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1847 University of Cambridge Chancellor election

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Prince Albert in 1842
Prince Albert in 1842

An election for the Chancellorship of the University of Cambridge was held on 25–27 February 1847, after the death of the Duke of Northumberland. Many senior figures in the university hoped that Prince Albert, the Prince Consort could be persuaded to stand and be elected unopposed, but a group from St John's College approached the Earl of Powis, a St John's man. The election became politicised as Powis was a noted Conservative and his opponents feared the consequences from the Whig Government if he was elected. The result was close as the large number of non-resident Members of the Senate from St John's, and Conservative supporters, backed Powis, but the Prince (who was reluctant to enter into a political contest) was elected and agreed to take up the post. The election occurred at a critical point in the history of the University when it was pressed to reform, and the Prince Consort's election allowed progress to be made.

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  • ✪ "Voices and Visions Of St. Louis: Past, Present, Future" Panel One: The Civil War(s) in St. Louis
  • ✪ Albert, Prince Consort
  • ✪ Thomas Babington Macaulay, 1st Baron Macaulay

Transcription

And I want to make sure that we give due justice to all the work that was done by the panelists in preparing things for their presentation. So I do want to get started. We also are, unfortunately, going to lose some of our Washington University friends right after the conference is over, because they've got to catch a flight. So I do want to make sure that we don't roll too much over time. And I know there will be people rolling in, because it's a Thursday. There's lots of classes going on. Students will be coming in later. But we can get started on our conversation among us. So good morning, everybody. I guess I don't need to reintroduce myself, because most of you, or many of you, were here last night. But I'm Diane Davis, the chair of the Department of Urban Planning Design here at the GSD. And these are welcoming remarks to our conference, which you all know the title of. It's right up there on the screen. Before beginning, I have just a few things I want to say. But I will begin with thanking our colleagues at Washington University in St. Louis for their participation, support, and collaboration in this event. The idea for the conference and its evolution was hatched in a conversation with faculty both here at the GSD-- [inaudible], [inaudible], myself, originally, and then adding Toni Griffin and Stephen Gray. But it also developed in parallel with folks at the Sam Fox School of Design and the Center for Humanities at Washington University, which is hosting what's called the Divided Cities Initiative there about St Louis. And I'll say a little more about that later in my remarks. And I was out in St. Louis. Eve's been out in St. Louis. We've had conversations. People like Eric Mumford here, who is here with the group from Washington University, have a bit of a history of a relationship with the GSD. So it's my great pleasure that we're working together on this project, and I'm hoping there'll be more things developing in the future. And that is that we're just beginning the conversation and collaboration about St. Louis, and we want to think about ways that, maybe, together, we can address the many social, racial, spatial, urban planning and design challenges that St. Louis faces, and that we heard about so eloquently last night from our keynote speakers. So today's presentations broadly span a range of disciplines housed both within and outside our school-- that is the GSD-- ranging from planning, design, and architecture to history, sociology, geography, anthropology and the law, among others. Near the end of the day, and for most of tomorrow, we will also then move more directly into practice-based work. So we have activists, also, involved in our panels today, but as well, tomorrow, with the student work that has been interrogating race and design in St. Louis and other American cities. So I'm hoping that together, the kind of mix of disciplines that we are starting to unfold today, and then moving into more practice and activism later today and tomorrow, will evoke the nature of the challenge that we're trying to address in convening all these voices together. I think, also, you'll see tomorrow the sheer commitment of our students and their faculty advisors to directly addressing issues of race and spatial injustice in American cities more broadly. But I'm getting ahead of myself. We will hear a little more about the objectives of our students and what they'll be doing tomorrow. Later today, I'm going to ask Professor Stephen Gray to say a little more. He said something last night, but later, at the end of the conference, before the reception, just to give you a prelude about what the students are doing. But overall, we have three general aims in this day and a half that we have left. One is to raise questions about the history of St. Louis, particularly in terms of patterns and practices of race space and design. Second, to ask how these patterns and practices came to be, and how they work, now, in St. Louis. And three, to link those questions and processes to the current developments and the future of St. Louis, thinking about disinvestment, dispossession, extreme racial segregation, forms of policing, pervasiveness of poverty and social exclusion for the city's poorest citizens, many of them African American. And even to potentially think about restorative planning and design practices. And I really want to emphasize that latter objective. Even though we're starting out with an amazing panel, with the kind of history and the evolution of the city, the aim of the conference is not merely to establish the origins and nature of the terrible urban conditions that have come to define contemporary St. Louis, many of which hit the headlines with the Michael Brown shooting, but those who live in St. Louis have been knowing and living in feeling these conditions for a long time. But my point here is that we are engaging these issues in order to produce new, and hopefully more innovative and creative ways of remedying or reversing the conditions. Stated another way, our aims here are both analytical and prospective. We hope to use the knowledge and dialogue produced today by the experts in this room in the service of producing new practices that might help address some of the most fundamental problems in St. Louis and other American cities today. In methodological terms, with today's event, we're trying to break down longstanding interdisciplinary silos in the study of cities. Not just between the different humanities and the social sciences and the design fields, but particularly-- and this is my key objective-- within the latter, within the design fields. As we know very well from, at least, the halls of the GSD. Urban designers do not always engage urban planners when it comes to city building, just as urban planners, designers and architects may fail to articulate their aims with the view to larger historical conditions, and how they produced particular social, spatial, political, or ecological landscapes. These different perspectives all must be acknowledged as producing the urban condition. And with a focus on a single city, as we do here with respect to St. Louis, it will be more difficult to maintain a narrow disciplinary view. And that's, in a way, what we're trying to do today, is blast out of that narrow disciplinary view. Having written a book on a single city myself, I have long been an advocate for deeply grounded study of particular places. Not just because this type of exercise allows one to understand the multiplicity of factors that produce the built natural and social environment of a city, but also because, by deeply grounding the study of a place in facts, the relationship between the universal and the particular will reveal itself, or at least hopefully. So, reframed in the context of St. Louis, we have the opportunity to see whether and how the specificities of this particular historically contested city, with its unique political, social, economic and spatial history, has produced the problems and challenges of racial injustice that capture our attention today in a unique way. Or is it really following processes and patterns that we would see anywhere across urban America? So we are compelled to put the arguments that we will see and hear about, with respect to the evolution of St. Louis, in the context of larger political dynamics and developments in urban America, and ask, what's unique, and what's universal? And if that's not in the particular presentations, it will be part of the conversation, I'm hoping. And in a few minutes, the panel that I'm moderating, the history panel, that's kind of one of the overarching questions. So hopefully, we'll be able to come back to that. I do have to admit that much of this ambition is very personal, and it comes from my own work and the issues I've been struggling with as a historical urban sociologist at a planning and design school. Most of my work has been on conflict cities-- cities with lots of violence-- and police corruption, social-spatial exclusion, an array of urban injustices, but outside of the United States. I'm a Latin Americanist, becoming a St. Louis specialist, I'm hoping, in the future. And in particular, as you saw in the bio, I've done a lot on the history of policing in Mexico City at the 20th history policing, and that's my next project on St. Louis. But my own curiosity about these questions about the universal and the particular was piqued by the fact that, as a native St. Louisan, I have been, for a while, working on questions of the city's role in the larger processes of US state formation, understood both in terms of geographic territory-- as with the Louisiana Purchase-- and in terms of political membership, citizenship, as with the Missouri Compromise, and civil war. These are questions I've been looking at in the context of a place like Mexico, which had a revolution, and struggled over sovereignty for much of the-- and many other Latin American countries-- over the late 19th and early 20th century. So the themes about state formation and citizenship and membership, and how cities and national imaginaries unfold, and the relationship with each other, has been a common question in the Latin American literature. But I haven't seen it as much in the US literature. So when I started thinking more about my hometown, St. Louis, through the lens of the work that I'd done in other places, I began to see that I had new questions about St. Louis that I really wanted to pursue. So there's an example of taking the opportunity, or an occasion to break down the developmental or global divides in the academic study of cities. I myself am thinking, what do I know about the Latin American context that informs what's happening in St. Louis and its role in the national imaginary, and vice versa? Now, it's not the job of this conference to think globally. Yes, maybe that'll be something we do in the future. But I do want to say that the concept of the divided city-- which is the title of the Mellon initiative at Washington University-- is exactly a concept that allows us to think globally. We think about Belfast. We think about Jerusalem. We think about national conflicts between the urban and the national in other parts of the world, and it's really time to think about that here in the United States, as well as in St. Louis, in particular. So back to St. Louis. Well, anyway, I do want to say that I'm hoping-- and if anybody who's here is interested in continuing the conversation beyond St. Louis and thinking about the back and forth between a particular city and other cities in the US where we can frame it in terms of these questions of citizenship, sovereignty, state formation. I think maybe that's something that we can also pursue down the road. I know when I spoke to Jean Allman at the Divided Cities Initiative at Washington University, she had mentioned explicitly that many of the team at Washington University are interested in South Africa and other parts of the world, not only St. Louis. So I do see that as a possibility for the future. But back to St. Louis. We're here today to reflect on the forms of knowledge production and practice that may come from a focus on a single city by a wide range of disciplinary experts. What can we learn about St. Louis' past, present, and future by introducing a wide range of voices and visions into the debate, among historians and lawyers, designers, planners, geographers, environmentalists? And that's kind of a prelude to our next panel. But before I introduce our first panel, let me just give some more thanks. There is mentioned in the program, you'll see that the interdisciplinary ambitions of this conference are reflected to a large degree by its financial supporters, that range from the Mellon Foundation, which has funded the Divided City Initiative. But also, we have a program here at Harvard that Eve Blau is directing, looking at the relationship between the humanities and the urban. So the Mellon Foundation has supported us from both institutions. We're also supported by the Urban Planning Design department's interdisciplinary Urbanism Initiative, something that we've unfolded here in the last couple years. It's a group of faculty from across the university who are interested in urban questions, sociology, public health, law, political science, anthropology. They are sponsors of this program, as well as the GSD, and I do want to thank [inaudible] for giving us funds to help pull off this conference. So again, final thanks to Shantel Blakely, who does everything with respect to these events, and has been working like a maniac the last couple weeks on corresponding with you all, and getting dinner reservations, and airfare. And without Shantel, it wouldn't have been possible. Also, my intrepid graduate student assistant Catherine Prater, who's also been in contact with many of you. And Eve, Dan, Tony and Stephen, who will be moderating other panels later today. So without further ado, I want to welcome to the conference and turn our attention to the first panel, which I'm going to be moderating. And what we will do today is, we will have individual speakers come up here, and then at the end, we'll all sit on the table for questions and answers conversation. So today's panel, as you saw in the description, this morning's panel addresses history. And I do want to mention that we are going to slightly reverse the order of the speakers to be a little more true to the chronology, the historical chronology. So we will begin with Walter Johnson. And after Walter speaks, we will move to Colin Gordon and then Ken Rudin, and then Jill Desimini. I would like to say a little something about our speakers. Again, we have extended bios in the program, so I don't want to repeat those, waste time on that. But I do want to add, about Walter, in addition to the existing bio-- which you can read if you have your magnifying glass-- that he is the director of the Charles Warren Center for Studies in American History, a research center for North American history here at Harvard. The Warren center has, over the past 50 years, brought hundreds of faculty and postdoctoral fellows to Harvard and awarded significant funds to generations of Harvard students, both graduate and undergraduate. Johnson has served as an advising scholar for the award winning PBS documentary Prince Among Slaves, produced by Unity Production Foundation. And I might just add a little footnote. I saw in the Boston Globe today that our president, Drew Faust, came out with a statement-- Harvard's statement-- on the issue of slavery. And maybe you'll have a chance to say something about that, but I'm very proud that-- I know Drew is a colleague of Walter's, and I think it's a great day for Harvard, her having made that statement. Colin Gordon, he's probably known as the historian of 20th century St. Louis. His book and extensive works focus on the transformation of metropolitan St. Louis in the 20th century, particularly focusing on local regulation of land use, restrictive deed covenants, et cetera. We'll probably hear more about that. But for me, it's so important for a historian to be looking at these kind of planning regulations and techniques that many of us are using now and dealing with in the contemporary urban setting, and understand their historical role in the creation of cities like St. Louis. Ken Reardon, who has just moved to the Boston area, is an expert in neighborhood and community planning, participatory research, community health and planning. He's written a lot about race, politics, and urban distress. And his focus, as we will hear more about, is on east St. Louis. And we really wanted to be conscientious about thinking about the region in general, not just-- As you all know, or will know soon, the St. Louis region is very fragmented, politically as well as ecologically. So thinking about east St. Louis, on the other side of the river, raises some of the same challenges thinking about St. Louis and its relationship to the county, even if there are different-- maybe social ecologies, not natural ecologies, that creates that division. So it's great having Ken with us. And then we'll end with Jill Desimini, who is a professor here in the Department of Landscape Architecture. Jill and I, when word about this conference started filtering around the GSD, Jill came up to me and said, I'm doing some work on St. Louis, several different projects having to do with landscape. At many scales, both micro, and in particular, neighborhoods, but as well as a kind of understanding of the larger Mississippi basin region. And we're going to hear from Jill about that. Jill has a master of landscape architecture from Pennsylvania, and she has a background in urban studies from Brown University. So without further ado, let's turn the mic over to Walter Johnson. Thank you, Diane. Thank you, Shantel, for all your work in tracking me down. It's an honor for me to be here. I always say that. It's also humbling. I usually say that. Sometimes it's not true. Sometimes I'm thinking, man, they're so lucky they got me out here. But in this instance, I am really-- I'm a novitiate, and so it's a great opportunity for me. When I started looking into the history of St. Louis in the fall of 2014, the thing that I was most struck by is how many of the events that we consider to be the central events in the history of the United States, and particularly in the African American history of the United States, occurred in St. Louis. And that spurred me to further research. I'm going to talk about the 19th century today. I want to talk about the compromise of 1820, the lynching of Francis McIntosh, the murder of Elijah Lovejoy. All of these events-- and then finally, the Dred Scott case, of course-- all these were events that were nationally determinative of the debate that we have considered to be a debate about slavery. They all happened in the history of St. Louis. But what I want to try to suggest, as I go today, is that there's something slightly more complicated than a discussion of slavery that's happening in this. I want to try to pull out an obsessional concern with three people of color and to try to articulate that to you as a commitment to white supremacy in excess of pro-slavery, and sometimes, actually, in contradiction to pro-slavery. So I want to try and use the terms "pro-slavery" and "white supremacy" as not equivalent terms. I'm doing something that I promised myself I will never do, which is moving back and forth between a written text and a sort of extemporaneous exegesis. So you'll have to bear with my crappy performance. The paper is entitled Unconstitutional Whiteness, and it has an epigraph from W.E.B Du Bois, Black Reconstruction. The epigraph is about the lynch mob. Before the wide eyes of the mob is ever the shape of fear. Back of the writhing, yelling, cruel-eyed demons who break, destroy, maim and lynch and burn at the stake is a knot, large or small, of normal human beings. And these human beings are desperately afraid of something. Of what? On the 28th of April, 1836, Frank McIntosh, a free black steward aboard the steamboat Flora alighted on the levee in St. Louis. The best as anyone could tell, later, as McIntosh crossed the levee and walked into town, he was overtaken by a pair of sailors who were running from the police. Whether he impeded the police, ignored their shouted commands to help them, or simply did not understand what was happening around him, McIntosh was taken into custody. As they neared the jail, McIntosh drew a knife from his coat and cut the throat of one of the policemen. He then ran down Fourth Street toward market, passing as he did across the front of the courthouse square where, a decade later, Dred Scott would file suit against his owner. He made it as far as Walnut street, where he was surrounded by as many as 50 men, taken to jail, and locked in a cell. Outside the jail, a crowd began to gather. Finally, a group of men forced their way into the jail, seized the key to McIntosh's cell from the overwhelmed sheriff, and pulled the black man outside. The mob dragged him a couple blocks up Chestnut Street, where they tied him to a tree. Members of the neighborhood fire company stacked wood around his feet. McIntosh was silent as they worked. Only as the flames rose around him did he begin to pray and scream. The lynching of Francis McIntosh caught the attention of the United States of America. One of those whose attention it caught was Abraham Lincoln, who was at that time a state senator in Illinois. And Lincoln gave what is one of his first famous speeches about the lynching of Francis McIntosh, and that's called the Lyceum speech. And Lincoln had, basically, one known political position at this time, which is that he was a fierce and passionate advocate of colonization, of taking free people of color and sending them to Africa. And so one of the things I want to try to bring out, as I talk about this, is the way that different ideas-- actually global, continental, ideas of racial governance-- circulate through this history. So Lincoln's Lyceum speech was on the theme of the perpetuation of our political institutions. And it remains one of the most pointed and eloquent defenses of the rule of law in the annals of American intellectual history. Lincoln argued that the lynching of McIntosh augured the, quote, "increasing disregard for law which pervades our country, the growing disposition to substitute the wild and furious passions in lieu of the sober judgment of the courts on the worst and savage mobs for the executive ministers of justice." And he would 20 years later in the House Divided speech, Lincoln invoked a notion of domestic space in order to explain what he meant. "Let reverence for the laws be breathed by every American mother to the lisping babe that prattled on her lap." And then, most famously, "in short, let it--" i.e. respect for the rule of law-- "become the political religion of the nation." The body of Macintosh, which was left out after being burned, taught a different lesson in St. Louis, at least according to the judge who convened the grand jury meant to investigate the lynching as a crime. The lynching of Macintosh, I think it's probably arguable, was the first lynching of an African American man, a free man of color, in the history of the United States, of this sort of classic lynching form. Which is to say, somebody's taken from state custody and then burned by a mob. That judge, the judge who convened the grand jury, was, with a kind of grim irony, named Judge Lawless. When it came time to instruct the jury about their legal responsibilities, Judge Lawless noticed that a lynch mob was indeed a force unauthorized by law, and that burning at the stake at the hands of the mob was indeed a mode of death forbidden by the Constitution. But unlike Lincoln, in the burning of McIntosh, Lawless discerned a principle of even higher import to the community, a higher law than the Constitution. The mob had responded at once to the murder of Hammond. The piteous tears of his window and orphans at the scene, and, quote, "similar atrocities committed in this and other states by individuals of negro blood against their white brethren." Lawless continued. For him, McIntosh had been the incendiary. He uses the word "incendiary." "The product of a doctrine of abolition and the fiery unreasoning mind of a free negro." In the crowd, Lawless discerned, quote, "a mysterious metaphysical and almost electric frenzy." That's the frenzy that I want to call "whiteness." That's the question that I want to ask, along with W.E.B De Bois, is, what is that frenzy? Understood that way, understood in the way that Lawless understood them, the actions of the lynch mob were, in fact, concomitant with the constitutional theory under which Missouri had entered the Union. The Missouri Compromise started in February, on February the 13, 1819, when New York representative James Tallmadge added a rider to the Missouri statehood bill that came to consume Congress for almost a year, shaped the legal history of slavery and the constitutional history of the United States for the next 45 years, up until the time the issues it raised had been adjudicated in the shape of 600,000 dead on the battlefields of the Civil War. "Missouri should be admitted," the Tallmagde amendment read, "only provided that the further introduction of slavery or involuntary servitude be prohibited, except for the punishment of crimes, whereof the party shall have been fully convicted, in that all children born within the said state after the admission thereof into the union shall be free at the age of 25 years." "This momentous question, like a fire bell in the night awakened and filled me with terror," wrote Thomas Jefferson. A lot of his papers about fire, right? So Thomas Jefferson, a slaveholder, what does a fire bell in the night mean to a slaveholder? A fire bell in the night, to a slaveholder, is an image of a fearful uprising, of arson. Jefferson went on then-- holy smokes, five minutes left. That was like a fire bell in the night for me. Jefferson went on to discuss the Missouri Compromise as articulating a geographical line coinciding with a marked principle of moral and political. And so, what Jefferson says, is that the Missouri Compromise, resolved at 36 30 line, draws a line between what's going to be slavery and freedom. That's not what they think it means in Missouri, though. The Missouri Compromise is passed by the House and the Senate. It goes out, and Missouri has the opportunity to write a constitution. That is the constitution of 1820. It's written in 38 days at the Mansion House Hotel in St. Louis. The Constitution that Missouri sends back, in addition to sanctioning slavery, directs the legislature of the new state to, quote, "prevent free Negroes and mulattoes from coming to and settling in this state under any pretext whatsoever." That provision reflected the particular sort of white supremacy that defined the emergent non-slaveholding and working class white population of the state of Missouri and the city of St. Louis. It reflected the interests and perspective of the migrants who had come to Missouri in the years after 1816, seeking land and economic advancement. Men whose hopes had been diminished or dashed by the depression of 1819, angry, entitled, wounded white men whose own interests had an unsteady relationship to those of slaveholders. Men who might hold out hope one day of becoming slaveholders, but also men for whom the political preferrment of slaveholders was an occasionally galling constraint on their own skin privilege. "The cry has been rained. Missouri for white men," recalled the free black barber and chronicler of black life in St. Louis, Cyprian Clamorgan. For these white men- and this is where I want to turn to a kind of a global vision of racial governance. Because we have to understand that these white men are the same white man who turned William Clark-- well, they don't turn him out of office, but they vote against William Clark in his effort to become the territory-- the first state governor in 1820, on the basis that William Clark, who is the greatest Indian remover in the history of the United States, is not removing Indians fast enough. For these white men, Indians were a barrier to cheap land, and free blacks a barrier to high wages. Seen in this light, Indian removal and negro exclusion were politics of a piece, projects of ethnic and racial cleansing designed to control the economic, political, and social development of St. Louis and the state of Missouri. So in closing, what I'm going to do is just simply race to the end of the story. The Missouri sends their state constitution back to Washington. There's a huge debate in Washington about whether or not this exclusion of free blacks is unconstitutional, which it patently is, on the basis of the Interstate [? commerce ?] Clause. You can't deny a citizen of one state their rights that they have in that state. You can't discriminate against the citizens of other states under the Interstate [? commerce ?] Clause. They passed a kind of a covering clause, which says that nothing in the Missouri state constitution shall be taken to mean this, which Missouri lives under as they pass a series of ever more punitive laws against free people of color. Free people of color can't have any weapons without a license. All free children of color between the ages of seven and 21 will be apprenticed out under the supervision of the county courts. Free people of color need a license to live in Missouri, unless they're a citizen of another state. These are laws that are passed in 1835, 1837, 1843, and then finally, in 1847, the state of Missouri actually passes what everyone would take to be a reiteration of the Constitution of 1820. Free people of color shall not be allowed into the state of Missouri under any pretext whatsoever. So what there is in the years leading up to the Dred Scott case, I would argue, is a pattern of both implicitly and, finally, overtly unconstitutional commitments to white supremacy that are made in reaction, I would suggest, to the particular situation of Missouri, as a place right on the border with Illinois. As a place where some people are being kidnapped and sold into slavery down the Mississippi River, where others are being enticed away into the Underground Railroad. And a place that has the sort of commercial flows around free black seamen, and a black middle class formation that comes with the capitalist development of the Mississippi River Valley. So there's a contradiction there between the capitalist development in relationship to a slaveholding imperialist society, and then the sorts of people that it creates, who are inimical to the privileges of whiteness, to the claim privileges of white supremacy. I'm sorry that that got so rushed, but I'm following the rules. I want to pick up on some of these essential themes, particularly the notion of citizenship as it plays out. I'm going to jump ahead in time quite substantially. And I'm interested not only in the fundamental divide between white and African American citizenship as it plays out in a border state, in a border city, but also the way in which that citizenship is sort of fractured and segmented in space, in the metropolitan area itself. Two years ago, August, Michael Brown was shot in Ferguson. And I think, in one respect, we can see this as an episode in policing, in addition to the roster that includes Eric Garner and Tamir Rice and others. But I prefer to see it in the context of the history of greater St. Louis, both the city and its suburbs. And I prefer to see it as a story, really, about citizenship and fractured citizenship. As the civil rights pioneer John Lewis wrote in the wake of Brown's death, quote, "one group of people in this country can expect the institutions of government to bend in their favor, no matter that they are supposedly regulated by impartial law. In the other, children, fathers, mothers, uncles, grandfathers, whole families and many generations are swept up like rubbish by the hard, unforgiving hand of the law." So as Lewis suggests, I think the encounter between Michael Brown and officer Darren Wilson rested, in a sense, on this much deeper history of uneven and fragmented citizenship in greater St. Louis. Who does the state protect? Who does it target? Who are presumptively citizens, and who are considered instead as threats, or nuisances, or subjects? So I want to illustrate this with some episodes from the history of greater St. Louis, and I'm going to start with one that Joseph touched on last night. And that is the racial zoning ordinance in 1916. This, I think, was fundamentally about the presumption that African Americans were not full citizens. As the real estate exchange argued at the time, "do you realize that any time you are liable to suffer irreparable loss due to the coming of Negroes into the block in which you live?" Now, as Joseph mentioned, the ordinance did not go into effect. But like the mechanisms of segregation, generally, in greater St. Louis, what happened was the motives remained the same, and they migrated from policy to policy, irrespective of legal setbacks. In fact, the real estate exchange was nonplussed by the Buchanan v. Warley decision in 1917, just as they were by their loss in Shelley v. Kraemer in 1947, because they knew there were other mechanisms of accomplishing the same thing. What the realtors did in St. Louis was they established what they euphemistically called an unrestricted zone, meaning that realtors could sell inside this zone to African Americans, but if they sold outside, they would lose their license. They girded this with over 380 schemes of neighborhood restriction, race-restrictive deed covenants, some covering as few as four properties, some covering as many as 80. These took two forms in the city. The newer developments in the south, these were original to the deeds of the property. The sort of ragged quadrangle in the north is intended to sort of prevent the spread of the African American population from its historic center in the Ville into north and west St. Louis. Importantly for the history of the city, I would argue, is not so much the reach of deed covenants in the city itself, which was largely built up-- and these covenants were cobbled together after the fact- but the fact that these were absolutely ubiquitous in the St. Louis suburbs as they were developed. In fact, if you look at the promotional literature for suburbs spilling outside the city, they're almost always advertised as protected, and that's what this means. The enforcement of race-restrictive deed covancents is struck down in Shelley v. Kraemer in 1947, but importantly, it lives on another forms. When the federal government gets into the business of insuring home mortgages and risk rate neighborhoods, as this map shows. The most important determinant for the appraisers who were walking through the neighborhoods-- and this is on their clipboards-- is whether the neighborhood was covered by a race-restrictive deed covenant. If it was, it was considered a high-grade neighborhood worthy of federal insurance. If it wasn't, or if the restriction was about to expire, which was noted explicitly, it was coded red or yellow. And the spirit of these were also incorporating in zoning. In fact, Harland Bartholomew, the city engineer in 1918 who went on as a private planner to write the zone plan for the entire Missouri suburbs spilling west of the city, noted as early as 1918, when St. Louis was preparing to zone for the first time, that zoning was a means of maintaining race-restrictive deed covenants after their expiration. And this is, in fact, how they were talked about explicitly in the suburbs. Now, in my view, the most important and most destructive part of this story is not necessarily what happens in the city-- although these institutions are invented there-- but the way in which they are reinvented and replicated in the greater metropolitan area, particularly given the sort of peculiar political organization of St. Louis and St. Louis County, where the city is its own county, yet, as Joseph mentioned last night, it can't expand. So what happens is, you get this dynamic of poaching from the St. Louis suburbs. It's almost as if, if anyone's familiar with the year of wildcat drilling, when people would say, oh, there's a pool of oil there, and everyone would drill sort of on an angle underneath to get the oil. That's what the suburbs at the edge of St. Louis are doing. Their poaching the city of its resources, and in the ways that I'll describe. But in order to get a sense of the sort of deeply racial premises of local land use, I want to jump to Elmwood Park in St. Louis County, which is the red spot there nestled between all of that in Overland. This is a postage stamp of unincorporated land between these two municipalities, and its development looks like this. So the boundaries there are the current boundaries of all of that in Overland. Elmwood Park is the blue postage stamp there. This is in 1910. You can see the red. There are a few single family houses being built. Elmwood Park is an old free black settlement dating from the 1880s. As we move forward in time, we see more houses being built. And not until 1930 is either Olivette or Overland incorporated as a town. As you can see, not much development at the time it's incorporated. Move forward in time, '35, in 1939, Overland is incorporated, but on a much smaller footprint. And then, what both municipalities proceed to do, is, as new subdivisions are built on unincorporated land-- so that private subdividers are making all the crucial land decisions-- and then, after the fact, they're incorporated into the municipality, With. A final incorporation coming in the 1960s. So that by 1965, Elmwood Park remains and unincorporated postage stamp if underserviced development between these two municipalities. Conventional suburbanization flows around these African American enclaves like rocks in a stream. The sewer lines don't go through, the water lines don't go through, and the streets are blockaded. With development complete, St. Louis County then looked around and said, blight. There's no water. There's no sewer. And Elmwood Park is slated for redevelopment. But to add insult to injury, this is what all of that in Overland do to zone the area. They not only surround Elmwood Park and have none of the crucial infrastructure run through, but they quarantine it with industrial zoning, and then redevelopment. This is Elmwood park in 1955. The county proposes a redevelopment that calves off a third of the residential, turns it into industrial use. This is it in the midst of redevelopment in 1967. And this is a map of where the residents of Elmwood Park end up. Over 100 African American families are removed by government action. In the greater St. Louis area between 1950 and 1970, 75,000 are displaced by government action, 90% of them African American. Under federal urban renewal statutes, if you redevelop residential land for residential use, the former residents are supposed to have first dibs at coming back in. The residents of Elmwood park were given two packets of information when their houses were taken. One was an application for public housing in the city. The other was a sort of multi [inaudible] redevelopment contract. So if they wanted to build eight houses, that sort of thing, actually coming back as in a developer. So as you can see, one resident of Elmwood Park moves back after the redevelopment. One. Most move into already deeply segregated tracts in the city or in the county, as in Kinloch, as you see at the top. So urban renewal in the county and in the city actually hardened the lines of segregation that Joseph talked about last night. The residents of Elmwood Park, horrified at this stream of events, file suit against the land reclamation authority of St. Louis County. That suit goes to the Missouri Supreme Court in 1968, Brooks versus the LCRA. The Supreme Court finds against the plaintiffs on the grounds that, because they no longer live there, they don't have standing. So what are the consequences of this pattern of deeply segregating institutions and patterns in the city, and of their replication, particularly in the inner suburbs and the central suburbs of the county? Well, first of all is a dramatic pattern of municipal fragmentation. So this is the city of St. Louis, the sort of crescent on the Missouri. This is the municipal organization of the greater St. Louis region. Somewhere between 90 and 100 municipalities in St. Louis County, depending on the year in which you count them. The important point being that these municipalities, very small, are developed for the express purpose of accomplishing and sustaining racial segregation. Many of them provide very few services. They're really meant to accomplish a couple of things. One is to zone the land, and the second is for each of them to sort of play their part in this fragmentary municipal fabric. This is what the municipal footprint of the Ferguson-Florissant school district looks like. Notable here is Berkeley, which is this little donut around Kinloch. Berkeley was incorporated like that in 1937 in order to split the white Berkeley School District from the black Kinloch school district. The second consequence, dramatic decline and disinvestment, as the senator spoke of last night, in north St. Louis. Just a glimpse of that. So here's a Sanborn fire insurance map in northern St. Louis, circa 1932. You see how densely developed it is. All these houses are gone. A dramatic racial wealth gap is another consequence. Because African Americans are left off the escalator of wealth creation created by the federal government in the 1930s, African American wealth, while wages and incomes gain during the Civil Rights era, the wealth gap widens, and it's widened dramatically since the housing crisis. And then you get this pattern of white flight and black flight, as summarized here on these census maps. And you can see, in migration before the war, the beginnings of an emptying out of the city. So the orange swaths there is the clearance of the Mill Creek Valley, African Americans moving ahead of the bulldozer into West St. Louis, whites moving further out into the suburbs. And the city largely, especially its north side, depopulating over the course of the 20th century. And the end result, bringing us back to Ferguson, is the phenomena of what urban demographers call secondhand suburbs. Ferguson is an older, inner suburb, small footprint land development. It becomes the logical destination for African American families displaced by urban renewal, displaced by disinvestment in the city, and yet suffering a dramatic racial wealth gap, which makes more dramatic investments in housing impossible. And citizenship remains fragmented. I like this quote from the 1970s hearings, because it echoes so much what would happen in Ferguson a generation later. Who were the police there to protect? And then, as we look more closely at Ferguson, we see dramatic differences between these inner suburbs and the larger county. And so, this is home values in St. Louis County as sales. Here's Ferguson. Foreclosures as a share of sales, Ferguson, 20% to 30% of sales, through the crisis and beyond. This fragmentation yields a nasty competition for a commercial tax base, partly reflecting Missouri's peculiar sales tax system. So municipalities sort of compete for big box retail in an insane fashion, and then they give away the tax base in order to attract it. And so, Ferguson has tax increment financing districts. Spilling across the town, you have enhanced enterprise zone that covers the campus of Emerson Electric. So what do you do if you cannot raise money with property taxes, and you cannot raise money with commercial taxes, and you are too small to be fiscally capable? You engage in revenue policing. You push fines and forfeitures up to the maximum the state will allow, in Ferguson going up as high as 20% on the eve of Michael Brown's death. And this, I think, is what enables us to make sense of that tragic event. It's embedded in this long history of fragmented citizenship, in which not only Michael Brown, but the inner suburb of Ferguson, play a particular role. Thank you. Well, good morning, Cambridge. My name is Ken Rearden, and I'm a faculty member at the University of Massachusetts, a new graduate program in urban planning and community development. And I'm delighted to be here this morning. And I want to thank Professor Davis for inviting me, and also my former dean, [inaudible], who was with us at Cornell for while on his way to the GSD. It was great to see him last night. And we've heard an extraordinarily eloquent and powerful description of the structural factors that have sort of, over time, undermined the overall economic vitality and created just breathtakingly deep and painful divisions between the life chances of the dominant euro-centric population and people of color in the St. Louis region. And I don't think I could add very much more to that story. What I'd like to spend a few minutes this morning talking about is something that, really, our speakers last night introduced. That throughout this entire history of the early 1800s up through to this present moment, there's an extraordinary counter narrative that's occurring in both sides of the river that rarely gets its attention. And that is the organization of people of color, often under the most difficult and challenging circumstances, to organize around basic human rights. Stories that are often completely overlooked and, when told, are often viewed as unbelievable by folks who have only a distant relationship with this region's history. And how does a nice Irish Catholic boy from the Bronx end up in east St. Louis for a decade? What did I do along my life's trail to end up there, my father asked me. He said he had plenty of good explanations. But in 1990, I was the brand new assistant professor of urban and regional planning at the University of Illinois, where Harland Bartholomew taught for many years. In fact, I took over Intro to City Planning decades later from his tutelage. And as I walked in as the youngest untenured professor, my chair said, hey, you do community development. You're now the director of the East St. Louis Action Research project. And being a New Yorker, I didn't have a very good command of Midwestern geography-- I still don't, in many ways-- and I said, I hadn't noticed the signs to East St. Louis around Champaign Urbana. Where the hell is it? I found out it was 188 miles down the road. And the reason why I assumed this lofty position of leadership is that all the senior faculty who had tenure did the reverse moonwalk when invited to come and participate in the East St. Louis project. And the question is, how does a big state university 200 miles away find a struggling community of color along the river so far from its campus? And like so many things in higher ed-- but I'm sure not here at the GSD-- it's sort of the low road to morality. The longest-sitting African American woman in any Midwestern state legislature was a remarkable, hellacious visionary civil rights activist by the name of Wyvetter Younge. And after decades of service in every crappy committee in the state house of representatives, she became, in 1985, the chairperson of the Higher Ed Finance Committee of the state legislature. And that's a big deal in a place like Illinois, where the land grant university has almost iconic and godlike stature. In fact, only twice a year does the house and the Senate in Illinois get together. One is for the State of the State speech by the governor, and the second one is the head of the University of Illinois system comes and talks about the state of the land grant mission in the state of Illinois. So in 1987, the then president-- you couldn't make this up, like Lawless, my colleague-- Stanley Ikenberry III came to the joint house and senate to give his State of the Campus speech, "Why we should get more state aid, because our athletes run faster, our scholars jump higher, and the library has more books than anybody else." And as he was about ready to launch into his presentation, in the back of the room stood up Wyvetter Younge and said, we'll be interested in what your vision is for the future of the University of Illinois when you can articulate to our satisfaction what your urban public service mission is as a land grant institution in communities like East St. Louis. And in a nanosecond-- we all know higher ed moved slowly, glacially in some ways-- the president called together the deans of a variety of schools and said, in the Fall, you will go and do good work in East St. Louis. So the first person to show up to do this good work, just across the river from the Dred Scott courthouse on the East St. Louis side of the river, was myself. And I showed up as a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, recently minted Ph.D. from Uncle Ezra's day camp in Ithaca, better known as Cornell. And I started my series of community-based interviews with folks in the health care sector, and education, and business, and commerce, and planning, with hi, I'm from the university. I'm here to help you. And I, again, saw people doing the reverse moonwalk, holding their vital organs, protecting themselves. And my favorite quote was from the leader of a grassroots organization who said, quote unquote, while holding my hand-- I thought this was going to be a great relationship building moment-- she's holding my hand. She starts squeezing it, squeezing it, squeezing it until it turns pink, and then she says, the last goddamn thing we need in East St. Louis is another university-trained academic telling us what any sixth grader in town already knows. So my proposal, which was to support local community-based planning efforts with assistance from the Landscape, Architecture and Planning program from University of Illinois, was not the first idea that local residents had, in terms of a path forward. And they needed a path forward. East St. Louis has an extraordinary history. It was called the Pittsburgh of the west. It had the largest rail assembly yard in the United States. It had the second largest steel production facility. As late as the 1940s, it had the second highest industrial wage rates in Illinois, and had the highest home ownership rate in the state of Illinois. Extraordinary. And it was a happening place. In fact, in the early 1950s, the National Municipal League and Look Magazine pointed to East St. Louis as an All-American city. People can't even imagine that, right? All-American city most likely to make the transition from an industrial-based economy to a mixed sector economy, because of its high competence in business and civic leadership. Well, Look Magazine is no longer around, nor is the National Municipal League in the form that it was. So it's predictive qualities could be questioned. Well, within a 20-year period, East St. Louis loses, between '60 and 1980, three quarters of all of its businesses, most of it high-paying unionized industrial firms. And with that, of course, unemployment skyrockets, meaning income plummets and poverty skyrockets, as well. In addition, the property tax value, which we've talked about as being the fundamental supporter of public education, property tax base of the city goes from nearly $700 million to just over $100 million in a 20-year period. The city has to raise its property taxes, the tax rate, in order to try to make up some of the income. But even with that, they can't provide basic services. The first unit to go was the city planning department. And nobody really missed it by the time I got there. But In addition, by 1990, when I arrived, the city had been unable to put its municipal lights on since 1986. It couldn't pay it's electric bill. It was unable to have its traffic signals on major intersections operating. It couldn't pay traffic bills. And it didn't collect municipal trash from '86 to '90. Families would send trash to school with their children in backpacks, and they would dump it in the dumpster on the way to school. So they'd eliminated all basic services, even though they had this very, very high tax rate, prompting one HUD official to refer to East St. Louis as a Beirut by the river, or America's Soweto. Now, this is a story that we've often heard, and it's not unique to an inner ring older central city like East St. Louis. But beneath the surface, there's really something extraordinary going on that's gotten very little attention. And that is the efforts of an amazing group of African American women in a neighborhood called Emerson Park, which was the residential center of the Packinghouse workers' movement. And this woman on the top left, Ceola Davis, who, as a young girl, went to a town called Ruleville Mississippi as part of an NAACP youth leadership effort to support the voter registration efforts of Robert Moses and the great Fannie Lou Hamer. So extraordinarily touched by that experience, on the way back on a Greyhound bus from Mississippi, these six women pledge to each other and to their God that they would create a civic movement not unlike what was happening in [inaudible] County to turn their city around and recapture it. This is in 1964. And they slowly began working. Their first project was to identify three burnt-out buildings across the street from a day care facility where their grandchildren went. And they went in and, hand by hand, dissembled these buildings, deconstructed them, took down three three-story brick buildings. Took all of the bricks, had local African-American contractors take it over to Cherokee Street, where nice people in those suburbs we just saw being built out liked the patina of the brick. They raised $12,000. And then, for the next year, they ran a program called "Don't Cook Tonight, Call Ceola," and they basically sold $5.00 fried chicken and fried fish dinners. Raised $20,000. And with that, they designed and built, with local labor, their first neighborhood playground, the first public space of quality that had been built in the city in 30 years. They called it Shugue park after a great local civil rights leader. And with that, these women said, hey, we did three lots on a block. There's only 77 blocks in our neighborhood. There's only 22 neighborhoods in the city. Let's turn the whole goddamn boat around. And they created something called the Emerson Park Development Corporation. They reached out to their state representative Wyvetter Younge, top right, and said, can't you get the university's attention? She found a pretty good way in 1987 to do that, by challenging the university to identify what their commitment was. So I showed up in 1990. There was already this extraordinary group that had put together the Shugue Park, and they invited us to work with them in developing the first neighborhood plan. We did in a bottom up, bottom sideways manner, doing lots of door-knocking, focus groups, [inaudible], et cetera. And within 90 days of the completion of the plan and its adoption by city council, we implemented our first element with no money, which was a cleanup of the major street going through the neighborhood, called 9th Street. Ceola picked it out because she knew that's where the county public works director drove from his office out to his home. And they knew that, if they cleaned up the street, they had no money to hire trucks to get rid of the garbage. So we collected 980 bags of garbage, put red ribbons on them, stuck it in the middle of 9th Street. So when this guy drove home-- they knew he was an anal retentive, nice Italian-American guy-- he would immediately get the public works trucks out to take it away. That evening on the local TV station, there's the headline, neighborhood leaders break law with the help of the University of Illinois to save neighborhood. Within a week, we got a check for $15,000. And I thought people would use the money to hire folks to clean up other sites of illegal dumping. They chose not to. They instead organized local volunteer efforts, cleaned up hundreds of lots over the summer. Used the $15,000 to pay the tipping fees. This was the beginning. The fact that they were able to move from an idea and a plan to implementing something with so little resources got the imagination of a lot of folks, who wanted to believe change was possible, but had never seen it happen in their lifetime. The cleanup really was the prairie fire, the spark that began to get people's imagination. From there, we started doing scrape up cleanups, with local residents being organized by folks like Ceola, and us at the university organizing student help. We did 60 homes, scraped them, painted them. We got free paint from the university, the university colors. Illinois are orange. Nobody wanted their house painted orange, so we painted a lot of houses blue. Just as we started getting that done, the state treasurer said, we collect tax money which we give to local banks to hold. And what they have to pay the state for the right to have those profits is quite low, those deposits. How about if we allow you to determine which local bank will hold those profits, and the difference between what the state requires and return for the tax investment, and what you can get these banks to compete to give you interest, in terms of the right to hold the money, we'll allow you to use to do housing rehab. And that created our first revolving loan fund. Began doing some significant local, small, moderate rehab. With that, we then got a call from the new regional director of HUD, who said, how about a home grant? We then started writing home grants and began to mobilize local black contractors through the local church network that we were working with, helped by university students, and we began to do major rehab. This is going along pretty well. And then, an extraordinary thing happened. Habitat came to us and said, how would you like to do infill, in between? We said, even with the reductions in cost of Habitat by volunteer labor, our folks can't afford to pay the monthly mortgage. I said, well, how about if we begin to do something Habitat hadn't done at that point anywhere, which is to take other donations and further write down the mortgage costs. And we began doing new housing. And then I got a phone call on my birthday-- please write this down. This will be on the GSD exam next year-- September 15. My mother always calls me at 5:15, which is when I came into the world and ruined her life, she told me. And that year, I got a phone call. My wife hands the phone over. It's probably your mother. It wasn't it was Ceola Davis. Hey, they're going to build a light rail line from St. Louis airport to the downtown casino district to get those nice businessmen and women in and out of town. How about if we get it extended through East St. Louis, eight miles. Extend the rail line. And we've already determined what the route is going to be. What do you think about that? I said, great. Who the hell is this? It was Miss Davis. So we organized something called the 101 Reasons Why the Regional Transportation Plan-- and then we had an expletive, which I can't stay, because I've give my right to have this put on the internet, and I don't want to be brought up before the morals commission of the Roman Catholic church. And we worked with Ceola Davis to actually do the route with business students, landscape architecture students, planning students. And we were able to put enough pressure on the regional transportation planning folks to actually extend the metro length into East St. Louis, which immediately gave people who had no automobile access to living wage jobs out at the airport or nearby the ability to do that. And that also gave us the ability, as more people got back into employment-- their income began to rise-- for us to then be able to talk about a major new residential development, which ended up being the Parsons Place project. We recruited Richard Baron Salazar company to do it. They partnered with us 175 units. It's around a drop-dead beautiful Central Park. It also includes a charter school, which has one of the highest attendance rates and school performance improvement rates in the metro region. Why? Because the entire curriculum of that school is focused on community-based planning and development. The kids learn, experientially, their three R's, and lots of other things, by actually participating in a supportive way with the community-building ongoing activities of the elders in their neighborhood. In addition to that, we were able to create the Youth Build Charter School we just talked about. And then, residents came to us and said, we think it's great that this partnership, but in order for your students, who are among the brightest and most privileged in our region, to be helpful in our efforts, you provide them with 10 to 12 hours a week of the best graduate education in urban economics, urban design, community development. We, most of whom have never had a chance to spend one day a university setting, are given no training. You think you're really engaging in an emancipatory approach to community planning practice, but you're not. You're reinforcing existing racist, sexist, and classist approaches to planning. We're not even the tail on the dog. We're not even the flea hoping to land on the tail of the dog, the way you're doing it. That was bad news, hard to hear. But the solution that they proposed was creating, in East St. Louis, a Highlander-like school for citizen education and research, a free adult school. We then developed the curriculum with community leaders. It offers 10 courses, and 200 East St. Louis leaders went through this school. I want to wrap up by just saying, what were the outcomes? $40 million of new development in a neighborhood that no urban professional in 1990 would have said would get a penny, and it happened because of the extraordinary vision and leadership of these women. It encouraged lots of other neighborhoods to get involved in grassroots resident-lead planning. It developed its own model of community planning, which I'll just say a word about. It was replicated in several other major cities in the US and internationally. In 1994, we held a UN Urban Development Conference In East St. Louis, the first conference held in East St. Louis since 1974. And this model, then, was replicated in several other cities in Central and South America, Africa and Asia, all from East St. Louis. And then, finally, an extraordinary impact on the young students who participated. Top left is the recent Housing Commissioner of the city of New York, Rafael Cestero, trained in East St. Louis at the feet of Ceola Davis. Top right, Juan Salgado, a recent winner of the MacArthur Genius Award, founded a terrific charter school and grassroots organization in the Pilsen neighborhood of Chicago, trained in East St. Louis by Ceola Davis and her colleagues. Lower left, Michelle Whetten, runs the Enterprise Community Partnership Gulf Coast Initiative, $300 million of post-Katrina development, trained at the feet of Ceola Davis in East St. Louis. And then, finally, Kirk Goodrich, who's currently running a private company that does some of the most extraordinary special-needs housing. Along the way, the community worked with university folks to evolve its own approach to resident-driven planning and development, called Empowerment Planning and Design. And it combines participatory action research, where those most affected by the issues at the local community, who have that deep, local historical, cultural knowledge, and university-trained folks engage in reciprocal learning and the process of collecting and analyzing data. It gives you better plans, but it doesn't build the political base of power to affect the very powerful public and private interests that determine where investment's going to go. Therefore, we combine that approach with old fashioned Alinsky-based direct action organizing. Every outreach effort to collect data was a challenge, at the end, to encourage somebody in the community to get involved in the grassroots effort that was moving the agenda. And finally, to make sure that we understood over time, for each issue, where to put the maximum political pressure in order to really leverage and move the dial on policy, and to create a more even approach, balanced approach, to development in East St. Louis was the popular education proposal that the residents offered us, in terms of the creation of the Highlander-inspired Center for Neighborhood Planning. And with that, I want to thank you, and turn it over to the next speaker. Excellent. It's great to be here. I'm not from St. Louis. I've never lived there. I haven't really done any work there, but I've loved my multiple visits to the region. And so, I'm thrilled to be a kind of interloper in this conversation-- especially if it's in regards to history as well-- and to offer a few broad reflections on the St. Louis landscape. I think of myself like Henry Shaw, who, as a first visitor, fell in love with this place. He arrived from England to a land marshy ground, sinkholes, and Indian burial mounds, and managed to find himself with distant perspective on the landscape. A man from a very different terrain who, as legend had it, found an elevated plateau to overlook the prairie, and never turned away. So today, I'm going to be talking about this landscape, and maybe trying to imagine it as a continuum, rather than a fragment, looking at the hydrologic, geologic, and horticultural legacies of St. Louis. Which button do I press? Green. Let's go with that one. In so doing, I will be exploring how the physical-- yeah. I'll be exploring how these physical conditions cannot be separated from the cultural definitions of the territory, how these biophysical characteristics overlay with the socioeconomic issues of race and poverty in the region. Should I try again? And how an expansive understanding of the landscape bolsters the idea of a fragile terrain, fragile socially, economically, politically, and ecologically. Is it playing? St. Louis is a part of many overlapping and intersecting cultural regions, as was mentioned last night, from the much maligned and not very usefully-named rust belt, with its implications of social and industrial decline, to the bread basket, or corn belt, with its rich soils, advantageous climate, and political support that allow for agricultural dominance. It's a pronounced part of the Mississippi River corridor. It's firmly in the Midwest, but as also was mentioned last night, is sometimes considered on the northern fringes of the South or the eastern fringes of the West. And it's one of a number of cities that claims itself as the gateway to the West, probably most pronounced. And, obviously, the only one with a giant arch to do so. And in some senses, it is the Mississippi watershed that bridges these kind of cultural regions with some ecological regions. So here's the South. To add to these cultural regions, St. Louis is, again, part of this Mississippi river watershed, a part of the great Karst region and Ozark Plateau, and a part of USDA hardiness zone six, which descends from northeast Washington to northern New Mexico, across southern Colorado, through Kansas and Missouri, and all the way to northeastern Massachusetts and southern New Hampshire. So here, you can say Boston and St. Louis are actually nearly connected. So given St. Louis' membership in all of these regions, I began to think of capturing the identity of the city not as a gateway, but through a sequence of bridges. The city, of course, sits between two major rivers, and is connected to its greater region through physical bridges. But it also operates itself as a series of geographical, topographical, temporal, and conceptual bridges. Here, the horizontal expanse of the city is seen as a means of connection, a means of navigating between disparate conditions, a way to tell a story that extends from the past to the future, and to build on legacies to find strongholds within a fragile environment. So in my limited time, I'm going to try to focus on seven thematic bridges. The themes are provocations, rather than fully-formed arguments, with the hopes of raising interesting questions for this symposium and the future work on St. Louis. So I'll start with the east to west, to mimic much of the way the city first developed from it's river bank inland. To test this idea of St. Louis as a gateway, which has more resonance for me in the past, because, inadvertently, in a way, we've gated our city and focused it into closed definition, rather than emphasizing it as a means of connection across multiple territories. And yet, the gateway metaphor persists. I heard it stated very recently on some TV coverage of an event in St. Louis. Yet the region, despite the real bridges that cross the Mississippi, there's this great divide perceptually, as we just heard about, between East and West. An unproductive divide that splinters and is reflected physically in the wide gap between each side, and in the differential treatment of the banks where each side, in it's unique way, has turned its back on the river, either with a high flood wall or with land use decisions that push people away from the river's edge. It seems nearly impossible to see the water in either city, much less to find it or smell it, or have a view across to the other side. So this is definitely a bridge needing repair. So what about the North to South? The idea that St. Louis is still on the edge of the South, at least from my outside perspective, seems a little bit less of a stretch. I could find more maps of the South that include Missouri than maps of the West with the city in it. And these maps-- actually all of the continental contiguous US maps have St. Louis in the center of the slide, so you can see that the city and its region does literally sit more in the center of the North-South axis than it does an East-West one. But of course, as we've talked a lot about today and yesterday, on a more zoomed-in scale, there's a perceptual divide between the North and South sides of the city, reinforced by particular lines-- Delmar avenue comes up a lot-- that people consider hard boundaries, ones not to be crosses, ones reinforced by economics, by policy, and by development decisions. And if we zoom out again, there's also North-South break in way the Mississippi River itself is managed, with the St. Louis district marking the divide between the northern and southern parts. Between the northern river, where navigation is controlled by locks, to the open southern river, where engineered steps are not required for passage. Past emphasis on the northern river has been on maintaining and controlling navigation, where efforts to the south focus more on flood control, which, as everyone knows, isn't to say that it doesn't flood in St. Louis, and that there isn't a heavy flood infrastructure-- decaying flood infrastructure-- in the city. So if we return to this section, we see agriculture and industry in the flood plain in the east, and an outdated levee system that's outside of this frame, and the high flood wall in the west, reinforcing this artificial separation between wet and dry terrain. Yet, historic crest data indicates that the wet is often surging into the dry, and the frequency of high water events, as you can see, over time, like everywhere, is only clearly increasing, so that the floods are happening often. And I would say the memory of the last great flood has not quite faded when the next great flood occurs. And so, this is a continuing condition. And further, water is not only a surface concern. So while St. Louis is now a relatively flat city, it's built ground sits atop old clay quarries mined in the areas south of Forest Park to produce the city's famous brick, and even more notably, atop a porous Karst topography-- that we saw earlier-- of limestone caves, sinkholes, and abandoned quarries. Here is the pockmarked topography conditions around Benton Park in the late 1800s. And so, development has filled the holes in this ground, but it's still quite thin and fragile. You can see evidence of the shifting and subsiding terrain as you drive through the neighborhoods, especially on the south side of the city. And there are pockets under the surface. There are still pockets under the surface with many underground streams running through them. So, in addition to the threat of sinkholes on the surface, is the contamination of the groundwater, which further erodes both water quality and the limestone substructure. The significant of Karst is exceptional in this city and region, as is the transformation of this terrain for development. The St. Louis caves-- of which 20 still exist in a non-accessible and highly-altered form-- have been used historically for storage, tavern states, beer cellars, commercial tours, and for the disposal of garbage, sewage, and stormwater. And in the county where accessible state caves still persist, the practice of converting these underground structures into detention basins and culverts for stormwater. It's a crazy proposition, given the volatility of the intersection of limestone and water, and urban runoff continues. The caves are very diverse in geologic character, associated with many terrain, including along the Mississippi River bluffs-- you can imagine Henry Shaw back there-- once creating a dramatic landscape of cliffs, sinkholes, valleys, and caves, a landscape augmented by man-made earthworks like the Cahokia Mounds that once existed on both sides of the river. So this is near the stadium. But today, the highs and lows of the region are much more subtle. So St. Louis is, again, relatively flat, and perhaps at this regional scale, little can be said about the relationships between topographic elevation and types of development. Often, low ground is the least desirable to develop, and the quickest to abandon in difficult times. But at this scale, there are too many factors to consider, many of which we've been talking about. And while property abandonment has patterns, it is also extremely pervasive, and perhaps irregardless of elevation. So we're going to zoom in and look at Ferguson, which Colin so eloquently described. There's, of course, many, many key things to say about the events there. But what I was first struck by, when I looked at the landscape, was the pattern of development. I've been to Ferguson just once, five years ago, so I can't say I know it well. But the area that I visited actually looked nothing like this. Here, I was struck by the low ground and the ways in which the fragile terrain, qualities of the ground, and often related politics contribute to a certain type of development and quality of life. So I was immediately drawn to the idea of the local low points and a stream running across the terrain, and even in Colin's full photos, looking at how that sits relative to elevation. So for me, there's a kind of strong image of those in pursuit on high ground, and those being pursued on low ground, as well as something extremely unsettling about how development happens on these fragile grounds. But I don't actually want to end there. So the penultimate theme focuses on how, even within a fragile terrain, things can be resilient, and on the undeniably rich horticultural history of the city. So we come back to Henry Shaw's home, of one of the country's oldest and most preeminent botanical gardens. This is business magnate and lover of the landscape Henry Shaw's gift to the city. The Shaw property includes the botanical garden and Tower Grove Park, his country estate, which, to this day, is a well-funded and maintained public landscape in the city. The botanical garden opened to the public in 1859, and the Shaw legacy continued through the initial work of botanist Dr. George Engelmann, who pushed the public mission of the institution, and to the subsequent scientific genius of botanist Dr. Peter Raven, who directed the gardens from 1971 to 2011 and made the institutions contemporary contributions on par with its historical ones. I want to open a dialogue between the botanical garden, a highly-managed and contained horticultural gem that costs to visit, and the spontaneous woodlands that emerge in places of abandonment. They're a testament to the resilience of the fragile social and ecological terrains of the city. And if we look at the perspective, as well, the wooded experience offers a moment of respite, a place to cut through one part of the city to another, but also a metaphor for a spontaneous activity that emerges out of lack of resource and planning, which I think, actually, the last presentation really spoke to amazingly well. And for the overlooked growth that happens amidst dominant narratives of decline, and for things that are actually happening now, and have happened in the past 40 years. So a forest can grow, for one thing, but many other things can also happen. And for another, we need to start thinking differently about our investment in the landscape. So as you can kind of see in this slide, if we built big parks at the turn of the last century, how will we address the many acres of fallow and vacant lands as the century turns? How we think about the spontaneous will always be subservient to the cultivated. And more importantly, how will move from the past, to the present, to the future? So for me, all of these bridges invoke these temporal shifts and demand a long view of the terrain and its evolution. Plus, I wanted to end with this idea of time and to come back to the Gateway again, this time literally, with the current landscape project taking place on the Gateway grounds, both to make parallels between the past and the present, between Forest Park and the Gateway, as to how we introduce canopy into the urban condition with an effective robustness. So at the bottom, these are 800 plain trees from the east that have acclimatized themselves in the outer regions of the St. Louis region before making their mark on the river's edge in the city. There's a significant cultural and geographic story there, but one that demands expanding. The Gateway cannot be a symbol, or a Gateway to somewhere else, and the investment cannot have a limited footprint. Instead, we have to move beyond the gates we have created in the past to focus instead on a way to move beyond the symbolic and monumental, the closed and territorial, towards a means of connection, towards bridges that support the fragile terrain on which they land, rather than landing heavily and blind to the context. And so, really understanding the particular hydrological, geological, and vegetal legacies. But even more so, I think, as we've seen in every presentation, to support the people who rely on this land and need its stability to endure. Thanks. So why don't we have all of our panelists come and sit up in the front, and we have a few minutes, I would say 10 minutes, at least, for questions. Joseph, do you want to start? Would you like to use the mic? Oh, I suppose so. Phil Donahue style. That dates me, doesn't it? Anyway, sorry, students. So that was just an amazing group of presentations. Thank you all so much. I learned a lot about the region. And actually, that's the word that I want to use in asking the question, which is, what are the prospects for starting to think on a regional scale? Because all of the presentations really talked about St. Louis not just in terms of its local conditions, but how it's connected to the region around it, whether it's the t ecological or political region. And there have been attempts over the course of the 20th century, as many of you know, to create regional governance structures, to try to bust through these kind of fragmented conditions. But what are the prospects, at this point, for creating more regional governance structures or political systems? Not much. I mean, I think the challenge is this. Of all the episodes of efforts to stitch the county, the city, back together again, to establish more regional governments, my favorite is from the 1980s, when a planner sits down and rather fancifully redraws the municipalities in the region like the south pole, as pie slices that go from the river. So everybody gets a little bit of downtown, a little bit of substandard city housing, a little bit of inner suburb, and a lot of outer suburbs. And then it's like, fund your schools, do economic development, that sort of thing. You know, it didn't go anywhere, but the idea was interesting. I think the challenge, in this sort of fragmented setting that I described, it's this century-long game of musical chairs where everyone thinks they're going to win. And the principal villain in much of the story that I tell in my book is St. Louis County. St. Louis County is now the principal victim, at least the inner suburbs of the county. And the fact that every municipality-- particularly in this sort of crazy, point of origin sales tax competition-- thinks that they might win. And one even gets the sense, reading the combined annual financial reports of the city of Ferguson, which is struggling throughout this entire period, but they always think, you know, if we [? tiff ?] a Walmart, and we get a Walmart, and Jennings doesn't get it, maybe we'll be fine. And the sort of perverse local incentives, I think, really act as a barrier to any sort of meaningful cooperation. So say again why the county might be the victim in this. Well, I think the-- You said [inaudible] first, but then [inaudible]. So I would say the municipalities in St. Louis County, which existed, as I described, largely to poach the city of its taxes resources and its people during the middle years of the 20th century, is now itself being poached by St. Charles and outer counties. And if you look at various measures of neighborhoods distress, and poverty and unemployment, they simply migrate from the city out into that crescent of communities that sit between the city and the airport. And so, Ferguson, which eagerly hosted Klan meetings in the 1930s, is now a very different place. So I think, in one respect, what you see in the city of St. Louis is both the sustained success of segregation and its spectacular failure, the fact that it moved spatially in such a way to sort of constantly upset the possibility for political change. [inaudible], I'm going to ask a question, because I didn't see anybody up there. But kind of following through with this idea of region, thinking about it ecologically, specially, politically, et cetera, as you put on the table. I guess the question I have for the panel, I was really struck by the difference between East St. Louis and St. Louis. Maybe we got a really positive picture from Ken. But thinking a little more about the physical location of East St. Louis with respect to governance in the state of Illinois, its isolation, part of that state, but it's isolation. It had, to a certain extent, the advantage of being out of the big conversation about what's happening in, possibly, the rest of the state, in Chicago. And then, on the other side, you have this fragmented terrain, politically fragmented terrain in Missouri, where you get the sense that that fragmented puzzle is really central to the conversation in the state of Missouri about politics in the future of the region. Well, this region of St. Louis. It seems to me a lot of that goes back to the historical story that we have about the legacy, the history of Missouri as a state, with the compromise, and how that writes itself on the spatial fragmentation, on ideas of race, whiteness, et cetera. So I guess I'm trying to ask a question about the kind of territorial place of St. Louis in the state of Missouri, and whether that's the reason why we might not see some of the successes that Ken has showed us in the East St. Louis place. In other words, the advantages of so-called backwardness in East St. Louis allowed the city to come together and do something in ways that I don't see much promise for the city or the metro region of St. Louis to come together and claim a different identity for that region in the state of Missouri. I have a partial historical response. I didn't emphasize this, but one of the things I've been struck by in my study of St. Louis is actually the radical history of St. Louis. And so, in a way, I'm not accepting the premise of the difference. I mean, the first general strike in the United States was in St. Louis in 1873. The first sit down strike was at Emerson Electric in 1836, I think. There was a vigorous radical labor community, including African-Americans-- ambiguously including African-Americans, never successfully including African-Americans. But, I think, persists to this day. So if you talk to Percy Green, who climbed the arch in 1964, Percy Green is somebody who walked a picket line where Hershel Walker, who was the black president of the Communist party in St. Louis in the 1930s. And Percy Green's somebody who is in conversation with Tef Poe, who was one of the organizers, or one of the principles in the uprising in Ferguson. And so, I guess what I'd want to gesture at is the consequential character of that tradition, and the fact that it's not simply what happened. And I think Professor Gordon said this, in a way. What happened in Ferguson happens a hundred times a year, hundreds of times a year in the United States of America, a policeman shoots a young, unarmed black man. But what was different was that people turned out, and they were organized, and they stayed out, day after day after day, as it got cold, as it rained. And that, to me, is the product of this sort of decades-long tradition of radical organizing. And then, I look at what happened at the University of Missouri. I'm from Columbia. I am well aware of the rednecky character of the central Missouri. But what happened to me there was also a product, then, of that radical black tradition that has stayed alive in spite of everything that's happened in St. Louis. So I just want to hold onto that a little bit. I'm wondering, you all have deep resources and knowledge about this area. It seems like we're missing a thread, which is the economic threat. And we heard last night, passionately, about what's needed is education and jobs. We talked about resources here today, physical resources of the land, and incredible people, the women in East St. Louis, and the activists. But where's the money going to come from? Are you talking about the region? Because if we stretched out the responsible physical, geographic area, there would actually be those resources out there that have some of them moved out along with people who've moved out of the city? Or is there really need for a whole new injection of money into this area? What needs to be accomplished? I mean, you can pull it and pick it and reorganize it from the funds that might be available on a public nature, but we need something that feeds itself and keeps it going and employs people. I didn't really hear the economic story, except about the rust belt and maybe misnamed it. The potential, maybe, of the agricultural resources of the area. But are we going to put that together? And what might be out there that could be harvested? I mean, I would just point to two important elements. One is that the St. Louis economy is not strong, has not been strong for a century. And, in fact, city planners, Harland Bartholomew among them, started worrying about white flight at the end of World War I. They were saying, you know, we're-- it's a 19th century economy centered on the river. It's struggling economically, and that's a big part of the story. And what's remarkable about the sprawl of St. Louis West, into the Missouri cornfields, is that the city has not grown in substantial ways, economically or demographically. The population of St. Louis today is about one and a half, two times, of the metro area, what it was in 1930, and it takes up 12 times the land area. 10% of the population live in the city of St. Louis. So you have that sprawl, despite the lack of growth, despite the lack of economic prosperity. The other thing that I think is notable about St. Louis, and helps to distinguish it from more moderate successes like Pittsburgh and other places, is St. Louis has a notoriously shortsighted business community that has not done itself any favors. They're always fighting the last war. They're always trying to save downtown when downtown is gone. And they're playing inside this fragmented political structure, in which to play the game is to lose it. It's a sort of beg your neighbor game of musical chairs. I always think of in such a way, if Walmart is looking down at Google Earth of St. Louis, their saying, we're going to have 10 stores. And then everyone competes as to who gets the 10 stores, and Walmart doesn't pay any taxes, or it gets-- you know, it's not like you've got more investment for the metro region. So I'm just suggesting, we need to talk, in this day or in years that follow, about a major new injection of something that really breaks through that change. When I was working in St. Louis in the late '90s, it was fantastic to work there. It still seems to be the case that it's supported by these foundations. There's fabulous foundations. They support thinking and writing and research, but all of those together can't get the number of jobs that are needed for the amazing people that are in St. Louis. I had the sense, then, it's reached some limits of going out, and there was a real sort of push that could bring people back. There's only so far people are willing to commute out. And there's hope for that change, but it sounds like there hasn't been as much since then as I had thought. Anyway, something to continue. In deference to Professor Gordon, I just want to put on a tiny little footnote, which I think it is important to not only imagine-- to not let the narrative of decline be the only way that we understand inequality in St. Louis. So St. Louis is a city which has, by some measures, two of the wealthiest suburbs in the United States of America, out of 25. St. Louis? Crappy in-decline St. Louis? Right? So the point being that there are thriving businesses within St. Louis that are not paying taxes, that are getting away with not contributing to the community. And so, it may be that, as well as a story of large-scale historical decline, we can find a story of structured inequalities of the businesses that are actually there, and are actually thriving, and the sorts of disadvantage that they are creating, rather than addressing. But I do think, also, that this is, again, where the fragmentation of the region is a part of the question that gets in the way. So you have the competition to the bottom. Because of the history of the fragmentation of the region, that's a huge obstacle to kind of move forward, even to get people to talk about economic development. But I don't want to talk too much. I see there are three questions. We're going to pile them all together, because we're already running into our coffee break, or whatever. So we'll pile the three questions, then we'll let the panelists say some final things, if they want. Oh, four? OK, four. Oh, sorry. I have the microphone, so I get to speak. I just wanted to ask about the longer legacy of Missouri as a slave state. And Colin was talking last night about how slave states have a tradition of low property taxes, which ties in, I guess, to the question just being asked, so that Missouri continues to have this sort of long history of low property taxes. And I guess I just wanted to hear how that plays out and how to respond to that, especially given that it is something that comes out of Missouri's longer history. I don't think there's time for this, but I think it's really important. And I'd like to have all the panelists respond-- but they won't have time to do it-- to the idea of the complexity of the pattern of fragmentation and racism that you've so eloquently outlined, and the other regional patterns. And that's class, income, occupation. The famous St. Louis Post Dispatch Series in-- was it 1950? Progress or Decay-- there's a picture of the suburbs by price point of five different little houses that you can get in different areas. The other picture that I saw, I think I saw Miles Davis up there for a second. If memory serves, his parents were-- his father was a doctor-- dentist. He was a dentist. So I'd like to get a feel for the diversity within these groupings. There is an African American professional class. There are the whites. I understand whiteness, but you'd hate to stereotype a whole race. There are a lot of different ethnic, but particularly occupational income groups, and that plays out and makes the challenge in East St. Louis, everywhere, a little more complicated. So at some point, I'd love to hear about that. Remember, the more questions, the less response. But I see two more, and then we'll wrap it up. Hi. Considering this fascinating, very troubling history of violence in St. Louis, I'm just wondering-- my question has to do with your thoughts about urban history as a normative project on its own, in deciding, say, St. Louis' future, politically and economically. My question is whether there have been any federal or state institutions that have done anything to use historic preservation as a platform from which to argue for St. Louis' revitalization. Considering what we heard yesterday about dilapidated housing. And the whole discussion began with the physical artifact of East St. Louis. I'd love to know what you think about whether historic preservation has at all been a focus. Last question out there? Yeah. The answer is yes. Do you have a question? Is somebody up there? Just a quick comment. At what scale do you operate? I think, Diane, you started by moving from the universal to the particular. And I think it was a fascinating panel which started by a burned human being hanging from a tree, ending with trees ready for deployment. And in the middle, we visited a neighborhood that was strangled and cut off, trash bags in the middle of the street that you can't drive around. So we'll get to this in panel four. But at what scale do you grab people's attention to start at? Because starting from the universal is difficult. Those particular moments seem easier for people to latch onto, in terms of how to move forward. So just a thought. There will be plenty of time for conversation as the day unfolds, so why don't we take it at that and let all the panelists have final comments, if they'd like, to these questions or anything else. Colin, you want to start with you down there? Yeah. I just think it's important to understand the region's fragmentation. It's not a matter of, even in the St. Louis County suburbs, of relatively equally-positioned postage stamps engaged in this sort of race to the bottom. But, in fact, you have very diverse municipalities, some very wealthy, some very poor, all of which, or many of which, started with different motives, with different ideas of how they would develop and how they would grab a tax base. So we're going to avoid all commercial development, or we're going to bring on the big box retail. This changes over time with changes in the state tax system. So at the time the suburbs are developed, single family large lot zoning is your best fiscal ticket. After Missouri's 1980 Hancock amendment, and which dampens property assessments, that's not enough, particularly in settings like Ferguson, with very small property footprints. So what you end up with is these very differentially positioned municipalities, some of which are thriving, some of which are struggling. But they can generally avoid each other in this sort of game of musical chairs that goes on in the county. And to Maggie's question about the property tax, yeah, I think this is fundamental. Because slave states dampened the taxation of property, because slaves were property. So in Missouri, unlike in most other parts of the country, municipalities have never relied very much on property taxes. It's always been, like, 15, 20%. So a setting like Ferguson, where they get 12% from property taxes and 20% from municipal fines and forfeitures is not unusual. What do these states rely on? They rely on deeply aggressive sales taxes, and they rely heavily on intergovernmental revenues, which dry up. Just to respond to just a couple of things. One is, it may be that the suburbanization of poverty and the graying of the baby boomers may create a situation in which, increasingly, inner ring and second ring and third ring suburban areas outside of St. Louis begin to experience many of the same issues that the central city has, maybe in different degrees. And there could be the potential, out of that, of shared pain for reconsideration of their common interest in potential regional, cooperative opportunities. Memphis, which has suffered many of the same consequences in terms of fixed size of economy, fixed size population, and extraordinarily low density development, now, it's beginning to see a very vibrant regional cooperation movement around planning open spaces, greenways, bike ways, et cetera. It was the low lying fruit that they could easily agree on. And as a result of that common ground, they're now having conversations about the more difficult issues, public schools, local job generation and economic justice. And who would have thought, in Memphis? So that's exciting. Around the issue of preservation as a strategy, in East St. Louis, one of the first really visionary plans was done by Katherine Dunham, the great dancer, choreographer, civil rights leader, with Buckminster Fuller, the Old Man River plant, putting the entire city under a geodesic dome. But the generator was going to be the creative arts, and Miss Dunham spent the latter part of her life, 30 years, trying to make that happen in East St. Louis. Really an extraordinary story that also hasn't been given its adequate attention. So those are just a couple of quick reactions. I think it's fascinating. I too am interested in the question of scales, and scales which can be actionable but also feel like there's some sort of change, and some sort of change over time or how you think about things over time. Because I think, in a sense, the fragmentation is, on the one hand, a result of complex planning, but is also such a difficult-- we don't really train ourselves to think about fragmentation, as designers and planners. We're much more comfortable with things that are continuous and things that are large scale, and so, I think, also, just trying to hone our tools to deal with something that is piecemeal. Because, more and more, we get that kind of condition. So I think that's something important to kind of tease out of these conversations. Yeah, just a couple of little footnotes on one idea. By using the phrase "whiteness," I didn't mean to suggest that all white people are evil, which I may or may not actually believe. But the point was actually to adjust you to a certain kind of class analysis, where there are non slaveholding white people whose claim to inclusion is a white supremacist claim, who are advancing that in conflict with slaveholders. And that a muted portion of this draft. I think the legacy as a slave state is really, really interesting. I mean, St. Louis is the site of the first general emancipation in the United States, and that has partly to do with the radical tradition of Germans in St. Louis. But what happens, then, is that there's no reconstruction in St. Louis, reconstruction to the extent that it happens elsewhere, which is, at moments, extraordinary, is largely rollback. But that never happens in St. Louis. And St. Louis is also the heartland of what you could call liberal republicanism in the 1870s, which is the notion that what we need to do is develop the economy more generally, and not pay specific attention to African American civil rights. So there's a really complicated history that I think does serve as a foundation for this. The thing that I want to finish with, though, is the scale of empire. We've talked quite a bit about city scale, regional scale, state scale, a little bit about national scale. St. Louis is the heartland of US imperialism in the 19th century. It is the place. It's the Western military post. All of the 19th century Indian wars are run out of St. Louis, including the Seminole war, which is in Florida. So it is the designated site for US imperialism through the 19th century, and it becomes a defense city. And so, a lot of what we talked about in relationship-- and if you talk about the East St. Louis race riot, you can't talk about that without thinking about the First World War. You can't talk about Mill Creek Valley without referring to Hiroshima Flats, right? And so, there's a set of sort of enduring relationships that I think are worth thinking about, between the history of United States imperialism, the history of St. Louis, and then the recalcitrant inequality and segregation within the city and the county. Well, just as a final comment, I would say, it was an amazing panel. I really love the way that we're thinking about-- well, the point that you can't think about the territory, territoriality, without thinking about the history. And the history writes itself, in terms of the patterns of territorially, including fragmentation. So one final comment I would add, building on several of the prior comments about scale, which is, it seems to me that, maybe we can be thinking, as the panels unfold today, not just about which scale to intervene in, but how do we understand working across scales simultaneously? What does it take to be able to work across the fragmentation? Is it a political movement? Is it a kind of historical identity? Is it a project? Is it a vision? But how do we start moving beyond the fragmentation that has prevented some of the advances that we'd like to see in St. Louis? So I want to thank our amazing panelists, and invite you to stay for the next panel.

Contents

Vacancy arises

News of the death of the Duke of Northumberland, who had been Chancellor of the University since 1840, was received in Cambridge on the evening of Friday 12 February. Initial thoughts of his successor centred on Lord Lyndhurst who was then High Steward of the University and a member of Trinity College, the largest.[1] A letter in the London evening newspaper The Globe suggested the Earl of Burlington.[2] Others were already suggesting that Prince Albert, the Prince Consort might be a suitable candidate.[1] The Prince was an obvious choice as he was known to be interested in higher education, intelligent and had a serious approach.[3] He had been made a Doctor of Laws and a member of Trinity College when he visited Cambridge together with the Queen in 1843, but there were some difficulties which his election would bring. He was not English, and did not know much about English universities; also had no seat in Parliament and was therefore unable to defend Cambridge there. As a member of the Royal Family, the Prince was above party politics: this had advantages (putting the University out of the party fray) but also disadvantages (he was unable to intervene in intense political debates).[4]

Among the senior members of the University who thought of the Prince Consort was William Whewell, then Master of Trinity College. On 13 February Whewell wrote to the Treasurer of Prince Albert's Household to ask if the Prince would consent to nomination; later that day he visited him in person to discuss the issue.[5] Albert was unprepared for the invitation and asked Baron Stockmar about it; Stockmar advised that the Prince's experience of German universities might be of some use. At Stockmar's suggestion,[6] he consulted the Marquess of Lansdowne, Lord President of the Council, who advised him to accept provided that the election was unopposed. The Prince accepted this advice and on Sunday 14 February Lord Monteagle of Brandon wrote to Whewell confirming the Prince's conditional acceptance of nomination. Whewell was quite pleased to have received it, never expecting to get an unconditional acceptance, and returned to Cambridge to begin arranging what he hoped would be the unopposed election.[7]

A contest looms

Immediately on learning of the death of the Duke of Northumberland, the Master and senior members of St John's College had decided to invite the Earl of Powis, who had studied at that college, to be a candidate.[8] Powis was English and had been Tory Member of Parliament for Ludlow for 33 years, voting against the Reform Act. He was mainly known for his religious views, being a Tractarian, but had led the opposition in the House of Lords to the proposal to unite the sees of Bangor and St Asaph in order to create a new Bishopric of Manchester. The fight had begun in 1843 and had led to the appointment of a Commission to reconsider the measure, which recommended that it be dropped. As a result, Powis was popular among churchmen.[9]

On his return to Cambridge, Whewell had found that almost all the Heads of Colleges and Professors were supportive of the Prince, and two (Woodwardian Professor of Geology Adam Sedgwick and the Master of Jesus College William French) had had the same idea and were already canvassing support. The appearance of a rival candidate might undermine the whole effort since the Prince wanted an unopposed election. Powis had received the invitation from his college at home in Shropshire and accepted it on Monday 15 February, probably in ignorance of any approach to the Prince Consort, and the supporters of the Prince hoped that Powis might be persuaded to withdraw on learning of widespread support for a rival. The Vice-Chancellor Henry Philpott and 13 Heads of Colleges agreed the terms of a formal address to the Prince asking for permission to nominate him and left it at Catharine Hall where Philpott was Master, for others to sign.[10] The address read:[11]

Withdrawals and acceptances both declined

On learning that Powis had accepted, the Master of St John's immediately wrote back to tell him that the Prince Consort might be a candidate. However, news of Powis' acceptance of nomination had already been published in the London evening newspapers of Monday. While Powis knew it would be unseemly to fight an election against the Prince, he felt he could not go back on his word and disappoint his supporters. The Vice-Chancellor apparently appealed to Powis directly to urge him to withdraw, but it was in vain.[12] Powis confirmed that he would stand; committees were already being formed to support him which were pleased to hear of his determination, and the committees resolved to "use the utmost efforts" to campaign.[13] He quickly gathered support in London; the members of the Oxford and Cambridge Club were said to be almost universally in favour of Powis,[14] although after the election was over, a pamphleteer generally sympathetic to him regretted that his supporters had resorted to "degrading" public advertisement to drum up support.[15] Most of the press were also opposed to the Prince,[14] with Punch being particularly energetic in the campaign: it printed a spoof begging-letter from the University to the Prince which ran:[16]

The Prince's supporters could not send their address until Powis' intentions were known, so it waited at Catharine Hall until Friday 19 February when they met at Trinity College. Whewell presided and those present included most Heads of Colleges, Professors and resident Fellows. This meeting unanimously approved the Prince Consort as a candidate and appointed a Committee to run his election campaign which contained Fellows from every college except St John's. It was agreed that the Vice-Chancellor should go to meet the Prince to present the address and hear his reply about whether, in the circumstances of a contested election, the Prince would accept nomination. Because the issue was critical, the Vice-Chancellor was to telegraph the Prince's decision: "A" for acceptance, "C" for conditional acceptance, and "R" for refusal.[17]

On Saturday 20 February the Vice-Chancellor went by train to London and had an audience with the Prince Consort at Buckingham Palace, handing him the address with its many distinguished signatures. The Prince had prepared a written answer which stated that "from the proceedings entered into by others in the University, .. there does not exist that degree of unanimity which alone would leave me at liberty to consent to be put in nomination". The Queen wrote in her diary for that night that Albert had declined the offer and Philpott telegraphed back "R", a reply which was received during the afternoon. The full text of the Prince's letter was telegraphed shortly before Philpott arrived back and a full committee meeting was called. John Graham, the Master of Christ's College, told the meeting that he had private information that the answer was final and it would be disrespectful to the Prince to proceed.[18]

The Contest becomes certain

The supporters of the Prince Consort at the meeting on Saturday evening were very reluctant to give up, many thinking that the choice of Powis would be a disastrous insult to the Government. The meeting concluded by carrying a resolution to meet again on Monday, although most expected this next meeting would have to wind up the campaign. However, late in the evening, James Cartmell (a Fellow of Christ's College) arrived from London bearing a letter from Lord Monteagle to Whewell. Monteagle had been working to support the Prince and wrote that " 'R' was sent by mistake. The answer is no refusal" and citing three others "best qualified to form an opinion" as agreeing. Lord Lansdowne, who possibly drafted the Prince's reply, was certainly one of them, and explained that the Prince had refused his consent to be nominated, but had not said that he would refuse office if his supporters nominated him anyway. He was therefore giving his Cambridge supporters a free hand. Accordingly when the Committee met on Monday 22 February, they unanimously agreed to nominate the Prince and to distribute a circular in his favour. Notwithstanding what he had said on Saturday, Graham did not dissent. A Committee was formed at the Union Hotel in London to campaign for the non-resident vote,[19] under the chairmanship of the Marquess of Northampton.[20]

On learning he had in fact been nominated, the Prince asked former Prime Minister Sir Robert Peel for advice on whether he should insist on withdrawing, or remain indifferent, and whether in the event of his election, he should refuse or accept. Peel advised him to let the election take its course and to accept the office, "for of the result of the contest I cannot have a doubt". The Prince accepted this advice.[14]

Issues

Cambridge in the 1840s was under severe pressure to reform, being still almost entirely Anglican.[21] The Chancellor election was crucial to the University's response. While some feared that the Prince Consort would seek to change Cambridge to be like a German university, others believed he would be easily accepted by the Government as a clear indication that Cambridge supported reforms and would bring them forward. However, this argument was not easily made in public and the main themes in the election were not so high-minded. Powis was attacked as a Roman Catholic masquerading as an Anglican, while the feud between Trinity and St John's Colleges was stirred up on both sides.[22] On 23 February Whewell wrote a general letter asking for support for the Prince because Powis would be "a Chancellor of St John's" and had estranged himself from the rest of the University. Whewell hand-wrote some letters but lithographed others,[23] and the Master of St Johns Ralph Tatham complained that for him to do so was "unjust and unprecedented" since the assertion was wrong: Powis' committee contained 40 Trinity graduates. Whewell stood by his comments, on the grounds that Powis had not told the officers of the University that he was standing, and had replied with the resolution of a committee when they had got in touch with him.[24]

Some Royalists appealed for votes for "the noble-hearted husband of our noble-hearted Queen", while others refused to have a non-English and non-Cambridge man as Chancellor.[22] The Times printed a letter "written in a ruder style than we could have wished" which objected that it was improper for the University to have direct access to the Crown through the husband of the Queen.[25] Party political considerations were also present. An anonymous "non-resident M.A." published in the London newspapers complained that on Albert's committee, "scarcely a name is to be found but that of some mere Whig politician, or some courtier who is no politician at all"; the author praised Powis as the "best bulwark [of the Church] in our days" and lamented that the Whigs were fighting under cover of the Queen's consort and against his wishes.[26] The Globe contended that the Prince was precluded from accepting the office for several reasons, but for "one all-sufficient fact—the absence of anything approaching to unanimity in the University".[27] The Evening Standard felt that nominating Albert was disrespectful to both Queen Victoria and the Prince himself, and that voting against Albert was justified because he had refused to be nominated.[28]

Casting votes

The electorate for the election of Chancellor was the Senate of the University, consisting of all the senior members including the Masters of Arts. As Cambridge raised every graduate to the degree of a Master of Arts six years after matriculation, almost all Cambridge graduates (wherever resident) could vote. The total electorate was estimated by William Frederick Pollock, a Trinity College graduate supporting Powis, at 3,500, of whom 300 were resident in Cambridge.[29] Votes had to be cast in person, and The Times printed the times of trains to Cambridge and back, so that non-resident MAs could go up and vote. Prince Albert was surprised to learn that Powis' London committee had chartered special trains for their supporters; this was a tactic which the Prince's supporters had not thought of.[30] Cambridge graduates in high public office were strongly encouraged to take time off to go up and vote; they were also aware that voting was public and that, depending on their vote, they might incur grave Royal displeasure.[31] The poll was set to be taken over three days. It would open at 10 am on Thursday 25 February, and close at 5 pm that night, and be reopened between 8 pm and 9 pm that evening. The poll on Friday 26 February, the second day, was held at the same hours as the first day; on Saturday 27 February the poll opened at 9 am and closed, finally, at noon. Votes were cast in a large voting chest on a table in front of the Vice-Chancellor, with two letter-boxes: the one to the right of the Vice-Chancellor was "The Prince Albert" while to the left was "The Earl of Powis".[32] Voters would identify themselves and pick up one of two voting papers reading:[33]

e Collegio                           eligit
CELSISSIMUM PRINCIPEM
ALBERTUM
IN CANCELLARIUM
HUJUS ACADEMIÆ
e Collegio                           eligit
HONORATISSIMUM VIRUM
COMITEM DE POWIS
IN CANCELLARIUM
HUJUS ACADEMIÆ

Each candidate had two "assessors" who checked the procedure was fair. The assessors for Prince Albert were the Rev Robert Birkett (Emmanuel College) and the Rev John Mills (Pembroke College); for the Earl of Powis, the assessors were John Charles Snowball (St John's College) and the Rev Henry Wilkinson Cookson (Peterhouse).[33] During the voting the undergraduates (who had no votes) crowded into the galleries in the Senate House, shouting at the participants below. They returned on the second day's polling, Friday 26 February, bringing horns and throwing things down including peas, shot and halfpennies.[32] It was noted that the Queen was respected, but that Albert called "The German Chancellor" as opposed to Powis as "The English Chancellor". However, others distinguished between "The Chancellor of St John's" and "The Royal Chancellor". One wag shouted a mock advertisement "shortly to be published: The Master of Trinity's Court Guide", followed by "Hints on Etiquette, by a Johnian".[33] The Times reported the state of the poll at various hours to be as follows:[34]

First day Second day Third day
Time Prince Consort Earl of Powis Majority Time Prince Consort Earl of Powis Majority Time Prince Consort Earl of Powis Majority
9:30 am 896 793 +103
10 am 901 804 +97
10:30 am 52 68 –16 10:30 am 638 613 +25 10:30 am 912 805 +107
11 am 93 123 –30 11 am 654 632 +22 11 am 942 835 +107
11:30 am 133 187 –54 11:30 am 664 647 +17 11:30 am 948 839 +109
12 pm 148 214 –66 12 pm 668 654 +14
12:30 pm 219 301 –82 12:30 pm 670 660 +10
1 pm 292 353 –61 1 pm 706 679 +27
1:30 pm 312 368 –56 1:30 pm 718 683 +35
2 pm 328 393 –65 2 pm 724 689 +39
2:30 pm 761 706 +55
3 pm 427 451 –24 3 pm 781 722 +59
3:30 pm 792 736 +56
4 pm 533 543 –10 4 pm 808 749 +59
4:30 pm 560 560 nil 4:30 pm 815 762 +63
5 pm 582 572 +10 5 pm 828 763 +65
9 pm 617 602 +15 9 pm 875 789 +86

By Friday it had become clear to the Prince that, if he won, it would be by a small majority. He asked Sir Robert Peel to come to Buckingham Palace at 1 pm on Saturday, so that he could give advice on what to do when the expected delegation arrived from Cambridge formally offering him the Chancellorship.[35] At noon on Saturday the voting ceased and the chest in which votes had been cast was opened so that they could be counted. Four dubious votes which had been kept back for consideration were found to be good votes by the Registrar, while four votes were struck off as the voter was found to be ineligible; two who met this fate were the Earl Fitzwilliam and Francis Hodgson, Provost of Eton, each of whom had graduated but not taken his MA. The names of all voters were read over again and the final result was declared just before 2 pm:[36]

College Voters Prince Albert Earl of Powis Majority Paired (Albert) Paired (Powis)
Catharine Hall 45 22 23 –1 1
Christ's College 77 47 30 +17 3 2
Clare Hall 56 37 19 +18 2 2
Corpus Christi College 69 52 17 +35 1
Downing College 17 11 6 +5 1
Emmanuel College 72 32 40 –8 1
Gonville and Caius College 84 60 24 +36 1
Jesus College 59 33 26 +7 1 2
King's College 56 31 25 +6 2
Magdalene College 62 38 24 +14
Pembroke Hall 45 32 13 +19
Peterhouse 64 33 31 +2 1
Queens' College 76 54 22 +32
St John's College 371 53 318 –265 4 6
Sidney Sussex College 29 21 8 +13 2
Trinity College 580 378 202 +176 17 11
Trinity Hall 29 20 9 +11
Total 1,791 954 837 +117 30 30

The Prince accepts

The Prince Consort c. 1849, enrobed as Chancellor of the University, by Frederick Richard Say. Trinity College, Cambridge.
The Prince Consort c. 1849, enrobed as Chancellor of the University, by Frederick Richard Say. Trinity College, Cambridge.

Having received the Prince's invitation, Peel prepared a paper for him giving his advice about what to do in the case of various election outcomes.[37] Peel argued very strongly that, if the Prince was elected by a small majority, he should definitely accept the office: the small majority was the product of the unusual circumstances of the election, while most of the senior members of the University had supported him and to refuse the office would be to deeply offend them. He also drafted the terms of a reply which the Prince might make to the Cambridge delegation.[38] The Prime Minister, Lord John Russell, also wrote to the Prince advising him that everyone he had seen thought "a refusal on the part of Your Royal Highness would create confusion and dissatisfaction".[39] Queen Victoria wrote in her diary that "We are much gratified" by the result and that "Albert on the good advice of Sir Robert Peel (which is always valuable) is accepting the post".[40]

When no delegation came on Saturday, and instead only a letter confirming the result and that an official letter of invitation would follow, the Prince's Private Secretary Colonel Phipps wrote to the Vice-Chancellor gently to encourage him to send a formal delegation. He also included the reply drafted by Peel which stated "I have resolved to accept the trust which the University is willing to confide to me".[41] The official letter was traditionally in Latin and had to be approved by the Senate; the Rev Thomas Crick, the Public Orator, who wrote it, was a strong supporter of Powis[42] and found it difficult to compose something friendly. When finished on 2 March it was sealed and taken to Buckingham Palace to be presented to the Prince who simply replied "and here is my answer".[43] After the delegation had gone, Albert read the official letter and noticed that a minor mistake had been made in the Latin.[44]

The Prince was formally installed as Chancellor of the University of Cambridge in a ceremony at Buckingham Palace on 25 March 1847.[45] He invited Powis to the ceremony, but Powis replied that as the preceding day had been announced by the Queen as a "day of Prayer & Humiliation", he would be spending the time with his family instead.[46]

Notes

  1. ^ a b "University Intelligence", The Times, 15 February 1847, p. 6.
  2. ^ "Philo Patria", p. 6.
  3. ^ Searby, p. 508.
  4. ^ Winstanley, p. 107. A letter in The Times on 18 February noted that "it is obvious that there are various functions pertaining to the office of Chancellor which it would be impossible for his Royal Highness to discharge", which the author mentioned as "the maintenance of political privileges, or the eradication, if necessary, of defects and abuses". See The Times, 18 February 1847, p. 7.
  5. ^ Winstanley, p. 106-7.
  6. ^ Bennett, p. 148. Both Albert and Stockmar appeared to be ignorant of the fact that the Chancellor of an English university was normally an honorary and ceremonial position only - see Rhodes James, p. 173.
  7. ^ Winstanley, p. 107-8. Whewell and Montagle were brothers in law: their wives were sisters.
  8. ^ Winstanley, p. 108.
  9. ^ Winstanley, p. 108-9; Complete Peerage 2nd Edition, vol X, p. 653-4.
  10. ^ Winstanley, p. 108, 109.
  11. ^ "The Chancellorship", The Times, 17 February 1847, p. 8.
  12. ^ Winstanley, p. 110 note 3.
  13. ^ Winstanley, p. 109-110. A list of the London Committee formed to support Powis is in the advertisement columns of The Times, 20 February 1847, p. 1.
  14. ^ a b c Winstanley, p. 114.
  15. ^ "Philo Patria", p. 17-18.
  16. ^ "The Cambridge Begging-Letter Writers", The Times, 25 February 1847, p. 7.
  17. ^ Winstanley, p. 110-111.
  18. ^ Winstanley, p. 111.
  19. ^ Winstanley, p. 112-113.
  20. ^ A list of the members is in The Times, 24 February 1847, p. 4.
  21. ^ Winstanley, pp. 83-96 passim.
  22. ^ a b Winstanley, p. 115-116.
  23. ^ Cambridge Advertiser and University Herald, No. 432 (3 March 1847), p. 182.
  24. ^ "Philo Patria", p. 22.
  25. ^ "Chancellor of the University of Cambridge", The Times, 23 February 1847, p. 6.
  26. ^ "Philo Patria", p. 18-19.
  27. ^ "Philo Patria", p. 27-29.
  28. ^ "Philo Patria", p. 31-33.
  29. ^ Winstanley, p. 115.
  30. ^ Bennett, p. 149-50.
  31. ^ Rhodes James, p. 174.
  32. ^ a b Winstanley, p. 116-117.
  33. ^ a b c Cambridge Advertiser and University Herald, No. 432 (3 March 1847), p. 180-1.
  34. ^ "Election of Chancellor for the University of Cambridge", The Times, 26 February 1847, p. 4; "The Chancellorship of Cambridge", The Times, 26 February 1847, p. 5; "The Chancellorship of Cambridge", The Times, 27 February 1847, p. 6; "The Cambridge Chancellorship", The Times, 1 March 1847, p. 5.
  35. ^ Winstanley, p. 117.
  36. ^ "The Poll containing the names of those Members of the Senate who voted for H.R.H. Prince Albert, and of those who voted for the Earl of Powis, at the Election of a Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, March (sic) 25, 26, 27, 1847", Metcalfe and Palmer, Cambridge, 1847. There is exact agreement between this book and Henry Gunning, "The poll: containing the names of those members of the Senate who voted for His Royal Highness Prince Albert and of those who voted for The Earl of Powis at the election of a chancellor of the University of Cambridge, 25th, 26th, and 27th February, 1847", J & J.J. Deighton, Cambridge, 1847.
  37. ^ The full text of it is printed in Martin, p. 388.
  38. ^ See Martin, p. 389.
  39. ^ Winstanley, p. 118.
  40. ^ Winstanley, p. 118 note 3.
  41. ^ Winstanley, p. 118-119.
  42. ^ Crick's election as Public Orator in 1836 was a notable example of a St John's-Trinity battle: Crick (St John's) won by 353 to 318 with the support of 184 out of 188 voters from St John's while his opponent the Rev Thomas Thorp (Trinity) had the support of 194 out of 200 voters from Trinity. See Henry Gunning, "The Poll on the Election of Public Orator of the University of Cambridge", Cambridge, 1836.
  43. ^ Winstanley, p. 119-120.
  44. ^ In giving the Prince's titles, the letter referred to "dux de Saxe"; it should have read "dux Saxoniæ". Bennett, p. 150-1.
  45. ^ Winstanley, p. 120.
  46. ^ Rhodes James, p. 176.

References

  • Daphne Bennett, "King without a crown: Albert, Prince Consort of England, 1819-1861", Heinemann, 1977.
  • Charles Henry Cooper, "Annals of Cambridge", vol IV, Metcalfe & Palmer, 1852.
  • Elisabeth Leedham-Green, "A Concise History of the University of Cambridge", Cambridge University Press, 1996, at page 148.
  • Theodore Martin, "The Life of His Royal Highness the Prince Consort", 3rd ed., Smith, Elder & Co., 1875, vol I.
  • "Philo Patria", "A Few Plain Truths, or the Late Proceedings at Cambridge Reviewed", Effingham Wilson, London, March 1847. This anonymous pamphlet written by one who claimed to have "no connection with the universities", contends that the national honour was "tarnished by the late obsequious proceedings at Cambridge" and is critical of the Prince's conduct.
  • Robert Rhodes James, "Albert, Prince Consort", Hamish Hamilton, 1983.
  • Peter Searby, "A History of the University of Cambridge", vol III 1750–1870, Cambridge University Press, 1997.
  • D.A. Winstanley, "Early Victorian Cambridge", Cambridge University Press, 1940.

See also

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