The gigantic national machine that was erected during Grant's
administration would have been ineffectual without local sources of
power. These sources of power were found in the cities, now thriving on
the new-born commerce and industry, increasing marvelously in numbers
and in size, and offering to the political manipulator opportunities
that have rarely been paralleled. *
* Between 1860 and 1890 the number of cities of 8000 or more
inhabitants increased from 141 to 448, standing at 226 in
1870. In 1865 less than 20% of our people lived in the
cities; in 1890, over 30%; in 1900, 40%; in 1910, 46.3%. By
1890 there were six cities with more than half a million
inhabitants, fifteen with more than 200,000, and twenty-
eight with more than 100,000. In 1910 there were twenty-
eight cities with a population over 200,000, fifty cities
over 100,000, and ninety-eight over 50,000. It was no
uncommon occurrence for a city to double its population in a
decade. In ten years Birmingham gained 245%, Los Angeles,
211%, Seattle, 194%, Spokane, 183%, Dallas, 116%,
Schenectady, 129%.
The governmental framework of the American city is based on the English
system as exemplified in the towns of Colonial America. Their charters
were received from the Crown and their business was conducted by a mayor
and a council composed of aldermen and councilmen. The mayor was usually
appointed; the council elected by a property-holding electorate. In
New England the glorified town meeting was an important agency of local
government.
After the Revolution, mayors as well as councilmen were elected, and
the charters of the towns were granted by the legislature, not by the
executive, of the State. In colonial days charters had been granted
by the King. They had fixed for the city certain immunities and
well-defined spheres of autonomy. But when the legislatures were given
the power to grant charters, they reduced the charter to the level of
a statutory enactment, which could be amended or repealed by any
successive legislature, thereby opening up a convenient field for
political maneuvering. The courts have, moreover, construed these
charters strictly, holding the cities closely bound to those powers
which the legislatures conferred upon them.
The task of governing the early American town was simple enough. In 1790
New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Baltimore, and Charleston were the only
towns in the United States of over 8000 inhabitants; all together they
numbered scarcely 130,000. Their populations were homogeneous; their
wants were few; and they were still in that happy childhood when
every voter knew nearly every other voter and when everybody knew his
neighbor's business as well as his own, and perhaps better.
Gradually the towns awoke to their newer needs and demanded public
service--lighting, street cleaning, fire protection, public education.
All these matters, however, could be easily looked after by the mayor
and the council committees. But when these towns began to spread rapidly
into cities, they quickly outgrew their colonial garments. Yet the
legislatures were loath to cast the old garments aside. One may say that
from 1840 to 1901, when the Galveston plan of commission government was
inaugurated, American municipal government was nothing but a series
of contests between a small body of alert citizens attempting to
fix responsibility on public officers and a few adroit politicians
attempting to elude responsibility; both sides appealing to an
electorate which was habitually somnolent but subject to intermittent
awakenings through spasms of righteousness.
During this epoch no important city remained immune from ruthless
legislative interference. Year after year the legislature shifted
officers and responsibilities at the behest of the boss. "Ripper bills"
were passed, tearing up the entire administrative systems of important
municipalities. The city was made the plaything of the boss and the
machine.
Throughout the constant shifts that our city governments have undergone
one may, however, discern three general plans of government.
The first was the centering of power in the city council, whether
composed of two chambers--a board of aldermen and a common council--as
in New York, Philadelphia, and Chicago, or of one council, as in many
lesser cities. It soon became apparent that a large body, whose chief
function is legislation, is utterly unfit to look after administrative
details. Such a body, in order to do business, must act through
committees. Responsibility is scattered. Favoritism is possible in
letting contracts, in making appointments, in depositing city funds, in
making public improvements, in purchasing supplies and real estate,
and in a thousand other ways. So, by controlling the appointment
of committees, a shrewd manipulator could virtually control all the
municipal activities and make himself overlord of the city.
The second plan of government attempted to make the mayor the
controlling force. It reduced the council to a legislative body and
exalted the mayor into a real executive with power to appoint and to
remove heads of departments, thereby making him responsible for the city
administration. Brooklyn under Mayor Seth Low was an encouraging example
of this type of government. But the type was rarely found in a pure
form. The politician succeeded either in electing a subservient mayor or
in curtailing the mayor's authority by having the heads of departments
elected or appointed by the council or made subject to the approval of
the council. If the council held the key to the city treasury, the boss
reigned, for councilmen from properly gerrymandered wards could usually
be trusted to execute his will.
The third form of government was government by boards. Here it was
attempted to place the administration of various municipal activities in
the hands of independent boards. Thus a board had charge of the police,
another of the fire department, another of public works, and so on.
Often there were a dozen of these boards and not infrequently over
thirty in a single city, as in Philadelphia. Sometimes these boards were
elected by the people; sometimes they were appointed by the council;
sometimes they were appointed by the mayor; in one or two instances
they were appointed by the Governor. Often their powers were shared with
committees of the council; a committee on police, for instance, shared
with the Board of Police Commissioners the direction of police affairs.
Usually these boards were responsible to no one but the electorate
(and that remotely) and were entirely without coordination, a mere
agglomeration of independent creations generally with ill-defined
powers.
Sometimes the laws provided that not all the members of the appointive
boards should "belong to the same political party" or "be of the same
political opinion in state and national issues." It was clearly the
intention to wipe out the partizan complexion of such boards. But
this device was no stumbling-block to the boss. Whatever might be the
"opinions" on national matters of the men appointed, they usually had
a perfect understanding with the appointing authorities as to local
matters. As late as 1898, a Democratic mayor of New York (Van Wyck)
summarily removed the two Republican members of the Board of Police
Commissioners and replaced them by Republicans after his own heart. In
truth, the bipartizan board fitted snugly into the dual party regime
that existed in many cities, whereby the county offices were apportioned
to one party, the city offices to the other, and the spoils to both. It
is doubtful if any device was ever more deceiving and less satisfactory
than the bipartizan board.
The reader must not be led to think that any one of these plans of
municipal government prevailed at any one time. They all still exist,
contemporaneously with the newer commission plan and the city manager
plan.
Hand in hand with these experiments in governmental mechanisms for the
growing cities went a rapidly increasing expenditure of public funds.
Streets had to be laid out, paved, and lighted; sewers extended;
firefighting facilities increased; schools built; parks, boulevards,
and playgrounds acquired, and scores of new activities undertaken by the
municipality. All these brought grist to the politician's mill. So did
his control of the police force and the police courts. And finally, with
the city reaching its eager streets far out into the country, came the
necessity for rapid transportation, which opened up for the municipal
politician a new El Dorado.
Under our laws the right of a public service corporation to occupy the
public streets is based upon a franchise from the city. Before the days
of the referendum the franchise was granted by the city council, usually
as a monopoly, sometimes in perpetuity; and, until comparatively recent
years, the corporation paid nothing to the city for the rights it
acquired.
When we reflect that within a few decades of the discovery of
electric power, every city, large and small, had its street-car and
electric-light service, and that most of these cities, through their
councils, gave away these monopoly rights for long periods of time, we
can imagine the princely aggregate of the gifts which public service
corporations have received at the hands of our municipal governments,
and the nature of the temptations these corporations were able to spread
before the greedy gaze of those whose gesture would seal the grant.
But it was not only at the granting of the franchise that the boss
and his machine sought for spoils. A public service corporation,
being constantly asked for favors, is a continuing opportunity for the
political manipulator. Public service corporations could share their
patronage with the politician in exchange for favors. Through their
control of many jobs, and through their influence with banks, they could
show a wide assortment of favors to the politician in return for
his influence; for instance, in the matter of traffic regulations,
permission to tear up the streets, inspection laws, rate schedules, tax
assessments, coroners' reports, or juries.
When the politician went to the voters, he adroitly concealed his
designs under the name of one of the national parties. Voters were asked
to vote for a Republican or a Democrat, not for a policy of municipal
administration or other local policies. The system of committees,
caucuses, conventions, built up in every city, was linked to the
national organization. A citizen of New York, for instance, was not
asked to vote for the Broadway Franchise, which raised such a scandal
in the eighties, but to vote for aldermen running on a national tariff
ticket!
The electorate was somnolent and permitted the politician to have his
way. The multitudes of the city came principally from two sources, from
Europe and from the rural districts of our own country. Those who came
to the city from the country were prompted by industrial motives; they
sought wider opportunities; they soon became immersed in their tasks and
paid little attention to public questions. The foreign immigrants who
congested our cities were alien to American institutions. They formed
a heterogeneous population to whom a common ideal of government was
unknown and democracy a word without meaning. These foreigners were
easily influenced and easily led. Under the old naturalization laws,
they were herded into the courts just before election and admitted to
citizenship. In New York they were naturalized under the guidance of
wardheelers, not infrequently at the rate of one a minute! And, before
the days of registration laws, ballots were distributed to them and they
were led to the polls, as charity children are given excursion tickets
and are led to their annual summer's day picnic.
The slipshod methods of naturalization have been revealed since the new
law (1906) has been in force. Tens of thousands of voters who thought
they were citizens found that their papers were only declarations of
intentions, or "first papers." Other tens of thousands had lost even
these papers and could not designate the courts that had issued them;
and other thousands found that the courts that had naturalized them were
without jurisdiction in the matter.
It was not merely among these newcomers that the boss found his
opportunities for carrying elections. The dense city blocks were
convenient lodging places for "floaters." Just before elections,
the population of the downtown wards in the larger cities increased
surprisingly. The boss fully availed himself of the psychological and
social reactions of the city upon the individual, knowing instinctively
how much more easily men are corrupted when they are merged in the crowd
and have lost their sense of personal responsibility.
It was in the city, then, that industrial politics found their natural
habitat. We shall now scrutinize more closely some of the developments
which arose out of such an environment.