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Inside Newark: Decline, Rebellion, and the Search for Transformation
Por Robert Curvin
Acciones del libro
Comenzar a leerLongitud: 593 página10 horas
- Editorial:
- Rutgers University Press
- Publicado:
- Jul 9, 2014
- ISBN:
- 9780813572048
- Formato:
- Libro
Descripción
For decades, leaders in Newark, New Jersey, have claimed their city is about to return to its vibrant past. How accurate is this prediction? Is Newark on the verge of revitalization? Robert Curvin, who was one of New Jersey’s outstanding civil rights leaders, examines the city, chronicling its history, politics, and culture. Throughout the pages of Inside Newark, Curvin approaches his story both as an insider who is rooting for Newark and as an objective social scientist illuminating the causes and effects of sweeping changes in the city
Based on historical records and revealing interviews with over one hundred residents and officials, Inside Newark traces Newark’s history from the 1950s, when the city was a thriving industrial center, to the era of Mayor Cory Booker. Along the way, Curvin covers the disturbances of July 1967, called a riot by the media and a rebellion by residents; the administration of Kenneth Gibson, the first black mayor of a large northeastern city; and the era of Sharpe James, who was found guilty of corruption. Curvin examines damaging housing and mortgage policies, the state takeover of the failing school system, the persistence of corruption and patronage, Newark’s shifting ethnic and racial composition, positive developments in housing and business complexes, and the reign of ambitious mayor Cory Booker.
Inside Newark reveals a central weakness that continues to plague Newark—that throughout this history, elected officials have not risen to the challenges they have faced. Curvin calls on those in positions of influence to work for the social and economic improvement of all groups and concludes with suggestions for change, focusing on education reform, civic participation, financial management, partnerships with agencies and business, improving Newark’s City Council, and limiting the term of the mayor. If Newark’s leadership can encompass these changes, Newark will have a chance at a true turnaround.
Watch a video with Robert Curvin:
Watch video now. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-d6zV2OQ8A).
Based on historical records and revealing interviews with over one hundred residents and officials, Inside Newark traces Newark’s history from the 1950s, when the city was a thriving industrial center, to the era of Mayor Cory Booker. Along the way, Curvin covers the disturbances of July 1967, called a riot by the media and a rebellion by residents; the administration of Kenneth Gibson, the first black mayor of a large northeastern city; and the era of Sharpe James, who was found guilty of corruption. Curvin examines damaging housing and mortgage policies, the state takeover of the failing school system, the persistence of corruption and patronage, Newark’s shifting ethnic and racial composition, positive developments in housing and business complexes, and the reign of ambitious mayor Cory Booker.
Inside Newark reveals a central weakness that continues to plague Newark—that throughout this history, elected officials have not risen to the challenges they have faced. Curvin calls on those in positions of influence to work for the social and economic improvement of all groups and concludes with suggestions for change, focusing on education reform, civic participation, financial management, partnerships with agencies and business, improving Newark’s City Council, and limiting the term of the mayor. If Newark’s leadership can encompass these changes, Newark will have a chance at a true turnaround.
Watch a video with Robert Curvin:
Watch video now. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-d6zV2OQ8A).
Acciones del libro
Comenzar a leerInformación sobre el libro
Inside Newark: Decline, Rebellion, and the Search for Transformation
Por Robert Curvin
Longitud: 593 página10 horas
Descripción
For decades, leaders in Newark, New Jersey, have claimed their city is about to return to its vibrant past. How accurate is this prediction? Is Newark on the verge of revitalization? Robert Curvin, who was one of New Jersey’s outstanding civil rights leaders, examines the city, chronicling its history, politics, and culture. Throughout the pages of Inside Newark, Curvin approaches his story both as an insider who is rooting for Newark and as an objective social scientist illuminating the causes and effects of sweeping changes in the city
Based on historical records and revealing interviews with over one hundred residents and officials, Inside Newark traces Newark’s history from the 1950s, when the city was a thriving industrial center, to the era of Mayor Cory Booker. Along the way, Curvin covers the disturbances of July 1967, called a riot by the media and a rebellion by residents; the administration of Kenneth Gibson, the first black mayor of a large northeastern city; and the era of Sharpe James, who was found guilty of corruption. Curvin examines damaging housing and mortgage policies, the state takeover of the failing school system, the persistence of corruption and patronage, Newark’s shifting ethnic and racial composition, positive developments in housing and business complexes, and the reign of ambitious mayor Cory Booker.
Inside Newark reveals a central weakness that continues to plague Newark—that throughout this history, elected officials have not risen to the challenges they have faced. Curvin calls on those in positions of influence to work for the social and economic improvement of all groups and concludes with suggestions for change, focusing on education reform, civic participation, financial management, partnerships with agencies and business, improving Newark’s City Council, and limiting the term of the mayor. If Newark’s leadership can encompass these changes, Newark will have a chance at a true turnaround.
Watch a video with Robert Curvin:
Watch video now. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-d6zV2OQ8A).
Based on historical records and revealing interviews with over one hundred residents and officials, Inside Newark traces Newark’s history from the 1950s, when the city was a thriving industrial center, to the era of Mayor Cory Booker. Along the way, Curvin covers the disturbances of July 1967, called a riot by the media and a rebellion by residents; the administration of Kenneth Gibson, the first black mayor of a large northeastern city; and the era of Sharpe James, who was found guilty of corruption. Curvin examines damaging housing and mortgage policies, the state takeover of the failing school system, the persistence of corruption and patronage, Newark’s shifting ethnic and racial composition, positive developments in housing and business complexes, and the reign of ambitious mayor Cory Booker.
Inside Newark reveals a central weakness that continues to plague Newark—that throughout this history, elected officials have not risen to the challenges they have faced. Curvin calls on those in positions of influence to work for the social and economic improvement of all groups and concludes with suggestions for change, focusing on education reform, civic participation, financial management, partnerships with agencies and business, improving Newark’s City Council, and limiting the term of the mayor. If Newark’s leadership can encompass these changes, Newark will have a chance at a true turnaround.
Watch a video with Robert Curvin:
Watch video now. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-d6zV2OQ8A).
- Editorial:
- Rutgers University Press
- Publicado:
- Jul 9, 2014
- ISBN:
- 9780813572048
- Formato:
- Libro
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Inside Newark - Robert Curvin
Inside Newark
RIVERGATE REGIONALS
Rivergate Regionals is a collection of books published by Rutgers University Press focusing on New Jersey and the surrounding area. Since its founding in 1936, Rutgers University Press has been devoted to serving the people of New Jersey and this collection solidifies that tradition. The books in the Rivergate Regionals Collection explore history, politics, nature and the environment, recreation, sports, health and medicine, and the arts. By incorporating the collection within the larger Rutgers University Press editorial program, the Rivergate Regionals Collection enhances our commitment to publishing the best books about our great state and the surrounding region.
Inside Newark
Decline, Rebellion, and the Search for Transformation
ROBERT CURVIN
RUTGERS UNIVERSITY PRESS
New Brunswick, New Jersey and London
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Curvin, Robert.
Inside Newark : decline, rebellion, and the search for transformation / Robert Curvin.
pages cm.—(Rivergate regionals collection)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-8135-6571-2 (hardback)
ISBN 978-0-8135-6572-9 (e-book)
1. Newark (N.J.)—Politics and government. 2. Political culture—New Jersey—Newark. 3. Urban renewal—New Jersey—Newark. 4. Newark (N.J.)—Social conditions. 5. Newark (N.J.)—Economic conditions. I. Title.
F144.N657C87 2014
320.09749'32—dc23
2013037741
A British Cataloging-in-Publication record for this book is available from the British Library.
Copyright © 2014 by Robert Curvin
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. Please contact Rutgers University Press, 106 Somerset Street, New Brunswick, NJ 08901. The only exception to this prohibition is fair use
as defined by U.S. copyright law.
Visit our website: http://rutgerspress.rutgers.edu
Manufactured in the United States of America
In memory of Professor Duane Lockard, whose teaching
and ideas are very much a part of this book.
Contents
Preface and Acknowledgments
Introduction: A Newarker Examines His City
1. About Newark
2. Winds of Change
3. The Collapse of the Machine
4. Rebellion and City Politics
5. Political Mobilization in Black Newark
6. The Arrival of Black Power
7. The Dancing Mayor
8. Black Mayor on a White Horse
9. Pity the Children
Conclusion: The Search for Transformation
Notes
Index
Preface and Acknowledgments
At first, I was going to write a memoir about my life in Newark. A memoir would invariably have to be about me and it would be hard to give the many people I have worked with, and some who have done much more than I, sufficient attention. I then wondered if I should write a dispassionate, scholarly work on the city’s politics. I decided that I could not do that either, for I could not avoid mentioning the movements, campaigns, and organizations that I have been involved with. I could not pretend that I was looking from the outside in. So this book is a hybrid of sorts, a mix of scholarly data sources and my personal experiences and reflections.
Including one’s personal stories in a work that needs to be fair and grounded in fact is no easy feat. I, as author, have opinions and biases about some of the matters and individuals that I am obligated to write about. I have belonged to a long list of nonprofits in the city and I have contributed money and advice to political candidates. Some of the individuals I write about have been close friends, or in a few cases, former students. I have done several things in my effort to achieve a balanced account, including referring to historical records and archives of events I witnessed. For example, although I was the director of the Black and Puerto Rican Convention in 1969, I returned to many of the original records of that event as well as the excellent reporting of the convention by local newspapers. Secondly, I have talked with well over one hundred people about the events that I discuss over six decades of city life. For many of the interviews, I used a video camera, giving me a unique resource with some of the key figures in Newark’s contemporary history. I also had one of the best local sounding boards a researcher can ever find: Richard Cammarieri, who works for the New Community Corporation and is a dedicated soldier for every good cause in the city. During the early stages of writing this book, he read every chapter and returned with heaps of comments and criticisms. We did not always agree, but he often forced me to rethink or reappraise a statement, a comment, or a conclusion. In some cases, he pointed me to information or data of which I was not aware.
Many others also helped in reviewing the manuscript and offered helpful suggestions. Roland Anglin read several of the early chapters and a few of the later ones as well. Leonard Lieberman, a special friend of more than forty years, rendered timely critiques. Norman Glickman provided editorial advice on the first two chapters and was a terrific partner in our graduate seminar on postindustrial cities. Dan O’Flaherty, whose knowledge of the economic history of Newark and its financial challenges is unsurpassed, was generous with his time and insights. Thanks to Lisa Keller for her suggestions and encouragement. Clement A. Price would occasionally ask, Bob, did you see this, or that?
Usually it was a gem I needed to know about. Nancy Zak made files of valuable data available to me. David Levering Lewis gave me several important suggestions and was a vital source of encouragement. Richard Roper shared his thoughts on the history and politics of the city. Special thanks to Kenneth T. Jackson and his nudge to tighten up the prose. Thanks also to Kendal Whitlock, Dennis Wygmans, and Frank Curvin, all of whom read parts of the manuscript. And special thanks to Joan Waring who gave me the first push: Bob, when are you going to write your story?
I am deeply indebted to all the staff at the Charles F. Cummings New Jersey Information Center at the Newark Public Library. The librarians there are simply superb and clearly have been left with some of that Charles Cummings devotion to Newark, and the countless researchers who are there every day. I would also like to thank Robert Morasco, Newark’s city clerk, and his staff for providing me with access to the city archives. Special thanks to those city employees who granted me interviews or were helpful in making information available. Timothy Brown was a very careful and effective videographer. Beth Cohen, a Princeton student, spent a summer helping me to understand the East Ward. Nicholas Brown provided valuable assistance drafting charts and graphs. Tim Crist, president of the Newark History Society, and Warren Grover, the society’s vice president, were supportive and always encouraging. They have made the telling and learning of the city’s history an enriching community endeavor. Although the list is far too long to mention, I want to thank all of the people who gave videotaped interviews.
I owe a special thanks to James Hughes, dean of the Bloustein School of Planning and Public Policy at Rutgers University, who invited me to hang out following my retirement from philanthropy because I thought I might want to write a book. It was a critical step in the development of this project and gave me the opportunity to converse with Roland Anglin, Norman Glickman, Sanford Jaffe, Kathe Newman, Linda Stomato, Carl Van Horn, Cliff Zukin, and Dean Hughes as well, and to meet and interact with Bloustein students, all of which added to my learning. Many thanks go to Don Sutton for his advice. Adi Hovav was a terrific first editor. Many thanks to Marlie Wasserman and all of the staff at Rutgers University Press. Marlie saw possibilities in a pretty rough draft and provided the guidance to complete this project.
Last, but surely not least, thanks to my wife, Patricia. I could not have done this without her support, encouragement, and advice. She was there whenever I needed an outside eye for some of the more complicated passages. She has tolerated—usually with good spirit—the mounds of files and papers in the house.
While this has been a work of many hands, I alone am responsible for every error, every mistake, and every judgment and misjudgment in this book. Over the years, I have spent many hours in conversation with the residents of Newark as well as with the many people who have important roles in the city but do not live within its borders. I have also attended many public and governmental meetings regarding issues of large and small import. I am aware that fairness and objectivity, as in life, can be a challenge whether writing about an adversary or a friend. I have tried my best to be forthright and fair to all. There are indeed many risks and complications in writing from the inside. However, there are also opportunities and possibilities for capturing a richer, more complex, and more powerful story. As best as I could, I have tried to achieve that in an effort to provide the kind of learning that might help Newark and urban dwellers elsewhere move their places forward.
Inside Newark
Introduction
A Newarker Examines His City
ON THE EVENING of July 12, 1967, I was in my kitchen with my wife and four-year-old son, Frank. It was about 9:00 P.M., and we were having a cup of tea with our guest, Connie Brown, who had come to Newark to work with Students for a Democratic Society (SDS). The phone rang. The woman on the line told me with great excitement that a man had been beaten at the Fourth Precinct police station in Newark’s Central Ward and I should get there right away. I left immediately. When I arrived at the precinct about fifteen minutes later, a large crowd had already assembled. I discovered that a black cab driver, who I later learned was a man named John Smith, had been dragged into the precinct by his legs, with his body bouncing along the pavement. Some observers thought he was dead. For everyone on the scene, the anger was intense. One could sense the fury in the air.
The crowd seemed to grow by the second. I decided to go into the police station and learn exactly what had happened. When I went to the desk, an officer told me a man had been arrested, that he was in a cell, and that he could not tell me anything more. Just at that moment, Police Inspector Kenneth Melchior arrived. Melchior, who recognized me from my civil rights activity, spoke to the officer at the desk and then asked that I accompany him to the cell. At the cell, I saw a man in great pain. He complained that he had been beaten. He said that he had bruises on his head and severe pains in his side and stomach. Melchior said that an ambulance was on the way. Melchior and I then went to the lobby of the precinct, where other community leaders had gathered. The crowd had now swelled to several hundred. The police asked a select group of community leaders, including myself, to tell the crowd to disperse and go home, that the prisoner was on his way to the hospital. That did not seem like a feasible option to the group of about seven people, which included Tim Still, a revered leader of public housing tenants, and Oliver Lofton, the director of the Legal Services Program. I was asked to go out and speak to the crowd. I mounted a car that was parked in front of the building and told the crowd that the prisoner was alive, that this was another example of police mistreatment of a black citizen, but that we should not respond with violence. We could not win or accomplish anything that way. I urged the crowd to organize a peaceful march to City Hall where we would let the mayor and city officials know that we would not accept this kind of treatment anymore.
Suddenly rocks began to fly over my head, aimed at the police. The police retreated into the precinct house, as did I. As the police were donning their riot gear, we pleaded with them to allow us to make another try at calming the crowd and organizing a peaceful demonstration. We went back outside and I mounted the car with a bullhorn provided by the police. Perhaps one-fourth of the crowd responded to my request and began to line up for a march, but before I could dismount the car, a hail of rocks and Molotov cocktails rained through the air, aimed at the police and the building right behind me. The burning gasoline slid down the façade of the building. With nightsticks flailing, the police then charged toward the crowd, and one of the worst riots in American history began. For Newark, perched along the Passaic River and founded in 1666 by Puritans from Connecticut, those five days in July 1967 would deeply change city life and politics.
Newark, with all of its troubles, is a many-sided story, full of good life, bad life, fun times, painful times, opportunity, and many of the remnants and legacies of an old American industrial city as well as the intimations of a postindustrial city. Newark speaks volumes regarding the plight of America’s urban places and the enduring effects of poverty, disadvantage, and race. And I am an elder of the Newark story.
I was born in Newark and spent my childhood in the adjacent town of Belleville, a section populated mainly by Italian immigrants. I had my first formal job as a teenager operating an elevator in Bamberger’s department store and attended college at Rutgers University in Newark. I have lived in Newark since I returned from military service in the 1950s, interrupted only by four years in Princeton attending graduate school. I raised my children in the city and was a leader in the Newark protest movement for racial justice in the 1960s. I was also part of the cadre that worked for Kenneth A. Gibson’s drive to become the first black mayor of Newark. So I am the guy who gets the Newark questions at a party in New York or on a plane ride to Washington. Were you there during the riots? Do you know Cory Booker? Do you think he will be president some day?
It isn’t ever really possible to have a complete and satisfactory conversation about this sometimes wild and rambunctious city, which nonetheless has made me and my family love it. How, for example, do you explain mayor-council relations and the horse trading at City Hall in a casual exchange? How do you paint the variety and vast differences among the city’s ethnic and racial neighborhoods? How do you describe the pathos of Newark’s poverty, the down-and-out families, the crime, the bold and brutal reminders of racial injustice and segregation? How do you tell someone over the boom of airplane engines that Newark is also a vibrant and hopeful city, driven by gritty determination? Although Newark is in many ways a unique city, it is also a representative case of American urban life, a metaphor for both the resiliency and excitement of the urban journey as well as the truth about urban hardship. While Newark is by no means the only city that is home to large numbers of people who are economically at the bottom of the ladder, it is rare to find another city in the United States with such a high proportion of poor people.
For several decades, Newark has been undergoing a slow but steady recovery from the decline that began just prior to World War II and reached a peak shortly after the civil disturbances in 1967. Newark today is old, tired, and decrepit, but it is rebuilding. In downtown Newark, there is the world-class New Jersey Performing Arts Center, as well as the Newark Museum, which ranks among the best of its peers in the nation. A few large law firms remain in the city, and there has been a spate of new commercial enterprises. Recent major developments include the Prudential Center, home to the New Jersey Devils, a National Hockey League franchise, and a venue for concerts, circuses, and college basketball games. Since 1970, there has been extensive growth among the area’s five colleges and universities, bringing 40,000 commuting and residential students into the city each day. Newark’s seaport and airport, both under the management of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, are major employers and contributors to the local economy. While Newark’s neighborhoods lag behind downtown renewal projects, they have not been neglected, at least not physically. Almost every poor residential area of the city is dotted with handsome new brick-front homes, replacing the traditional wood-frame housing from the beginning of the last century.
Still, there are graphic signs of a decayed and abandoned city, often in close proximity to the shining new developments. Empty, crumbling structures and the barren lots that have marred the cityscape for decades remain. If you were to stand on Broad Street at Military Park, just west of the dazzling performing arts complex, and look southward along the city’s commercial spine, you would see the darkened windows of a huge abandoned department store building, beckoning for change. The crime rate began falling in 1999, but crime remains a serious social and political concern that has worsened with the effects of the recent economic downturn. Joblessness generally continues to be a major challenge. Most significant, there are only a handful of schools in which pupils are meeting state standards in language arts and mathematics. As some law firms move into the city, others leave. Day by day, the old, poor, and struggling Newark challenges the new, recovering Newark in defining the city’s image, quality of life, and future.
Most of us have a primal attachment to the place of our rearing. Other than religion and family relations, one is hard-pressed to find a more frequently discussed subject in the conduct of human affairs. Although places cannot physically hold our memories, they can help us to recall the warmth of good times as well as the less pleasant memories that shape our lives. The passion that went into writing this book stems from the inseparability of my life and attachment to Newark, not to mention the trauma of witnessing a historic rebellion. I do not expect most readers to share this passion or experience as I attempt to chronicle the political and economic events that undergird Newark’s decline and its recent struggle to reinvent itself. Newark is a story of the struggle to transform a postindustrial American city and all that implies. These are themes that have been examined many times, especially in the field of urban studies. Nevertheless, I introduce personal observations as well as the observations and experiences of those who were closely involved with city life and politics. My aim is to use my access and knowledge of the community, its leaders, and the city’s political culture to illuminate the nexus of ethnic succession and urban decline. In doing so, I also address the limitations of racial and ethnic politics in Newark, which came to represent a new urban reality. As a result of the departure of the white ethnic groups, the city’s black and Latino population became the majority and captured the key political offices. The opening of the political system was supposed to come with group benefits—or so argued the democratic theorists. But unlike other ethnic groups, political power for blacks and Latinos did not readily translate into group benefits in Newark.
The politics of decline offers only a partial explanation. The leaders of postindustrial Newark made choices, and many, if not most, chose the least common denominator—simply trading for a job or position with little or no regard for the social concerns or conditions of the poorer citizens of the city. Indeed, Newark has a long history of patronage embedded in almost every aspect of city politics. Many American cities, not just Newark, struggle to escape this conundrum. Ultimately, the extremes of democracy have to be balanced with efforts to build a civic culture that is not overly reliant on electoral politics. At the risk of generalizing, Newark’s civic culture is not strong. Although there are a few examples of what ordinary citizens can do to protect the interests of neighborhoods and common citizens, overall, Newark’s civic culture is too often overwhelmed by the strength of extreme electoral politics.
Mayor Cory A. Booker articulated a vision rare for any urban community and certainly rare for Newark. We in Newark, in this city, are going to lead the nation in the transformation of urban communities,
he frequently promised. Did he deliver? Can there be rejuvenation in Newark with benefits flowing to residents, leading to a better quality of life in the city? Can there be meaningful reform of education? Can new leaders address the growing cadre of jobless young black and Latino men, surely one of the most important challenges of all, with more effectiveness than their predecessors? As I attempt to examine the extent to which Newark can reach for such a future, I rely on its recent history; an examination of its social systems and politics; its relationship to the regional, state, and national environment; and the stories and voices of the many people who have been a part of Newark’s journey over the last half century.
1
About Newark
ONE OF THE NATION’S oldest cities, Newark was founded in 1666 by a faction of Congregationalists who ventured south from New Haven, Connecticut, to establish a church and community that they fervently hoped would continue their religious and social values. The adult settlers were all born in England, but they also considered themselves New Englanders. They were deeply committed to the Bible and sought to establish a community where church and civil state were in close alliance.
¹ Why these settlers, about three hundred strong, left New Haven had as much to do with political events in England as it did with circumstances in New Haven. The New England families had sided with the forces that had executed King Charles I and had thus interrupted the monarchy. They were at peace with the times and their autonomous church-centered governing system; membership in the church and land holding were requirements for voting rights—that is, for men only. However, when the monarchy was restored with the return of Charles II, their world took a disastrous turn. Soon an edict came from England that the New Haven colonies were to be merged with the state of Connecticut. Life would surely be different. New Haven churches restricted the vote to members, while Connecticut churches did not. New Haven churches also restricted the sacrament of baptism to church members and their infant children. In contrast, many Connecticut churches allowed for the baptism of grandchildren of church members even if their parents had not become members of the church. Those in New Haven would no longer be able to live by their own rules and conception of a godly life, and so they left for what was to become Newark, a place on the Passaick
River, carefully explored and purchased from the Native Americans by a delegation led by Robert Treat.²
In an essay presented to the Newark History Society, Tim Crist offered an illuminating reflection on the motivation of the settlers and how the patterns of their lives provide an important backdrop for understanding the relationship of Newark to many of its adjacent communities. Crist, a trustee of the Newark Public Library and the president of the Newark History Society, points out that unlike the settlers of New York, the founders of Newark did not come to establish a trading post or to build vast estates that could be worked by slaves and indentured servants. They aimed simply to worship God and build a common life together. They shared the New England view that when a town got too big and there was no more land to distribute within easy distance of the church, it was time to move to the next area with land and establish a new church and a new town government. As a result of this New England tradition of church-centered community, Newark shrank while surrounding towns expanded. Crist further explains, Today, Newark is comprised of only twenty-five square miles, but the city has historical ties to all the surrounding towns. . . . Newark’s current lack of scale and lack of space, which clearly limits so many choices, can be traced to its founders and their puritan ideals of church and community.
³
Located a mere fifteen miles from New York City, Newark developed rather quickly and became a leading industrial center during the late 1800s. Excellent geographical and natural features for water and eventually rail transportation helped drive development. By the beginning of the twentieth century, Newark was one of the leading manufacturing cities in the nation. It was of course a beneficiary of the Industrial Revolution in Europe, as immigrants from that continent frequently brought their skill and entrepreneurship to America to tap new markets. Newark was a popular destination for immigrants from all over Europe, especially Germany, England, Ireland, and Italy.
The names and brands that originated in Newark give a measure of the city’s role in industry: Dr. Edward Weston of Weston Electrical Dynamo; Wiss, maker of scissors and shears; shoe manufacturers Johnston and Murphy; John Wesley Hyatt, the inventor of celluloid; the Schickhaus meat producers; Mrs. Wagner’s pies; Breyer’s ice cream; George and William Clark, who produced thread; and Carrier engineering. The most concentrated area of industry is known as the Ironbound, where paint and chemicals as well as metalwork and crafts were produced. (The Ironbound district acquires its name from the fact that its geography has been shaped by the numerous rail lines—Pennsylvania, Jersey Central, and B & O—that once ran through Newark.) Other areas of the city had a variety of small and large enterprises, such as an electrical products plant in the Third Ward; a Tiffany jewelry factory at the northern end of the city; beer factories with the labels of Krueger, Ballantine, and Pabst in several areas; bread, food, and candy makers that often gave off such sweet scents that it was possible to close one’s eyes and identify the neighborhood through which you were passing. The odors of the factories where leather goods were made, or tanneries, were notorious for their smell.
Like urban places throughout the Northeast and Midwest, Newark has lost much of its manufacturing base to cheap labor in the Sunbelt or abroad. The loss has had a devastating impact on Newark’s economy. Like Boston, Detroit, and Baltimore, the city is disadvantaged by the well-known list of ills common to urban America. Crime severely tarnishes its reputation and is a major hurdle in convincing businesses to come to Newark. The education of children, many of them from poverty-stricken families, remains a topic of conflict and controversy. In 2011, the graduation rate from the city’s public high schools was just above 50 percent, and many students who graduate are still unprepared for the job market.⁴ And Newark, like many postindustrial cities, is heavily dependent on subsidies from the state and federal governments to meet the service needs of its residents.
The most striking feature has been the decrease in population over the last six decades. In 1950, the population totaled 434,000; in 2000, it dropped to a low of 272,500. According to the 2010 census, the city’s population is now 277,000. While over half of the population is black and Newark has had black mayoral leadership since 1970, the demographics are shifting as well: the black majority will likely be closer to parity in several decades with the Latino population, which currently numbers about 93,000 (33.8 percent). Twenty-eight percent of the city’s population lives below the poverty line, and the median household income is $35,659, compared to a state median of $69,811. Only 25.3 percent of Newark families own their own homes, one of the lowest rates for any city in the nation, and a mere 60 percent of the adult population over twenty-five years old has a high school diploma.⁵
Since its founding, Newark has undergone many transformations, with each era leaving behind its own indelible mark. The 1967 disturbances surely worsened the city’s plight, but it did not mark the onset of Newark’s troubles. While the postriot period saw a burst of disinvestment, the signs of exodus and decline began to appear in the 1930s, when the entrepreneurial and business leadership packed up and headed for the suburbs. In her study of Newark schools, the prominent urban education scholar Jean Anyon wrote: In the thirties, a decline in economic resources led to a decline in city services and in the maintenance of the infrastructure. Lack of resources had a dampening effect on education as well. . . . The bias against cities in the state’s reliance on local property taxes to fund education became apparent in this decade, as dwindling ‘ratables’ led to impoverishment of the city government and no meaningful state or federal support existed.
⁶ The mansions on High Street, with their views of the New York skyline, had housed some of the wealthiest and most powerful families in America. They were, however, on small lots. Suburbia offered copious acreage at low prices. The Newarker, the Chamber of Commerce of Newark magazine, would lament as early as 1925 that no one lives in Newark anymore, but instead in the city’s suburbs.
⁷ Times were very hard during the Great Depression, particularly in industrial Newark where many manufacturing plants slowed to a halt. The boom of the World War II years inspired false hopes that the city would regain economic prominence. It was not to be.
A Tour of the City
More than a century ago, the various areas that make up the city of Newark were given names based on an historical, structural, or demographic feature. Thus were named neighborhoods such as Weequahic, Ivy Hill, Ironbound, Clinton Hill, Roseville, or Doodletown. Since the adoption of mayor-council government and ward elections in 1954, city residents are defined by the neighborhoods and wards in which they live. There are five wards in Newark, and dozens of neighborhoods. Elections for the city council are based both on wards and four at-large positions while nine advisory school board positions are filled through at-large elections. (Since 1954, the wards have been redrawn at least twice, thus moving some neighborhoods to different wards. For example, the Roseville neighborhood is now in the West Ward; previously it was in the North Ward.)
FIGURE 1.1. Map of Newark Neighborhoods
Source: Shifting/Forward 2025, City of Newark Master Plan Re-examination Report, February 2009, 2:28
The Central Ward is where the entrepreneurial foundations of the Jewish community were built. Later, the Central Ward would be home to the largest portion of Newark’s black population. In 1953, when the charter change altered the form of government, it also allowed for the creation of five wards. The Third Ward was one of at least three heavily black neighborhoods that were consolidated to create the Central Ward. In the war years of the 1940s, the manufacturing plants of General Electric and the Krueger Brewery hummed in the area. Springfield Avenue, the commercial spine of the ward, still runs through the community from the edge of the downtown business district of the city westward to the neighboring town of Irvington. In the 1940s and 1950s, the Central Ward was a lively, swinging place with numerous taverns and social clubs. It was the place of business and worship for Jewish families, and it was the stomping ground of Prohibition kingpin Abner Longie
Zwillman, perhaps Newark’s first national celebrity. It was also the site of an emerging black political strength and produced the first black elected leadership in Essex County in the 1940s and in the city in 1954. For Newark’s blacks, it was an area well known for its poverty, its run-down housing, and other symbols of second-class citizenship.
When Jewish families left the Central Ward beginning in the 1920s, they migrated to the city’s South Ward and established a community rich in religious traditions, culture, and politics. The Jewish community of Newark has left many enduring imprints on the city. The South Ward’s Weequahic High School, which opened in 1929, was one of the area’s best schools, and many of its students went on to four-year colleges and universities, producing a second generation of professionals in law, medicine, and science, including the literary giant Philip Roth. The ward is also home to Beth Israel Medical Center, a world-class institution founded over one hundred years ago. Leaders of The Beth,
now owned by a private network of health facilities, fought the impulse to leave Newark during the city’s hardest times. The South Ward has two distinct sections: Clinton Hill, which is on the ward’s northern side, and the Weequahic area. Prior to the major and destructive bifurcation of the area in the early 1960s by a large highway (Interstate 78), the neighborhoods were more coherent. Today, most of the ward is inhabited by blacks and Latinos. The Clinton Hill area is severely decayed and has high rates of poverty. The Weequahic area is largely black, but economically diverse. Many of the city’s black civic and political leaders occupy the well-kept single-family homes in this section of the ward.
While the Central Ward was a mostly Jewish community in the early twentieth century, the North Ward was the home of the majority of Italian immigrant families. The Italians, who came to Newark mostly from Naples, Sicily, and points in southern Italy, formed a tightly knit community around the Catholic parishes that dotted the area, which included family-owned shops and businesses that later grew into major enterprises in trucking, construction, crafts such as shoe making and tailoring, and services. Italian American elected officials who won offices in the 1940s, such as Mayor Ralph Villani, often lived in the North Ward. This ward was also the bailiwick of Mafia leader Richie The Boot
Boiardo and his successor son, Tony Boy. The North Ward today has but a small share of the Italian Americans who lived there in the 1950s through the 1970s; most of that community headed to the suburbs and New Jersey Shore communities. Today, North Ward residents are largely Latino, though there are smaller groups of whites and blacks. Steve Adubato Sr., whose family came to the United States in the late nineteenth century, continues to live in the North Ward, although his children joined the exodus to the suburbs. Adubato is one of New Jersey’s most powerful political leaders, and the North Ward is his political base. He operates his North Ward Center, which includes a network of social services and a charter school, from an old mansion on Mount Prospect Avenue. The North Ward is also home to Branch Brook Park, a four-hundred-acre park that now boasts the largest collection of blossoming cherry trees in the United States.
The West Ward was once the home of predominantly Irish and Italian civil servants, including firemen and police officers. Today, the largest group in the area is African American, followed by Haitian immigrants, although a large private housing development adjacent to Ivy Hill Park is home to immigrants from almost every corner of the world. The West Ward is also home to the largest Ukrainian Catholic church in the United States. In 2000, when the city’s wards were last redrawn, the West Ward gained parts of the old North Ward such as the Roseville section and the area next to an entrance to Branch Brook Park. However, the redrawing carved out the famous Roman Catholic Basilica of the Sacred Heart to ensure that it remained in the North Ward. South Orange Avenue traverses through the Central Ward, into and through the West Ward, continuing into adjacent South Orange.
The East Ward was home to a very diverse population that included Irish, Italian, and Polish immigrants, African Americans, and Portuguese. Today the population is dominated by Portuguese and Brazilian immigrants. The East Ward is generally divided into three distinct areas—Ironbound, Dayton South, and the downtown central business district east of Broad Street. The East Ward in particular also has a rich history of protest and social action, beginning with antinoise campaigns in the 1930s aimed at the growing air traffic over its neighborhoods. In more recent years, Ironbound activists fought against the toxic dumping and resultant pollution from the large and numerous chemical and paint factories in the area. Unfortunately, much of the area along the once vital river and the river itself have been despoiled by the spillage of dioxin, which was manufactured in the area.⁸ Ironbound community groups have also led efforts to protect Riverbank Park, which is located on the northern edge of the ward and abuts the Passaic River. With the airport, the strong industrial and shipping businesses, and a very entrepreneurial Portuguese and Brazilian community, the East Ward remains the most economically vibrant area of the city. The East Ward’s Portuguese and Brazilian restaurants and food shops are patronized by people from throughout the region, and on any weekend evening, Ferry Street, the commercial spine, is likely to be crowded with foot traffic. For more than a century, the Ironbound has been the home to most of the key manufacturers in the city. The Ironbound Manufacturing Association has for years been a fulcrum of business and political power.
City Politics and the Region
Newarkers live in two political worlds: the nonpartisan city and the partisan County of Essex, which includes twenty other municipalities. The nearby towns of East Orange, Irvington, and Orange have a large percentage of poor people much like Newark, while towns such as Millburn–Short Hills rank among the wealthiest communities in the nation. When Newark’s population was 434,000 in 1950, it represented over 50 percent of the county’s total. Now the population of Newark represents about 35 percent of the county’s total population, which was 765,000 in 2010. City political leaders often enter politics through the activities of the county Democratic or Republican organizations, either as district leaders or as party functionaries. Although Newark city elections are nonpartisan, the partisan elections for district leader at the neighborhood level are very important, for district leaders select the ward chairmen for the party. It is the ward chair who can tap into the patronage system of the city and the county: he or she often identifies new emerging political activists, has control of the Election Day apparatus in the ward, and is likely to be in touch with residents/voters in the community. To build a local political machine, one has to have major influence and control over district leaders. In years past, the county control has passed from Protestants to Germans to a coalition of Irish and Jews. In the past decade however, the Newark-based political machine made up mainly of Italian Americans (led by Steve Adubato Sr. and county executive Joe DiVencenzo), blacks, and Latinos has controlled the county Democratic political apparatus.
Most employees in Newark’s private and public sector jobs live outside the city, somewhere in Essex County, or in more distant suburban communities. In 2000, according to a report of the Newark Alliance, an organization sponsored by local business leaders to promote development, just 24.6 percent of the 147,000 jobs located in Newark were held by city residents while about 21 percent were held by Essex County residents.⁹ That means that more than half of Newark’s jobs were being held by people who did not live in Essex County, let alone Newark. That is one reason why Newark has such a hard time sustaining commercial activity after dark. Some residents of the more affluent areas of the county such as South Orange, Millburn–Short Hills, and Glen Ridge have little to do with Newark. They are loath to share or consolidate services with Newark, which might cut costs for the cities and suburbs. Some suburban residents fear the city because of the frequent incidents of crime. In 2008, several suburban high schools canceled scheduled football games with Newark schools after a rash of shootings in Newark.¹⁰ Many suburban residents consider the cities to be responsible for their high property taxes, which is partly true, particularly since the New Jersey Supreme Court ordered the state to equalize funding for poor school districts (see chapter 9). Most of the commercial activities that once were within the city of Newark are now available at shopping malls in Livingston, Short Hills, and elsewhere. Federal, state, and county offices are located in Newark, but that doesn’t bring many people to the city. However, there are reasons people travel to or through Newark. The Newark Museum, the New Jersey Performing Arts Center (NJPAC), and the Prudential Center, which is both a major entertainment venue and the home of the New Jersey Devil’s hockey team, bring many suburban residents to the city. And suburbanites heading to far-off places are likely to use Newark Liberty Airport or Penn Station in downtown Newark. The city’s governmental and civic institutions are staffed and governed by a combination of city residents and suburban dwellers, and many suburban residents grew up in Newark or lived, worked, or attended college in Newark. Some remain deeply involved in Newark’s cultural and political worlds.
Why Newark Struggles
It is always risky to suggest this or that issue explains the dynamics of a community. Nonetheless, several issues help explain Newark’s predicament, its decline, and its ongoing struggles. The powerful legacy of housing and mortgage policies; the historic and continuing impact of racism, poverty, and economic disadvantage; the culture of corruption in the city and state; the political fragmentation of decision making; and the city’s small size have all contributed to Newark today. Again, it would be imprudent to distill Newark’s problems down to one simple thing. Newark’s challenges are a prism of what plagues contemporary urban areas around the nation. A look back explains the complexity and depth of today’s Newark.
HOUSING POLICY
The discriminatory antiurban and antiblack national housing policies established by the Home Owners Loan Corporation in the 1930s, and later by its successor, the Federal Housing Administration (FHA), made a deep and perhaps indelible imprint in the social makeup of urban and suburban America. The FHA, created to stimulate the housing and construction industries by offering mortgage insurance to homebuyers, promulgated a list of restrictive regulations that essentially prohibited mortgage opportunities when buying a home within the boundaries of certain cities, leading to what is called redlining. The FHA rules also made it impossible for blacks to acquire bank mortgages for home buying anywhere. The message to white residents was to get out of urban communities if you wanted to own a home, which would likely cost less than a rental in the city. When federal appraisers looked at Newark in 1939, for example, not a single neighborhood was worthy of an A
rating, the rating generally required for getting mortgage insurance for a bank loan.¹¹ Neither the tree-lined streets in the city’s stable Jewish enclave in the South Ward nor the larger colonial homes that lined Roseville Avenue in the North Ward qualified. Blacks were locked into the city, and the cities of America bore the disadvantages of race and place. Federal policy set the terms for national and local banks to provide access to capital, and private real estate agencies followed suit. The National Association of Real Estate Boards once had a code of ethics
that listed a long series of undesirable persons (bootleggers, prostitutes, gangsters) who should never be accommodated in the purchase of housing in a good
neighborhood because they would be detrimental to property values. To emphasize the boundaries set by the code, a 1943 NAREB brochure included in the list of prohibited parties to a property sale was a colored man of means who was giving his children a college education and thought they were entitled to live among whites.
¹²
The implications of denying mortgages to an entire group have had far-reaching negative consequences. While the aim was to forestall integration of white neighborhoods, the result kept blacks in separate communities and denied them the housing choices available to everyone else. Almost one hundred years after the end of
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