before. It is one 
of the smallest major cities in land area 
in the United States, and comprises 
only 26 percent of the land area of the 
St. Louis metropolitan region. Like 
many other old cities, St. Louis be- 
came surrounded by a multiplicity of 
political jurisdictions, and St. Louis’ 
problem was perhaps worst than most 
— with Baltimore, it is one of the 
nation’s two cities which is not in- 
cluded within any other political juris- 
diction. Therefore, it is functionally 

impossible for St. Louis to annex land 
around it. 

T^he existence of 94 independent 
rhunicipalities outside of St. Louis has 
helped to create a psychology of city- 
hating. There is no doubt that sub- 
urbanization partially took place as a 
result of the desire to flee the condi- 
tions of the central city, and these 
most particularly included crowding 
and race. During the severe housing 
crunch of the late 1940s and the 
1960s, middle-class, white families, 
fled to the only available new housing, 
which was in the suburbs. From their 
suburban enclaves, whites looked back 
at a central city which seemed 
crowded, dangerous, run-down in its 
residential areas, and populated by 
poor blacks. They escaped the city 
both psychologically and physically. 
Their proximity to people like them- 
selves and their attachment to their 
first home mortgage gave them a sense 
of belonging to their new suburban 
environment which probably equalled 
the neighborhood loyalty felt by the 
ethnics in the old city neighborhoods. 
The city was alien territory. 

These developments were hardly 
unique to St. Louis. They affected all 
of the old industrial cities of the 
northeast and midwest. In St. Louis, 
the difference was one of degree and 
scale. The city lost not only its eco- 
nomic vitality but is cultural vitality as 
well. In 1976, only one first-run movie 
theater was left in the city. By the 
early 1970s, few restaurants and qual- 
ity entertainment spots were left in 

Volume 13, Number 80 

Page Seventeen 

downtown, and those that stayed 
seemed almost out of place on streets 
that had been left deserted after the 
five o’clock rush. 

The cultural decline of the city 
seemed all the more pronounced, in 
people’s minds, after the demise of 
Gaslight Square. The Square had been 
one of the most famous cultural hot 
spots in the country in the early 
1960s. In a very short time, it became, 
if anything, an example of St. Louis’ 
failure to compete with other cities 
and with its suburbs. By the late 
1960s, there was not a single place in 
the city of St. Louis which had an 
active street life. 

The self-hating psychology of St. 
Louis was thus connected to some un- 
deniable facts, and not to mere self- 
deception. But that psychology also 
became a self-fulfilling prophecy. As 
central city neighborhoods declined, 
banks and real estate companies in- 
creasingly withdrew their money and 
put it where the returns were the 
safest and the largest: in the suburbs. 
Clayton underwent a skyscraper and 
office boom as corporations moved 
their headquarters further west, both 
to escape the conditions of the down- 
town and to make commuting more 
convenient for their suburban em- 
ployees. The city was simply not a 
good investment. 

In the mid-1970s, a downtown re- 
development process began to pick up 
steam, one which had been put in 
motion ten years before with the 
building of the Arch, But the recovery 
has been slow, and it has definitely 
lagged behind other cities. The down- 
town skyline is changing, but well 
after the San Francisco, Atlanta, and 
Chicago skylines have been almost 
completely transformed. But the revi- 
talization looks as if it is reaching the 
takeoff point. Laclede’s Landing now 
has attracted enough interesting places 
to make it a meaningful area to walk 
around in during an afternoon. The 
Euclid-McPherson-Maryland Plaza area 
in the West End has a more active 
street life than has existed in the city 
for years. Property values in the West 
End have shot up in proportion to the 
desire of people to live in those areas. 

Is all of this a result of the changing 
psychology of people who live in the • 
city? The answer would be only par- 
tially affirmative. Rejuvenation of the 
city is due to many factors which are 
beyond people’s conscious control. 
First, the cost of new housing con- * 
struction in the suburbs has gone up 
faster than the ability of young people 
to buy it. Naturally, the shortage of 

Page Eighteen 

new housing of quality makes people 
pay more attention to the old housing 
stock which exists. Most of the quality 
old housing is to be found in the city, 
and this is one of the unique features 
which cannot be duplicated in the 
newer suburbs. Second, the economics 
of housing have changed. In 1975, for 
the first time, the square foot cost of 
renovating aprtment units was lower 
than the cost of new construction. It 
no longer entailed a financial sacrifice 
to renovate old buildings, either for 
people interested in a good living space 
or for people interested in making 
money. Third, the structure of the 
population has changed, with a grow- 
ing proportion of young, unmarried 
singles or couples without children. 
Many of these people find city living 
both convenient and preferable to the 
singles apartment scene in the sub- 
urbs. Finally, and perhaps most impor- 
tant, the migration of poor people and 
minorities to the cities has radically 
declined. In fact, the pool of rural to 
urban migrants has largely dried up. 
There will never be another period like 
the foreign immigration of the nine- 
teenth century or the migration of 
millions of rural poor of the post- 
World War II period. No longer are the 
cities undergoing the massive changes 
which stimulated so many of the white 
middle class to seek “safety” in the 

Jor all of these reasons, the central 
cities, and this includes St. Louis, are 
destined to revive. The revitahza ton 
of St. Louis, therefore, is not simply a 
question of changing the psychology 
of people. 

As the city revitalizes, the psychol- 
ogy will change of its own accord. The 
objective conditions of life in the cen- 
tral cities have, and are, changing. 

In St. Louis, the recent take-off in 
redevelopment activities challenges the 
commonly-held assumption that it is a 
conservative, slow-to-change place. 
And there is some evidence indicating 
that the city-hating psychology is on 
the run. A national survey of business 
executives during the fall of 1977 
found most of them ranking St. Louis 
quite high as a good place to live and 
work. The low cost of living and the 
abundance of relatively inexpensive, 
high quality housing were, as ex- 
pected, given as important reasons. 
There were also high marks for cul- 
tural amenities: the executives thought 
the restaurants were good; they liked 
the presence of professional sports 
teams, and they also thought that the 
presence of high-quality universities 
made it a favorable climate for cor- 

porate headquarters. But many of 
them also asserted that St. Louis was 
too conservative; that its political and 
business leaders lacked initiative. 

What solid evidence is there to sup- 
port these executives’ generally favor- 
able comments? For one thing, it is 
true that the general cost of living in 
St. Louis is very low compared to 
most other cities. On a cost of living 
index for all items, St. Louis, in the 
fourth quarter of 1977, had a score of 
97.8, with the average cost of living in 
187 cities equalling 100. Nearly all 
large cities exceeded the average; with 
New York leading the list at 124.8, 
and Chicago at 114.5. The costs of 
housing, health care, food, and utilities 
are lower in St. Louis than in most big 
cities. The cost of renting an apart- 
ment in late 1977 (average: $226) 
compared, for example, with New 
York ($290), Chicago ($337), and 
Kansas City ($261). On the same 
income, you can buy 10-20 percent 
rnore in St. Louis than in most other 

It is more difttcult to measure 
some lung called “comfort,” a quality 
my New York lunch companion found 
so valuable. Obviously, one might find 
even more comfort, if this is defined as 
reiative peace, tranquility, and a slow 

A ’ Colorado Rockies 

or the Arizona desert ^ 

With refem^ce to 
Few cities offer urban 
out substantial inconvonl''^" 
life. If you hav^a 
a small town with ’respoi^rro" 
venience: a recent mhrJnte ^ 

York oh^rvfiri h 

hJ, , " lie thought 

helicopters reporting the traffic during 

the St, Louis rush hour were more 
congested than the highways them- 
selves. And yet it is a city. It has a fine 
symphony, art mu.seum, and zoo. Its 
old neighborhoods are characteristic of 
the great American cities; they mirror 
the architectural styles and ethnic pat- 
terns of settlement of the past. The 
claim of the city is its history, and 
that’s what the suburbs can’t dupli- 
cate. The beauty of old architecture 
and the reinvestment in cultural and 
entertainment attractions makes the 
city unique and irreplaceable. That is 
why redevelopment is taking place. To 
some extent, it is irrelevant what peo- 
ple think of the City of St. Louis. The 
quality of life in the city is improving, 
and this means that the psychology of 
self-hate is doomed. 

Dennis R. Judd leaches urban politics 
at the University of Denver, in Denver, 
Colorado. He was on the faculty of 
Washington University from 1970 to 
July, 1978. 

voces I Midwest 

Chicago’s theatre 
scene: hustling 
is a way of life 

by Jill Vanneman 

Hustling has invaded the arts. The 
lady of the night is the theater. She 
taunts and seduces, her restless hands 
waiting outstretched for money. Make 
no mistake, however. Even a prostitute 
has standards, no beggar is she. The 
part of the sugar daddy is becoming a 
more important role as corporations 
respond to the theater’s temptations. 

“Try me,” teases the theater on 
North Halsted. “Admire my ingenuity. 
I used to be an ugly warehouse. Now I 
am a thing of beauty that brings plea- 
sure to countless people.” 

“I used to be a chocolate factory,” 
the theater on Belmont says. “If you 
respond to my needs, you will be re- 
warded. Come, give, be seen, enjoy my 
new plays. I will not disappoint. See 
the people I entertain and the people I 
give jobs to.” 

Sugar daddy takes out his bulging 
billfold and helps art patronage grow 
across the country. Business contribu- 
tions to the arts have grown from $21 
million in 1967 to $235 million in 
1977, according to the New York 
based Business Committee for the Arts 
(BCA). Before 1939, there were 20 
corporate foundations. Today there 
are over 2,000. Most of these corpo- 
rate foundations were set up as philan- 
thropic ventures in the high tax years 
during World War II and the Korean 

By law, corporations can give char- 

itable contributions up to a maximum 

of five percent of their taxable in- 
come. The BCA says the top one per- 
cent of the national corporate commu- 
nity contributes half of all corporate 
support for arts and cultural activities. 

Chicago corporations give an esti- 
mated one to ten percent of their phil- 
anthropic contributions to the arts. 
The Chicago Council on Fine Arts 
(CCFA) anticipates a 2 percent annual 
increase in Chicago area corporate giv- 
ing in the next two years. This would 
bring arts and cultural support up to 
$5.7 million for 1978. 

During 1976, Chicago theater 
groups received contributions from 23 
corporations. The CCFA, established 
in 1976, recently surveyed 103 Chi- 
cago corporations and found opera the 
most seductive of all the arts to sugar 
daddies. Eighty-seven Chicago corpora- 
tions gave generous support to Chicago 
opera. Dance received eight contribu- 

“It’s the old established vs. new 
routine,” says Glynn R. Lawrey, gen- 
eral manager of the Free Street The- 
ater. “You have to realize that Carol 

Volume 13, Number 80 

Page Nineteen 

Fox of the Lyric* Opera has been get- 
ting money for the opera since 1954. 
She’s good at it, too. Giving to the 
Lyric is a prestigious thing for 

Opera has been around much longer 
than the not-for-profit theaters. 
“There have been attempts before but 
none as successful as what has devel- 
oped in the last 10 years,” Lowrey 

Those corporations who give to the 
theater constitute a small minority. 
Three of the oldest Chicago-based 
sugar daddies are Inland Steel (1945), 
Esmark (1953), and Borg-Warner 

Of the small number of off-loop 
theaters who receive corporate help, 
the same ones usually crop up on 
every list. These include the Organic, 
St. Nicholas, Travel Light, Free Street, 
Performance Community (Dinglefest), 
Evanston Theater (North Light), and 
Victory Gardens. 

These theaters represent only a 
fraction of more than 100 such groups 
which now exist in the Chicago metro- 
politan area. Popularity, however, has 
brought decreasing prosperity. 

Long-time observer and critic of the 
Chicago arts scene, Peter P. Jacobi, 
succinctly explains the economic 
crunch: “For every increase in demand 
and every response to that demand, 
theater and other arts groups find them- 
selves correspondingly deeper in debt.” 

“On the average,” William DuVall, 
president of the Borg-Warner 
Foundation and its director of public 
affairs says, “A non-commercial the- 
ater probably makes 40 percent of its 
profits at the box office. The rest must 
come from donations, which are in- 
creasing, but not as fast as costs.” This 
puts the strain on theaters where it 
hurts the most. Subsidies and box 
office receipts meet less and less of the 
budget. Theaters tighten their belts 
and still try to meet the demands of 
artistic integrity, thus creating a 
chronic income gap. 

Hustling. That’s the game the the- 
aters are forced to play as they seek 
support from private donors, govern- 
ment sources and individuals. Theater 
managers must convince potential sup- 
porters that it is their theater that can 
do the most with the money. 

Within the last year, the St. Nich- 
olas theater on North Halsted has in- 
creased its subscribers from zero to 
1100. The budget for fiscal 1977, 
however, shows a deficit of $10,000 
on expenditures of $230,000. 

To struggling theaters, corporate 
foundation grants are particularly 

appealing. Theater business managers 
know that even in years when com- 
pany profits are low, the foundation 
can continue its donations out of the 
tax-exempt reserves paid into it in 
more profitable years. 

Inland Steel’s Ryerson Founda- 
tion’s support of the arts rose to 4.4 
percent in 1977. Claude J. Peck, Jr., 
the one-man full-time staff says. “We 
gave $53,500 to 41 cultural organiza- 
tions in 1976.” 

More interested in repeating a 
speech he is to give on corporations 
and the arts than in discussing Inland’s 
theater record, he explains why Inland 
bothers to give to the arts. “The arts 
add quality to life. They are a corpo- 
rate obligation which can turn into 
good business, and they create good 
economic activity for the corpora- 

“For example,” he says, “we give 
to the Free Street theater because 
they’ve been doing well in terms of 
creativeness and audience participa- 
tion, especially with older people. The 
\ way tYiey involve tinose 75- to 
80-year- olds in the performance is just 

Free Street was the only theater 
Inland supported in 1976. In 1977, 
grants between $500 and $1,000 were 
given to the Chicago Allisnce for the 
Performing Arts (CAPA), the Chicago 
City Theater Co., the Festival Players 
Guild, and the Chicago Theater Group, 

Lowrey says Free Street has 
stepped up its efforts in the last two 
years to get more corporate support. 
“It’s a matter of who knows whom. 
Board members throw out names of 
people they know and corporate lists 
are set up as a result.” 

I would hope that the corporate 
people who are giving to the theaters 
are interested in the theater and that 
they feel a certain responsibility to the 
community in which they live,” 
Lowrey says. 

“Allstate gives to Free Street be- 
cause it has nationwide offices and we 
travel everywhere. We went to 35 
states in all last year. And everywhere 
we go there are going to be Allstate 
people in the audience,” Lowrey says. 

When weeding through the grant 
applications. Peck says he looks for 
what the survival rate of the theater is, 
the source of support, members on the 
boards, and what the critics have to 
say. The biggest problem is getting out 
and seeing the groups who ask for 

Yet, seeing the groups is not the 
only problem. The foundation board 
still consists of businessmen who think 
going to the theaters means they’ll be 
asked onto the stage to become reluc- 

tant participants. Also, who is going to 
trust outfits with names like Dinglefest 
and Travel Light? 

Witl^the influx of younger execu- 
tives wno are more educated about the 
arts, theater might have a chance. 

xVt Esmark Foundation, all grant 
requests, at one time or another, go 
through Liz Sode, assistant to Esmark 
Foundation president, Robert E. 
Palenchar and assistant manager of 
corporate affairs. 

Last year, Esmark received 4,000 
requests for philanthropic monies. 
Esmark itself is a holding company 
with only 100 employees. “It would 
be impossible,” Sode says, “to give to 
all the cities where we have facilities. 
That’s 1100 units in the United States, 
ami to give nationally would mean the 
gifts would be very minimal.” 

Sode is the essence of the new, 
younger corporate executive. She 
really tries to make time to get out 

enerev alrpaH her youth and 

dSal ^ on the tra- 

acquisition of 1. ®‘iO"'alent to the 

money to 

rund theater groups until 1977, Sode 
She readily admits that it is the 
board’s policy to give to the more 
established arts organizations. 

Sode is impressed with theaters that 
have exhibited their staying power. She 
is especially appreciative when groups 
send in their balance sheets and audit 
statements. A little thank-you at the 
end of the season doesn’t hurt either. 

“The Northside theaters have be- 
come more fiscally responsive and 
more of a sound investment. They 
have also gotten more sophisticated in 
their fundraising methods,” Sode says. 

Esmark gave four theater grants in 
1977, ranging from $500 to $1500 to 
the Organic theater, St. Nicholas, 
Travel Light, and the Academy Festi- 
val Theater, in the form of operating 
or unrestricted expenses. With the 
exception of one, Sode says the grants 
will be renewed in 1978, and two 
other theater requests are presently 
under consideration. 

“In the past theaters have meant 
strange politics and corporations have 
been burned,” says Peter Schneider of 
one of the more successful off-loop 
theaters, the St. Nicholas. He agrees 
that in the past theaters were perhaps 
risky to give to, but he claims all this 

Page Twenty 

FOCUS IMidwest 

“All sacrificed...” by Mark Perlberg 

People are going to the opera, to 
the symphony. The museums are 
crowded. Well-dressed North Shore 
women rush in to swanky book shops 
on Michigan Avenue and buy three 
copies of the same coffee table epics — 
$60 a piece and up. Life in Chicago 
seems fine. 

Take a closer look. The Chicago 
Symphony’s eminent conductor 
spends only a few weeks of the season 
here, and then rushes off to conduct in 
Europe. The Lyric Opera just gave the 
world premiere of Krzysztof Pen- 
derecki’s Paradise Lost. The music 
critic of the Tribune wrote an excel- 
lent pre-premiere article on Penderecki 
and his opera, and then the paper 
printed this headline over his review: 
“ ‘Paradise Lost’: Chicago’s Musical 
Pride Regained.” With the CSO and 
the Lyric, and other excellent combos 
in residence here, I didn’t think we 
needed to worry about our musical 
pride. But Chicago will never drop its 
Second City complex. 

The Pompeii show has just closed at 
the Art Institute, which is still looking 
for someone to fill the job left vacant 
by the death of its late director last 

lie relations stunt than anything else, 

with Pompeii matchboxes and all sorts 
of similar paraphernalia on sale just 
outside the entrance. Inside, a few 
rooms were filled, and rather tasteless- 
ly, with relics — more archaeology 
than art — that survived the Great 
Eruption. On the day I visited the 
show, I counted 11 of those yellow 
and black buses jammed with school 
kids who were herded in from all over 
the city. 

How many children will go away 
thinking museums are boring places to 
visit, dull as their own living rooms. I 
hope some of them sneaked upstairs to 
see some of the glories of French Im- 
pressionism or made it downstairs to 
the Thorne Rooms. 

After tearing down one of Louis 
Sullivan’s greatest buildings, the Chi- 
cago Stock Exchange, someone had 
the wit to restore and install its mag- 
nificent Trading Room in a new wing 
of the museum. It’s a beautiful addi- 
tion. I remember, when I took the 
eminent West Indian poet Derek Wal- 
cott to the museum to talk to kids in a 
class on Third World literature, he 
looked up at the elaborately stenciled 
walls and gilt columns of the room, 
smiled and said, “a temple/* All sac- 


has changed. 

“The theater has shown longevity. 
The Chicago arts scene is flourishing at 
the moment because more manage- 
ment people have become involved. 
The theater has become more pres- 

When Schneider asks for money, he 
says he stresses the importance of giv- 
ing to Chicago. “We’re here building 
Chicago, by bringing more people into 
the city to see the plays as well as 
people to work for us. We’re improv- 
ing the quality of life here.” 

IBorg-Warner is the Chicago leader 
in corporate funding of the arts. It also 
leads in its willingness to take risks, 
due primarily to the efforts of the 
foundation’s president. 

William DuVall exemplifies the bus- 
inessman who is a real asset to the arts. 

He has a strong personal commitment 
to the arts and does not seem worried 
about the consequences or the public- 
relations results of the corporation’s 

B-W’s strong commitment to the 
arts is shown in the foundation’s 1977 
arts allotment of 12 percent, way over j 

Volume 13, Number 80 

the average corporation gift. 

Of the 120 CAPA groups, DuVall 
says he received requests from 50-60 
of them for funds this year. “Some- 
body has got to give the theaters 
money so they can find performing 
spaces. By entering, we only hope to 
minimize the theaters’ burdensome 

In 1977, B-W gave grants to nine 
Chicago theater groups, most of which 
were renewed grants. Recently B-W 
has put up $600,000 in loans and guar- 
anteed leases to the Organic theater, 
which is still in the planning stage of 
enlarging its facilities. 

DuVall emphasizes that corpora- 
tions should look at performing arts 
groups differently from schools or hos- 
pitals. “You have to expect to lose 
something ever so often. Our first ex- 
perience with a theater was a total 
disaster. But that’s the chance you 

Once you get involved, DuVall says, 
it becomes easier and the risks lessen. 
“You begin to get acquainted with 
people and thus have an ‘in’ to what’s 
going on. You begin to know what 
groups are going to make it.” 

The Theater Building at 1225 W. 

Belmont is a source of pride for 
DuVall. Around 1975, B-W agreed to a 
three-year fiscal commitment to help a 
group of actors convert a chocolate 
warehouse into an impressive home for 
three black box theaters that hold 
100-130 seats each. Now housed in the 
building are Travel Light, the Per- 
formance Community, and Pary Pro- 
duction Company. 

Michael Cullen, managing director 
of Travel Light, started the company 
with $52 and the efforts of 10 people. 
He is optimistic about the forward 
progression of Chicago theater and its 
efforts to get corporate support This 
year he sent out 10 to 12 grant re- 
quests to corporations and received 
funding from four or five. With the 
average grant ranging from $1,000 to 
$5,000, that’s enough to mount one 

He is especially pleased with corpo- 
rations like B-W that give money for 
unrestricted uses such as general oper- 
ating expenses. “That’s the kind of 
support that keeps the theater going,” 
he says. “Being able to pay for the 
postage meter, air conditioning, heat- 
ing bills, or even staples allows us more 
freedom to think about artistic 

The majority of the theater grants 
that Inland Steel, Esmark, and B-W 
give are in the area of general operat- 
ing support. Most corporate patrons 

will still only fund one produet ion of 

the season. They say the arts will never 
become their major philanthropic 

The giving will increase, DuVall 
says, but not fast enough to be signifi- 
cant. He is pessimistic and says theater 
' managers will soon tire of patiently 
waiting for the meager support they 
do get. 

“Chicago has had a chance to nur- 
ture some interesting things in the per- 
forming arts, but the theaters are not 
going to ebb and flow with the con- 
tributions. They can’t afford to. 
Neither are the artists going to keep 
banging their heads against unreceptive 
walls when other cities like Portland 
are spreading out the welcome mat 
with the subsidies and more free per- 
forming space,” DuVall says. 

Hustling is a full-time occupation. 
Will the Chicago ladies of the night be 
content to wait upon their sugar dad- 
dies’ whims? The competition is 
tough. Once, maybe the wallets will 
open but it’s a constant effort to re- 
main seductive. Other ladies are out 
there trying to claim daddy’s wander- 
ing eye. His wallet only holds so much 
money and the temptations are many. 
Or, perhaps the lady herself will decide 
to leave for easier, greener streets. 

Page Twenty-One 

Wfccm ciMi 



toys. , 

As a child I often listened at night 
or on lazy afternoons to the rhythmic 
clacking of a freight train cutting 
through the farm lands surrounding 
my home. It was as much a part of 
that rural landscape as tractors, corn 
and Sunday morning church services. 
That black monster belching smoke 
was part of an image from a lazy, quiet 
picture of post World War II mid- 
America. In 1948, I was eight years 
old and the iron horse didn’t have 
much meaning for me, except as a 
vehicle for my personal fantasies — a 
great toy to dream about; yet, it was 
also a vehicle bringing a profound 
social and cultural change to that rural 
scene and the people who lived there. 

The year 1948 was a quiet time, 
particularly in a sleepy Illinois town 
on the edge of Chicago’s Cook 
County. The great war ended three 
years earlier. The House on Un- 
American Activities Commission hear- 
ings were topical, but not in this rural 
hamlet. The German farmers, many of 
whom still spoke broken English, were 
bom and raised in or around Tinley 
Park. Most of their parents and grand- 
parents emigrated from Bremen, 
Germany. These immigrants brought 
with them their language, their cus- 
toms and their occupations. This 
town, and many of the surrounding 
towns, were German and Lutheran. 
They were populated by farmers and 
merchants and enough skilled labor 
to build houses and fix machinery, 
and everybody pretty much did what 
their parents did. 

Few sons ever left, and if a daugh- 

ter left, it was usually because of 
marriage. Few, if any, of these people 
understood the importance of that 
chugging, iron machine that bisected 
their town and lands. They didn’t 
know that by 1960 this village would 
be just another link in the suburban 
chain — a sprawling, chaotic develop- 
ment of houses, businesses, schools 
and churches. The speed with which 
this country village became a suburban 
town left little room for the preserva- 
tion or appreciation of the small-town 
ways that changed slowly over the 
previous one hundred years. The town 
lost its identity and the people had 
their roots swept away by a fiood of 
urban dwellers, commercial enterprises 
and industry. The beginnings of that 
change, it seems, rode into town on 
the wheels of a train. 

That this change happened is 
obviously indicated by population 
figures. In 1940 Tinley had a popula- 
tion of 1136 people. In 1900 it had a 
population of 300. In those inter- 
vening years, it had approximately a 
four hundred percent increase in pop- 
ulation. In 1960 the town had a pop- 
ulation of 12,382 and in 1977 it had a 
population of 23,500. In the thirty- 
seven years from 1940 through 1977, 
Tinley had approximately a two thou- 
sand percent increase in population. 

But I was too close to this town to 
think of it in terms of statistics. It’s 
personal memories that are the basis 
for my look at the changes imposed 
upon this once rural village. 

I lived with my mother and father 
at the end of a dead end street, a 

curbless, concrete strip that butted 
into what seemed to my eight-year-old 
eyes as a never-ending field of corn 
and soy beans. In the spring and fall, I 
sometimes rode on the tractors and 
combines that belonged on that soil. 
When my friends and I played hide 
and seek amongst the rustling corn of 
I early autumn, we couldn’t guess that 
I the naked soil would, several years 
from then, be the sodded lawn of 
some transplanted urban family. 

Those fields were to the west and 
south of my home. To the east, just, 
five short blocks along our tree-lined 
street past the Studer’s, Aunt Irudie 
and Uncle John’s place, the Goebel s, 
the Ander’s, the Yunker’s, the Meth- 
odist church, the Hartmann’s, the 
Brown’s and the Village Hall, stood the 
center of Tinley. Heaven knows it 
wasn’t progressive. Dad and his 
brother owned a tavern, a large two- 
story building that their Dad had 
owned. It was a boarding house, too. 
For two years the men who built Tin- 
ley’s first paved road, that ran right by 
the tavern’s front door, lived there. 
And it is this tavern, a tall, white clap- 
board building with a mahogany bar, a 
tin ceiling, spittoons, the smell of beer 
and cigars and the conversation of 
townsfolk that is the center of many 
of my memories. 

The Rock Island railroad tracks, a 
perpendicular line that ran smack 
through the middle of Tinley, were 
located a half-block south of the 
tavern. Right next to the tracks was 
the grain elevator where many of the 
local farmers brought their grain to be 

Page Twenty-Two 


weighed and stored and eventually 
shipped to buyers. It was in this area, 
in the cir.Jer parking lot around the 
grain elevator and old Mr. Rice’s 
office, that farmers often parked their 
trucks or sometimes their tractors and 
walked to Dad’s or Teehan’s tavern or 
Doc Cavett’s drugstore or Pete’s or 
Carl’s barber shop or the Hreinon l)nnk 
or Vogt’s store or Bettenhausen’s hard- 
ware. It was here that I sometimes 
played on the old World War 1 
owitzer cannon, probably purchased 
y the VFW, that took up one corner 
of the lot. It stood in the corner near- 
est main street in a semi-circle of 
trees with a water fountain and flag 
pole right next to it. I often sat on 
that cannon in the late afternoon wait- 
ing for Dad so I could walk home with 
him for dinner. Sometimes I’d see 
Wally Goebel got off the late after- 
noon train and walk down 173rd 
street where his family lived just a 
half-block from our house. He was one 
of a handful of townfolks, like my 
Aunt Alma or Frank Lehman, who 
used the train to go to work every day. 

None of the images I associated 
with this setting as a child had much 
to do with the parking lot of the late 
fifties, sixties and seventies, jammed 
with cars that now used up the same 
space that was taken up by useless 
relics like the grain elevator, Mr. Rice’s 
office or the old cannon. Oak Park 
Avenue back then wasn’t congested in 
the early morning or late afternoon 
with station wagons and economy 
cars, nor were the sidewalks crowded 
with shuffling workers whose break- 

fast and dinner hour were determined 
by a railroad timetable. For me those 
shining rails were early examples of 
infinity. Parallel lines extending my 
imagination to the horizon. To the 
East never-ending people and apart- 
ments and factories and stores and 
trucks and cars and theatres and neon 
lights and restaurants and — Chicago. 
'Vo tl\i' Wost m'ver-oucling corn fields 
and traelors and faded overalls and 
chickens and cows and farm houses 
and horses and no cities. As a child, 
whichever way I went skipping on or 
over railroad ties or walking on an iron 
tightrope, my imagination was inspired 
by those rails and their directions, but 
I had no conscious understanding that 
these two worlds would converge into 
a third. 

In 1948, many spices still fiavored 
the images of this country town and 
its people. In nostalgic moments I still 
watch Grandma planting her garden in 
the backyard of the tavern or prim- 
roses in the space along the wooden 
sidewalk on the south side of the 
building where the sun beat down hard 
all summer long and the red and yel- 
low flowers crowded on one another 
to drink that warm sun. Inside, 
Grandpa would lean his chair back 
against a wall near the old pot-bellied 
stove that didn’t work but wasn’t a 
decoration either — just something left 
over from the pre-furnace days. He’d 
sit there and play his harmonica for 
me and my cousins and drink beer for 
himself. The big, cement stoop in 
front of the tavern was the best place 
in Tinley for townsfolk to sit and 

Volume 13, Number 80 

watch the labor day parade with the 
bands and VFW marching troops and 
the girl and boy scout troops and the 
fire engines and the ladies garden club 
and the Future Farmers Club. That 
was really a time for motherhood, 
apple pie and the flag. Behind the 
tavern was one of my favorite child- 
hood haunts. The old barn. That’s 
where Merle and Sherry and Wanda, 
my cousins, and I often played. The 
barn was used as a livery stable years 
before. There was even a hitching rail 
in front. It hadn’t been used for any- 
thing in years, but like the old stove, 
nobody seemed in a hurry to take it 
down. There was no need to — at least 
not until a black-topped parking lot 
had to be put in. 

Tinley was hardly exciting. It was 
predictable, provincial and orderly. Its 
charm was its idiosyncrasies. It wasn’t 
dynamic and details of its life did not 
hit you between the eyes. But it 
changed dynamically — suddenly — 
too suddenly for the town and too 
suddenly for an eight year old boy to 
have withstood it comfortably. 

I don’t doubt that the movement to 
the suburbs had its genesis before 
1948, but the observable evidence 
began to develop then. 

IN^orth of town between 171st and 
167th streets, west of a large forested 
area, the first housing development 
went up. It was called Parkside. Rows 
and rows of houses all designed pretty 
much the same. Tliey were inexpen- 
sive. Low down-payments with easily 
available VHA loans. Within several 
short years hundreds of middle and 
lower-middle income families had 
moved into these homes and most of 
these families were young, growing 
families. There were few jobs available 
in Tinley. Most of the working fathers 
and mothers had to go to more pop- 
ulated commercial and industrial areas 
to earn their money. The imagination 
doesn’t have to work hard to realize 
how important the train became. 
More, newer, longer trains became 
necessary. The locomotive — a black 
behemoth belching smoke — was 
replaced by a square, unaesthethic 
diesel. No coal car, no fireman shovel- 
ing black coal into the red-hot furnace, 
no cow-catcher leading its way. The 
death of the locomotive was a dis- 
appointment to me, but I guess it was 
a functional necessity for the great lot 
of commuters — and there was a great 
lot of them. 

The suburban sprawl brought with 

Ed. Funk teaches at Carl Sandburg 
High School, in Orland Park, Illinois. 

Page Twenty-Three 

it several types of people whose life 
styles and attitudes I saw as being 
strikingly different than native Tinley 
residents. Jim Mahaffey (not Jim’s 
real name, a pattern followed in the 
other examples, but the facts are 
accurate as I see them) was an early 
resident of the Parkside development. 
I’m sure the lawn around his house 
was the first generation of merion blue 
to replace the com that George Hart- 
man’s (one of our neighbors along our 
tree-lined street) grandfather had 
grown there several years before. Jim 
was a young, ambitious salesman in his 
middle or late twenties. He was an 
affable Irishman. Dad always liked 
him, even when he drank too much. 
Mr. Mahaffey, as I called him then — 
courtesy was a mle of order for young- 
sters in these small towns, especially 
the children of merchants whose liveli- 
hood depended on a good reputation, 
or so they thought — was trying to 
make it up the corporate ladder. A 
man in the grey flannel suit. Impec- 
cable and solid. And when he drank, 
he drank a martini straight-up. He had 
a nice, charming, young wife, who was 
a college graduate. He also had rosey- 

cheeked children, his first home, his 
first mortgage and enough dreams, 
expectations and bills to keep him 
worried and drinking for too many of 
his waking hours. 

Glenn Clausson lived on the same 
street as Jim Mahaffey. They know 
one another but they weren’t friends. 
Glenn was a tradesman — a cement 
finisher. He helped build these houses 
in Parkside. He thought that there 
would be enough sidewalks and drive- 
ways and new housing developments 
going up in this little, hick town for 
him to become a small-time contrac- 
tor. Besides, he liked it here. Like Jim 
he thought the town was quiet; the 
people were friendly and Tinley was a 
good place for his kids to grow up in. 
Glenn and Jim talked, but they didn’t 
always drink together. Glenn was a 
shot and beer man, and he wore work 
clothes and work boots. He looked a 
little rougher and talked a little louder 
and wasn’t as witty as Jim, and he 
didn’t ride the train. His livelihood, of 
course, depended on those who did. 

I had trouble being around new 
arrivals like Glenn Clausson. Maybe it 
was the way he would yell gruffly for 

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Page Twenty-Four 

a beer that I seldom heard from the 
townspeople. Maybe it was because 
Dad was often angry with him and 
refused to serve him when he drank 
too much. He knew Glenn had a wife 
and young children at home who 
needed the money, or maybe it was 
the way he would belch so loudly and 
then laugh when everybody turned to 
look at him. He was a difficult man to 
be comfortable with. 

V acK itoman was as much a charac- 
ter as any of the new group. He came a 
little later than Mahaffey or Clausson. 
He even moved into a new area of 
Parkside that had intruded partially on 
the forested area - an area that even- 
tually was used more and more for 
housing. He was in his mid-thirties 
when he moved to Tinley. He had a 
wife and by the time of his move he 
had seven or eight children. It was an 
admirable human endeavor to fit einht 
children and two adults into thirteen 
hundred square feet of living soace 
but Jack and wife did it. Perhaps hk 
job as a factory foreman allowed him 
to develop some special skill for orgZ 
ization, except that it escaped my 
attention whenever 1 visited thdr 
home. He and his family moved from a 
tough area of the city and if 
brought his attitude with him. He w^ 
tough. I think he would sooner seu“ 

w^rdT-r 4';" 

splf that ^ ^ Ihingc for him- 

ml was wort! suited to his new 
^tJVlronmcnl, Like Mahaffey and 
C7ausson, Roman wanted to be an 
acceptable part of the new life — living 
in a nice town, with friendly people 
and a good place to raise your kids. 
Jack represented the third group of 

new wave suburbanites who moved 
into town. Jim the martini drinker, 
Glenn the shot and beer man and Jack 
who drank whiskey and seven-up. I 
might add that by the time Jack 
moved in, the supermarkets and the 
superhighways were being built. Even 
though Jack used the highway for 
commuting rather than the train, it 
was no consolation. Crowded dirty 
streets with exhaust fumes and horn- 
honking drivers became part of the 
same landscape. 

Other groups may exist in Tinley 
now or even in the early development 
of this suburb, but from my vantage 
point these were the people who were 
changing the personality of Tinley. 

They often came in contact with 
the natives of Tinley in Dad’s tavern. 
Tlie mixture was incongruous. Heini 
Kaylor still came into the tavern then. 
He often came in the early afternoon, 


ordering, in his “cherman” accent, a 
beer with an egg and a raw hamburger 
with a raw onion. I never saw him next 
to Jim Mahaffey, but it might have 
been interesting to see how Jim and 
his martini and olive would have con- 
trasted with Heini and his beer and 
egg. I often enjoyed watching Roy 
Frederickson, manager of an accounts 
payable department for a local chain 
of department stores, sit at one of the 
bar drinking his martini talking busi- 
ness or sports while Bill Funk, a rela- 
tive, drank beer, played pinochle and 
spit tobacco juice into a brass cuspidor 
near the old, nickel-plated stove. Old 
Martin was still around, too. In his 
dirty coveralls, his tobacco-stained 
goatee and his fingernails black to the 
quick, Martin never ceased to capture 
my attention. He often parked his old 
Allis-Chalmers tractor on main street 
right in front of the tavern, probably 
right in front of Glenn Clausson’s 
pick-up truck or Jack Roman’s station 
wagon. And I wouldn’t doubt if he 
didn’t nudge one of those vehicles 
when he backed up the old A-C trac- 
tor just out of pure orneriness. He 
couldn’t belch as loud as Hansen or hit 
as hard as Roman, but he had a streak 
of cussedness in him that only a bitter, 
weather-beaten, sinewy, old German 
farmer could have. He’d spit tobacco 
nice into the wind just to duck, turn 
around and walrh UipvIIp, Urown stuff 
splatter over somebody’s “Sunday Ro 
to meetin’ suit.” 

What a cast of cliflrnctcrs. The 
Mahaffeys, the Claiissoiis, llio lloiURns 
are still living out their barroom 
dramas, I guess. The Heini Kaylors, the 
Bill Funks and the Old Martins passed 
from the scene just like the old village 
itself. By the seventies they were gone. 

Along with the Irish Cheneys and 
the Italian Romans there had to be 
another significant change in Tinley. 
Churches. For most of my childhood, 
Tinley was predominantly Lutheran 
with the Methodists hanging in second 
place. The Catholics had moved in 
during the early forties, but they were 
a tolerated, second class religious 
group. They even had a hand-me-down 
building for a church. The old, one- 
room public school house housed the 
Catholics for about eight or ten years. 

A religious balance began to develop in 
the early fifties, however. The old 
rickety church was sold in the late 
forties and by 1950 the Catholics had 
a new, brick church and a parochial 
school. The suburbanites had another 
focal point for their new identity. 

This change in the religious charac- 
ter of the town was an important 
change for me. My mother migrated 
from Ireland as a young girl and came ‘ 

Volume 13, Number 80 

to Chicago to live with relatives. She 
lived in or about the city for nearly 
twenty years before marrying my 
father and moving to our one-horse 
town. She brought with her a Chicago, 
Catholic Irish culture that was unique 
to Tinley. My father was born and 
raised in Tinley, and he was Lutheran. 
Catholic chauvinism demanded that 
my mother raise me Catholic. On occa- 
sion I went to church with Dad when 
he attended, but, of course, every Sun- 
day I went with Mom to her church. 

This religious dualism provided me 
with an introduction to the incoming 
suburbanites and a connection to the 
dying culture of Tinley as a rural vil- 
lage. I could play with Tom Propp 
because Tom and his family went to 
my Dad’s church and we, also, went to 
the public school together before I 
transferred to St. George’s new school. 
Tom was in the mold of old Tinley. He 
and I knew its rules and regulations 
We both knew the social order that 
said most everybody in town knows 
me and my family. I’d better not get 
caught doing anything wrong An 
indiscretion might embarrass Dad or 
Mom and then I’d get hell for it I 
^so, got to know Chuck Gallgher and 
h.s brothers and sisters and keve 

Jf’T rf f? ‘hey were 

of a different mold. Their 

hadn’t grown and developed in 

a.ack'. d.d worked fo," .JrrJSTd 

mid often wasn’t home. Steve’s dad 

worked in the city. Their importance 

In Tinley was limited. These families 

had yet to see tlienisplvcs with any 

(loflnltp Image wMw the eommiinity. 

Because of this and the environments 
they came from, they had different 

Getting in trouble and getting away 
with it was an accomplishment, a 
source of pride. Deeds of daring and 
mischievousness brought prestige 
within the peer group, not embarrass- 
ment. Maybe their old man would find 
out and belt the hell out of them, but 
it wouldn’t bring them any lack of 
prestige. During my youth I never 
resolved my place in this town. I came 
to understand both groups, yet I 
belonged to neither. To some extent. 
I’ve looked on that as being fortunate, 
but to an adolescent it became an 
added source of discomfort. 

The train that was largely respon- 
sible for the swarm of people that 
came to our town was capable of 
taking people away. The “Rickety 
Rock,” as we called it, was my first 
means of escape from Tinley. Steve 
Roman, Chuck Gallagher, Jim Gatrell, 
Joe Diamond, we often rode the train 
together to the larger towns bordering 
the city or into the city itself. We 

often went to the latest shows or, dur- 
ing the summer, to the city swimming 
pools. In towns like Blue Island, I first 
experienced the anonymity that gave 
me the courage to swear aloud in pub- 
lic or swagger with the brashness of 
youth down crowded sidewalks or dart 
daringly in and out of traffic at 
crowded intersections — in short, 
making myself obvious in an obnox- 
ious way. That foolhardiness on rare 
occasions got me in trouble with 
adults or other youths, but that was 
part of the pay-off. The adventure had 
to have some dangers or it wouldn’t be 
worth it. That train took me further 
and further from what was becoming 
the bridled caution and tyranny of 
that changing small-town life. 


'y the late sixties Tinley was a full- 
fledged suburb. There were approx- 
imately eight housing development 
areas. Apartment buildings stood up 
overnight. Industry had moved in and 
commercially Tinley supported a work 
force hundreds of times larger than in 
1948. It had, also, become a sprawling, 
chaotic, amorphic blob — a com- 
munity without any sense of itself. 
There was no recipe for growth. The 
people blended too haphazardly. Its 
youth, its government, its schools, its 
churches had to endure some excep- 
tionally difficult times. There seemed 
to be too many breakdowns in the 
order of things: schools, municipal 
governments and churches. Although 
social institutions had difficulties 
coping with the changes, industrial and 
commercial institutions continued to 
prosper. By the mid-seventies there 
seemed to be some settling of the 
town’s personality. The police began 
to cope with out-of-hand juveniles 
who at one time had the upper hand 
over the town’s authority structure. 
Discontent in some of the town’s 
churches was being resolved as the 
parishoners rid themselves of what 
they thought were “old-fashioned, 
unresponsive pastors.’’ But I’m not 
sure even of this. My association wit!i 
the town weakens continually as rela- 
tives and friends and even buildings 
change or leave. Ironically that iron 
horse that had so much to do with the 
change in Tinley is itself dying out. 
The Rock Island is often in debt, con- 
tinually seeking government help. I 
often wonder if many of the people 
and investors that it helped bring to 
that once sleepy hamlet of post-war 
America give a damn. And so Tinley 
and its people and landmarks no 
longer inspire my imagination like it 
once did. It can’t, not after it changed 
my reality. 

Page Twenty-Five 

the new 
Kansas City: 
it glitters, 
what else? 

by Dale A. Neuman 

x\.m erica is Rediscovering Her 
Cities,” “The New Romance with City 
Life,” “Urban Renaissance” — these 
themes are starting to recur in the 
midst of the more general complaint 
about urban blight and the changing 
social base of urban America. Are such 
assertions more reflective of hope than 
mirrors of reality? Or, if they do 
indeed catch hold of a glimmer of 
reality, is it that we tend to see more 
clearly a few shining (or not yet tar- 
nished) examples that stand out 
against the dominant background of 
neglect and decline? And what is to 
follow from this new romance often 
signified by gem-like proposals to re- 
marry parts of the community? Do we 
find renewed community life or do we 
find bastard-like offsprings conceived 
in spur-of-the-moment actions to be 
neglected and abandoned as blights in 
their own right? 

Kansas City is a good example of 
the new optimism. It is heralded as 
“one of the few truly livable cities 
loft” in its Prime Time national pub- 
Hcity program. It has been called “the 
Dalte of the Seventies” as the new 
200 million dollar Kansas City Inter- 
national Airport, the 70 million dollar 
Harrv S Truman Sports Complex fea- 
ftiring separate stadia for major league 
Shall and national league football, 
ITo Romoer Sporte Arena for major 
league b^ketball and hockey the H. 
Roe Bartle Exposition Center the new 
S^nital Hill Complex with mostly 
^^°^^construction including a new gen- 
""TSdS and the UMKC Medical 
Tl ir S Crown Center - the Hall- 
200 million dollar “community 
'"•fhhiTe community” have all come 
w'th « oje last decade. 

‘h to be accurate, Kansas City 
be a good example (or should 
“bad example?”) of urban 
I is true that the Kansas City 

‘*"u‘‘"f‘i;tem is in financial trouble 
school sytentg perform among the 

Xre? in the state on standardized 

Page Twenty-Six 

tests. It is also true that an elaborate 
system of wide boulevards and co- 
herent street grid system when joined 
to some interstate highways have en- 
couraged the processes of suburbaniza- 
tion here as elsewhere. Private urban 
transit has been replaced by the 
heavily subsidized Area Transportation 
Authority. Private as well as public 
physical plant has deteriorated with 
one recent study alleging that all but 
one of some twenty street viaducts in 
the downtown area were unsafe. Local 
voters have been reluctant to authorize 
bonds for non-glamorous items repeat- 
edly defeating street, sewer, flood con- 
trol, library, museum, and jail levies. 

But Kansas City is also a relatively 
new city barely into its second cen- 
tury. It h^ grown out rather than up. 
Low density housing outnumbers high 
density housing. Annexation on the 
Missouri side minimized “balkaniza- 
tion and has permitted a somewhat 
coherent approach to many of the 
problems that plague other and older 
metropolitan areas. Neighborhood 
associations, community groups and 
some local developers have acted to 
create situations designed to deter 
decline and, hopefully, to foster re- 

No story of the developmental 
character and history of Kansas City 
would be complete without mention 
of the pioneering (and profitable) 
efforts of the J. C. Nichols Company 
in planned and controlled neighbor- 
hood development best reflected in 
the Country Club Plaza area. This area, 
purported to be the world’s first (circa 
1925) suburban shopping center, be- 
came the hub of numerous (now 
urban) residential areas of the “Coun- 
try Club District.” Homes associations 
created at that time continue to mon- 
itor property maintenance, arrange for 
services and help fight city hall when 
necessary. This concept has been recre- 
ated elsewhere in the newer develop- 
ments around shopping-service clusters 

I that now dot the city and its suburbs. 

I Hence the assertion earlier that Kansas 
( City way not he "eoad” as a “bad 
example” of the problems that frus- 
trate the promise of urban life. 

fact, systematic redevelopment 
and revitalization efforts were orga- 
nized and promoted by private entre- 
preneurs during the same period as the 
massive public facilities construction 
was begun. Several reasons account for 
the major role played by the private 
sector in this activity. First, the use of 
federal urban renewal monies was 
limited to the extent local voters were 
reluctant to authorize bond levies for 
the local share of such projects. But 
more important — and central to the 
discussion of the three cases con- 
sidered in this article — Missouri law 
(dating from 1943) provides for pri- 
vate redevelopment through a com- 
bination of the conferral of the power 
of condemnation to the developer and 
a mandatory tax abatement for the 
development. The basic requirements 
are that the area be declared 
“blighted” and the redevelopment 
plan be approved by the appropriate 
authority — in this case the Kansas 
City (Mo.) City Council. The tax 
abatement provisions permit tax on 
the land only at its undeveloped value 
during the first ten years after redevel- 
opment begins. Buildings are not taxed 
for the first ten years and are only 
taxed at 50 per cent of appraisal-base 
value for the next fifteen years after 
they come on line. And, in a project 
built in several stages, the tax abate- 
ment mechanics can spread the reduc- 
tion of a developer’s tax liability over 
a longer period than the nominal 
25-year limit in the law. Indirect sub- 
sidy to development is granted in 
return for the investment and the pros- 
pect of an ultimately more productive 
tax base. 

Many questions may be asked of 
such efforts to revitalize urban areas. 
What makes for success or failure? Can 


such projects be judged against their 
own goals and promises? What impact 
has the effort liad in the target area? 
What impact has it had on the broader 
community? And, in the context of 
this article, is Kansas City “a more 
livable city” because of these “re- 

T^he three projects examined below 
are Crown Center, River Quay (pro- 
nounced River Key) and Westport. 
Crown Center is the “cracker box” 
nroject with all new construction - 
“skyscrapers set on their sides” cham- 
nioned as a “model urban community 
concept” by its promoters, architects 
and a very receptive set of city fathers. 

This projeet was to k bested on a 

natural outcropping that had hereto- 
fore lent itself mostly to the develop- 
ment of numerous billboards and lo 
the designation “signboard hill.” River 
Quay (meaning “shops at river’s 
edge”)^ and Westport are the “cracker 
barrel” projects based upon preserva- 
tion and restoration of historic land- 
mark buildings dating to the founding 
of Kansas City. The restored buildings 
in both areas were intended to house 
shops and services akin to their orig- 
inal purposes. New construction was 
to be compatible with and integrated 
into the existing physical plant. West- 
port and River Quay were to give 
Kansas City a sense of its “roots,” 
provide homes for the arts and crafts 
industries, and an opportunity for 
families to stay in or return to the 
heart of the city.” 


^JTround-breaking ceremonies for 
Crown Center were held September 
16, 1968. But the groundwork for the 
project dates back to the early 1950s 
and the idea probably dates to an even 
earlier time in the dreams of Joyce 
all of Hallmark Cards. General plans 
were set by 1955 and land acquisition 
egan in 1957. A national real estate 
development management firm was 
retained to oversee these preliminary 
steps in 1958 and an executive of that 
firm was assigned full-time to the proj- 
ect in Kansas City by 1961. The first 
general public announcement appeared 
in banner, front-page headlines on Jan- 
uary 4, 1967. 

The period from January through 
March of 1967 reflects the concerted 
and assertive efforts of the develop- 
ment s sponsors and supporters to get 
the authorization necessary to qualify 
and proceed under the Missouri law. 
When owners of newer properties com- 
plained about their inclusion in the 
blighted” district and threatened 

litigation, the City Council sweetened 
the incentives to them through requir- 
ing “cost of relocation” expenses to be 
paid. When officials in the planning, 
transportation and education sectors 

of government raised questions about 
the attendant costs including current 
tax loss, they were bombarded with 
data on the projected long-term in- 
crease in tax revenues as well as 
reminded that other new develop- 
ments in the neighboring Hospital Hill 
area had created but not “paid for” 
transportation and other service load 
increases. When other would-be de- 
velopers complained that tax abate- 
ment for Crown Center put them at a 
disadvantage and could deter redevel- 
opmeut in the downtown center, they 
were informed that the city had aJ- 
ready lost several other redevelapmemt 
projects because of footdragging/* 

The City Planning Commission gave 
its approval in late February’, 1967 and 
the City Council unanimously ap- 
proved the necessary redevelopment 
ordinance on March 31, 1967 with its 
members halting the proceedings to 
commend the developer and, as the 
press noted, to “. . . extol the bene- 
fits . . of the project. Within a year 
there were to be complaints that the 
City was “in a fix” because of the 
projected costs for street realignment 
that would not be paid by the de- 
veloper. And when City officials began 
to take more deliberate actions to 
assess the possible impact of sub- 
sequent requests for approval to plan 
modifications. Crown Center officials 
used the threat of reduction in the size 
of the project to hurr>' those decisions 


A galaxy of architects including 
Edward Larabee Barnes and Victor 
Gruen was assembled and assigned 
phases of the project. Other nationally 
prominent persons renowned for mov- 
ing novel concepts to exciting conclu- 
sions were consulted by the Halls. 
Local media claimed that Crown Cen- 
ter marked the “beginning of a new 
era” in Kansas City. 

The final concept (albeit the “final” 
plans and scale models have changed 
several times) was to be a privately 
financed urban renewal community 
covering 85 acres with 2,400 apart- 
ment units, one million square feet of 
office and retail space, a 750-room 
luxury hotel, 7000 parking spaces with 
75 percent of the land to be used for a 
“park-like setting” to “pamper 
people.” Entertainment and cultural 
opportunities were to be a major com- 
ponent. While 8,000 residents would 
constitute “the community” at Crown 
Center, 50,000 persons would consti- 
tute the daytime population of Crown | 

Center upon completion. The esti- 
mated tax abatement savings to the 
developer would be about 28 million 
dollars over a 37-year period while 
actual tax revenue on demolished 
buildings would be reduced about 
$660,000 between 1970-1979. By 
1983 this latter amount would be 
recovered and property tax revenues 
through 2006 were estimated at over 
20 million dollars. Total tax revenue 
to the city, given its earnings, sales and 
property taxes, was predicted to be 
near 100 million dollars by the year 
2000. Subsequent redefinition of the 
project’s boundaries to include under 
tax abatement a new 30-story Mutual 
Benefit Life office building and a new 
Hyatt House Hotel complex renewed 
/ the severa] debates about the “reaJ” 
/ costs of the procedure. M 197^ 

ness Week awarded Crown Center Cor- 
poration its “Good Citizenship 
Award” for its “social responsibility.” 

The construction of the project was 
marked and delayed by several lengthy 
labor disputes. This led to allegations 
that the very size of the project and 
the several labor settlements combined 
to inflate costs in the entire local con- 
struction market. Building plans were 
adjusted to reflect changing markets 
for commercial and residential space. 
Where the original plans anticipated a 
90 -percen t-apar t men t-1 0-percent- 
condominium mix, revised plans put 
the mix at 50-50. In 1973, when the 
nation’s economy slowed, residential 
construction was deferred. A 1975 
local editorial criticized those who 
were raising questions about the appar- 
ent advantages given Crown Center 
arguing that in whatever might benefit 
the project, “the community at large” 
would benefit. 

What has been the impact of Crown 
Center on life in Kansas City? Clearly, 
the mere presence of the Center with 
its hillside hotel commands the atten- 
. tion of visitors and residents alike. The 
use of the hotel as a candidate head- 
quarters during the GOP National Con- 
vention in 1976 did not hurt its image. 

The use of the open-air tree-shaded 
Crown Center Square for ethnic fes- 
tivals, musical programs, charity carni- 
vals, and winter-time ice skating 
attracts people from all over the metro 
area. The “West End” artisan shops, 
the ethnic restaurants, and the “top of 
the line” style shops provide for a 
range of tastes and interests. The 
Multi-Media Forum, use of vacant 
retail space for art exhibits, and the 
establishment of Park College at 
Crown Center (an “alternate learning” 
concept) are evidence of the efforts to 
hold true to the original concept. 

But all may not be as the devel- 

Volume 13, Number 80 

Page Twenty-Seven 

opers might prefer. A number of the 
West End shops have closed as have 
some of the “style” shops. Proprietors 
have been heard to complain about 
lease costs and that there are more 
browsers than buyers moving through 
the retail complex. With deferral of 
some of the residential units, the 
projected target population of 8,000 is 
not likely to be met. Although the 
nearby projected Pershing Square Re- 
development has plans for a museum 
and federal offices and could improve 
the demand for retail and residential 
space in Crown Center, it is still a 
paper project. Without a “stable com- 
munity” base in the Center and relying 
more and more on transient trade, the 
original concept may be giving way to 
one more reflective of an office, ser- 
vice base center. Such flexibility has 
always been present in this develop- 

Crown Center’s impact on its im- 
mediate neighborhood was to displace 
some small businesses, deteriorated 
housing and some older loft-based in- 
dustries. It has generated traffic and 
altered the traffic flow patterns in 
adjacent areas. The tax abatement 
method has been envied if not emu- 
lated in other areas as local resident 
opposition and leadership reluctance 
have limited its appeal. But, in general. 
Crown Center is a source of pride and 
likened to Rockefeller Center. Hall- 
mark is perceived as a good corporate 
citizen. Since the project has yet to be 
completed and the Pershing Square 
Development is not yet off the paper 
no measure of total impact is feasible. 
Suffice it to say that the project has 
combined a concept with considerable 
capital and effective control to make it 
interesting and attractive to middle- 
and upper-class Kansas Citians — as its 
current advertisement proclaims: 
“We’ve got style.” Whether there is or 
can be a sufficient sense of community 
generated in the apartment-con- 
dominium complex is doubtful. There 
is no doubt that Crown Center is a 
“show piece” but as those in Westport 
worry and those who were in River 
Quay now know, that concept is 
potentially troublesome. 

\^lume one, number one, of the 
“River Quay Journal” announced the 
“Grand Opening” of River Quay June 
30- July 1, 1972. The Kansas City 
Times headlined its story of April 4, 
1977: “Darkness Closes in on the 
River Quay Night Life” and writes of 
“rotting canopies, broken windows 
and darkened storefronts of a grand 
idea. . . .” In 1972 the River Quay was 
said to be “. . .a community developed 

Page Twenty-Eight 

to offer leisure, cultural entertainment 
and shopping pleasures.” In 1977, a 
restaurant, several go-go bars and an 
X-rated movie house remained to pro- 
vide the leisure, culture and pleasure 
to be found there. 

The River Quay was the brainchild 
and profit plan of Marion Trozzolo, a 
college professor turned businessman 
and developer. Trozzolo began proper- 
ty acquisition in the Quay area in 
1960 and by 1972 owned almost 
500,000 square feet of space in the 
name of his River Quay Holding 
Company. Trozzolo’s concept was to 
purchase the sound but low-priced 
buildings after having found a suitable 
tenant for the space — a tenant who 
would contribute a product or service 
in keeping with the Quay idea. While 
Trozzolo would refurbish the build- 
ing’s exterior, the tenants were respon- 
sible for restoring the interiors. 
Located adjacent to the City’s “Farm- 
ers’ Market” with its several large park- 
ing lots and a visitor attraction in its 
own right, the River Quay was ex- 
pected to become Kansas City’s 
“newest and oldest shopping center.” 
Trozzolo’s tenants spoke of their sense 
of community while his business asso- 
ciates called it “a clever idea.” 

Throughout 1972, as renovation 
and new business openings proceeded, 
the River Quay was a hub of small 
town fun in the heart of the city. Art 
exhibits were set up; watermelon was 

Country Club Plaza 

sold by the slice; barbershop quartets 
in straw hats sang on the streets and 
people learned that River Quay had 
almost been named “Possum Trot.” 
The press reported conversations with 
some of the 3,000 people found there 
on a Saturday. Those interviewed com- 
pared it favorably with Chicago’s “Old 
Town” and Los Angeles’ “Ports O’ 
Call.” In November, The Kansas City 
Star would write that the Victoria 
Street Station was “the 39th new busi- 
ness to be established in the revived 

section of Old Town since last spring.” 
In December, The Kansas City Star 
Magazine would feature the River 
Quay and report “a real feeling of 
community” and suggest that “the 
metropolis was once again lured to the 
spot from whence it came.” Places like 
“Dinkeldorf’s Deli” and “Mom and 
Apple Pie Toys Inc.” were in business; 
developers spoke of a possible river- 
front marina at the site of the original 
Westport landing while helping to 
begin an “old trains” museum down 
the street. 

i^uiuiiiiib oi ivjv;ai prcbs coverea 
widely and generally favorably the 
entertainment to be found in the River 
Quay. Doubt turned to confidence; 
success brought more success at get- 
ting new business to locate in the his- 
toric buildings of the site. Supolv and 
demand - which were to become eco- 
nomic catchwords later in the quest 
for liquor licenses - quickly became 
facts of life for candlemakers and 
leather craften. Rents that had ranged 
from 5 to 75 cents per souar^ rf. t 
prior to 1972 were ranging Vtwo ^ o 
and 6 dollars per square foot hv i" ^ 
1973 with over6oLs[nesLs >^ 
tion. Local banks and the Small 
ness Administration were invn 
much of the financin^^r C u 
ning business venture! for LSt of!h * 
participants. Even the Are^T^ ^ 

In lato October 1973, city news- 
papers carried accounts of the sale of 
the major part of Trozzolo’s holdings 
in the River Quay to Joseph Canizaro, 
a New Orleans riverfront developer. 
Trozzolo was to be retained as an 
officer and consultant to the new 
development corporation that was 
formed. By late January 1974, Cani- 
zaro’s 10-year plan for the River Quay 
development was presented to city 
officials. The Kansas City Star re- 
ported on January 22, 1974, that the 
developer stressed his need for control 
over the whole development writing: 
“The type of control Canizaro spoke 
of involves a master plan, zoning to 
assure that such a plan is followed and 
efforts to maintain the area’s qual- 
ity. . . .” By mid-June the Master Plan 
had been outlined as a two-phase pro- 
gram to first restore the old Delaware 
Street stores and then to construct 
along the riverfront a marina, some 
high rise apartments and a hotel. The 
powers and provisions of the Missouri 
redevelopment law were to be em- 
ployed with initial financing to come 
from local banks. 

FOCUS /Midwest 

At the same time, the developer 
complained that too many liquor 
licenses (22) had already been issued 
for the area and publicly wished that 
the Helping Hand Institute (a transient 
care facility located several blocks to 
the east of Delaware Street but astride 
one of the gateway streets to the River 
Quay) would or could be moved else- 

In less than a month Canizaro was 
beseiged by complaints. Those whose 
businesses were in properties already 
controlled feared higher rents while 
those who owned properties in the 
area feared the prospect of condemna- 
tion under the law. Low cost space 
already converted to residential use 
was to be returned to commercial use. 
Higher rents were deemed justified and 
supportable by the developer who pre- 
dicted a “ten-fold” increase in business 
volume given his plans for a 30-mil- 
lion-dollar investment in the River 


By mid-July headlines read: “Un- 
-prtain Future” and captions pro- 
claimed “Waves of Dissent Buffet 
River Quay” as the bar owners called 
the master plan a “street sweeper” 
nian and the shopkeepers called it a 
“rent gouging” plan. On September 
17 1974, it reported that Cani- 

^ \ had given up his efforts to use the 
Soun » and lhal city orilcial, 
.fre Dlea.sed. Five days later the River 
Znv celohrntod Uh Third Annual Fall 

fiJval Willi siiiiRfi^ 


By January 1975, people wefP 
referring to llw lllvor Qiuiy «« (Ji(* 
entertainment center of Kansas City. 
By mid-August, a new building de- 
signed for an X-rated theater was 
begun and the mayor was suggesting 
the creation of a “combat zone” at the 
edge of River Quay as a limit for bars 
and adult entertainment in the face of 
the city s legal inability to otherwise 
prohibit their emergence in River 
Quay. September brought allegations of 
arson in several major fires in Quay 
bars along with the destruction by 
shotgun blasts of the windows of one 
store owner who filed a complaint 
against an unlicensed vendor doing 
business in the area. Total business was 
reported to be up 40 percent but 
almost daily expressions of concern 
appeared in news items in the media. 
Around this same time speculation 
that the project’s finances were in 
trouble w'ere boosted by an alleged 
comment of Trozzolo that the Quay 
would soon go bankrupt without help. 

By November, city officials were 
pledging tighter controls, more curbs 
on businesses in the area, new zoning 
regulations and additional services. It 

Volume 13, Number 80 

was even reported that they had once 
more suggested redevelopment under 
the Missouri law for a consortium of 
local property owners. At this point it 
also became clear that a regulatory 
body of major importance to the prob- 
lems now facing the River Quay, the 
Liquor Control Board, had pledged 
allegiance to free enterprise and de- 
cided against the city’s attempt to 
limit the number of liquor licenses in 

Truman Library 

the area and to judge the character of 
those who might hold such licenses. 
Two of the three members of this 
board were or had been “of counsel” 
to parties with economic interests in 
its rulings. 

In April 1976, several Kansas City 
banks foreclosed on mortgages on 
properties owned by the Quay Cor- 
poration. In May, a rmancial reorga- 
llizalion plan was announced. The Star 


ing from “monlh lo month. The city 

had even turned off the water for la 
of payment. County and federal ^and 
juries were reported to have begun 
probes into the dealings in River Quay, 
probably prompted by one of several 
murders of tavern owners in the Quay. 
The probe spread beyond the city to 
Jefferson City and Chicago. 

On September 16, 1976, it was re- 
ported that Trozzolo had sued Cani- 
zaro for damages resulting from a 
‘ misrepresentation” and “conspiracy 
that caused him to lose over one mil- 
lion dollars as well as “control over the 
direction and development of the 
River Quay area.” By early October, 
Canizaro’s new holding company, 
Riverside Properties, filed for protec- 
tion under Chapter 10 in Federal Dis- 
trict Court. On November 2, the 
Kansas City Times carried, in effect, 
two River Quay stories. One reported 
that the Chapter 10 petition had been 
denied on the grounds that Riverside 
Properties had been insolvent upon 
incorporation. The second indicated 

that Canizaro had announced a new 
500 million dollar project planned for 
the New Orleans riverfront. According 
to the story, Canizaro called the River 
Quay “a bad dream” and its problems 
“insignificant” in his total operations. 
Lack of local support was also noted. 
The mayor appealed for a local devel- 
oper to pick up the pieces but noted 
that Westport was now competing for 
the same Idnd of development interest. 

More litigation and further inquiries 
followed in early 1977. In late March a 
massive dynamite blast leveled two 
bars and so damaged other buildings 
that businesses in them had to close or 
move. The issue was no longer whether 
there would be more bars in River 
Quay but whether they were to fea- 
ture go-go girls. By late April, from a 
high of over 80, there were now but 
about a dozen businesses still open in 
the entire area. A consultant to the 
city recommended that the city stop 
using the name “River Quay” and the 
^cal press noted editorially: “Quay 
Better Off with Bums and Winos” if 
given a choice. 

In June the Star printed an analysis 
o le Quay’s condition by the original 
developer Trozzolo. Several factors 
were perceived as contributing to the 
ai ure: ‘loss of concept” (which was 
? ave been a small business commu- 
y but became an entertainment 
^nter); lack of local financial support 
(ankers who talked positively about 
IV er Quay but wen? unwilling to back 
R with deeds and dollars); a negative 
image (the mayor's suggestion of a 
combat zone” became a deterrent to 
prospective patrons or proprietors). 
The slowing of the nation's economy 
was also alleged to have dried up devel- 
opment monies from other sources. 
Even the Washington Post took time 
to note that “. . .Something Went Ter- 
ribly Wrong in River Quay.” 

By March 1978, local financial 
institutions had allegedly “red-lined” 
the Quay area against further loans. In 
June, the River Quay area was put on 
the list of the Registry of National 
Historic Places under the name: “Old 
Town Historic District.” 

Much of the impact of River Quay 
is chronicled above. But several fea- 
tures stand out. It presents graphic evi- 
dence of redevelopment problems in 
the absence of sufficient capital and 
control. It tells all too clearly what 
happens when a concept gets adul- 
terated. It sadly describes what hap- 
pens to an emergent “bootstrap com- 
munity” when the profit motive sets 
in. Even some of Trozzolo’s earliest 
land acquisitions seemed to anticipate 
capitalizing upon the possibility that 
the city and county would construct a 

Page Twenty-Nine 

sports arena nearby — which they did 
not do. 

Violence to human sensibilities had 
always been present in River Quay. 
The Helping Hand Institute was not 
there by accident. And almost annual- 
ly a story would appear describing 
transients “feasting” on the refuse in 
the garbage bins at the Farmers’ Mar- 
ket. But the murders of one of the 
original shopkeepers and then of sev- 
eral members of families competing 
over control of the parking lots that 
would allow them to qualify for liquor 
licenses proved to be too much. Fear 
for personal safety in the wake of 
building-leveling fires and bombings 
kept away those whose patronage was 
needed for the area to stay solvent. 
The several grand jury probes turned 
again and again to certain persons 
alleged to be the local under world 
leaving a clear impression that mob 
warfare was taking place and Quay was 
the battleground. 

Italo-Americans in Kansas City got 
a black eye practically everytime a 
new item appeared about the now cur- 
rent events in River Quay. And this 
was to have the unfortunate con- 
sequence of raising ethnic prejudice to 
the status of an issue in the redevelop- 
ment of Westport where one of the 
active participants is supposed to have 
remarked that everytime an Italian 
name appeared on a loan or a license 
application, he feared that the River 
Quay was being recreated in Westport. 

X or a number of years prior to the 
1960s residents and friends of West- 
port celebrated “Westport Days” 
marking the first settlement in what is 
now Kansas City. (This area also gave 
its name to one of the major battles of 
the Civil War fought south and east of 
the settlement area.) These celebra- 
tions were part of a continuing effort 
by local history buffs to uncover and 
promulgate the history of the area and 
its buildings. The Westport area — un- 
like River Quay — had an ongoing resi- 
dential base in single and multiple fam- 
ily dwellings. It had been by-passed by 
much post-depression construction 
since the area was sandwiched between 
major traffic artieries. The Westport 
area — like the River Quay — had a 
number of historic buildings some of 
which already housed small businesses 
and had been restored to handle an 
arts and crafts trade. Churches early 
formed the base for community action 
organizations. During the decade, 
1968-1978 numerous neighborhood 
coalitions of residents and businesses 

Page Thirty 

emerged to argue issues and urge 
actions perceived in the interest of 
neighborhood maintenance in West- 
port and its surroundings. 

In late 1969, the Westport Commu- 
nity Council, amid rumors of pur- 
ported plans to redevelop in the area 
on the scale of another Crown Center 
and with alleged plans to expand the 
trafficways that traversed or bounded 
the area, requested of the Kansas City 
Council that it proclaim “. . . municipal 
policy to preserve that area known as 
the Westport Community in which all 
types of persons with varied life styles 
can reside, including particularly 
ilies with children of school age.’ In 
addition, it was requested that the 
Community Council be actively con- 
sulted in the development of any plans 
(including rezoning) which might be 
necessary to carry out the policy. 

Events in mid-1970 reflected the 
forces at work in Westport. The city 
did indeed step up enforcement of city 
ordinances in the area but against 
shopkeepers who had installed signs 
and benches on the sidewalks near 
their businesses. While this ‘‘skirmish 
of Westport” was quickly settled, it 
seemed to suggest that city officials 
misunderstood the role expected of 
them. Another event was the presenta- 
tion of a proposal by a group of 
Kansas University planning students — 
a class project — which was a develop- 
ment plan for Westport. The research 
for the plan included a social survey of 
residents and businesses that might be 
included in such a redevelopment. 

Almost two years to the day of the 
original request by the Westport Com- 
munity Council for a city policy on 
Westport, the City Planning Depart- 
ment produced a 112 page “Westport 
Plan.” The Star wrote of the docu- 
ment ’ “Westport Plan Presents Alter- 
native to Suburbia” and noted its em- 
phasis on residential quality. A series 
of public hearings on the document 
was moved from city hall out to 
Westport and held in early 1972. Sev- 
eral hundred persons attended - some 
to support and some to oppose (espec- 
ially those who saw loss entailed in 
rezoning to lower-density utilization). 
The proposed plan also called for ex- 
tending the protective umbrella of the 
historic landmark designation” to a 
number of buildings in the area. On 
August 11, 1972, the Kansas City 
Council approved the Westport Plan- 
ning Area Plan. 

By the end of 1972, Joseph 
Shaunessy, Jr., a city councilman and 
architect as well as a property owner 

St. Louis — 

continued from page 16 

investigative reporting during the past 
decade has not improved the media’s 
coverage of the governmental bottom 
line: the quality of life and the public 
sector’s attempts to improve it. 
Instead, the typical investigative report 
— the stuff of which Pulitzer Prizes are 
made — had dealt with corruption: 
who paid whom to get what. Although 
there is much virtue in identifying cor- 
rupt politicians, the implicit message 
to governmental officials — don’t 
worry about how your action affects 
citizen s lives if your procedures are 
honest — is discomforting. 

How we see affects what we do. 
How St Louisans define growth and 
view public administrators affects how 
we grow and what public adminis- 
trators do. As of today, the way St 
Louis is growing and the manner in 
which the public sector is being man- 
aged are both thwarting St. Louis- 
/now toward a better quality of life. 
Unless they change, St. Louis’ glitter- 
ing appearance will continue to be 

St. Louis 

big city 

In response to a Newsweek article 
on the revitalization of the nation’s 
big cities. Mayor James F. Conway of 
St. Louis wrote to Newsweek: 

“. . . Our ‘newly completed Al- 
fonso J. Cervantes Convention Cen- 
ter’ is now two years old and well- 
booked . . . but that’s not all that is 
new Downtown. How about our 
$367 million in new Downtown con- 
struction in the past eleven years. 
And our $150 million Urban Devel- 
opment Action Grant mall that’s 
coming. Some 10 distinct neighbor- 
hoods are blossoming with revitali- 
zation. New housing starts? Try 2000 
expected in 1979, compared with just 
14, six years ago. 

Our City budget is balanced and 
always has been; no layoffs of muni- 
cipal employees are anticipated and 
only 10% of general operations rely 
on Federal funds. ...” 


in the Westport vicinity, proposed to 
implement the plan through creation 
of a resident and area-business con- 
trolled “Housing Rehabilitation Cor- 
poration” to work within the Missouri 
redevelopment law. And in January of 
1973 a “cleanup coalition” of ten 
neighborhood and business associa- 
tions was formed to push for such a 
corporation. At about the same time 
the already-begun efforts of the West- 
port Square Development Corporation 
“ . .a partnership on the redevelop- 
nient with Business Men’s Assurance 
Capital Corporation. . .” were featured 
in an article in the Kansas City Star. 
An interesting and important point 
overlooked by many is that one of the 
too officials of BMA had long been 
nrtive in the historic society which was 
fnentifying and designating historic 
ffes n Westport. 1974 brought neigh- 
borhood “Rap Sessions" to Westport 
^?rin(r which one resident is quoted in 

Tp*- - 'I'"',,”"'"’ 

best, it did have “a great sense ot com- 
munity feeling.” Several special events 
were held to recall Westport’s history 
and a neighborhood park was ded- 

In late 1974, iiw lummm re^on- 

ing measures necessary to implement 
the 1972 plan were revealed and a 
range of opposition began to surface. 
By early 1975, opponents of the plan 
were threatening litigation while the 
question of the power of condemna- 
tion became an issue in the upcoming 
city council election campaign. Sup^ 

nep'd^'^f appealed to the 

need for stability while opponents 
invoked property rights arguments. 
During this same period - almost as if 
to demonstrate how insensitive the 
federal government can be - the U.S. 
Postal Service announced plans to 
demolish seven single family residences 
to expand its parking area at the West- 
port branch post office. Although a 
spokesman claimed the proposal to be 
a response to parking congestion (a 
neighborhood complaint), area groups 
quickly pointed out that the demoli- 

to the overall 
1972 plan. They later were to obtain 
an injunction in Federal Court to 
block the demolition. 

On January 1 1976. it was re- 

ported that the Landmarks Commis- 
sion had voted to ask the City Council 
to not adopt the proposed Westport 
rezoning measures which would also 
create the Old Westport Historical Dis- 
nct Several days later, the Times was 
to editorially call for “Another Try at 
Westport” noting the neighborhood 
division over the issue, agreeing that 
the originally planned-for area was too 

Volume 13, Number 80 

large and too diverse, and that some 
parts had “had little or nothing to do 
with the long history of Westport.” By 
mid-May, the Star was proclaiming 

Old Westport to Live Again,” writ- 
ing. Westport, the site of intensive 
efforts to renovate old business and 
residential areas, will be celebrated 
S'* Westport 

Spokesmen for various neighbor- 
hood groups participated in metro- 
politan area-wide planning committees 

Th^'v Ap®*® dealing with housing 
The availability of residential morteaee 
money m older areas like Westpo wfs 


deveSen? thai^ some ^ 
incvitably arise, the quesS^fThe 
number of liquor licenses to be issued 
(and to whom) appoared \w January 
1977. The attractive qualities of West- 
port and the decline of the River Quay 
brought increased crowds and night- 
life. Citing Quay as their rationale, 
WgjfnQft apokesmen urged that no 

k( imi pm- 

cial decisions were 
given the city more discretion in this 
matter and city officials were asked to 
use their new powers. By May 1, it was 
reported that the City Development 
Department had studied ways to avoid 
“decay” in Westport giving as explana- 
tion for “decay” in River Quay the 
argument that it underwent “too rapid 
transition.” This was to be avoided in 
Westport. A week later a 90-day 
moratorium on liquor licenses to the 
area was proposed and two weeks after 
that it was adopted by City Council. 
(Three Council members had to 
abstain since they were themselves 
holders of liquor licenses with at least 
one in Westport.) This action by the 
city was applauded by those in West- 
port and criticized by those who 
wanted in. The debate over licenses 
called forth a discussion of images 
with pro-control supporters noting 
that image preceded reality in River 
Quay — a situation they wished to 
forestall in Westport. 

In the ensuing debate and maneuver 
that defined the licensing controversy, 
traffic congestion and parking became 
technical handles employed to delay 
action. By late summer, the deferred 
parts of the rezoning plan were again 
before City Council as was the pending 
expiration of the liquor moratorium. 
Spokesmen for Westport groups noted 
how uncertainties over both these 

questions were adversely affecting the 
area’s progress. But by year’s end sev- 
eral new businesses had opened, the 
moratorium had been extended and 
the Westport Community Council gave 
out its first three “Spirit of Westport” 

Early 1978 saw renewal of the 
liquor debate further complicated by 
allegations that one applicant, the son 
of a municipal judge, had had his 
lather running interference for him. 
Westport groups pledged financial sup- 
port to litigate to retain the restric- 
lons. With 32 licenses already issued 
for Westport, City Council was again 
under pressure to continue the mora- 
torium indefinitely. This fight was 
now led by a private developer who 
had bought out the BMA share of the 
Westport Square Development Corpo- 

■ tonurn was allowed to expire. City 

fhTv 'h w confidence that 

sufficient powers to control 
things while Westport leaders ex- 
pressed doubt that they could. The 
times chided the city editorially and 
ne ong-time Westport business owner 
complained that Westport had been 

munfty ^ 

What has been the impm 9f pfje 

' expotto? Sovorat observe- 

tions come to mind. Westport proves 
that neighbor organization can help 
shape a redevelopment concept even if 
they may not be able to completely 
control its shape. The presence of an 
existing residential community pro- 
vided many voices and the prospect of 
many votes — something city officials 
tend to notice. A number of the busi- 
nesses in Westport were already estab- 
lished and going concerns not like the 
new, “first ventures” that were in 
River Quay. This left them less vulner- 
able to financial pressures and, pos- 
sibly, less attracted to quick profit 
proposals. That the Country Club 
Plaza was a near neighbor may have 
commanded more attention to the 
questions and concerns of Westport 
spokesmen than might otherwise have 
been the case. And the long standing 
interest and activities of several his- 
torical societies gave Westport a tradi- 
tion to identify with. There were a 
number of forceful articulate spokes- 
men for Westport rather than the one 
or two identified in the River Quay 
experience with the burdens of leader- 
ship shared accordingly. 

Whether Westport has remained 
true to its original concept is open to 
debate but it does remain a place of 
interesting shops, nightclubs, small 
businesses and residential areas. While 
divided control is blamed for the 

Page Thirty-One 

demise of Quay and unified control as 
contributing to the success of Crown 
Center, what can we say about West- 
port? Westport is marked by “diver- 
sified” control among property owners 
(no one of whom has a dominating 
position), churches, neighborhood 
associations and business interests. 
Residents share in this control through 
their political power as voters. While 
financial matters are questions of con- 
cern to Westport, the scale of invest- 
ment is much less grand than that 
claimed for Quay or present in Crown 
Center. Two million dollars was the 
price tag put on Westport Square 
Development. So capital availability 
and cash flow, while always prob- 
lematic, may have been less so in West- 
port. But probably most important is 
the power that a sense of community 
spirit can engender. Westport had a 
community base; it did not have to 
create one. Organize it did; and act it 
did. This reserve of support and moti- 
vation may prove to be the prime 
factor in the equation for success 
whatever the mode of urban 

Is Kansas City “a more livable city” 
because of Crown Center, the Old 
Town Historic (nee River Quay) Dis- 
trict and Westport? 

It is debatable. Good and seemingly 
bad intentions run together; good and 
bad results are evident. Whether dis- 
placing persons or destroying hopes, 
all redevelopment exacts a toll. The 
creation of jobs helps. So does the 
presence of what I have called the 
“arts and crafts” industries. Zoning 
battles that turn ultimately on ethnic 
issues do not help. Redevelopments 
that mostly provide for the cultural 
interests and entertainment of sub- 
urban residents (without seducing 
them “back to town to live”) seems 
more like old business in a new loca- 
tion. But it may be that we stand too 
close in time to battles of redevelop- 
ment with the victories yet to come. 
Possibly it would be most appropriate 
to ask our questions of Crown Center 
and Westport after they are no longer 
thought of as re-development efforts 
but rather as parts of the city. If we 
can ever come to such a point then we 
might even be able to determine what 
precisely they contribute to the qual- 
ity of Kansas City life. 

Dole A. Neuman teaches in the Depart- 
mc 't of Political Science, University 
of issouri-Kansas City. 

Coming: Corporate Payoffs 

What the public record reveals 
about the major corporations 
in Missouri and Illinois. 


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Page Thirty-Two 





an elusive goal 

3^any modern writers on “the qual- 
itv of life” in American cities are 
quick to acknowledge that tliis topic 
has a long and venerable historj'. 
Paraded across the state are such 
SorLive figures as the biblical 

JoSiui, II'O scholarly MMUo, Hit 

Murliro phibmpher Iho 
poUtcal theoretician Marx, tlw /itfltos- 
man Tocqueville, and that afirnrinn 
stalwart of democracy Thomas Jeffer- 
son, each pronouncing deep interest in 
the quality of urban life, IfavinK duly 
estebl/shed a respectable lineage for 
such concerns, studies of the quality 
^te mvp proceed to rank^, 

bag of dtv°T’ '‘Saiust a grab 

be^ Dart of thought to 

goonS-p Q ensemble of the 

Ladpimp s'^udies abound in both 

academic and popular literature, dif- 

ermg primarily by the pretensions 
surrounding the academic work. What, 
indeed, do contemporary studies have 
to say about the quality of life in 
midwestern cities? 

Having lost sight of the funda- 

mental philosophical nature of the his- 

Spp r "s en 

theW ptf have turned 

question. How can we measure the 
quality of life provided by urban envi- 
ronments? Such a question is of 

obvious importance to a nation with 
more than 75 percent of its population 
in urban areas and a constitutional 
mandate to promote and enhance the 
general welfare” of the population. 
Furtherrnore, recent disenchantment 
with such sacred indicators of national 
well-being as the Gross National Prod- 
uct (GNP) has created, both in 
academic and policy-making circles, 
feverish interest in the whole field of 
social indicators” research. Measuring 
the quality of urban life is a logical 
extension of the focus on the develop- 
ment of national social indicators — 

Volume 13, Number 80 

and equally frought with problems. Ii 
the spirit of caveat emptor a brie 
look at some of these problems in th 
quality of urban life research is 
necessary prelude to our review of tin 

X he obvious place to begin is with 
Iho cciilrnl coiicepl, ‘‘Quality of Life.” 
On this theto \s consensus among 
scholars, policy-inakevs, and \\\e ftcn- 
fir/il nilhlic: no adequate definition of 

,te imofl'l Mis"' 7'7 

vague notions lhal a (U WPI 

being on economic, social, political, 
physical, emotional, environmental 
and demographic dimensions (to name 
only a few) somehow cumulate to 
produce an overall ranking of the 
“quality of life.” When it comes to 
cities, we are often presented with a 
catalog of statistics (e.g. from the lit- 
erature — crime rates, movie-houses 
per 1000 residents, density per acre, 
tax rates, motorcycle registrations per 
1000 residents, incidences of modern 
dance performances, population 
growth rates. Who's Who entries per 
100,000 residents, miles of trails per 
100,000 residents, etc., etc.) that 
simply add up or are combined by 
some mystifying statistical leger- 
demain into an index of urban quality 
of life. 

Along with the fuzzy logical struc- 
ture of the quality of life concept 
comes a companion question: Should 
researchers focus on the subjective 
experiences of city residents (satis- 
factions and perceptions of subjective 
aspects of city life) or on the more 
objective conditions of the cities them- 
selves? Because it is far easier to 
measure a host of objective charac- 
teristics of cities, especially with the 
volumes of data available from local, 
state, and national agencies, than to 
bother with individual aspirations, 

by Donald E, Strickland 

expectations, preferences, needs, 
values, and reference frameworks, we 
are most frequently presented the 
“Iiard data.” Such “facts” may be 
simply more available than mean- 
I ingful. 

/ . , Opting to measure characteristics of 

cities begs a variety of questions: How 
do we know the relative importance of 
say the number of hotel rooms per 
1000 residents versus the number of 
hospital beds per 1000 residents in 
contributing to the quality of urban 
fife? Indeed, how do we know either is 
important? Are there un/versaJ cr/teiia 
tot ovaUvallng: Hw quality of life com- 

mon to a variety of specific population 
groups (c.g. women, blacks, singles, 
magazine editors, Chinese restauran- 
teurs, intaglio artists)? Is the essence 
of a city simply a distillate of these 
objective characteristics? While not all 
studies of the quality of life in Ameri- 
can cities suffer equally from these 
shortcomings (some have actually 
addressed these issues directly, if not 
resolved them) we should not lose 
sight of them when drawing con- 
clusions about the “best” places to 

Probably the most often assessed 
aspect of urban life in American cities 
is the economic. Clearly, this promi- 
nence is not misplaced; economic 
factors affect every area of community 
life. From cost of living surveys, which 
have shown that Chicagoans pay $6.39 
for a quart of scotch which costs resi- 
dents of Bombay, India, $16.82 (note, 
however, that a large tube of tooth- 
paste costs less in Bombay) to reports 
indicating that senior citizens fare best 
in Baton Rouge, Louisiana (for mid- 
westerners, Cincinnati is a close 
runner-up), economic rankings 
abound. A Bureau of Labor Statistics 
study shows St. Louis to be lowest 
among major cities in medical care 
costs and highest in transportation 

Page Thirty-Three 

costs. For more reasons than one, the 
moral would seem to be to get sick 
near a hospitaL U,S. News & World 
Report features a semiannual 
accounting of **Qties Where Business 
is Best” In May 1978 most of the 
midwestem dties reported ranked 
lower than the national averse on 
unemployment and hi^er on ^income 
of the average factory worker.” These 
high wages in Detroit may be of small 
consolation to the lu^ proportion of 
unemployed, including some not so 
average factory workers, no doubt 
Senior Scholastic magazine, reporting 
the results of a recent quality of life 
study by the prestigious Washington 
based Urban Institute, reiterated the 
income-poverty-unemployment imbal- 
ance in Detroit, while finding Chicago 
the most economically healthy mid- 
westem metropolis. 

Harper's 1975 “The Worst Ameri- 
can Qty,” modeled on H.L. Mencken’s 
1931 American Mercury study 
derigned to identify the worst state, 
shows little that is noteworthy about 
the income and affluence levels of 
large midwestem cities, with one 
important exception: black/white 
median income rario is relatively hi^ 
in Detroit (.78) and Qevel^d (.77) 
compared to less than .50 in several 
southern cities. Another com- 
prehensive quality of life study {the 
“quality of life” Baedeker of Ameri- 
can cities), with a strong economic 
component, is the 1975 Environmen- 
tal Protection Agency sponsored proj- 
ect by the Midwest Research Institute 
of Kansas City. Reported ad nauseum 
in Time, Newsweek, Changing Times, 
Intellect, Saturday Review, etc., the 
economic component involved 18 
separate measurements (weighted 
unequally) including per capita 
income, value added per worker in 
manufacturing, per capita bank 
deporits, unemployment rate, and 
number of Chamber of Commerce 
employees per 100,000 residents. 

For metropolitan areas with a pop- 
ulation larger than one half million (65 
total), (Cleveland ranked 4th, Indian- 
apolis 5th, Chicago 8th, and Cincinnati 
9th (Number 1? DALLA$). On the 
other end of the scale, the lowest 
ranked metropolitan area in the mid- 
west was the Gary-Hammond-East 
Chicago conurbation (44th), far ahead 
of number 65, Jersey City, N.J. For 
medium rized dties, between 200,000 
and 500,000 population (83 total), 
Fort Wayne, ^uth Bend, and Kala- 
maisoo ranked 1, 2, 3, respectively; the 
lowest ranked medium-sized mid- 
westem metropolis is the Duluth- 
Superior complex at 58th. Finally, in 
the smallest metropolitan area class, 

Page Thirty-Four 

below 200,000 population (95 total), 
Uncoln, Nebraska, Topeka, Kansas, 
and Decatur, Illinois were in the top 
10 (2nd, 5th, and 7th, respectively) 
with Columbia, Missouri, and Cham- 
pagne-Urbana, Illinois, rated the low- 
est of midwestem cities (68th and 
69th). Redbook's July guide to Ameri- 
can cities focused on cities of over one 
million population and rated them on 
the basis of eight characteristics of 
relevance to women, including two 
econonuc factors: jobs for women and 
income level. Not surprisingly, Wash- 
ington, D.C. ranked first in these cate- 
gories; Minneapofis, Cleveland, and 
Chicago rated a top 10 listing on each 
category. Kansas City and Detroit 
ranked last in the jobs for wonien 
category while having relatively high 
income levels. 

^^nother rarely neglected dimension 
in the quality of life studies is the 
broad rubric of environment — includ- 
ing such areas as pollution, safety, 
amenities, and health. A recent study 
by the Council of Municipal Perform- 
ance analyzed air quality data in 43 
cities. The result: sunbelt cities are 
cleanest, northcentral and 
northeastern manufacturing cities are 
dirtiest! Chicago and Detroit were 40th 
and 42nd, with St. Louis and Cleve- 
land 36th and 37th; the freshest mid- 
westem city was number 9, Kansas 
City. Today's Health has reported the 
results of a study using the National 
Air Quality Index which uses measures 
of “particulate matter and noxious 
gases.” Kansas City, Toledo, and 
Columbus, Ohio, were the “purest” 
midwestem cities: location (“on well- 
ventilated rolling plains”) in Colum- 
bus, tough air-code regulations in 
Kansas City, and industry cooperation 
in Toledo are put forth as major 
reasons for their accomplishments. 

Science Digest getting the ratings 
game ^ves us “America’s Ten Health- 
iest Cities” based on a hodge-podge of 
health-related statistics: cancer mor- 
tality rates, automobile accidents, 
heart disease, longevity, water pol- 
lutant levels, and other factors. Some- 
how putting it all together we see that 
Hawaii (anywhere) beckons those 
who prize the healthiest environment; 
St. Cloud, Minnesota, is number 4 
based largely on longevity and below 
average disease rates. As an aside, we 
are told that Minnesota, Nebraska, 
Kansas, Iowa, and Wisconsin rank just 
under Hawaii for longevity; Kansas 
also gets high marks for low infant 
mortality rates. Culled from other 
studies, St. Louis is singled out for 
exceptionally high levels of partic- 
ulates and sulfur dioxide in the air. 

higher than average infant mortality 
rates, high mortality due to influenza 
and pneumonia, and a high ratio of 
hospital beds per 10,000 residents. 
One wonders if hospital beds are a true 
reflection of the state of available 
health care in St. Louis! Some might 
doubt it. 

Since the environment consists of 
man’s contributions as well as nature’s, 
we are heartened to see the Urban 
Institute’s measures and ratings of 
“public order” (Milwaukee is tops), 
transportation (Chicago fares well), 
“community concern,” (Cleveland is 
highest). Redbook 's distaff report also 
rates Milwaukee tops in “personal safe- 
ty;” Detroit gets low marks for per- 
sonal safety and “concern for chil- 
dren.” Harpers' tells us of “one of the 
great curses of city life . . . over- 
crowding.” Oklahoma City is lowest in 
residents per square mile while Chi- 
cago is one of the worst places. This, 
of course, ignores the point that urban 
sprawl, transportation problems, and 
raggedly uneven development often 
attend spread-out cities or that this 
density measure is largely a function 
of where city boundaries are drawn. 
We also find that Cincinnati rates high 
in “public library volumes per 10,000 
residents” and Indianapolis is one of 
the worst cities for “hotel and motel 
rooms per 100,000 residents” md 
“places of amusement and recreation 
per 100,000 residents.” It is unclew 
whether the denizens of Indianapolis 
are suffering acute malaise or are 
giving thanks for these findings. 

Holiday magazine, recognizing the 
calm neutrality and peripatetic exis- 
tence of major league baseball sports- 
casters, uses “a penetrating survey” to 
get their opinions of favorite road 
cities. The results: Los Angeles, San 
Diego, San Francisco, Boston, and 
Minneapolis head the list. Minneapolis 
receives plaudits for high marks in 
“city offering best movies, play- 
houses,” “best shopping facilities,” 
and “friendliest road city” categories. 
Other midwestem cities of note: Cin- 
cinnati, Milwaukee, Chicago, Detroit 
for “favorite road restaurants” (yes, 
they even name the restaurants!), Cin- 
cinnati and Chicago in the “movie- 
houses” division, Chicago for “best 
taxi service” and “best dressed 
people” (surely an important environ- 
mental component), and Kansas City 
for its hospitality as “a^big city with a 
small town personality.” 

Similar to these celebrity opinion 
rankings are a potpourri of opinions 
on the urban condition from such 
sources as Saturday Review's “Most 
Livable Cities” which extols Minne- 
apolis and Cincinnati; C/.S. News & 

FOCUS /Midwest 

World Report's vignettes on thriving 
energy “boom towns,” including such 
centers of urbanity as Jay, Florida and 
Hanna, Wyoming; Saturday Review's 
“Cities on the Comeback Trail,” which 
gives high marks to such heartland 
heartthrobs as Tulsa, Des Moines, Mad- 
ison, Milwaukee, and Kansas City; 
American Home's “15 Wonderful 
Towns Where Families Know How to 
Live,” which praises Harbor Springs, 
Michigan, for its Lake Michigan bluff 
setting and Winona, Minnesota, for its 
warm, family oriented atmosphere; 
and Ebony's “Ten Best Cities for 
Blacks which bases its rankings on 
opportunities for self-support, self- 
betterment, and self-empowerment” 
(three of Ebony's “Top Ten” are Chi- 
cago, Indianapolis, and Minneapolis). 

Clearly one of the most popular 
categories on which to rank cities is its 
crime rate. The fallibility of official 
cnttie statistics is well-known; never- 
e ess, in the parlance of the criminal 
justice system, this seldom acts as a 
deterrent to budding city rankers. The 
standard litany of official crime statis- 
tics (often broken down by specific 
categories of offense - property 
crimes crimes against persons, rapes, 
etc.) show some interesting midwest- 
em differences: Milwaukee lias the 
l^est rape and robbery rates of the 
50 largest cities while St. Louis is high 
on rapes per 100,000 residents. 
Detroit s robberj- rate per 100,000 
rwidents IS worse than all but Newark 
^arpers) St. Paul, Minnesota and 
Omaha, Nebraska are low in murder 
and manslaughter rates while Detroit 
and Cleveland are among the worst 
(Harpers). Redbook's “personal safe- 
ty category used FBI crime statistics, 
with heavier emphasis on crimes 
against persons (New York’s image 
remains intact, ranking last among the 
largest 30 cities). ^ 

^ controversial study in the 
in % reported 

rr anrt elsewhere 

used official crime statistics and a 
touch of right-wing political and social 
bias to Identify safe havens from 
crime taxes, drugs, hippies (?), and 
guerilla acta of sabotage and ter- 
rorism. Salmon, Idaho, is the most 
remote safe place in the book: 
isolated, bucolic, and deadly with 
nearly each household owning a gun. 
Belvedere, California, receives high 

SfrR nr con- 

ow^' Sfnnm “’’Fi!'' (Popu'at'on 

over 50 ()()0), the midwest’s Lake- 

FurHH top honors; 

oF c ’ ^“Other Cleveland suburb is 
the 6th most safe place. Florissant, 
Missoun, a St. Louis suburban enclave 

Volume 13, Number 80 

ranks 9th on the list. Detroit and Pon- 
tiac, Michigan, rank as two of the most 
crime-ridden cities in tlie countr>t. It is 
unfortunate that the authors’ research 
was conducted before the full blos- 
soming of neighborhood vigilante 
patrols; the ranks of acceptable havens 
would surely have swelled. 

Finally, both social and political 
factors have occupied the attention of 
many popular quality of life studies. 
Income levels, educational attainment, 
racial equality measures, property tax 
rates, expenditures on public services, 
family patterns, and population 
growth rates seem straightforward 
enough. But, we are told by the Mid- 
west Research Institute study that 
local Sunday newspaper circulation 
indexes “informed citizenry'” as does 
the number of radio stations per 1000 
population. On the former measure 
Newark’s citizenry is over 3 times as 
informed as are the citizens of neigh- 
boring New York and Nashville’s score 
of 2.21 on the radio index shames 
Chicago’s .45, clearly a reflection of 
different concentrations of informed 
and uninformed citizenry'. Individual 
political activity is gauged by the pro- 
portion of voters voting in a recent 
presidential election. More efficient 
local governments are those able to 
secure the most funds from the federal 
government! Motorcycle registrations 
per 1000 residents is used to indicate 
“widening opportunity for individual 
choice;” some city residents could 
perhaps interpret this measure quite 
differently. Number of public swim- 
ming pools^ per 100,000 residents is 

West Port Plaza, Kansas City 

one of four measures indicating recrea- 
tional facilities (camping sites, trails, 
and tennis courts are the others); one 
wonders if the residents of Honolulu 
and New Orleans (with one pool per 
100,000 residents) are green with envy’ 
at the 99.8 score in Oklahoma City or 
the 86.8 pools per 100,000 residents 
in Dallas. 

For the members of the community' 
disinclined to mix fins with the com- 
mon citizens in the public pools, a 
cultural institutions index is available: 
pity the frustrated blokes in Anaheim 
with no cultural institutions and 
wonder at the dizzying opportunities 
afforded their counterparts in Pitts- 
burgh with a surfeit of 34! Midwest- 
erners may be shocked to learn that 
Chicago’s paltry 7 contrasts with 
Detroit’s 23 institutions of culture. 
And so it goes when it comes to deter- 
mining “everyman’s quality of urban 
life” index; the only limitations seem 
to be the ready availability of data and 
the imagination of the researchers. 

Having taken this rather selective 
guided tour through some of the fads 
and foibles of the city rating game in 
search of an American urban Elysium, 
and hoping it might be found close at 
home, where do we stand? In spite of 
the proliferation of silly ratings and 
rankings, the quality of urban life in 
America is a very' serious subject. But 
particularistic, ad hoc, and pseudo- 
scientific ratings on the “quality of 
life” in American cities are often mis- 
leading and detrimental to understand- 
ing what the “quality of life” is really 
all about. 

Since cities are not of a fabricated 
sameness but are accretions of “re- 
source networks” built out of the 
social worlds in which their residents 
are specifically imbedded, so is the 
quality of urban life dependent on 
individual economic structures, family 
patterns, friendship networks, activity 
patterns, and so on. Cities are rarely 
experienced in toto by individuals. 
Rather, they are a mosaic of inter- 
penetrating parts providing, alternate- 
ly, opportunities for and constraints 
on desired behavior. It is this balance 
sheet of opportunities and constraints 
provided by the urban environment 
which gives meaning to the “quality of 
life” in American cities. And, it is in 
this sense that the “grand-daddy of all 
questions” is a far more complex and 
profound question than the city rating 
exercises acknowledge. 

Donald E. Strickland teaches in the 
Department of Sociology and in the 
Urban Studies program at Washington 

Page Thirty-Five 

The Gay National Educational 
Switchboard invites calls firom parents, 
children, as well as psychologists, 
ministers, parole officers and others who 
have questions about gay women and 
men. A project of Human Rights 
Foundation, Inc., in San Francisco, the 
hotline offers resource information 
and its services are available from 2 p.m. 
to midnight seven days a week. The 
number is 800-227-0888. 

It was a major breakthrough that a 
coalition of neighborhood organizations 
and housing associations in Kansas 
Qty got Community Federal Savings 
and Loan to sign a loan policy agree- 
ment. Specifying amounts to be 
available for home loans and improve- 
ments in an area being redlined, the 
agreement also calls for equality in 
treatment and consideration of loan 
applicants, broadening of criteria used 
to determine credit-worthiness and 
quarterly meetings between the branch 
manager and a council of neighborhood 

The Department of Energy’s Economic 
Regulatory Administration announced 
a toll-free number to receive consumer 
complaints on gasoline and heating 
oil supplies and prices. The number, 
800-424-9246, will be answered from 
8 am. to 5 p.m. (EST) Monday 
through Friday and will be monitored 
nights and weekends by a recording 

The St Louis Abused Women’s 
Support Project, a not-for-profit, tax- 
exempt corporation, operates a 
shelter for abused women and their 
dependent children, and has given 
re^ge to 300 of them since its 
beginning in 1977. St. Louis area 
women who are in need of emergency 
housing may contact the Support 
Project at 535-8425, which is staffed 
on a twenty-four-hour basis. 

Project Transition Is a Kansas City 
School District program for displaced 
homemakers, single heads of house- 
holds, homemakers who work part- 

time but need fulltime employment, 
tod men and women who are Interested 
in non-traditional careers. Other 
services include referring clients to 
medical, dental or daycare facilities, 
vocational counseling, consumer in- 
formation and training in traditional 
career occupations. 

Updated facts and consciousness 
are what’s new in the 1978 World 
Book Encyclopedia. The “Negro” 
article has been retitled “Black Amer- 
icans,” the history of the proposed 
27th Amendment is discussed in an 
article on the ERA, other titles in- 
clude “No-Fault Insurance,” “Organi- 
zation of African Unity,” “Transkei” 
tod “Particle Physics.” 

The editors made a point of ac- 
knowledging the changing role of 
women by establishing policies and 
stylistic guidelines to avoid sexist 
language or assumptions, and have 
added 40 new biographies of out- 
standing women in all fields. 

Music-loving readers will find new 
information in a totally revised “Rock 
Music” article and a new article on 
the “Suzuki Method.” 

The 22-volume edition is geared to 
different levels of reading capability 
and has more than 29,000 illustra- 

METRO/MICA, the Kansas City 
monthly newsletter of the metro- 
politan inter-church agency, reports 
that a series of practical workshops 
aimed at increasing the operating 
effectiveness of community 
neighborhood and public and 
private service organizations will be 
offered from March through May 
1979. The course, entitled **Team 
Training for Community Action” Is 
^onsored by the Center for Manage- 
ment Development and the School 
of Administration, UMKC. 

An effort to stimulate community 
improvement in Flint, Michigan, has 
begun with the release of a survey 
commissioned by the Charles 
Stewart Mott Foundation. Called 
The Flint Process: A Look at Our 
Community^ the survey explores, 
neighborhood by neighborhood, 
people’s attitudes and behaviors. It is 
an extension of a nationwide Gallup 
Poll on urban attitudes taken early in 
197 a 

The Gallup Poll found that one- 
third of America’s city dwellers would 
move to a small town or to the 
country if they could. Report to the 
People, a 28-page tabloid is available, 
free of charge, from the Mott 
Foundation Building, Flint 48502. 

The results of The Flint Process 
are meant to be used by community 
groups as an agenda for discussion in 
attacking urban and neighborhood 
problems. To spur this next step, the 
foundation is sponsoring a series of 
discussion/action workshops. Each of 
the city’s 37 elementary school 
areas— as well as five suburban areas— 
is featured in a separate booklet of 
detailed information gathered from 
survey responses. Copies of the 
survey materials are being made 
available to individual citizens and 
community groups on request. 

The research team collected 3 
million pieces of information in 45- 
minute interviews with nearly 7,000 
people in the area between September 
1977 and January 1978. 

Although opposed by St. Louis Mayor 
James F. Conway and powerful down- 
town business interests, the most 
(some say only) independent, out- 
spoken, and abrasive alderman, Bruce 
T. Sommer, won an overwhelming 
3 to 1 victory in the February 
St. Louis primary. 


LATION. 1. Title of Pubitcation: FOCUS. 2. Date of Filixtc: 
October 31, 1978. 3. Frequency of b*uo: 6 times per year, 
bimonthly. A. No. of Usues publUhed annually: six; S. Annual 
subscription price: $7.00. 4. Location of known office of publica* 
tlon: 9^a fL McKni^t Rd., SL Louis, Missouri 63132. 5. Loca* 

tfon of the headquarters or general business offices of the pub- 

lidiers: Same. 6. Names and complete oddren of publiiher, editor, 

and managing ^itor: Charles L. Klotzer. 884 Berick Drive, 6L 

Louis, Missouri 63132. Editor: Same. Managing editor: Some. 7. 

Owner (If owned by a corporation, its name and address must be 

static and also immediately thereunder the names and addressee 

of stockholders owning or holding 1 percent or more of totu 

amount of stock. If not owned by a corporation, the names and 

of the individual owriers must be given. If owned fay a 

partnership or other unincorporated firm, its name and address as 

as that of each individual must be given.) Joseph P. Antonow. 

Chlcaao. IlL: William P. Bartholomew. Kansas Qty, Mo.; Robert L. 

Brody. Chicago. U.; Eugene Buder. St. Louis. Mo.; Dr. Anthony 

K. Busch. St. Louis, Mo.; Mrs. Edwin E. Clarkson, Kansas Q^, 

Mo.: Howsrd Clement. Chicago, IlL; Dr. William M. Danforth, & 

Louis. Mo.: Edmund K. Ekhengreen. Chimrao, OL; Eliel 8 

Chi^o. of.: Herman M. Harris, Chicago. ^ J. H. Hers, Win^ 
Mrs. Marcus A. Hirvchl. Paiaaen^ GaUf.; Lawrence K» 
Soff. Chicago, 111.; Samuel N. Katzin, ^Ic^o. Dl.; Charim 1- 
KkM. SLlouis. Mo.: PhilUp M. Klutanick, Chicago, OL; SkM 
Lawrence. Kansas Q^, Mo.; Robert Ufton, Chicago, OL; Johi^> 
Meyers, tSedar Val^ lb.; Dick H. Mudg^ Jr.. Edwardsvf^ K-; 
Rob^F. Plckcn, 6iicago, lU.; Jerome ^tme, Cbk^, Dl-l 
Don L. Thurston. SL Louii, Mo.; Morton We&ien, tticy*.®;* 
James 7fS rtm*w . Chicago, UL 8. Known bondholders, mottgagen 
and other security holders owning or holding 1 percent more « 
total amount of bonds, mortgages or other socuiiUes: Noi^. iW; 
Extent and nature of cfreulation. A. Total no. copies print^ (W” 

Press Run); Average no. copies esch issue during pioeoding 

mMths: 6,000. Actual no. cop^ of single issue puUish^ 
to date: 4,000. B. Paid Qrculatlon. 1. Salea through d eaka 
and aunsis. street vendors and counter sales: Average no. c<^ia 
each it ffi** during preening 12 months: 1,492. Actual RO. jcomm 
of ainile issue pumiahod nesieat to fUing date: 1,006. 2. 
Bufaeartptiona: Average no. copies each Issue during precedi ng la 
months: 1.904. Actual no. copies of single issue puUlthedneaiw 
to filing date: 1,629. c. Total paid circulation (8^ of lODl mA 
lOBai* Average no. copies each issue during pTNoding 12 mont^ 
9JS9CL' Actual no. copies of single issue publLihed nearest to fUing 
date* 2,634. D. riee distribution by mw. carrier or other c 

^e published nearest to ffling date: 412. E. Total otrtrw 
tton (Bum of C and D): Average no. copies each Issue d«^ 
I 12 months: 3,681. Actual no. copies of rinslo tssue 
I nearest to filing date: 2,946. F. Copkra not d 

preceding 12 months: 1,006. A^al no. copies of rigito 
puuS^ nearest to filing date: 649. O. TotM (Sum of B, W ^ 
2^ should e<^ net pren run shown in A); Avenge no. copite 
Mch bM during preceding 12 months: 6,000. Actual no. 
S^delssue p&ushed nearest to filing date: 4,000. U. 
that tfo sUte^to n^by me abwo coincti^ 

Charles L. Klotaer. 12. For completion by pubUshen^Btelu^S 
Sewiter ntef (Section 182.121, Postel Serrico 
080^16^ provides In pertinent part: "No 
have been entitled to maU matter under former eectipn 43W^ 
this title dutU mail such matter at the rotea provided unw wv 
unless he files annually with the Posbri Oovkm • 
written request for permission to mail matter at such rat^ w 
accords^ with the provisions of this stetute, I here^rgggg^ 

Klotser, Publisher. 

Page Thirty-Six 

FOCUS/Af idwesi 

LETTER TO MAY / David A. Sohn 

You were polite, but angry. 

After you autographed the tablecloth, 

You did my cuff. 

Next morning, I washed it out — 

It’s difficult with tiny bars of soap — 

And wrote a poem of sorts. 

1 don’t know why. 

Then, we heard you read. 

And wanted to send you roses. 

We couldn’t find even a yellow rose 
In this two-gun Texas town. 

At the airport, later, 

You said, “So nice to see you again,” 

Not meaning it. 

And then, that you preferred dandelions 
to the roses you never had. 

“Daffodils?” I asked. 

“Daffodils mean gelt,” you said. 



“I thought you had a Texas twang.” 

Off we went on horizontal elevators. 

Without goodbyes. 

Why should there be goodbyes? 

There was a turbulence, 36,000 feet. 

The lady spilled a drink on him, the poet. 
“You really know how to spill them,” I said. 
“Right on the Pulitzer prize.” 

She thought I was talking about a beer, I guess. 
Pulitzer said if we stepped outside. 

We’d turn to crystals in a flash. 

Also, that villanelles won’t do. 

“Poets must go through the moil 
of modern consciousness.” 

How to rage in quiet ways. 

Like when you wrote your name — 

A flourished flurry, 

Hancock on the cuff — 


Performance as defiance. 

You must have hated 
Mondo Poeti stalls, 

Gawkers lionizing 
Poets in the Poet Zoo. 

I just remembered what I want to say. 

You did a lot for poetry those days. 

Live poets aren’t around much. 

Particularly in Houston, Texas, 

Or up in an airplane, flying hi^. 

“Presence can educate,” Frost once observed. 

He did some good work riding on trains. 

Sometimes you’re teaching when you least suspect iL 
You made me catch a poem, good or bad, 

Uke you catch a cold. 

Just because you were around, 

I have to thank you for it. 

If 1 had some dandelions. 

I’d send you at least a bushel. 

Mencken didn’t trust them: 

“Dogs always piss on them. 

And now and then, a policeman.” 

I tasted their wine once. 

Delicate, like saki. 

Delicious, their greens — 

Soul food. 

So your poems. 

On earth, the night was clear. 

But car-thick, stop and start. 

What was it disturbed me? 

Crazy ten-gallon week? 

The whine of parkway wheels? 
Leaning back, I stared long 
At the moon 

And thought of you and ingenuity. 

Volume 13, Number 80 

Page Thirty-Seven 


SOME ARE FLIGHT SUMMER FANCY / Wladyslaw Cieszynski 

the pilot turns smiling 

toward the turbulence of a stewardess with bottle hips 
a movie passes out martinis 
and genitals with its paws 

below it all 

the city belches an ozone blanket for the night 

somewhere a cigar is asking 

directions to the nearest mouth 

the monk gestures with his wallet and explodes 

while sixteen girl scouts 

rape a young mugger in Central Park 

summer has begun 

the sidewalk is pregnant with bubblegum 
and hotdogs stroll the boardwalk 
in the swelter 

Melba stitches a rutabaga to her underwear 
and goes for a walk in the sewers 
will she meet Bongo the Tongue 
she wonders 

or will something exciting and terrible happen 

Italian laundromats organize an outing 
to the Drive-in Movie 

rubs its back against the screen 

thinking / Doreen Fitzgerald 

you told me not to think 
i practiced for two days 

my body turned dog 
chased the mailman up a tree 
narrowly missed 
a Chevy with D.C. plates 

Mrs. Murphy came out 
cried mad dog in the street 
call the dog catcher 
the state police 

i’m sitting on the front porch 
wondering if they’ll shoot 

a cup of asphalt is steaming toward the harbor 
fourteen blackbirds all in a row sing the blues 
while Opera runs off with Nashville under her arm 


thump the thump the thump 
baseball is winning my heart 
head over heels i am 

with a grandstand of rodents laughing in my glands 
everyone’s happy 

and the temperature is taking a bow. 

I WANT TO TAKE YOU / W lady slaw Cieszynski 

the air of the attic 
is old 

is dull around you 
the white dress 
holds up your soft hair 

before the window 
the trunks yawn open 
spilling ribbons 
and photographs 
of brown lakes and beards 

your smile is distant 
i want to take you 

by the leather chest 

but over my shoulder 
is tommorrow 
a museum guard 

Page Thirty-Eight 




Only items published in Volume 12 
are listed below. Articles are cross 
indexed. The numerals refer to vol- 
ume, issue, and page. AU of the 
items indexed are available in the 
issues cited. Back copies of FOCUS/ 
Midwest are $2 each. Indexes for 
Volume' 1 through 12 (including 79 
issues) are available for $6 plus post- 
age. They are free with a new sub- 
scription upon request* 


Editorials: battle for the art dollar 

(12-76-4): who gets the art dollar? 

Gosnell, Stephen: Sacred Circles, 2000 years 
of North American Indian art, a review 

Illinois Arts Council requests and grants 
1976-1977 (12-77-161; 1977-1978 


Jones, William: Last Remains (12-76-271 

Kameczura. Robert and Kleiman, Kelly: Art 
for the cities’ sake (12-77-281 

Mahin, William J.: An intimate review of art 
funding In Illinois (12-77-91 

Powers, Beth: Who gets the art dollar, a 
study in eight parts (12-76-91; the his- 
tory of the Missouri Arts Council 
(12-76-101; interview with Donald Tap- 
person [12-76-131; the manual and 
structure (12-76-141; conflicts of 
interest and lobbying (12-76-151; the 
funding process and responsibilities 
(12-76-161; Interview with Adam Aron- 
son (12-76-181; MAC requests and 
grants 1977-78 (12-76-201; MAC re- 

quests and grants 1976-1977 (12-76-231 


Guarino, Jean: Daniel Cook, the name 
behind Cook County [12-77-311 

Staff reports: 75 -year-old ’’retiree” from 
Kansas, Illinois heads Kenya medical 
library (12-77-301 ; Adlal Stevenson pro- 
file ( 12 - 74-101 


Gosnell, Stephen: Sacred Circles, 2000 years 
of North American Indian art 

Simpson, Dick: Theoretical foundation for 
the neighborhood movement; a review 
of three books (12-75-431 

Gardner, Sheldon: The makings of an anti- 
machine coalition (12-74-61 

Gutlerrez-Vargas, Jose L.: Organizing the 
Lake View Latin-American community 

Kameczura. Robert and Kleiman, Kelly: Art 
for the cities’ sake (12-77-281 

Rodin, Miriam B.; 25 years of successful 
organizing: the Lake View Citizens' 
Council (12-75-261 

Salem, Greta and Hans, Sanna: The people 
decide In the 44th ward (12-75-141 

Sullivan, Barbara, O.P.: Two approaches to 
education: the educational resource 

center and the Lake View Schools Coali- 
tion (12-75-381 


Editorials: dissent on abortion (12-74-61; 
Nazis and the first amendment 
(12-75-51; Missouri jails ripe for court 
suit (12-76-41; who did the ’’squash- 
ing”? (12-76-41; the Allen Bakke case 

Freedman, Lawrence: Shame, morality and 
obscenity (12-75-46] 


Guarino, Jean: Daniel Cook, the name 
behind Cook County (12-77-311 


Staff report: adult correspondence educa- 
tion available ( 12 - 77-71 


Editorial: nuclear waste in our back yards 


Editorials: dissent on abortion ( 12 - 74 - 5 ); 
let them eat paint ( 12 - 75 - 5 ) 


Mahin, William: an intimate review of art 
funding In Illinois [12-77-9] 

Staff reports: Adlai Stevenson profile 
(12-74-101 : Governor Thompson’s 2 - 
year term outlook (12-75-7); Demo- 
cratic party after Daley’s death 
(12-77-7); Gubernatorial campaign 
funding by business ( 12 - 77 - 7 ); solar 
energy legislation ( 12 - 77 - 7 ) 

Quinn, Doris: Involving all citizens: Neigh- 
borhood councils in Independence, Mo. 


Kennedy. George: New owners for Kansas 
City Star (12-74-6) 

Missouri Housing Alliance: Blue Hills 
Homes, a rehabilitation effort 

riO-TC-'ac'i V 

Editorial: the threat of con-con (12-78-61 
Staff reports: National Street Law Institute 
established (12-77-7) ; solar energy legls- 
lation In Illinois (12-77-71 ^ 


Kennedy, George: New owners for the Ken 
sas City Star [12-74-6) 


Editorials: water control ( 12 - 74 . 51 . the 
auditor’s race in Missouri (12-78-61 
Levine. Larry: Rural organizing in the Mis- 
souri bootheel (12-75-321 
Lorberg Alleen D.: Sequoyah. Missouri’s 
’’talking leaves” poet (12-76-31) 

Powers. Beth; Who gets the art dollar e 
study in eight parts (12-76-9); the his- 
tory of the Missouri Arts Council 
(12-76-101; Interview with Donald Tao 
person (12-76-131; the manual and 
structure (12-76-14p; conflicts of 
Interest and lobbying [12-76-15]. the 
funding process and responsibilities 
[12-76-161; interview with AdamXon 

son (12-76-181; MAC requests anj 
grants 1977-1978 (12-76-20) ; MAC 

requests and grants 1976-1477 

Staff reports: Governor Teasdale and his 
legislature (12-75-7) ; post-election 
Republican party (12-75-7); appoint- 
ment of Department of Revenue fee coi. 
lectors (12-75-71 


Editorial: The maturing of neighborhoods 

Finney, Leon Jr,: TWO target: the total 
community (12-75-76) 

Gutlerrez-Vargas, Jose L.: Organizing the 
Lake View Latin-American community 

Kotler, Milton; The Neighborhood move- 
ment in America and NAN (12-75-12) 
Levine, Larry: Rural organizing In the Mis- 
souri bootheel (12-75-32) 

Missouri Housing Alliance: Blue Hills 
Homes, a rehabilitation effort 

Quinn. Doris: Involving all citizens: neigh- 
borhood councils in Independence, Mo 

Rodin, Miriam B.: Twenty-five years of suc- 
cessful organizing: the Lake View Citi- 
zens* Council [12-75-261 
Salem, Greta and Hans, Sanna: The people 
decide In the 44th Ward (12-75-14) 
Simpson, Dick: Theoretical foundation for 
the neighborhood movement; a review of 
three books (12-75-43) 

Simpson, Dick and Stevens, Judy: Neighbor- 
hood power (12-75-101 

Sullivan, Barbara, O.P.: Two approaches to 
education: the educational resource 
center and the Lake View Schools Coali- 
tion (12-75-381 

Watson, Michael: Jeff-Vander-Lou: Against 
all odds (12-75-18) 


Carlson, Catherine Ann; The Temperance 
River Madness (12-74-29) 

Ditsky. John: The Rookie, Retiring 

Dixon, Michael: Man Holding Boy 

Duren, Francis: Fever (12-76-25] 

Elliott, Harley: Self Portrait as a Crazy 
Horse, Self Portrait as Custer (12-76-26) 
Flies, Meg: Fire-Dance (12-78-31) 

Hansen, Tom: Going Down (12-78-31) 

Hester, M.l.. Jr.: Sometimes (12-74-29) 

Hind, Steven: Arrowhead Hunting, a Guide 
(12-74-29) ; Collision (12-74-29) 

Kroll, Ernest: Time table (12-75-9) 

Lorberg, Alleen D.: Sequoyah, Missouri’s 
’’talking leaves” poet (12-76-31) 
Mckernan, John: To My Father (12-75-22) 
Mclean, Crystal: John Isley, 85 (12-74-29) 
Ronan, John: the hospital, afternoons, tidal 
pool (12-76-251 

Rosen, Michael: Is Forever Longer Than 
Always, Into the Heartland (12-77-29) 
Smyth, Rick: Falling Into Heaven 

Stewart. Robert J.: Deborah is a short girl, 
16 (12-76-26) 

Vinz, Mark: The World’s Great Two-Piece 
Band (12-76-26) 

Wheeler, Sylvia: Vennishay: No Such Word 

Editorials: The anti-big government myth 
(12-74-6) ; the auditor’s race in Missouri 

Humphrey, Hubert H.; excerpts from 
FOCUS/Midwest columns (12-78-8) 

Powers, Beth: Conflicts of interest and lob- 
bying in art funding (12-76-15) 

Schwarz, Betty: The independent precinct 
organization and citizen power in elec- 
tions (12-75-40) 

Staff reports: U.S. Senate structure reorgan- 
ized (12-74-91 ; Adlai Stevenson profile 
(12-74-10) ; group ratings: liberals and 
conservatives are dissatisfied (12-74-12) ; 
attendance by area legislatures above 
average (12-74-14) ; Northern Democrats 
boost conservatives (12-74-15); Gov- 
ernor Thompson’s 2-year term outlook 
(12-75-7) ; Governor Teasdale and his 
legislature [12-75-71; post-election 
Republican party (12-75-7) ; appoint- 
ment of Revenue Department fee collec- 
tors (12-75-7); Democratic party after 
Daley’s death (12-77-7); Gubernatorial 
campaign funding by business (12-77-7) ; 
the primary, congressional races and 
amendments (12-78-10) 

Salem, Greta and Hans, Sanna: The people 
decide in the 44th Ward (12-75-14) 


Editorial: Feds take over water control In 
Missouri (12-74-51 : nuclear waste in our 
back yards (12-78-6) 

Staff report: clean lake grants (12-78-11) 


Academic Freedom Group (12-78-32) 

American Security Council (12-77-321 
Americans Against Union Control of Gov- 
ernment (12-75-48) 

Anti-Panama Pact Coalition (12-75-48) 

Birch Society (12-74-31) 

Cardinal Mindszenty Foundation 

Citizen’s Choice (12-78-32) 

Conservative National Committee 

Conservative party (12-76-32) 

Fundraisers In legal trouble (12-74-32) 
Missourians for Right to Work, Inc. 

National Right to Work (12-78-32) 

New alliance to fight radical right 

Panama Canal Issue (12-77-32) 

continued on page 40 

Volume 13, Number 80 

Page Thirty-Nine 

Congress set an all-time record for 
the number of votes taken in 1978, 
but as is traditional in election years, 
attendance at these votes fell off. 

Voting participation is the closest 
approach to an attendance record for 
Congress, but it is only an approxi- 


1. Voting Participation, 1978. Per- 
centage of 516 roll calls in 1978 on 
which senator voted “yea” or “nay.” • 

2. Voting Participation, 95th Con- 
gress. Percentage of 1,151 roll calls in 
1977 and 1978 on which senator 
voted “yea” or “nay.” 

1 2 






91 89 

89 91 

96 97 


continued from page 39 

student Right to Work [12-77-321 

TRIM, a Birch Society front (12*77-321: 


Volker Fund; Hoover Institution 
(12-74-321 ; [12-76-32] 

Walker, Gen. Edwin A. (12-74-31] 

Young Republicans (12-77-32] 


Editorial: St. Louis airport controversv 

Watson, Michael: Jeff-Vander-Lou: Against 
all odds (12-75-181 



U.S. Senate Votes In 94th Congress 


U.S. Senate Votes In 95th Congress 


U.S. House Votes in 94th Congress 


U.S. House In 95th Congress (12-74-25] 

U.S. House and Senate Votes 1977 

[12-78-131; abortion issues votes 

(12-78-281; ratings by special Interest 
groups (12-78-301 ; attendance record 
for 1976 and 1977 (12-78-30] 


79th General Assembly House Votes 


79th General Assembly Senate Votes 


Staff report: refutes media on conservative 
voting trend (12-77-71 

Page Forty 


1. Voting Participation, 



centage of 834 recorcied votes in 
1978 on which representative voted 

“yea” or “nay.” 

2. Voting Participation, 



gress. Percentage of 1,540 recorded 

votes in 1977 and 1978 on 


representative voted “yea 

” or ‘ 





1 Clay 



2 Young 



3 Gephardt 



4 Skelton 



5 Bolling 



6 Coleman 



7 Taylor 



8 Ichord 



9 Volkmer 



10 Burlison 






1 Metcalfe^ 



2 Murphy 



3 Russo 



4 Derwinski 



5 Fary 



6 Hyde** 



7 Collins 



8 Rostenkowski 



9 Yates 



10 Mikva 



11 Annunzio 



12 Crane 



1 3 McClory 



14 Erlenborn 



15 Corcoran** 



16 Anderson 



17 O'Brien 



18 Michel** 



19 Railsback 



20 Findley 



21 Madigan 



22 Shipley 



23 Price 



24 Simon 




Democrat Republican 

1. Rep. Ralph H. Metcalfe (D lU.) died 
Oct. 10, 1978. 

t Not eligible for all recorded votes In 

♦ Not eligible for all recorded votes in 
95th Congress. 


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