Public Housing Myths: Perception, Reality, and Social Policy

Public Housing Myths

PERCEPTION, REALITY, AND SOCIAL POLICY

Edited by

Nicholas Dagen Bloom, Fritz Umbach, and Lawrence J. Vale

Cornell University Press ITHACA AND LONDON

CONTENTS

Introduction

I. Places

MYTH #1 Public Housing Stands Alone

Joseph Heathcott

MYTH #2 Modernist Architecture Failed Public Housing

D. Bradford Hunt

MYTH #3 Public Housing Breeds Crime

Fritz Umbach and Alexander Gerould

MYTH #4 High-Rise Public Housing Is Unmanageable

Nicholas Dagen Bloom

II. Policy

MYTH #5 Public Housing Ended in Failure during the 1970s

Yonah Freemark

MYTH #6 Mixed-Income Redevelopment Is the Only Way to Fix Failed Public Housing

Lawrence J. Vale

MYTH #7 Only Immigrants Still Live in European Public Housing

Florian Urban

MYTH #8 Public Housing Is Only for Poor People

Nancy Kwak

III. People

MYTH #9 Public Housing Residents Hate the Police

Fritz Umbach

MYTH #10 Public Housing Tenants Are Powerless

Rhonda Y. Williams

MYTH #11 Tenants Did Not Invest in Public Housing

Lisa Levenstein

Notes

Acknowledgments

Contributor Biographies

Index

INTRODUCTION

If American urbanists and politicians share any conventional wisdom across political divides, it is the idea that public housing failed in every possible dimension. Public housing has, indeed, come a long way from the idyllic interwar images of children frolicking in landscaped courtyards, tidy brick buildings, and presentable families. These dreamy places—and the promised step forward from decaying and crowded urban slums—sent countries around the globe down the road to public housing construction (Figure I.1). Since then, however, endless portraits of derelict towers, rampant criminality, and unchecked disorder have contrasted sharply with public housing’s idealistic aspirations. And if the woeful images and narratives rarely did justice to the complexity of public housing on the ground, there is no question that public housing as it exists is usually a world away from what the movement’s founders had in mind (Figure I.2).

Public housing, after all, has its roots in what we would today consider utopian ideas about urban life and human nature. The huddled urban masses could be whisked away from tenements, gangs, and disease to a paradise not only of simply sanitary housing but of better living and behavior. Beyond building modern apartments for the urban working class, both in Europe and America, the state would provide excellent schools, community centers, parks and playgrounds, close supervision, and health care. Public housing was not just replacing tenements with modern housing, but replacing urban disorder with a highly regulated, socially controlled urban community: the slumless city of the Settlement House vision. However, world war, budget realities, politics, mismanagement, racism, and social conflict undermined this broad housing vision both here and abroad after World War II. The story varied by region and nation, but the early idealism often lost out to a penny-pinching focus on the quantity of units over their quality, racially biased urban politics, and an increasingly punitive welfare state. Given public housing’s utopian birth, its subsequent and very public fall from grace was perhaps inevitable—there was, after all, a rather long way to tumble.¹

Figure I.1 Jane Addams Houses, Chicago (ca. 1930s). The initial vision of public housing as achieved in Chicago. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

Nor did it help public housing’s case that from a functional perspective public housing represents one of the more complex undertakings of twentieth-century public administration. Designing and building lovely complexes, even when it did happen, guaranteed little. Intricate financing, administrative complexity, urban poverty, and challenging daily operations combined to make public housing management notoriously difficult. The most dramatic failures engendered by these challenges (such as Pruitt-Igoe, Cabrini-Green, and Ronan Point), and the growing distance over time between utopian premise and urban reality, bolstered the powerful critique of public housing from both the left and the right. This critique not only endures but until recently completely swamped any reasonable discussion of the phenomenon known as public housing.²

Figure I.2 After the fall from grace: the Techwood Homes awaiting redevelopment in Atlanta. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

The range of public housing programs and motives is rarely acknowledged outside specialist circles. It is true that most traditional public housing programs, by design, funnel government funds and powers into low-cost housing for construction, renovation, and long-term operations, but there has always existed a strong private dimension to public housing, including private-sector contracting to build, maintain, and renovate public housing projects. In Europe, in particular, nonprofit managers and social housing companies have played leading roles in building and operating public housing projects for over a century. In Singapore, the vast majority of residents even have the opportunity to purchase their units. Motives have also varied greatly, despite the widespread view that public housing is always a liberal or socialist program. The pressure for public housing programs in the United States, for instance, frequently came as much from private downtown business interests, who viewed public housing as a tool for clearing poor neighborhoods, as it did from liberal idealists. Singapore’s leaders, and those in China today, view public housing as a key element of economic modernization as much as a humanitarian program. Public housing, then, includes a range of institutions, actors, and aims, depending upon a particular context.

Public housing comes in more flavors than stereotypes suggest. Popular and academic attention has focused on high-rise projects in big cities, but the majority of what remains of the nation’s traditional public housing (approximately 1.1 million of an original 1.4 million units) consists of low-rise complexes (including single-family homes) in small towns and cities. This smaller scale approach, in fact, predominates among the country’s three thousand housing authorities. European and Asian cities, despite a few high-profile disasters, have constructed and maintained millions of low-, medium-, and high-rise public housing units. In fact, many European governments have invested heavily to renovate or reconfigure large-scale social housing projects while keeping the original residents on site. Generalizing about public housing’s essential nature from Pruitt-Igoe or Ronan Point fails to capture the design diversity—and the varying quality of life over time—in such a widely distributed phenomenon.

The racial composition of public housing has been and is today also more complex than widely believed. While it is true that in the United States racial and ethnic minorities have formed the disproportionate majority of public housing residents for the last several decades, it is also the case that many housing authorities, including that of New York City, created public housing projects for a majority white tenancy. Many of these white projects subsequently tipped to minority occupancy because whites enjoyed access to subsidies for single-family homes in the emerging, racially restricted suburbs. In Europe, too, nonwhite immigrants also populate a sizable share of European social housing units despite public housing’s roots in social democratic policies targeted at white Europeans. On the other hand, Europe’s public housing continues to shelter millions of native-born white Europeans—not only that continent’s new minorities—despite media portrayals. Likewise, in diverse cities such as New York, San Francisco, and London, the broad range of ethnic minorities calling public housing home belies popular notions of the projects as a program only for African Americans and Latinos. In Asia, too, race is not a factor in public housing in the same ways. Singapore, for instance, employs strict ethnic quotas in each of its projects, thereby ensuring a substantial Chinese ethnic majority in every complex. To say that public housing is minority housing by its nature is not consonant from a global or historical perspective.

These widespread misconceptions about the true nature of public housing make the subject of public housing ripe for myth busting. Since 2000, even while many American and European public housing towers have been pulled down, and even as the reputation of public housing programs sank to new lows, historians and social scientists have quietly imploded the conventional wisdom about public housing. Addressing a range of large- and mid-sized cities, including New York, Chicago, Boston, Baltimore, and St. Louis, and identifying overlooked but crucially important themes ranging from management to tenant activism, these fresh perspectives and unexpected findings have given public housing studies a new life. At the same time, a wealth of overseas scholarship—less familiar to American audiences—has emerged that charts public housing’s complex fate in several European and Asian contexts.

We are learning a lot more, for instance, about the instances in which public housing partly realized the goals of its early twentieth-century inventors through case studies that have largely been ignored by most public housing scholars. Northern Europe, Singapore, Hong Kong, many small towns, and even New York City, for example, all gave rise to decently managed public housing systems that may not be utopian but have adequately sheltered hundreds of thousands, even millions, of low-income tenants in modern apartments for decades. These communities are often rougher around the edges or more institutional than the dreamers of the interwar period had in mind—and they often throw off genteel observers today—but many publicly constructed developments convey a genuine community feeling and a quality of life that compares favorably with conditions found in urban tenements both past and present. These communities also provide needed low-rent (or low-cost ownership) housing in very expensive cities.

We also know that the real problems in even the most troubled projects can never be explained by a single causal factor. Tall buildings, superblock urban forms, or welfare concentration—factors usually blamed for all problems in public housing—constitute just part of an intertwined problem, and some places have many of these problems without ever becoming wholly problematic. The new scholarship does not naively celebrate public housing projects, public housing managers, and heroic residents. The reality of deeply troubled housing projects here and abroad precludes such romanticism, but the research is sufficient in depth and data to spark new questions.

The persistence of crime, poverty, and other social problems in cities such as New Orleans and Chicago—even after the elimination of most public housing projects associated with those ills—raises questions about earlier scholarship and public policy that primarily blamed housing projects for a range of urban problems in poor neighborhoods. Chicago’s aggressive Plan for Transformation has erased nearly all of its highly stigmatized family high-rise public housing projects from the city’s landscape, but this did not stop the city from becoming the murder capital of the United States in 2012, with five hundred killings in just one year. Perhaps there was more to the story than we thought. A new accounting is needed, one less weighted with utopian and ideological baggage, that can bring us closer to the truth about a complex and quite fascinating twentieth-century social experiment.³

To provoke this discussion, we have reframed the generally accepted beliefs about public housing as a series of myths. What the editors of this text mean by myths is that while there is much truth to public housing criticism, the hypercritical framework, like any mythology, has assumed a power far beyond the specific facts of the story. That Pruitt-Igoe failed did not, ipso facto, mean that all public housing everywhere had to (or would) go the way of that doomed place. Even the failure of multiple projects both in the United States and abroad should not be allowed to define the reputation of complex and varied government programs that still house millions of low- or moderate-income people. Nor do experts, even today, understand fully the interwoven factors that caused a project such as Pruitt-Igoe to fail. A 2011 documentary, The Pruitt-Igoe Myth, raises questions about the conventional wisdom surrounding the project without fixating on just one smoking gun to explain the collapse. Yet, all too often, the worst cases are allowed to become mythologized into the reigning stigmatized stereotype, even as these worst cases fail to be analyzed in nuanced ways.⁴

The myths that engulf public housing, like all myths, feature strong didactic elements, rooted in utopian origins and political biases that thwart rational analysis. The new housing research thus attempts to steer clear of utopian regrets but also tries to avoid reductive arguments that pit liberals against conservatives. Conservatives did not kill all public housing; liberals did not always save or even adequately defend it; tenants were not simply victims or villains; and racism was just one of many factors undermining the promise of public housing. The finger-pointing of an earlier generation missed the real, and really interesting, stories.

The Founding Myth

The tight connection between leftist modernist planning and public housing that began in the 1920s has made it nearly impossible to look at public housing as a form of urban shelter or as kind of regular government service; rather, it has taken on a deeper meaning as an expression of an ideological movement of planning and design. Because public housing arrived on the scene freighted with utopian idealism (the belief that it could transform both people and places) and burdened with ready-made enemies on the right, any and all blemishes in that unrealistic narrative severely damaged the claims made by early advocates. Since the 1950s, scholars and activists from a variety of different political and occupational perspectives have justifiably focused on the failure to achieve ambitious community revitalization and improved human nature through public housing. Judged by its founding standards, public housing has often fallen short.⁵

Public housing had its initial roots in straightforward housing reform in cities such as London, Paris, Vienna, New York, and Chicago. Housing activists at first saw public housing as simply the next, logical step in housing reform (after the implementation of building regulations and zoning) on their march to the creation of a healthy and sanitary metropolis. Some housing experts disagreed vehemently with this tactic, but it was hard for many housers not to believe that market failure in the lower end of the housing market could only be remedied through constructive government action. Housing as a municipal service was, from their view, just like city water or public parks: a necessary public provision when market failure was obvious.

The international movement in modern housing of the 1920s and 1930s, however, along with social democratic movements in many countries (Labor in Britain, Viennese socialism, or the New Deal in the United States) added a significantly more ambitious, almost magical, notion to public housing. Housing would be the vanguard of the sanitary city, organized in such a fashion as to create healthy and happy communities of working-class inhabitants regardless of the wider social forces acting upon it. Through the provision of open spaces, community facilities, and generous social services, public housing in Europe and America in the interwar period became part of planned urban districts built with increasing self-containment.

The distance between ideal and reality quickly surfaced. Proponents intended separation, for instance, to convey superiority over past forms of ill-conceived tenements and shacks. Isolated projects, however, also could come to signify unwanted difference, emphasizing the distance between modern forms of housing and the more comforting forms of conventional dwellings. The story of public housing might well have turned out somewhat differently if these complexes had been built from the beginning as regular urban buildings, part of the fabric of the city; much of today’s newer affordable housing has sought to remedy this disjuncture.

In the United States, the community infrastructure and social democratic uplift of the New Deal era also frequently fell victim to bottom-line thinking in the 1940s and 1950s, even as the founding ideology still made grand claims about urban transformation. In the postwar period, public housing continued to be constructed in ever vaster modernist superblocks (and, in a few large cities, often with very tall towers), even as many of the more utopian notions such as community and health facilities disappeared from housing project grounds, victims of the new austerity. All too frequently local officials looked to public housing more as a patronage opportunity than as a program supplying decent housing for the working class— let alone a utopian community effort. Others could not resist the opportunity to hijack the program to serve the purposes of business-oriented urban renewal schemes. Such political interests often meant maintenance and even construction funds found their way into well-connected pockets.

Even more troubling, public housing both in the United States and elsewhere became a tool by which elites created the minority-free urban space real estate interests often demanded. As public housing shifted from a venue for housing carefully vetted members of the working class to a place for domiciling those so displaced (or too poor to live elsewhere), social exclusion became a leading part of public housing’s agenda. Many projects and their increasingly minority or immigrant populations were left to rot. So much for utopia!⁶

THE AMERICAN CRITICAL PERSPECTIVE

It wasn’t hard to find fault with public housing as it developed, particularly in the postwar United States. By the 1950s, the critique of public housing focused almost exclusively on the failure of the community planning ideal. Sure, the apartments at first were generally of a higher standard than the old tenements, but could they really be enjoyed in peace? The urban activist Jane Jacobs castigated tower-in-the-park planned districts not only for failing to generate community but also because they destroyed existing, functioning places under the guise of urban improvement. Jacobs had very little to say about public housing apartments as housing, perhaps because their quality was higher at the time than the standard walk-up apartments in the tenement districts she preferred (and not that far from middle-income towers at the time), but she powerfully framed high-rise tower-in-the-park communities of all kinds as perpetually corroding security and community life. Even early advocates of utopian style housing such as Catherine Bauer and Elizabeth Wood were, by the 1950s, criticizing declining design standards, social isolation, and the unhealthy role of public housing communities in urban renewal.⁷

The popular acceptance of Jacobs’s design critique grew during the 1960s and 1970s amid many public housing projects’ growing crime rates, declining maintenance, and spreading signs of social disorder. Very few observers were able to distinguish between the effects of planning and those of its socioeconomic context. Despite race riots and dramatic urban decline that destabilized thousands of conventional urban neighborhoods in the post-1960 period, the theme of public housing as a failed community ideal in time became a cottage industry in the work of leading architects, critics, and planners such as Oscar Newman, Peter Rowe, Richard Plunz, and Andrés Duany. Many designers and critics disavowed their loyalty to the modernist movement and its utopian goals; public housing, and particularly the high-rise tower in the park, became Exhibit A in the failure of modernist community planning and often, by extension, the social democratic welfare state.⁸

Since at least the 1960s, most planners and architects in the United States have viewed high-rise and low-rise public housing as essentially pathological and anticommunal, regardless of any value this form of housing may have as shelter or the fact that similar communities for the middle and upper classes have often been very successful. On the positive side, this rejection has encouraged design practitioners, who once subscribed religiously to the modernist canon and played such an important role in publicizing and promoting the tower-in-the-park ideal, to seek practical alternatives or creative renovation solutions. Their design experiments have, at times, resulted in more interesting financial and physical designs for public housing. In recent years, more controversially, the public housing critique has taken the form of the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development’s HOPE VI program—an acronym now translated as Housing Opportunities for People Everywhere. Here, the public policy goal has entailed replacing severely distressed public housing with community designs that respect the urban grid and surrounding context, even if this means very few public housing tenants get to return following extensive redevelopment into mixed-income communities. The policies known as estate rescue in Europe have addressed many similar issues, but with far less displacement and more extensive renovation of distressed housing projects.⁹

Criticism of public housing has progressed far beyond the planning and housing circles that gave birth to the program. Public housing has been, over the past few decades, one of the few domains of social policy where the ideas of thinkers from a variety of different political perspectives converge. Although critics on the opposing sides may not agree on causes, analysts from a surprising range of political ideals agree that public housing as built has almost no redeeming features.

Conservative partisans both in the United State and Europe have consistently viewed public housing as a dramatic failure of big government policies to create either a better community or more affordable housing. Whether epitomized by anticommunist crusaders in the McCarthy era, Thatcherite efforts to sell off Britain’s council housing in the 1980s, or Howard Husock’s 2003 dissection of America’s Trillion-Dollar Housing Mistake, conservatives have viewed public housing as a tremendous waste of money that undermines the operation of a free market, unfairly competing with the private enterprise that could more effectively deliver affordable and better regulated housing to the urban masses. This critical perspective, sometimes cynically abetted by declining conditions connected to the withdrawal of funding introduced by conservative policies, has spawned a variety of myths, among them the widespread and erroneous notion that public housing residents are all criminals and welfare cheats; that the U.S. public sector stopped public housing provision in the 1970s as a result of programmatic failure; that all public housing projects have themselves become slums that must be destroyed; and that public housing can never be a tool of social and economic development. Nearly every myth in our collection has at one point or another been mixed into right-wing critiques of public housing.¹⁰

The academic left, which might have been expected to defend public housing because of its utopian goals and social democratic heritage, has not been much more generous. There have been a few upbeat accounts, focusing mostly on the early years when the utopian promise seemed within reach or on more recent attempts at public housing redevelopment; still, public housing plays an important role in urban history due chiefly to its frequently poor conditions and capacity to epitomize failed and unfair urban policy in the postwar era. For most American liberal scholars, including Arnold Hirsch (Making the Second Ghetto) and Joel Schwartz (The New York Approach), public housing was too intertwined in racist and frequently incompetent urban renewal policies to ever be successful in its own right as housing or community. The European left, in a similar manner, has criticized the isolation of immigrants in vast suburban housing projects with high unemployment. The left critique of public housing, particularly in the United States, has contributed to the myths that public housing can never be decently managed, that public housing by its nature traps its tenants in poverty, and that there is no conceivable role for public housing in economic or social redevelopment. The ambivalence liberals feel for public housing has contributed to the declining political support for the American program, and led to minimal backing from the left even for dramatic efforts to reform the program through public housing redevelopment. In Europe, where the left has more political power, the results of the critique have been more complex, and often more positive, in terms of redevelopment.¹¹

Urban sociologists and some politically oriented planners have provided the most subtlety when it comes to critical perspectives, perhaps because they have been better able to separate out the various impacts of poverty and housing. Through their engaged fieldwork and sensitivity to context, they also recognize forms of community and support that go unnoticed by many middle- and upper-class observers and academics who may never venture into public housing, but still write about it frequently. At the same time, by their focus on the pathos, poverty, and crime in public housing, rather than on ordinary lives, some scholars have unwittingly contributed to myths that public housing is essentially defined by social disorder and crime.¹²

What the public thinks it knows about public housing is probably the most troubling. Reporters in the United States have developed a series of persistently demeaning and dehumanizing public housing memes and tropes. Mostly middle-class reporters find public housing as convenient shorthand for all urban poverty, government malfeasance, rampant criminality, and dependence. Overwhelmingly negative images and stories have been devoured for decades by middle- and upper-income readers. In fact, an almost Mad-Lib approach to urban reporting emerged in the twenty-first century, where simply inserting a project name and city, along with choice stereotypical images (urine-stained elevators, a broken window), generates a modern analog of How the Other Half Lives (to borrow from photojournalist Jacob Riis’s 1890 publication). The same articles on public housing have been written a thousand times—although, tellingly, they have not been written about a thousand different places. At its core, public housing reportage suffers from a combination of two unfortunate factors: a disproportionate focus on a handful of highly troubled places (either nationally or within a given city) and a formulaic approach to diagnosing problems that evinces little capacity to probe underlying conditions. Edward Goetz characterized this as an exaggerated discourse of disaster because media stories zeroed in on the most dysfunctional high-rise projects, emphasizing social pathologies such as crime, violence, family breakdown, and drugs.¹³

Longtime Chicago Tribune columnist Mary Schmich pointed out that the word notorious became associated with Cabrini-Green so often that it was almost as if this were part of the project’s official name.¹⁴ Similarly, drawing on her lengthy dissertation that dissects the representations of Cabrini-Green’s visual culture, Nicola Mann lamented that, provocative headlines, dramatic photographs and sensational imagery frame Chicago‘s public housing residents as non-citizens, living in a place that isn‘t a community. According to Mann, most portrayals reduce the complex political issues of economic stagnation and cuts in social spending into chaotic, ruinous narrative messages. In so doing, projects such as Cabrini get mythologized in late twentieth-century popular visual culture as sites that deserve to be demolished.¹⁵ Likewise, David Fleming emphasized in a provocative essay the ways that various representations of Cabrini-Green have worked to disempower residents.¹⁶

It is possible to trace the changing media portrayal of public housing through observing the rise of key words and terms used to describe it. Most benignly, a term such as modern appears with relatively high frequency in the pre–World War II period and again from the 1940s and throughout the 1950s before declining. It then peaks once more in the late 1980s and early 1990s under the guise of the need for modernization of public housing stock suffering from deferred maintenance. Most often, as this shift suggests, newspapers have charted the language of public housing’s troubles and in the process, compounded them.

Taking seriously Schmich’s comment about the ubiquity of the notorious Cabrini-Green moniker, it is possible to graph the presence of public housing notoriety in major newspapers and to assess where Cabrini’s own problems falls within this depiction. Looking only at articles from the Chicago Tribune, by 1974 a Chicago school could be blamed for being in the vicinity of the notorious Cabrini-Green housing project. In 1978, a secretary at the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) optimistically opined that a once-notorious symbol of all that is wrong with urban public housing can be saved by a special effort, but the Cabrini-centered notoriety returned with a vengeance in the 1980s and 1990s. In 1982, notorious Cabrini-Green is described as the place where poor women were forced to raise their children; by 1986, it is the city’s second-largest and, some contend, most notorious high-rise public housing development; and the following year it is branded the nation’s most notorious public housing project. Press coverage of notorious Cabrini-Green peaked in 1992 following the senseless murder of first-grader Dantrell Davis, shot by a rooftop sniper while making the short journey from his Cabrini apartment to the elementary school located just across the street. By the late 1990s, just as the city’s Plan for Transformation geared up for massive public housing demolition, the context of Cabrini’s notoriety took a different turn: There is probably no more startling visual representation of the turnaround in the city than the sight of the notorious public housing high-rises of Cabrini-Green backing up against new $300,000, Lincoln Park-style rowhouses.¹⁷

In this evolving narrative, Cabrini’s notoriety, once self-contained, first affected neighboring institutions and then, rendered anomalous by encroaching gentrification, simply became a problem to be removed. Chicago’s flagship newspaper frequently used the world notorious to describe other parts of the city’s public housing, but these pieces tended to focus mostly on the other iconic symbol of distressed housing, the Robert Taylor Homes, or else cast more general disrepute upon its neighbors along the Chicago Wall, the most notorious public housing in the nation.¹⁸

Looking across four major newspapers—the Chicago Tribune, the Los Angeles Times, the New York Times, and the Washington Post—the overall trajectory of notorious public housing is both clear and revealing (see Figure I.3). Notorious and public housing first emerge in tandem in newspaper accounts during the 1940s and 1950s, but in those years notorious is, not surprisingly, used to set up the contrast between modern public housing and the evils of the slums it replaced. By 1970 or so, the referent begins to shift, as notorious gains a new housing partner in crime. In 1981, a New York Times article explicitly shifted the reference, using notorious to describe a public housing slum in San Francisco.¹⁹ After that inflection point, the reportage of notoriety in the four papers increased during the 1980s; in the New York, Chicago, and Washington papers, it peaked between the 1990s and the early 2000s, as the HOPE VI program called attention to the demolition and redevelopment of various benighted projects. After 2007, with most of the nation’s most vilified projects removed, use of the term notorious to describe public housing had begun to dissipate.

Figure I.3 Articles with public housing within fifty words of notorious.

Sources: Proquest Historical Newspapers, Proquest Archives

In all this, however, it is striking to note that if one graphs stories from the four newspapers in a disaggregated manner (Figure I.4), the trend lines are relatively similar; the overall graph (Figure I.3), however, is greatly skewed by the markedly higher number of negative articles in the Chicago paper. And, in turn, the Chicago articles are almost invariably about a few of that city’s largest high-rise projects (all now demolished), with occasional mentions of failures in other cities, typically in New Orleans or St. Louis. In other words, the national picture of public housing negativity conveyed by four of the country’s major papers may well be distorted by a few conspicuous failures in Chicago, coupled with the dramatic initial implosion of Pruitt-Igoe and the renewed spate of destruction and rebuilding occasioned by the HOPE VI program.

New York, a city that has far more public housing than Chicago, Los Angeles, and Washington, D.C. combined, seems to have had little in public housing that rose to the level of true notoriety, at least as described by the New York Times. With so many developments to consider, reporters tend to focus on management by the New York City Housing Authority (NYCHA)—and systemwide episodic operational shortcomings—rather than looking at one project or on project life per se. Moreover, some of that paper’s most direct coverage about public housing is about problems in Chicago, St. Louis, and elsewhere, not a more localized referendum on NYCHA. The Washington Post, too, emphasizes the notoriety of public