Newspapers, Suburbanization, and Social Change in the Postwar Philadelphia Region, 1945-1982

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COVERING SUBURBIA: NEWSPAPERS, SUBURBANIZATION, AND SOCIAL CHANGE IN THE POSTWAR PHILADELPHIA REGION, 1945-1982

A Dissertation Submitted to the Temple University Graduate Board

in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

by James J. Wyatt January, 2012

Examining Committee Members:

Kenneth Kusmer, Advisory Chair, History Beth Bailey, History James Hilty, History Carolyn Kitch, External Member, Journalism ii

ABSTRACT

My dissertation, “Covering Suburbia: Newspapers, Suburbanization, and Social

Change in the Postwar Philadelphia Region, 1945-1982,” uses the Philadelphia metropolitan area as a representative case study of the ways in which suburban daily newspapers influenced suburbanites’ attitudes and actions during the post-World War II era. It argues that the demographic and economic changes that swept through the United

States during the second half of the twentieth century made it nearly impossible for urban daily newspapers to maintain their hegemony over local news and made possible the rise of numerous profitable and competitive suburban dailies. More importantly, the dissertation argues that, serving as suburbanites’ preferred source for local news during the 1950s, 60s, and 70s, enabled the suburban newspapers to directly influence the social, cultural, and physical development of the suburbs. Their emergence also altered the manner in which urban newspapers covered the news and played an instrumental role in the demise of several of the nation’s most prominent evening papers during the 1970s and early 1980s, including Philadelphia’s Evening Bulletin.

This dissertation contributes to the growing body of innovative scholarly studies examining the development of America’s suburbs during the post-World War II era; works which have placed suburbanites at the center of national debates regarding public housing, integration, and urban sprawl, but, to this point, have ignored the central role that suburban newspapers played in influencing how people who had only recently moved to the rapidly growing suburbs understood and reacted to these issues through their coverage of local events. In its totality, my dissertation provides a counter to the prevailing scholarly emphasis on the mass media’s power and argues that local suburban iv newspapers played a primary role in shaping suburbanites’ ideals, attitudes, and actions during the postwar era.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Over the past few years, I have relied enormously on the generous support of numerous mentors, colleagues, friends, and family members. Indeed, I would not have been able to finish this dissertation were it not for their help.

My advisors patiently helped me navigate the ins and outs of researching, writing, and revising this dissertation. Ken Kusmer actively supported this project from the start.

He encouraged me to push methodological and disciplinary boundaries and gave me the space to follow my instincts. Beth Bailey pushed me to think broadly about why this history matters and to ask big questions. Their advice and keen eye for detail has made me an infinitely better thinker and writer. For that, and all of their help, I thank them.

Jim Hilty’s comments helped me see the potential in “going bigger” with this case study.

I still draw on the many lessons learned from the courses I took with him as an undergraduate and graduate student at Temple. I likely would not have considered graduate school were it not for him and thank him for all the sage advice he has provided over the years. Carolyn Kitch’s incisive comments and suggestions were equally as valuable and much appreciated. I thank her for serving on my committee.

My colleagues in Temple’s history department made my experience there intellectually engaging and, very frequently, a lot of fun. Many commented and provided feedback on this work. Holger Lowendorf, Eric Klinek, John Wood, Sarah Hughes,

Drew McKevitt, and Kate Scott challenged my assumptions, asked hard questions, and pushed me to do more with the project. I thank them for their contributions, and more importantly, for their friendship.

While I learned how to be a historian at Temple, my love of history emerged many years before. As a kid, my parents, Jim and Daurice, hauled my brother and I all over the east coast on family vacations. Every summer, we loaded the car and visited battlefields, mansions, plantations, and all other manner of historic sites. It was on these trips that my passion for history was first kindled. I want to thank them for recognizing that interest and cultivating it. I also want to thank them for the support that they have provided in the intervening decades. Getting to this point has been a long and circuitous journey, to say the least. I could not have made it this far without their love and guidance. I love them both.

Other friends and family members helped keep me going in various ways. My brother Mike and sister-in-law Joanna provided lots of free meals, free tickets to concerts and Flyers games, and always had fresh pot of coffee ready. They helped me relax when

I otherwise couldn’t. Dee Parke, who finished her doctorate as I started on this trek, provided emotional support and served as a constant source of encouragement. Many of my friends from “back home” inquired about my progress and, at the very least, feigned interest in my long stories and explanations. I thank them for keeping me grounded and for never letting me forget where I came from.

No one has provided more support than my wife, Dana. She encouraged me to follow my heart into graduate school and has traveled every step of this adventure by my side. Her dedication and work ethic inspire me, her sense of humor makes me laugh, and her love and unyielding faith in me propel me forward. She makes me want to be a better person. Over the past year, she has spent the bulk of her time caring for Claire, the newest edition to our family, so that I could complete this dissertation. Seeing the two of vii them together every morning makes me smile, and the prospect of spending more time with them has provided, perhaps, the greatest incentive to finish. I love them both more than they can know, and I dedicate this work to them.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABSTRACT ...... iii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS...... v

LIST OF FIGURES ...... ix

INTRODUCTION ...... x

CHAPTERS

1. NAVIGATING THE MARKETPLACE...... 1

2. CRAFTING THE SUBURBAN IDEAL IN “AMERICA’S MOST PERFECTLY PLANNED COMMUNITY”...... 50

3. SELLING COMMUNITY IN SOUTH JERSEY: THE CAMDEN COURIER-POST AND THE MARKETING OF THE CHERRY HILL MALL ...... 124

4. COVERING THE SUBURBS IN A CHANGING NEWSPAPER MARKET...... 183

5. COMBATING CONSERVATION: THE DELAWARE COUNTY DAILY TIMES AND THE BATTLE TO BUILD THE BLUE ROUTE ...... 229

6. OMITTING THE NEWS: THE BURLINGTON COUNTY TIMES AND THE FIGHT FOR AFFORDABLE HOUSING IN MOUNT LAUREL, NEW JERSEY ...... 295

7. “DINOSAURS DON’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE”: SUBURBAN DAILIES, CORPORATE NEWSPAPERS, AND THE DEMISE OF THE PHILADELPHIA EVENING BULLETIN ...... 355

EPILOGUE ...... 409

BIBLIOGRAPHY...... 423

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure One: Cherry Hill Mall Advertisement (1961) ...... 147

Figure Two: Cherry Hill Mall Boat Show Advertisement (1962)...... 157

Figure Three: Cherry Hill Mall Christmas Advertisement (1963) ...... 158

Figure Four: Cherry Hill Mall 2nd Anniversary Celebration Advertisement (1963)...... 165

Figure Five: Strawbridge and Clothier Echelon Mall Advertisement (1970)...... 170 x

INTRODUCTION

On Friday, January 29, 1982, N.S. “Buddy” Hayden, the publisher of the long troubled Philadelphia Bulletin, sat down and typed out his last communiqué to the paper’s employees. In it, Hayden offered his heartfelt thanks to those who had sacrificed and worked to keep the paper afloat during its last trying years, and he attempted to explain, albeit briefly, how and why those efforts had finally come up short. The publisher opined that “no other group of people could have ever given more nor worked under more trying circumstances.”1 He argued that no one “single thing” had caused the paper’s failure and explained that a myriad of factors had, over time, slowly rendered the

Bulletin “a dinosaur in an age of sleek jaguars and leaping gazelles.”2 Hours later, after the farewell edition had been printed, bundled, and loaded on the delivery trucks, the

Bulletin’s presses were turned off, and the paper’s near 135-year run came to an end. The paper with the slogan that had for so long claimed “nearly everyone reads the Bulletin” was no more.

The Bulletin’s death did not happen in a vacuum, and it was not an anomaly. By the early 1980s, many of America’s largest and most well known urban dailies were experiencing massive decreases in circulation and advertising revenues and fighting for survival. In Washington D.C., the city’s once popular afternoon newspaper, the Star, closed its doors six months before the Bulletin. Time reported that dailies in Cleveland,

Boston, Baltimore, New York, Los Angeles, and Seattle, among many others, were also on the ropes. Some saw the urban dailies’ troubles as a sign that the newspaper industry xi was dying, but others, including publishing analyst John Morton, explained that the real problem laid in the fact that the papers’ readership had been “redistributed.”3 Writing in

Time, Janice Simpson and Janice Castro described the problem in simpler terms, noting that while the market conditions in each city varied, the core problem was the same everywhere. “Readers and advertisers,” they argued, had simply “trooped off to the suburbs.”4

They were right. The enormous growth of America’s suburban areas during the post-World War II decades privileged the many small newspapers operating on the periphery of the nation’s cities. As people and retailers flocked to suburbia, they increasingly made the suburban dailies their newspapers of choice. The new revenues enabled the suburban presses to gradually emerge as their urban counterparts’ primary competition and one of the most prosperous and profitable parts of the American newspaper industry. By the 1970s, in metropolitan regions across the nation, suburban newspapers dominated the lucrative suburban markets and forced the urban dailies to fight it out for the dwindling circulation and advertising revenues that remained within each city. In this environment, many urban dailies found that they simply could not compete, and as a result, were forced to merge with their cross-town rivals, sell out to larger newspaper chains, or shut their doors for good.

Few could have envisioned such a dramatic turn of events at the outset of the postwar era. As the nation began to emerge from almost twenty years of economic depression and war, urban dailies, particularly those printed in the afternoon, dominated

America’s metropolitan areas. Many of these papers had grown alongside their cities as they matured into industrial metropolises. The massive centralization of industry, people, xii and retailers in the nation’s urban areas during the industrial period provided the perfect environment for big-city dailies to prosper. In an age before the Internet, television, and radio, newspapers served as the only reliable source of local, national, and international news. Blue-collar workers and businessmen alike picked up daily newspapers on their way to and from work, and the industrial cities’ cramped neighborhoods made home delivery fast and easy. As a result, reading at least one newspaper a day became a ritual for millions of Americans. With their growing audiences, urban dailies also became the best places for each city’s retailers to advertise their sales and hock their wares. The influx of circulation and advertising revenues provided many urban publishers with the resources they needed to grow and expand. In places like New York, Philadelphia, and

Los Angeles, publishers used their newfound wealth to build large, architecturally distinct newspaper plants, which hailed their papers’ success and marked their cities’ status as modern metropolises. In the process, urban dailies like the Philadelphia

Evening Bulletin, the New York Times, the Boston Globe, and the Cleveland Plain Dealer became inextricably linked to the cities that they served.5

The urban dailies’ size and ubiquity during the pre-World War II years largely overshadowed the thousands of daily and weekly newspapers then publishing in the country’s rural and nascent suburban areas. These papers, traditionally labeled “grass roots” or “community” presses, were devotedly local in perspective and often exerted a comparable influence on the communities they served.6 The grass roots papers earned the bulk of their revenues from local advertising and classified ads and by attracting a high percentage of readers from within their respective areas. While many of these papers operated in the same regions as the urban dailies, their limited size and scope xiii combined with the larger centralization of readers and retailers in the cities prevented the community presses from competing effectively in each larger metropolitan marketplace.

They were, in effect, little more than masters of their relatively circumscribed domains.7

This scenario would change in the postwar years, as the dramatic demographic, industrial, and retail decentralization that transformed America into a suburban nation also facilitated the unprecedented expansion of the suburban newspaper industry. In some suburban areas, the construction of large new subdivisions and shopping centers fostered the emergence of wholly new community dailies. In other areas, established suburban papers reaped the benefits of the new arrivals and expanded their existing operations. In still other locales, formerly urban newspapers followed the exodus of readers and retailers out of the nation’s cities, built new plants in the suburbs, and transformed themselves into suburban papers. Whatever their origins, by the mid-sixties, suburban newspapers in almost every metropolitan market had emerged as competition for their big-city counterparts and were actively siphoning circulation and advertising revenues from them. In the following two decades, their continued growth would do nothing less than help reshape the American newspaper industry.

Perhaps more important, however, was the tremendous influence that the suburban papers exerted on the social and cultural development of the country’s suburban communities. As the primary sources for local news and information for millions of new suburbanites, the suburban papers stepped into roles that the urban dailies had once filled and helped set the socio-cultural boundaries of the communities they served as they developed. The papers helped establish issues such as property taxes, public schools, racial integration, zoning and land development, and local political autonomy as matters xiv of critical importance and influenced how suburbanites understood and responded to them. In the process, the papers played a primary role in shaping the social and political culture of American suburbia during the post World War II decades.

Despite the central roles that the suburban presses had in the transformation of the nation’s newspaper industry and the development of its suburbs, little scholarly attention has been paid to them. During the late 1960s and 1970s, as suburban newspapers began to exert a greater influence on metropolitan newspaper markets across the country, a handful of studies and works examined their growth and impact.8 However, since that period, the majority of studies examining the state of the postwar newspaper industry have focused on the urban dailies’ declining fortunes. Scholars examining this period of newspaper and journalism history have generally situated competition from suburban newspapers as a secondary issue for the urban dailies, and they have instead counted labor difficulties, technological innovation, increased competition from television and radio, and corporately-backed consolidation as the primary culprits for the closing of some of the nation’s largest papers.9 While these arguments all have merit, they have also largely discounted the numerous ways in which the suburban papers reshaped the national newspaper industry and belied the impact that they had on metropolitan newspaper markets and on individual urban dailies.

Even the most innovative and influential works in recent American social and political history have neglected to address the suburban dailies’ impact. Historians such as Lizabeth Cohen, James T. Patterson, Elaine Tyler May, Lisa McGirr, Mathew Lassiter, and Adam Rome, to name a few, have identified suburbanites as central players in some of the nation’s most contentious debates during the postwar decades, including those xv centering on family structure, gender roles, consumption, integration, affordable housing, environmentalism, and taxes.10 Despite the significance of their works, however, none of these historians has explored the considerable role that suburban newspapers played in influencing the attitudes and actions of suburbanites. These papers grew alongside the communities they serviced and had a vested interest in local affairs. They cultivated close-knit relationships with their readers. For many suburbanites, the papers were the primary source of local news even after television’s emergence. The ways in which they covered the news influenced popular attitudes on a host of issues, national and local.

What they printed mattered.

Suburban daily newspapers were a significant part of the American experience during the postwar era. Their absence from the historical record reflects an approach to history that has emphasized the power and influence of the mass media and large- circulation urban newspapers over that of local media outlets.11 By not covering the suburban papers and their impact, historians and other scholars have largely assumed that mass media outlets and big-city dailies represented suburbanites’ primary media influences during the postwar era. Yet, in many cases, suburbanites were motivated to act more by local concerns reported on in the community papers than any larger national imperative promoted in the mass media. By extensively covering and reporting on local events, the suburban dailies helped determine which issues were important and newsworthy, framed the debates, and pushed their readers to act on behalf of and in defense of their immediate communities. As a result, the prevailing emphasis on large media outlets has left an incomplete picture of how and why the socio-cultural structures and ideals of America’s suburban communities developed as they did. xvi

The dearth of scholarly attention paid to the suburban papers has also left us with an incomplete understanding of how and why several of the nation’s most prominent and profitable urban dailies folded during the late 1970s and early 1980s and why numerous others found themselves in dire economic straights. While the various factors already noted by media scholars did play a role in many urban newspapers’ declining fortunes, it was the suburban papers’ growth and the urban publishers’ concomitant inability to establish a presence in America’s suburban markets that created the most significant and lasting problems for their papers. The suburban dailies’ emergence as upwardly mobile suburbanites’ preferred print news sources and as viable advertising outlets for national and regional retailers significantly cut into two of the urban dailies’ most important revenue streams. The loss of circulation and advertising revenues to the suburban papers exacerbated the financial problems associated with increased labor and production costs and competition from broadcast media outlets, factors which, to that point, the urban papers had handled relatively effectively. Had the urban dailies been able to gain a foothold in the suburbs, they would not have experienced the massive losses in circulation and advertising revenues that eventually proved so crippling.

Suburban newspapers mattered in postwar America. They played a central role in the transformation of one of the United States’ largest and most important industries and contributed mightily to the development of the prevailing suburban social and political culture that has taken root in this country over the past six decades. Analyzing the suburban papers’ growth and influence provides us with a greater knowledge of the dramatic market changes that transformed America’s newspaper industry and enhances our understanding of how the nation’s suburban ideals coalesced and evolved. Doing so xvii also adds to our understanding of how media outlets have impacted, and still do impact,

American society. Continuing to ignore and discount the suburban presses’ influence, in the end, risks the construction of an incomplete, and sometimes historically inaccurate, portrait of post-World War II America.

America’s suburban presses have always been, by definition, local entities. While this work does, at times, place the suburban presses’ emergence within a national context, it is, primarily, a local study. This approach, I believe, is necessary because it allows for the types of deep, critical analyses needed to fully explain the myriad ways in which individual suburban daily newspapers matured, impacted the communities they served, and helped reshape the metropolitan newspaper markets they operated in during the postwar era. It also makes possible a detailed investigation of the methods by which urban dailies attempted to counter the suburban papers’ emergence, methods which here to fore have gone largely uncharted. Further, utilizing a case study format permits a more nuanced understanding of some of the historical transitions and changes that have too often been treated generally and abstractly in larger syntheses, particularly as they pertain to the development of America’s postwar suburbs.

The Philadelphia metropolitan area is an ideal location for a study of this sort.

The region is home to numerous successful and profitable suburban dailies. Individually, these papers each wielded enormous influence on the social and cultural development of the towns and villages they served during the postwar era. Collectively, the suburban dailies transformed the regional newspaper market and played a central role in the demise of the nation’s largest circulation newspaper. xviii

The Philadelphia region stood as a prototypical metropolitan newspaper market in the early postwar era. Philadelphia was home to three daily newspapers, the morning

Inquirer, the afternoon tabloid Daily News, and the Evening Bulletin. The area was not home to one dominant large-circulation suburban daily, such as Alicia Patterson’s famous

Long Island paper, Newsday. Instead, a dozen smaller suburban dailies proliferated across Philadelphia’s seven neighboring counties. Frequently ranking as the country’s highest circulation daily newspaper, the Evening Bulletin was long the dominant force in the regional market. The afternoon paper’s staid, just-the-facts approach to reporting made it Philadelphia’s most trusted print news source and endeared it to a wide cross section of the region’s residents. The paper’s tone and approach also set it apart from the morning Inquirer, which was widely panned as a Republican rag and a mouthpiece for publisher Walter Annenberg’s conservative political views. In the early 1950s, the

Bulletin’s owner and publisher, Robert McLean, attempted to assure the paper’s continued dominance by building one of the world’s largest and most technologically advanced newspaper plants in Philadelphia. Located in close proximity to a newly completed major highway and adjacent to central railroad and public transportation hubs, the plant was designed to enable the Bulletin to maintain its position in the city and extend its reach into the area’s burgeoning suburban communities in the decades to come.

The plant seemingly assured the Bulletin’s continued success, and few other large- circulation dailies in the nation seemed so destined to expand and thrive in the postwar years.

Regardless of its new state-of-the-art facility, the Evening Bulletin’s future success was not guaranteed. During the early postwar decades, suburban papers such as xix the Levittown Times, Delaware County Daily Times, Camden Courier-Post (NJ), and

Burlington County Times (NJ) endeared themselves to the residents flocking into their service areas by thoroughly presenting the local news in ways that seemingly reflected each community’s best interests. The Evening Bulletin tried in myriad ways to establish a presence in the suburbs but simply could not match the suburban papers’ comprehensive local coverage. By the late 1960s, the suburban dailies had established themselves as the voices of their communities, and as their circulation and advertising revenues continued to climb, the percentage of the region’s market share controlled by the Evening Bulletin declined. With most of its readers and advertisers leaving it for the suburban papers, the Bulletin found itself on shaky economic ground as the seventies dawned. Without the revenues that a successful suburban presence could have provided, the paper was unable to fend off the revamped and corporately-backed Inquirer in the fight for dominance within Philadelphia during the 1970s. In 1980, the paper’s massive and continuing financial losses forced its longtime owners, the McLean family, to sell the paper to the Charter Media Company. Less than two years later, after failing to turn the paper around, Charter closed the Bulletin for good. Had the Bulletin been able to establish a presence in Philadelphia’s suburbs and beat out the suburban dailies, the paper would not have suffered the declining revenues that eventually forced it out of business.

Some of the postwar era’s most contentious and transformative social and cultural battles were fought in Philadelphia area suburban communities, and the suburban papers covering those contests influenced their outcomes. In Bucks County, Pennsylvania,

William Levitt’s second Levittown subdivision was the site for one of the nation’s most intensive and widely covered integration fights, and one of the most heated and xx protracted conflicts in America broke out in nearby Delaware County over proposed highway construction. The first enclosed, climate-controlled shopping center constructed east of the Mississippi River was erected in Cherry Hill, NJ, in the early sixties, and a decade later, Mount Laurel Township, NJ, emerged as ground-zero in a nationally significant affordable housing battle. The suburban papers covered, shaped, and framed these stories, and in doing so, influenced how local residents understood and responded to the larger issues. The Levittown Times’ editorials and articles did not critique or condemn Levittown’s residents for their anti-integration stance but subtly reinforced their claims that property rights trumped civil rights in suburban America. The Camden

Courier-Post’s coverage framed the Cherry Hill Mall as an all-in one civic center, leisure destination, and shopper’s paradise and helped establish it as the larger suburban community’s social epicenter. The Delaware County Daily Times’ unabashed support for the Mid-County Expressway encouraged residents to back the highway project, labeled anyone who dared oppose it as part of an uninformed minority, and played a central role in the road’s final construction. In South Jersey, the Burlington County Times’ overtly slanted, one-sided coverage of the Mount Laurel affordable housing court cases supported the community’s attempts to remain economically exclusive and helped prevent the emergence of any significant pro-affordable housing commentary in the township.

The fights that took place over these issues in Philadelphia’s suburban communities were local in nature but carried national significance. The actions that the region’s suburbanites took and the ideals that they espoused became part of the larger public debates taking place in America. By influencing the attitudes and actions of the xxi denizens of Philadelphia suburbs, suburban dailies did more than just contribute to the death of one of the United States’ largest and most recognized papers. In numerous ways, they also influenced the development of the communities they served and helped facilitate the postwar suburbanization of the nation’s social and political culture.

This study consists of seven chapters, arranged in a contrapuntal format. Chapters

One, Four, and Seven chart the rise and fall of the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin.

Chapters Two, Three, Five, and Six, each examine the growth and influence that one individual suburban daily operating in the Philadelphia metropolitan region had on its readers and the communities it served.

The first chapter, “Navigating the Marketplace,” provides a foundation for the rest of the work by examining the state and structure of the daily newspaper industry in the

Philadelphia metro area during the first half of the twentieth century. It describes the

Philadelphia region’s demographic and socio-cultural make-up during the industrial era and explains how William and Robert McLean were able to build the Evening Bulletin into the nation’s largest evening newspaper by 1950. The chapter argues that while the

McLeans claimed that it was the Evening Bulletin’s particular journalistic style that propelled it to a daily circulation exceeding 700,000, the paper’s success was largely due to other factors. It reveals that Philadelphia’s position as the region’s industrial, commercial, and demographic hub, the Bulletin’s place as an evening newspaper, and

William and Robert McLean’s deft ability to stay one step ahead of the changes impacting the market were the primary reasons for the paper’s enormous popularity and prosperity. xxii

Chapter Two, “Crafting the Suburban Ideal in ‘America’s Most Perfectly Planned

Community,’” uses the Levittown (PA) subdivision as case study to explore the ways in which suburban daily newspapers like the Levittown Times stepped into the roles previously filled by the Evening Bulletin and the Inquirer as conduits of local news and information and as socio-cultural producers during the 1950s. The chapter explains how publisher Ira L. Joachim helped shape the social, cultural, and political boundaries of the subdivision by using the Levittown Times’ columns and editorials to foster a sense of community among the new residents and to encourage them to adopt traditions and values in keeping with builder William Levitt’s original vision for the subdivision.

Joachim’s efforts proved popular and successful. However, when numerous Levittown residents responded to one African-American family’s attempt to integrate the all-white subdivision in 1957 with harassment and violent protests, the paper did not alter its community-centered approach. Rather than openly condemning the protestors’ racist actions, the paper shifted the focus from the violent demonstrations taking place to the community’s attempts to find a peaceful solution. In the process, the Times reinforced the residents’ belief in their right keep Levittown a racially closed community. By providing extensive coverage of local events and happenings for a rapidly growing demographic occupying wholly new physical, social, and cultural spaces, suburban papers like the Levittown Times helped establish, define, and reinforce many of the suburban ideals that emerged during the period and would become a lasting part of the social and political culture of postwar America.

The third chapter, “Selling Community in South Jersey: The Camden Courier-

Post and the Marketing of the Cherry Hill Mall,” investigates the complex relationship xxiii that developed between suburban shopping centers and suburban newspapers during the early post World War II decades. I analyze the Courier-Post’s coverage of the Cherry

Hill Mall and the advertising placed in the newspaper by the mall’s management and retailers during the 1960s to demonstrate how the paper’s low advertising rates, increasing circulation, and proximity to suburban readers made it the perfect place to market the mall. This, in turn, siphoned retail-advertising revenues away from the

Inquirer and Evening Bulletin at the same time that they were losing readers to the suburban papers. Just as important however, was the fact that much of the advertising and coverage directed at the Cherry Hill Mall in the Courier-Post framed the outlet as both a community center and shopping center and fostered the idea among readers that consumption and civic participation need not be mutually exclusive. By giving readers multiple reasons to visit, the advertisements helped establish the Cherry Hill Mall as an important part of the community, all the while increasing its foot traffic and sales. The chapter concludes that local media outlets like the Camden Courier-Post, not just the mass media, aided the growth of what Lizabeth Cohen has termed the “consumer’s republic.”12

Chapter Four, “Searching for Indispensability in a Changing Newspaper Market,” shifts the focus back to Philadelphia’s daily newspapers. It counters the prevailing historiographical arguments that have downplayed the suburban daily newspapers’ impact on the national newspaper market and portrayed urban newspaper publishers as largely unaware and unconcerned with the suburban dailies’ emergence during the 1950s and early 1960s. Placing the suburban dailies’ growth in a national context, the chapter demonstrates that Robert McLean was aware of the suburban newspapers’ growth in the xxiv region and moved to address it. It reveals that McLean authorized a multi-pronged diversification plan designed to strengthen the Evening Bulletin’s position in the regional market and highlights how and why his attempt to create a network of Bulletin-affiliated suburban papers was halted by federal anti-trust officials. The chapter also explains how

McLean’s attempts to expand the Bulletin’s presence in the suburbs were hindered by the expansion of broadcast news programs, which further lessened suburbanites’ need for his paper. The chapter then concludes that in spite of McLean’s best efforts, the paper lost even more ground to the suburban dailies during the 1960s.

The next chapter, “Combating Conservation: The Delaware County Daily Times and the Battle to Build the Blue Route,” examines the ways in which suburban dailies influenced the physical development of America’s suburbs. The chapter analyzes the ways in which the Daily Times’ prolonged and unceasing campaign in support of the controversial Mid-County Expressway in suburban Delaware County (PA) contributed to its final, though long-delayed, construction. During the more than thirty years that the highway conflict played out, the paper’s slanted editorials and news coverage gave frequent voice to the planners, politicians, citizens and organizations that supported the road and privileged their positions that the expressway would relieve the county’s longstanding traffic congestion and serve as the primary spark for the economic revival of its industrial sectors. The chapter demonstrates that suburban daily newspapers could, and did, play an influential role in shaping the physical development of the nation’s postwar suburbs.

Chapter six, “Omitting the News: the Burlington County Times and the Fight for

Affordable Housing in Mount Laurel, New Jersey,” examines the local daily’s coverage xxv of the prolonged fight over affordable housing that took place in suburban Mount Laurel

Township during the 1970s and early 1980s, demonstrating that the stories that the suburban papers neglected to print were often as important as those they ran. From the outset, the Times’ coverage of the famous Mount Laurel fair housing lawsuits consistently, and incorrectly, framed the cases as primarily a racial fight rather than the complex class and race-based conflict it was. The chapter reveals that the paper constructed and utilized a narrative which ignored the local poor’s attempts to get affordable housing built in the community and incorrectly posited civil rights organizations as interlopers attempting to force the township to open its doors to urban minorities. Working within the framework of this narrative, the paper consistently framed the township’s residents and officials as sympathetic figures unfairly charged for doing nothing less than attempting to protect their community and property values.

Rather than investigating the affordable housing activists’ motives and rationale for attempting to secure social justice and equal opportunity for the poor, the paper helped shift the tenor of the debates by running an almost continuous string of articles and stories that focused on the sanctity of home rule local government and the threat that an activist judiciary posed to it. The Burlington County Times’ shallow, one-sided, uncritical coverage of the famed Mount Laurel fair housing lawsuits helped prevent the emergence of any meaningful pro-affordable housing sentiment in the community and facilitated the rise and entrenchment of an enduring anti-affordable housing, pro-home rule political culture in the township.

The final chapter, “‘Dinosaurs Don’t Live Here Anymore’: Suburban Dailies,

Corporate Newspapers, and the Demise of the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin,” uses the xxvi collapse of the city’s most famous and popular paper to explain how the suburban presses’ growth forced several of the nation’s most prominent independently-owned dailies into economic distress during the 1970s and early 1980s and, in the process, helped reshape the American newspaper industry. I argue that the suburban dailies’ growth during the 1960s prevented the Bulletin from expanding outward and denied the paper the additional circulation and advertising revenues it needed to remain competitive.

Trapped within Philadelphia’s city limits, the paper was forced to compete with the

Inquirer for what remained of the city’s dwindling circulation and advertising dollars.

This environment favored the Inquirer, which, with the help of Knight Newspapers’ corporate coffers and Managing Editor, Eugene Roberts’ leadership, developed into a nationally respected, Pulitzer prize-winning newspaper during the decade. The chapter explains that, lacking either the revenues from a strong presence in the region’s suburban markets or access to Knights’ corporate resources, the family-owned Bulletin simply could not compete. Despite several somewhat half-hearted attempts to revamp the paper, the Bulletin fell into an economic slide from which it never recovered. The chapter describes how similar scenarios were playing out in large metropolitan newspaper markets across the country. It concludes that the suburban newspapers’ continued emergence and the urban dailies’ inability to break into the suburbs created an environment in which most major metropolitan areas could only support one large- circulation, big-city daily. Numerous independently owned urban papers were forced to sell out to corporate newspaper chains, enter into mergers, or stop printing altogether as a result. xxvii

Endnotes

1 N.S. Hayden, “A Letter From the Publisher,” 29 January 1982, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 38, File 8, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

2 Ibid.

3 Janice C. Simpson & Janice Castro, “Press: Singing the Big-City Blues,” Time, January 25, 1982, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,925244,00.html, accessed 5 August 2011.

4 Ibid.

5 Michael Schudson, Discovering the News: A Social History of American Newspapers (New York: Basic Books 1978), 61-159; Leonard Ray Teel, The Public Press, 1900- 1945: The History of American Journalism (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2006).

6 John Cameron Sim, The Grass Roots Press: America’s Community Newspapers (Ames: The Iowa State University Press, 1969), 6, 9.

7 Sim, The Grass Roots Press.

8 Sim, The Grassroots Press; Hal Lister, The Suburban Press: A Separate Journalism (Los Angeles: Lucas Brothers Publishing, 1975); Kenneth R. Byerly, “Metropolitan and Community Daily Newspapers: A Comparison of the Number, Circulation, and Trends for 1950, 1960, and 1968 in the Nation’s 21 Most Populous Metropolitan Areas,” (School of Journalism: University of North Carolina, 1968); David Sachsman and Warren Sloat, The Press and the Suburbs: The Daily Newspapers of New Jersey (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Center for Urban Policy Research, 1985).

9 Some otherwise solid works that fall into this trap are Schudson, Discovering the News; James L. Baughman, The Republic of Mass Culture: Journalism, Filmmaking, and Broadcasting in America since 1941, 3rd ed. (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2006); James Brian McPherson, Journalism at the End of the American Century, 1965-Present (Westport, Ct.: Praeger, 2006); Aurora Wallace, Newspapers and the Making of Modern America: A History (Westport, Ct.: Praeger, 2005); David Halberstam, The Powers that Be (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1979); Peter Benjaminson, Death in the Afternoon: America’s Newspaper Giants Struggle for Survival (New York: Andrews, McMeel & Parker, 1984); Edwin Emery and Michael Emery, The Press and America: An Interpretive History of the Mass Media, 4th ed. (New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1978); David R. Davies, The Postwar Decline of American Newspapers, 1945-1965 (Westport: Praeger, 2006). Only Davies has incorporated all of these elements within a scholarly synthesis. However, his work stops short of the late 1960s to early 1980s period, the nadir for urban afternoon papers and the period during xxviii

which the suburban dailies began to significantly influence the structure of the newspaper industry.

10 For a representative sampling, see: Lizabeth Cohen, A Consumer’s Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America (New York: Vintage, 2004); Lisa McGirr, Suburban Warriors: The Origins of the New American Right (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001); Adam Rome, The Bulldozer in the Countryside: Suburban Sprawl and the Rise of American Environmentalism (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001); Becky M. Nicolaides, My Blue Heaven: Life and Politics in the Working-Class Suburbs of Los Angeles, 1920-1965 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002); Robert O. Self, American Babylon: Race and the Struggle for Postwar Oakland (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2003); Elaine Tyler May, Homeward Bound: American Families in the Cold War Era (New York: Basic Books, 1988); Mathew Lassiter, The Silent Majority: Suburban Politics in the Sunbelt South (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2006); Kevin M. Kruse, White Flight: Atlanta and the Making of Modern Conservatism (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005; Thomas J. Sugrue, Sweet Land of Liberty: The Forgotten Struggle for Civil Rights in the North (New York: Random House, 2008). See also, James T. Patterson, Grand Expectations: The United States, 1945-1971 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997); James T. Patterson, Restless Giant: The United States from Watergate to Bush v. Gore (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005); Bruce J. Schulman, The Seventies: The Great Shift in American Culture, Society, and Politics (New York: The Free Press, 2001); Becky M. Nicolaides, “How Hell Moved From the City to the Suburbs: Urban Scholars and Changing Perceptions of Authentic Community,” in Kevin M. Kruse and Thomas J. Sugrue, ed., The New Suburban History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006) 80-98; Andrew Weiss, “‘The House I Lived In:’ Race, Class, and African American Suburban Dreams in the Postwar United States,” in Kruse and Sugrue, ed., The New Suburban History, 99-119.

11 Some of the most prominent works to fall into this category are: Todd Gitlin, The Whole World is Watching: Mass Media in the Making and Unmaking of the New Left (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003); Paul Starr, The Creation of the Media: Political Origins of Modern Communications (New York: Basic Books, 2004); Robert W. McChesney, Rich Media, Poor Democracy: Communication Politics in Dubious Times (New York: The New Press, 2000).

12 Cohen, A Consumer’s Republic.

CHAPTER 1 NAVIGATING THE MARKETPKACE

Shortly after noon, on November 7, 1918, millions of Americans stopped working. Across the nation, throngs of people, young and old, reveled in a spontaneous outpouring of joy, jubilation, exuberance, and relief in response to published United Press reports stating that Germany had signed an armistice agreement ending World War I.1 In

Washington D.C., government clerks left their posts to ride through the city’s streets in army vehicles, cheering and waving handkerchiefs. Members of the National Press Club brought out the organization’s service flag and led one of many impromptu parades through the city. Airplanes heightened the party atmosphere by dropping special edition,

“extra” papers announcing “Germany surrenders” upon the celebrants below.2 In New

York City, whistles rang throughout the five boroughs. Harbor boats “blew their whistles in a chorus unprecedented in the history of the metropolis.”3 Traders on the floor of the

New York Stock Exchange poured into the streets of lower Manhattan to join a celebration in progress so large and dense that police struggled to control it. Uptown, office workers dumped trashcans and shreds of torn up paper and phone books out of high-rise office windows. Fifth Avenue was “bedlam.”4

Philadelphians showed a similar outpouring of emotion. After receiving confirmation of the armistice from one of the city’s daily newspapers, Mayor Thomas B.

Smith touched off the celebration by ordering the State House bell at Independence

Square be rung continuously from 12:45 to 1 p.m., a move that eventually drew a crowd of several thousand. He subsequently called for airplanes from the Philadelphia Naval 2

Yard to be flown over the city in celebration and ordered all city schools to close at 2 p.m., freeing children to join the melee and help spread the word. On the streets, newsboys sold “peace extras” as quickly as they could be printed. Workers, housewives, and children of all races and classes joined the festivities upon hearing the news.

Thousands of employees from the Emergency Fleet Corporation joined a host of ship workers and paraded down North Broad St., stopping only to sing the Star-Spangled

Banner on the north concourse of City Hall. They were followed by a group of 800

African American men blowing horns in celebration. Employees of Snellenburg & Co. assembled the company band and formed their own parade, leading groups of citizens in song as they marched. Workers at the Cramps shipyard along the Delaware River heard the news while on lunch break and quickly decided not to return to work for the day.

They dispersed across Philadelphia’s Richmond and Kensington sections, joining several hundred young women who had left their posts at the Hero Glass works at York and

Thompson Streets to join the revelry. In West Philadelphia, housewives adorned baby strollers with American flags and waded into the party that carried on late into the night.5

Newspapers carried word of the peace in Philadelphia’s neighboring counties as well, where similar outbursts and work stoppages took place. In Gloucester City, New

Jersey, 6,000 shipyard workers and 800 women from the Welsbach plant paraded through the streets, with other joyous residents. There too the party seemed to carry on without end.6

However, virtually unheard amongst the revelry were subsequent news releases from the State Department that the peace reports were premature. The Germans had not, 3 in fact, agreed to sign the armistice, and the war was not over. The celebrations, while fun, were for naught. The peace reports had been a “hoax.”7

When Americans slowly emerged the following day, anger and disbelief filled the air. Citizens were embarrassed at being duped so easily. A New York Times editorial called the false report the “most flagrant and culpable act of public deception in the whole history of newsgathering and dissemination.”8 Many Philadelphians blamed the

Evening Public Ledger, the afternoon newspaper that ran the initial story and confirmed it for the mayor. In defense of its afternoon counterpart, the morning Public Ledger blamed the United Press and its censor in Europe for allowing an unconfirmed story of such international import to be released.9 Philadelphia’s most widely read paper, the Evening

Bulletin, which did not run the story, cast the blame over a larger area, holding the United

Press, the censors, and especially the news outlets that reported the unconfirmed story responsible. In an unusually pointed editorial entitled “Harcum-Scarum News,” the

Evening Bulletin’s normally restrained owner and publisher, William L. McLean, capped the paper’s commentary by claiming that the “jumping-jack rumor was persistently and flagrantly circulated” by the “excessively emotional” and “harcum-scarum” sections of the press.10 Had some restraint been shown, the editorial argued, the whole episode could have been averted.

The “Armistice Hoax” reveals the power of the press during the early decades of the twentieth century. In an era before radio, television, and the internet, newspapers provided the only universally accessible daily source of local, regional, national, and international news. They served as the public’s primary conduit for information that ranged from daily weather reports to the status of American troops fighting in Europe. 4

The demand for print news was such that many newspapers ran multiple daily editions in an attempt to provide their readers with the most current information and capture market share. Reading the paper not once but multiple times during the day was a central part of many Americans’ daily routine. By the 1920s, newspaper penetration into American households reached a national average of one paper per family, the high water mark for the twentieth century.11 What they printed carried weight and had the capacity to move the public toward sober consideration or riotous action.

The controversy surrounding the coverage of the hoax was also significant, as it highlighted the ongoing societal debates regarding the merits of traditional fact-based journalism and its less restrained, more sensational competitors taking place at the time.

Those debates originated in the 1880s with William Randolph Hearst and Joseph

Pulitzer’s “yellow journalism” and continued to divide newspaper owners, publishers, journalists, and their readers as the competition for market share grew during the early twentieth century. Publishers relying on sensational and crusading headlines and bold reporting, like the ones run during the armistice hoax, claimed that they were merely giving their readers what they wanted. Publishers taking the more conservative approach, like the New York Times’ Adolph Ochs, however, argued that restrained, accurate reporting was more reliable, supplied readers with the information they needed, and enabled their papers to best fulfill their role as the nation’s fourth estate.12

In Philadelphia, William McLean’s editorial following the armistice hoax reinforced the Evening Bulletin’s growing reputation as a bastion of traditional reporting.

It was a position that served McLean and the Evening Bulletin well. The paper was the daily circulation and advertising leader in the Philadelphia metro area by a wide margin 5 in 1918, and McLean was one of the most respected newspapermen in the nation. The

Bulletin’s successes legitimized McLean’s reserved, informational approach and helped keep the paper in good stead during the tumultuous interwar years that followed. Indeed, by 1955, the Evening Bulletin had developed a large and loyal cross-class following in

Philadelphia and its environs, survived two world wars, the Great Depression, and a major newspaper paper battle in the city to emerge as the nation’s largest evening daily.

In the process, more flamboyant and crusading publishers and their papers rose and fell in spectacular fashion.

McLean, and later, his son Robert, continually claimed that these successes were a result of the paper’s staid approach. However, journalistic self-discipline was not the sole reason for the Evening Bulletin’s successes during the first half of the twentieth century. The Bulletin’s preferred place as an urban evening paper, several market transitions, and a series of savvy business decisions helped the McLeans establish the paper as the dominant force in the metro area. The Bulletin, more so than any other

Philadelphia daily newspaper, was able to capitalize on a perfect storm of circumstances, tap into the region’s changing socio-economic milieu during the first half of the twentieth century, and set itself up to prosper in the post-World War II era.

When William L. McLean borrowed $17,000 to purchase the Evening Bulletin in

1895, few would have wagered that the paper would live to see its 100th birthday in 1947.

The paper ranked last among Philadelphia’s thirteen daily newspapers with a circulation that hovered around 6,300. It was published by a staff of six on outdated equipment in cramped quarters at 607 Chestnut St. However, McLean was not was not inexperienced 6 in resurrecting once prominent papers, having resuscitated the Philadelphia Press while employed as the paper’s secretary, treasurer, and business manager. He had the confidence, experience, and know-how to turn Philadelphia’s oldest evening paper around. Within his first two years of ownership, McLean revealed the business acumen that eventually pushed the Evening Bulletin to the top of Philadelphia’s newspaper market. He cut the price of the Evening Bulletin from two cents to a penny, moved the company into a larger plant, and replaced the outdated equipment with two state-of-the- art high-speed presses that increased the paper’s production capacities from 5,000 copies a day to 96,000 an hour.13 The result was an almost tenfold increase in circulation by

1897. The outbreak of the Spanish-American war the following year and the concomitant public demand for reliable news doubled the Bulletin’s circulation yet again. By 1898,

McLean’s paper maintained an average daily circulation of 113,973 and trailed only the

Evening Item, the Record, and the Philadelphia Inquirer in sales. The added revenues enabled the Chief, as was his nickname, to continue the upgrades.14 In 1899, he became the first publisher in the nation to use automobiles as a means for delivering his papers to outlying service areas. The Evening Bulletin’s resurrection was completed six years later when it became the city’s circulation leader, a spot it did not relinquish until1980.15

Cost cutting, capital investments, and structural improvements certainly played a major role in the Bulletin’s reemergence, but William McLean argued that it was his approach to covering and presenting the news that was the key factor in the paper’s success. In his first communiqué with Philadelphians on June 1, 1895, McLean promised to put out “a clean and reputable journal on the highest lines of independent and progressives journalism.”16 As publisher, he emphasized honesty and accuracy above all 7 else and abhorred sensationalism. He openly disliked “scare heads,” claiming “if you use big headlines everyday, you will have nothing in reserve to emphasize the big news when it comes.”17 McLean believed that a proper paper was defined by whether discerning readers would willingly and openly welcome it into their homes and was cognizant of the public’s unease over the possible influence that advertisers and other economic interests could have on printed news. It was on these grounds that he refused to print liquor advertising and rejected prize contests, coupons, or giveaways as a means to bolster circulation rates. McLean considered these tactics characteristic of lesser publications and thought his refusal to run them gave his paper more legitimacy with the public.18

McLean’s standards fit in with a conservative approach to journalism that was increasingly coming under fire at the turn of the twentieth century. While some publishers like the New York Times’ Adolph Ochs maintained an emphasis on fact-based objective reporting and under-stated editorials, many more were turning toward William

Randolph Hearst’s more outrageous yellow journalism. Journalists too were moving toward greater sensationalism, writing bigger, more interpretive pieces. Lincoln Steffens,

Jacob Riis, and other muckraking journalists’ investigative articles simultaneously raised the nation’s ire and increased sales, circulation, and advertising figures for the mass magazines that published them. The pattern was clear: over-the-top journalism, whether rooted in fact or not, led directly to greater profits.19

McLean refused to compromise his and his paper’s integrity in the face of these changes. He considered yellow journalism to be patently wrong, and despite the progressive reforms that many of the muckraking articles led to, he harbored a deep mistrust of stir-the-pot, investigative journalism. Evening Bulletin editors, reporters, and 8 rewrite men followed McLean’s dictates to the letter. Looking back at his early days in journalism as a rewrite man with the Bulletin, J. David Stern noted, “the Bulletin always reflected the character of its publisher – William L. McLean,” and “we Bulletin reporters were trained to be accurate, careful, concise, and truthful – nothing else would do.”20

McLean’s stout belief in the central importance of thorough coverage of local news above all else led the paper’s reporters to attack every local story with an almost religious fervor. Stern commented that a running joke among Philadelphia reporters and newspapermen during the period stated that if a fire struck somewhere in the city, there were typically more Bulletin reporters on the scene than firemen. 21

The Evening Bulletin’s success, and that of the New York Times, proved that there was a market for restrained, informational journalism. In numerous instances, McLean’s conservative policies helped the Bulletin avoid journalistic missteps that embarrassed other papers and weakened their credibility. Events like the armistice hoax only reinforced the idea that McLean’s style of informational reporting was more reliable.

While other papers may have been more entertaining, the Evening Bulletin was

Philadelphia’s source for the most accurate news.

William McLean’s reserved approach to newsgathering helped extend the

Evening Bulletin’s circulation lead in the Philadelphia metro area by a wide margin. In

1923, its circulation exceeded 500,000 for the first time, and in 1925 it reached 524,662, almost double that of its nearest competitor, the morning Inquirer.22 However, the

Bulletin’s rapid growth during the industrial period was also hastened by two key market transitions. The first was that Philadelphia’s newspaper industry was undergoing a gradual consolidation. The market that held thirteen daily newspapers in 1895 retained 9 only five in 1925: the Evening Bulletin, the Inquirer, the Record, and the Evening Ledger and morning Public Ledger. The Evening Bulletin benefited handsomely from this trend, absorbing much of its competitors’ readership as each systematically went out of business. For example, in 1914, the Philadelphia Telegraph, a competing evening paper, had a circulation of 107,717. In 1918, the paper ceased publishing. Between 1914 and

1918, as the Telegraph’s circulation declined, the Bulletin’s climbed from 326,714 to

430,614, an increase of 103,900 readers.23

The second, and perhaps more important, market transition impacting the Evening

Bulletin during these decades was the Philadelphia metro area’s substantial economic, physical, and population growth, which opened up new opportunities for the paper to extend its reach and increase its circulation. In Philadelphia, factories, railroads, and street upon street of row homes sprung up and radiated outward from the central business district as the city matured into an industrial metropolis. By 1930, Philadelphia ranked as the nation’s third largest city with a population of 1,951,000 inhabitants.24 This transition also made the city a more ethnically and racially segregated environment. Its Northeast section became home to more than 2,000 factories and 479,000 skilled white workers and their families. South Philadelphia, with its navy yard, oil refineries, and black and immigrant ghettos held a population of almost 358,000. Center City and West

Philadelphia, home mostly to white-collar middle-class families and what remained of the city’s old-stock elites, had a combined population of 469,000. The Northwest section of the city, the largest and most diverse of Philadelphia’s regions, held approximately

650,000 Jews and African Americans.25 10

Industrialization’s impact was also apparent in the towns, boroughs, and cities that dotted the seven counties that rounded out the Philadelphia metropolitan area, as the emergence of an extensive railroad network linked these communities directly to the city.

Many of these locales, like Bucks County, Pennsylvania’s Doylestown, Yardley, and

Bristol; Delaware County’s Coatesville and Chester; or Gloucester County, New Jersey’s

Glassboro dated to the colonial period or earlier. Some originated as agricultural communities, while others developed as small industrial centers during the nineteenth century. These communities were frequently located on roads, canals, or waterways and served as way stations for people and commerce traveling to and from Philadelphia.

Coatesville was situated on the Brandywine River and along the Lancaster-Philadelphia turnpike, making it a perfect place for inns and eateries, as well as steel and iron works.

In the post World War II decades, these municipalities would emerge as full-fledged suburbs, however, Philadelphia’s limited size prior to 1854 and the significant distance between the city and these communities kept them from truly being considered suburban.

Historian Kenneth T. Jackson has argued that current Philadelphia neighborhoods,

Southwark and Northern Liberties, were the city’s first true suburbs.26 It was not until railroads linked the region in a full transportation network during the late nineteenth century that the communities in Philadelphia’s outlying counties began to take on a suburban identity.27 Prior to this, they were more akin to what historian Robert H. Weibe termed “island communities.”28

The most famous railroad suburbs to take shape in the Philadelphia region during the late 19th and early 20th centuries were along the “Main Line.” Located in

Montgomery County, on the city’s western fringe along the Pennsylvania Railroad’s 11

Philadelphia to Pittsburgh line, the Main Line consisted of several elite suburbs like

Ardmore, Haverford, Bryn Mawr, Villanova, and Radnor and housed many of

Philadelphia’s wealthiest families. The residents of these bedroom communities commuted to work in the city on the Pennsylvania Railroad’s “Paoli local” and set the tone for other fashionable suburbs in the region.29

Other, more recognizably middle-class, suburbs developed in the metro area during this period as well. Middle-class enclaves appeared along Old York Road, near

Jenkintown and along Baltimore Pike, near Swarthmore, Pennsylvania. In southern New

Jersey, railroad lines linking Philadelphia and Camden with Atlantic City prompted the growth of new communities like Haddonfield (1875), Collingswood (1888), Pennsauken

(1892), and Haddon Heights (1904). These middle-class suburbs did not have the affluence or prestige that those on the Main Line did, but they too were largely a product of Philadelphia’s industrial growth.30

Middle- and upper-class commuter suburbs were not the only types of towns emerging in the Philadelphia area as a result of the railroads. Philadelphia’s and

Camden’s rise as industrial cities in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries also prompted the growth of numerous industrial communities in the surrounding counties.

Some of these, like Delaware County’s Upper Darby Township were located so close to

Philadelphia that they were virtually part of the city.31 Others, like Chester, Delaware

County, and Coatesville, Chester County, grew into small cities themselves. Places like

Gloucester, in Camden County, New Jersey developed an industrial economy but remained relatively small. These municipalities were home to working-class residents whose social and cultural ideals were similar to those held by Philadelphia’s blue-collar 12 citizens. They were not as fashionable or even as influential as their elite counterparts, but they were a significant part of the region’s landscape nonetheless.32

The remaining parts of Philadelphia’s neighboring counties were primarily made up of agricultural communities. Large portions of Chester, Delaware, and Camden counties and virtually all of Bucks, Gloucester, and Burlington counties consisted of fruit and vegetable truck farms. Many of these townships and boroughs bordered the city closely. Lower Bucks County’s vegetable farms ran right up to the city’s northeastern boundary. As with the industrial suburbs, the agricultural communities in Philadelphia’s surrounding counties were not as prosperous as the elite suburbs that frequently sat in close proximity to them. However, these communities too were tied to Philadelphia’s growth, as the city gave them a place to sell their goods.33

Though these communities were economically, structurally, and demographically varied, almost all were serviced by small local daily newspapers in addition to

Philadelphia’s large urban dailies. Most of the suburban dailies dated to the industrial era, though some began publishing near the turn of the nineteenth century.34 The papers came in a variety of shapes and sizes. Some, like Chester’s Chester Times, Norristown’s

Times-Herald, and Camden’s Courier and Post-Telegram, operated as regional county papers. Others, such as Doylestown’s Daily Intelligencer, Bristol’s Bristol Daily

Courier, and Woodbury, New Jersey’s Daily Times, covered smaller territories. These papers maintained average daily circulations that were paltry when compared to their urban counterparts. In 1924, the Chester Times had a circulation of 15,507. The

Norristown Times-Herald’s stood at 12,545, while the Doylestown Intelligencer’s and

Bristol Daily Courier’s reached 4,523 and 2,001. In comparison, the Evening Bulletin’s 13 circulation was 516,609 and the Inquirer’s was 240,277.35 The circulation disparity was largely insignificant, however. Whereas the large urban papers relied on their high circulation figures to attract advertising revenues from national brands and urban retailers, small suburban papers survived on local advertising and classified ads. The dearth of large retailers in the suburbs ensured that the suburban dailies did not have to compete with the urban dailies for advertising. Therefore, their circulation figures mattered less. Though they operated in the same metropolitan area, the suburban and urban dailies were not really competing in the same marketplace.

The suburban dailies carved out a niche for themselves by extensively covering the local news that did not make the urban papers. In the process, they became more than just conduits for local news. The suburban papers became the voices of their communities, editorializing on large and small local issues and guarding against intrusions that had the potential to upset or negatively impact the economic, social, or cultural stability of their areas. As a result, the suburban papers embodied and reflected the attitudes of their readers and forged connections with the communities that they served that were on par with those that existed between the Evening Bulletin and the citizens of Philadelphia. The suburban papers’ size and circulation statistics belied their impact on the community. Here again, the suburban and urban dailies provided news to the same readers, but the differing content ensured that they were not directly competing.36

These market transitions created ample opportunity for William McLean to increase the Evening Bulletin’s readership, circulation lead, and profits. In what can only be described as a major stroke of good fortune, the Chief faced little opposition in doing 14 this. His approach to presenting the news was perfectly tailored to the tastes of the

Philadelphia metro area’s varied populations. By presenting the news thoroughly, accurately, and without an overarching political bias, the Evening Bulletin offended no one and offered something for everyone. The fact that most of the city’s new workers were employed in factories and other blue-collar jobs provided McLean with a growing service demographic that, in many cases, did not read the morning papers. Middle- and upper-class commuters living in the suburbs and working in the city also had an interest in keeping abreast of the news happening there. They could pick up a copy of the

Evening Bulletin at a newsstand and read it on the train on the way home, or they could have it home delivered. Those who lived and worked outside the city had reason to read the Evening Bulletin too, as it provided the most comprehensive and balanced coverage of regional, national, and international events on a daily basis. Even with radio’s emergence during the 1920s, the evening edition of the Bulletin provided readers with extensive, in-depth coverage of the day’s events that they could not get elsewhere.

The Inquirer benefitted from these market transitions as well. In 1925, the paper’s circulation increased by more than 50,000 readers following the closing of the

Philadelphia North American, a rival morning daily. However, the Bulletin held one major advantage over the Inquirer. It was an evening paper. Whereas the Inquirer was a morning paper that largely commented on events that had happened the day before, the

Evening Bulletin provided the last printed word on the day’s events. During the early twentieth century, the Bulletin filled much the same role that televised local news took on in the 1960s and 1970s. Regardless of their socio-economic status, men and women who wanted to catch up on what happened during the day turned to evening dailies like the 15

Bulletin. As a result, the Evening Bulletin’s circulation grew at a faster rate than the

Inquirer’s. Between 1915 and 1930, the Bulletin’s circulation increased by more than

200,000 readers.37 The Inquirer’s readership grew by 91,000 during the same period.38

In the end, publishing an evening paper that was palatable to a wide cross-section of metro area residents helped McLean take advantage of the market transitions and expand the Bulletin’s lead in the region’s newspaper market. By 1930, the paper outpaced the

Inquirer in circulation 560,855 to 271,580 and led its nearest evening competitor by almost 360,000 papers a day.39

McLean’s emphasis on staid, just-the-facts journalism and his unwillingness to use the Evening Bulletin as a political instrument stood in contrast to the city’s other major daily newspaper, the morning Philadelphia Inquirer. Long considered the “bible of the Republican Party” in Philadelphia, the Inquirer’s history stretched back to the revolutionary era, when it was published under the moniker, the Pennsylvania Packet.

The paper was renamed the Philadelphia Inquirer in 1829 and became staunchly

Republican during the Civil War. Until the Bulletin’s meteoric rise left it far behind, the

Inquirer usually found itself atop or near the top of Philadelphia’s circulation and advertising rankings. Yet, even when the Bulletin passed it by, the paper did not succumb to the fate that befell many of the city’s other daily papers. Throughout the first decades of the 20th century, the Inquirer maintained a steady, if unspectacular, growth while under the leadership of Colonel James Elverson, a member of Philadelphia’s old- stock elite. With this pedigree, it was only natural that Elverson’s paper leaned heavily to the political right.40 16

The Colonel was, in many ways, the polar opposite of the Chief. He was ostentatious, maintaining two yachts on the Delaware River (one for himself and one for his wife), and openly enjoying fine whiskey and attractive women. Toward the end of his life, he lived, appropriately enough, in the tower of the Elverson Building, the gleaming

$10 million white edifice situated at the intersection of Broad and Callowhill Streets that he built in 1925 to house the Inquirer.41 Like McLean’s Evening Bulletin, Elverson’s

Inquirer reflected his persona. As such, the papers were extremely different in tone and form. Where the Evening Bulletin was quiet, restrained and nonpartisan, the Inquirer was loud, aggressive, and highly partisan. Yet neither the two men, who belonged to many of the same social clubs, including Philadelphia’s bastion to the Republican Party, the Union

League, nor their papers, were rivals. The Bulletin’s status as an afternoon paper servicing a widely varying socio-economic demographic coupled with the Inquirer’s status as a morning paper overwhelmingly tilted toward the white-collar middle and upper classes ensured that there were few instances when the two papers competed directly. In fact, it is likely that a great number of Philadelphia metro area readers read both on a daily basis.42

In the early 1930s however, the Inquirer’s fortunes and those of the party it spoke for took a turn for the worse. On January 21, 1929, the Colonel died, leaving the paper to his sixty-six-year old sister, Mme. Patenotre, who had spent the previous thirty-five years living in Europe married to a French ambassador. After a half-hearted attempt at publishing in America with her son, Raymond, Patenotre demanded across the board budget cuts at the Inquirer, headed back to Paris, and arranged for $100,000 in monthly profits to be mailed to France. The cost cutting and loss of profits significantly reduced 17 the Inquirer’s already debatable quality, and its circulation and advertising rates suffered accordingly. The stock market crash in October of that year made matters worse, as the onset of the Great Depression discredited the Republican Party and virtually all institutions affiliated with it. Within the year, the Inquirer’s circulation numbers and advertising revenues dropped further, and Patenotre sold the paper for $10,000,000 to the

Curtis-Martin Corporation. However, within in three years of acquiring the paper,

Curtis-Martin failed and the Inquirer reverted back to Patenotre, whereupon its slide continued.43 As a whole, the Inquirer’s circulation dropped from 288,238 to 210,795 between 1929 and 1933. It is likely that the slide would have continued were it not for the morning Public Ledger’s failure in 1933.44 In 1934, the Inquirer absorbed much of the Ledger’s former readership and pushed its circulation figures back up to 295,735.45

The problems besetting the Inquirer enabled Philadelphia’s lone Democratic daily, the Record, to finally emerge as a significant player in the city’s newspaper market.

An isolated democratic voice in a Republican stronghold, the Record had soldiered on since its inception in 1870 without acclaim. It did well enough that its owner, Robert

Singerly, built Philadelphia’s first “skyscraper,” a towering eight story building, to house the paper in the 1890s. Nevertheless, by the 1920s, the Record was teetering on insolvency. Following Singerly’s suicide in 1902, the paper passed through the hands of several owners until Thomas Wannamaker, son of Philadelphia’s most famous retailer, purchased the paper at auction. Following his death in 1915, the paper fell into the hands of Wannamaker’s brother Rodman, who proceeded to cut costs and run it into the ground.

In 1928, the Record’s circulation fell below 100,000, and the Audit Bureau of Circulation suspended the paper for falsifying its net-paid figures. Advertisers deserted the paper, its 18 revenues fell into the red, and the Wanamaker’s were forced to sell the paper to Camden publisher J. David Stern for $1,250,000, less then half their original asking price.46

J. David Stern’s reputation preceded him as he entered Philadelphia’s newspaper market in late 1928. Stern had intermittently moved in and out of the city’s journalism community while working his way up from cub reporter to owner/publisher. He started his career at the Public Ledger in 1908 and worked for William McLean as a Bulletin rewrite man before leaving the city for other endeavors. In 1919, Stern bought the

Camden Courier and began establishing his editorial and political legacy. Stern claimed that in buying the Courier, he was “following the youthful dream that had lured me into journalism: that newspapers fought for causes, molded public opinion, determined government policies, constituted the fourth estate – with power equaling that of Lords,

Commons, and Clergy.”47 He quickly took aim at Camden’s Republican machine, which was as entrenched and corrupt as Philadelphia’s.

Stern led with his headlines and his editorial columns. He lambasted the city’s government, its political boss David Baird, and the Republican backed Post-Telegram on an almost daily basis. Stern also backed up his pen with his purse, contributing heavily to the few Democratic Party causes that existed in Camden and aiding in the development of a solid Democratic constituency in the city. Stern’s tactics worked in the heavily blue- collar Camden. By 1923, the Stern-led Democrats had unseated the Republican machine and established a wholly new form of government in the city. Stern’s place at the forefront of this change made him a kingmaker in Camden, and the financial success that came from publishing Camden's lone Democratic paper gave him the resources to buyout the then faltering Post-Telegram in 1926 and establish a newspaper monopoly in the city. 19

By 1927, Stern’s influence in Camden could hardly be rivaled, but he tired of the city, noting “all the excitement and fight had been taken out of the operation.”48 He was a crusader not a manager, and he was craving a new and bigger fight. When the Record went on the market in 1928, he leapt at the opportunity to revive the paper and take aim at Philadelphia’s Republican machine and its mouthpiece, the Inquirer. He couldn’t have asked for a much larger challenge.49

That the Record was a morning paper and competed directly with the Inquirer for sales and advertising meant that Stern’s paper had the most to gain from the Republican decline. The stock market collapse and ensuing economic chaos ensured that the Record attracted some disillusioned Republicans. However, rather than waiting for the converts come to him, Stern once again let his editorial voice boom, railing against corruption in the Republican-controlled city government and pushing for greater local, state, and federal action to ease the economic impact of the Depression on the city’s working people. He then made a national name for himself by becoming one of the first big-city newspaper publishers to openly endorse Franklin Roosevelt’s presidential campaign in his paper.50

Endorsing Roosevelt’s campaign helped establish Stern and the Record as champions of the workingman in Philadelphia. Stern later cemented this reputation in

1934, when he became the first newspaper publisher in America to sign a contract with the American Newspaper Guild (ANG), an AF of L affiliated union of skilled newspaper workers.51 With Stern’s and the Record’s reputations as Philadelphia’s liberal mouthpieces secured and becoming national in scope, the paper siphoned more and more readers and advertising revenues away from the Republican-oriented Inquirer. While the 20

Inquirer’s circulation dropped dramatically between 1929 and 1933, Stern’s Record gained almost 35,000 readers.52 In 1935, the Record’s circulation pushed past 190,000.53

Though the Record still trailed the Inquirer in total circulation, it was gaining ground rapidly.

The Evening Bulletin’s restrained approach to the news and its position as an evening paper held it in good stead during these years. Refraining from maintaining an open alliance with the Republican Party ensured that the Bulletin received none of the popular backlash directed at the Inquirer or the Republicans. It also shielded the Bulletin from J. David Stern’s attacks. Further, the paper’s status as an evening daily ensured that the competition for readers taking place between the Record and the Inquirer had little impact on its circulation and advertising revenues. The Bulletin’s decrease in circulation during the Depression’s early years was a result of Philadelphia’s economic crisis and natural market contractions more than anything else. Even the Chief’s death in 1931 changed little at the paper. McLean’s sons Robert, also known as the Major, and

William, Jr., who had stepped into the roles of president and vice president years earlier, devoutly adhered to the standards and ideals William, Sr. used to build the paper.

Thorough and accurate reportage of the news mixed in with some political fence straddling ensured that the Evening Bulletin remained above the fray and maintained its circulation and advertising hold in Philadelphia throughout the Depression.

Philadelphia’s two politically partisan papers were not fortunate enough to reap the same benefits. During the latter half of the 1930s, the Record and the Philadelphia

Inquirer engaged in a newspaper war that almost destroyed both papers and brought financial ruin to their owners. The conflict also benefited the Evening Bulletin, as the 21

Record’s and Inquirer’s vitriolic attacks and partisan news coverage reinforced the paper’s claim that it was Philadelphia’s best source for thorough and objective news.

Philadelphia’s great newspaper war began in July, 1936, when Moses Annenberg purchased the Philadelphia Inquirer from the Patenotres for a reported $15 million in cash. The reports were exaggerated; Annenberg only paid $9 million for the paper, $4 million of which was in cash. More importantly, a new high-stakes player had entered

Philadelphia’s newspaper market. In his autobiography, Stern likened his new competition to Red Grange and admitted that Annenberg’s arrival gave him a “sinking feeling.”54

Moses Annenberg’s reputation was well established by the time he bought the

Inquirer. Born in a small East Prussian hamlet, Annenberg immigrated to America with his family as a boy, alongside hundreds of thousands of Eastern European Jews fleeing religious persecution. After settling in Chicago, Annenberg and his brother Max found a home in the circulation department of William Randolph Hearst’s Chicago American, where they both quickly gained a reputation for using intimidation and violence to defend and expand their territories during the city’s famous newspaper wars.55 Moses was not simply one of Hearst’s goons, however. He was a brilliant businessman who saw little long-term personal and financial security in fighting circulation battles for someone else, even if that someone was William Randolph Hearst. Annenberg wanted to be like

Hearst, not work for him.

In 1906, he made his break from Hearst and moved his family to Milwaukee, where he created one of America’s largest media empires. Annenberg quickly used his strong-arm tactics to consolidate Milwaukee’s news distribution network. If newsstands 22 wanted a national publication such as the Saturday Evening Post, they had to go through

Annenberg’s Chicago News Company (later renamed the Milwaukee News Company).

The operation provided Annenberg with national connections in the news and publishing industries and made him a wealthy man. By 1920, he was earning more than $300,000 a year.56

Annenberg parlayed his newfound wealth into a career as a publisher. In 1922, he purchased the Daily Racing Form by stuffing $400,000 wrapped in brown paper under his fourteen-year old son Walter’s arm and marching him through Manhattan to the sale.

The Form was a regional publication that supplied horse racing information throughout the New York City area. Annenberg understood that taking the Form national would bring another financial windfall, as horse racing was one of America’s most popular spectator sports. Over the next five years, he used his national connections and, when they failed, his persuasiveness, to buy out numerous smaller racing publications across the country. By 1927, Annenberg had veritable monopoly control over printed horse racing information in the United States and was a millionaire several times over.57

Annenberg didn’t stop there. He used the profits from the Form to purchase the General

News Bureau, a company that supplied up to the minute racing information via wires leased from AT&T to Chicago area racetracks. Controlling the wire service tightened

Annenberg’s grip on the dissemination of horse racing information, and as with the

Form, he eventually consolidated the industry into one national company, the Nationwide

News Service. Controlling the wire came with a price however. It put Annenberg in close contact with organized crime, specifically Al Capone, and linked him to the thousands of illegal bookies and gambling parlors that made use of the wire. Annenberg 23 understood the risks, but the power and wealth that the wire provided proved too tempting to resist.58

Annenberg was smart enough to eventually distance himself from the daily operations of Nationwide. In 1934, he consolidated his various companies into one entity named the Cecelia Investment Co., moved to Miami, and bought a floundering Miami daily to take up his free time. Annenberg’s daily, the Miami Beach Tribune, was the worst in a three paper market that also included the Miami Herald and the Miami Daily

News, which was owned and operated by the former governor of Ohio and 1920

Democratic presidential nominee James B. Cox. Annenberg renamed his paper the

Miami Tribune and gave it a Hearstian spin. The paper was loud, pointed, and took aim at the city’s corrupt politicians and the papers that supported them. In the ensuing circulation war, Annenberg made a long-term enemy of Cox and watched as his own indiscrete dealings were made public knowledge. Not one to give in, Annenberg didn’t lose interest in his Miami paper until 1936, when he bought the Inquirer and John

Knight, himself in the process of building a media empire, took the Tribune off his hands for $2.5 million.59

With this baggage preceding him, many Philadelphians assuredly wondered what

Annenberg would do to the Inquirer. The question was not whether Annenberg had the financial capacity to revive the paper. It was obvious that he did. Rather, the core question lay in whether he would turn the Inquirer into a Hearst-like rag or attempt to revive its Republican credibility.

While Philadelphians privately debated the merits of Annenberg’s purchase, J.

David Stern launched the opening salvos of the newspaper war that almost brought down 24 both men. In doing so, Stern took the offensive in a battle that he assumed would come sooner rather than later. His connections in the publishing industry and the Democratic

Party provided Stern with more knowledge about Annenberg’s tactics and his drive to attain wealth and power than anyone in the city. He knew Annenberg was likely to target the Record first in his attempt to regain the Inquirer’s lost market share, and he knew that a good bit of that onslaught was likely to be underhanded. Stern also recognized that the

Record was the source of his political influence and prestige. If Annenberg knocked the

Record back down to size, Stern’s influence diminished as well.

In typical fashion, Stern publicized his feelings in the Record’s editorials. His first editorial on the matter offered no quarter, and set the parameters of the battle. He openly criticized Annenberg’s connections to organized crime and illegal gambling, highlighted Moses’ penchant for violence and intimidation, and connected him to murders that had taken place as part of the Chicago circulation wars. The editorial was not Stern’s best moment. He openly bent the truth and attributed misdeeds to Moses that his brother carried out. Even some of Stern’s editors at the Record second-guessed the decision. But Stern was unrepentant. Shortly thereafter, upon hearing word from one of his distributors that an Annenberg henchman suggested he sell out or stop favoring the

Record, Stern sued Annenberg. The suit attempted to block Annenberg from starting his own distribution network, as he had done in Milwaukee and Miami. Stern made a public spectacle of the event, writing about it in the Record, and having Annenberg officially served with papers in the middle of a V.I.P. event for advertisers and local businessmen.60

Annenberg answered back in kind with editorials of his own that defended his actions and attempted to clear the record on his past. He also fought Stern’s suit, hiring a 25 young aggressive Philadelphia lawyer named Richardson Dilworth to represent him.

When Dilworth, who later became a reform mayor in Philadelphia during the 1950s, carried the case in spite of a judge whose sympathies clearly lay with Stern, Annenberg hired him as the Inquirer’s general counsel at a retainer of $50,000 a year.61

The defeat proved a significant blow to Stern and the Record. With the gloves now off, Annenberg turned his substantial resources loose on Stern. He followed

Hearst’s model of incurring large initial financial losses to secure increasing circulation numbers. Annenberg invested millions in new equipment and new hiring. He opened a

South New Jersey branch of the Inquirer on Stern’s doorstep in Camden and supplied it with a staff that exceeded the Record’s. To lure readers back to the Inquirer, Annenberg ran numerous contests and give-away promotions of the sort that the McLeans disdained.

Annenberg’s actions worked, between July, 1936 and October, 1937, the Inquirer’s circulation figures rose from 288,000 to 367,763 and the Sunday Inquirer’s numbers cracked the 1,000,000 mark. The Record’s circulation during this period dropped precipitously.62

Stern’s declining profits came at a particularly bad time, as he was already walking a financial tight rope. In 1933, he rescued New York’s Evening Post, the nation’s oldest evening paper, from insolvency. The move was financially risky, as the paper carried enormous debt and hadn’t turned a profit or been a major factor in New

York’s newspaper market in years. Nonetheless, buying the Post also gave Stern a chance to build his burgeoning news empire into the largest market in America. If Stern could turn the Post around, he reasoned, he’d emerge as one of the most powerful newspaper lords in the nation. The move also bolstered Stern’s standing among 26

Democrats, as President Roosevelt publicly and privately thanked him for making the purchase and converting the Post into the only New Deal paper in New York City, calling him “one of the people upon whom I can count to get honest convictions.”63 By 1937,

Stern improved the paper, reducing its losses from $25,000 a week to $25,000 a month.

Stern kept the Post afloat buy siphoning the profits from his Camden and Philadelphia papers. This was not a problem before Annenberg’s arrival, but in the face of his onslaught, the Post’s losses severely limited Stern’s capacity to act.64

With Stern seemingly under control, Annenberg turned his attention toward reestablishing the Inquirer’s Republican credibility. He began using the Inquirer to speak out against Franklin Roosevelt and the New Deal. He criticized Roosevelt’s scheme to pack the Supreme Court and used the 1937 Roosevelt Recession as a reason to run stories that called the president a fascist and criticized his initiatives. These maneuvers, while inflammatory, didn’t seem out of the ordinary in 1937, as Roosevelt was widely panned in the press for both issues. However, Annenberg was unknowingly painting himself into a corner. Annenberg’s public criticisms of FDR combined with the enemies he made of Democratic operatives like James Cox in Miami and David Stern in

Philadelphia and his less-than-reputable business dealings made him a target of the

Federal government.65

Annenberg paid a high price for his tactics, and over the next few years his past caught up with him. Between 1937 and 1939, federal investigators from the Justice

Department and the IRS with ties directly to the president looked for ways to build a case against Annenberg. In May, 1939, grand jury subpoenas were handed down in Chicago.

Federal investigators combing through Cecelia’s records found documents revealing that 27

Annenberg evaded paying $3,258,809.97 in federal income taxes between 1932 and

1936. On August 11, 1939, federal prosecutors indicted Moses Annenberg on ten counts of federal tax evasion. With taxes and penalties the government estimated that

Annenberg owed them $5,548,384, making it the largest criminal tax evasion case in

American history.66

Annenberg would have taken the case to trial were it not for the fact that the government included his son Walter, by then an executive at the Inquirer, in the indictments. To keep Walter from standing trial, and to hopefully court some favor with the government and keep himself out of prison, Moses struck a deal. He pled guilty to one count of tax evasion and paid a $9.5 million fine. The deal kept only Walter out of jail. On July 1, 1940, Annenberg was sentenced to three years in prison at the federal penitentiary at Lewisburg, Pennsylvania. He only served two of the three years, earning a medical release in 1942. He died shortly thereafter.67

The conviction almost crushed Annenberg’s empire. Most of his holdings were divested or sold off and his racing wire was shut down. Little remained other than the

Inquirer. Walter was left in charge of the family’s finances and the Inquirer. Though he went on to supersede his father’s accomplishments, few people believed Walter had the makeup to take over the family business. He had a reputation for being a playboy and had yet to show any of Moses’ toughness or business acumen.68

J. David Stern got little more than gratification out of Annenberg’s conviction.

The verdict did not remove the Inquirer from the playing field, and it did not alleviate any of his other financial problems. Stern finally unloaded the New York Evening Post in 1939, when its average monthly losses mounted to $75,000 and threatened to put his 28 whole operation in the red. In doing so, Stern cut his losses, but not before losing

$4,500,000 in six years.69

The Evening Bulletin emerged from this period no worse for wear. Its working- class readers bore the brunt of the Depression, and their financial hardships trickled down to the paper. By 1940, the Bulletin’s circulation stood at 440,475, more than 100,000 readers lower than its 1930 figure.70 However, the Bulletin benefitted from another shift in the region’s newspaper market in January, 1942, when its only significant remaining evening competitor, the Evening Public Ledger, closed. Within two years the Bulletin absorbed much of the Ledger’s circulation, which stood at 171,261 when it closed.71 By

1944, the Bulletin’s circulation figures hit 639,110, an all-time high to that point.72

Further, Stern and Annenberg’s newspaper war weakened the Record and the Inquirer and could have only further solidified the Bulletin’s reputation as the Philadelphia’s best source for thorough objective news.

Ironically enough, the onset of World War II contributed to the Bulletin’s post-

Depression surge. The constant public demand for war news caused circulation figures to rise dramatically in every market in the country, including Philadelphia. In 1945, the

Bulletin’s circulation increased to 658,190.73 A year later, it topped 700,000 for the first time.74 The Inquirer and Record’s daily circulations also climbed during the war, rising from 384,859 and 218,835 in 1940 to 575,846 and 275,467 in 1946.75 The circulation increases likely enabled Stern and Annenberg to recoup some of their losses and begin to regroup financially. However, the war also carried with it some unforeseen consequences. Wartime rationing combined with the increased public demand for news created a shortage of newsprint across the country. The result was a major spike in the 29 price of paper. Between 1942 and 1946, the price of newsprint rose from $51 to $85 a ton.76 Initially, publishers who lacked the resources to offset the price increase by buying in bulk or who couldn’t afford the added costs were hit hardest, but by the end of the war, the shortage-induced price increases were impacting all but the nation’s largest papers.77

The appearance of unprecedented prosperity in the newspaper industry during the war years agitated many in the labor movement. Members of the ANG, who were unable to strike for higher wages, thought the nation’s newspaper owners were using the war as an opportunity to horde profits. There is no doubt that many owners did do this, but just as many, including J. David Stern, found themselves hamstrung by the increased production costs. As a result, labor problems beset the newspaper industry after the war ended.78

Despite his public friendliness with labor, Stern found himself in the middle of a major dispute with the ANG in 1946. In actuality, Stern’s relationship with his own unions had been rocky since the ANG switched its affiliation from the AFL to the CIO in

June, 1937, and moved a small number of communists into his newspapers. Stern felt as though the guild had betrayed him and, for the first time, hired a labor lawyer to negotiate the contracts with his papers’ unionized employees. Since both parties gained from projecting an amicable relationship to the public, they agreed to keep their differences private. The war then pushed some of these issues to the back burner, though the underlying resentment and distrust remained. When the war ended, it was only natural that the guild would seek substantial wage and benefit increases.79

Stern’s problems with labor began in the spring of 1946, when negotiations for a new labor contract with the ANG began. Thinking that Stern had accumulated 30 substantial profits during the war, the ANG set its demands high. Stern refused to accommodate the guild, claiming that the increased production costs had drastically cut into his profits. Stern’s argument might have carried some weight were it not for the fact that he had recently purchased Philadelphia’s WCAU radio station for $6,000,000, and announced plans to build a $3,000,000 television, radio, and newspaper media center a few blocks north of City Hall at the corner of Broad and Spring Garden Streets.80 Stern had, in fact, borrowed the money to buy the radio station by putting his assets up as collateral. However, few knew this at the time. By the fall, tensions between Stern and the ANG were increasing rapidly. Still, Stern did not think that the ANG would strike the

Record and was surprised when the walkout came on November 7.81

Stern and the non-ANG affiliated employees at the Record attempted to publish the paper in spite of the walkout, but as the strike progressed, the futility of that approach became apparent. The Bulletin and the Inquirer each fed news stories to the Record, but it was to no avail. The Record’s daily editions got progressively smaller and the paper lost readers and advertisers. As the Record’s losses mounted, Stern found himself without the revenues necessary to pay the loan on the radio station. By December of

1946, he was at risk of losing everything. Several of Stern’s advisors suggested he contemplate selling off his assets and retiring. It was the only rational decision left to make.82

Stern and his associates quickly and quietly looked for a buyer for his beloved newspapers. Stern’s past rivalry with Moses Annenberg eliminated any chance that he would sell out to Walter Annenberg, now the owner and publisher of the Inquirer.

Stern’s unwillingness to deal with Annenberg left Robert McLean as the only newspaper 31 publisher in the region with the means to make the purchase quickly. Between

December, 1946, and January, 1947, Stern and his advisors negotiated the sale of all of his media holdings to the Bulletin Co. The meetings were kept secret, and only a handful of people were involved. On January 31, the Bulletin Co. purchased all of

Stern’s media assets for a combined $13 million.83

The sale of the Record, Courier, Post, and WCAU was announced in all three papers and the Evening Bulletin on February 1, 1947, stunning Stern’s employees. Stern used his last column as owner/publisher of the Record and Courier-Post to blame the

ANG’s “excessive demands” for the sale.84 The ANG disputed this claim, but the event made national news and contributed to the rising anti-union sentiment gathering speed in

America in the immediate post World War II years. Editorials from large and small newspapers across the nation weighed in on the subject. Newsweek covered the sale and the labor dispute a few days later. At the end of the month, Stern tearfully testified in front of the House Labor Committee in Washington D.C. that “the Guild deliberately struck my papers with intent to destroy them,” and implied that the union was linked to communism and a threat to freedom of the press.85

The Bulletin Company’s purchase of the Record benefited the Bulletin and the

Inquirer. The sale immediately reduced the number of daily papers in the city to three, the morning Inquirer, the Evening Bulletin, and the afternoon tabloid Daily News.

McLean added the Record’s syndicated features and subscriber lists to the Bulletin’s many resources. He did not create a morning Bulletin from the Record’s ashes, but he did use the Sunday Record’s features to help launch the Sunday Bulletin. Previous to this, there was no Sunday edition of the Bulletin, and the lack of competition enabled the 32

Annenbergs to use the Inquirer’s large Sunday edition to help offset the Evening

Bulletin’s weekday circulation and advertising advantages. By 1947, the Inquirer’s

Sunday circulation consistently exceeded one million, making it a powerful countervailing force in the market.86 The new Sunday Bulletin, though its circulation never hit one million, forced the Inquirer to compete for the lucrative Sunday revenues.

Further, the acquisition of WCAU, the region’s only 50,000-watt clear channel radio station, gave the Bulletin Co. a prominent voice on the radio and on a forthcoming CBS- affiliated television channel. The Bulletin Co. simply had to build a station for the TV channel, which it did on City Line Avenue, on the city’s outskirts.87 Gaining access to the broadcast media outlets strengthened the Bulletin Co.’s position in the Philadelphia media market. The radio and TV stations were additional outlets for news gathered by

Bulletin staffers. Having access to the large audiences reached by the broadcast media outlets also promised to attract more advertising, as Bulletin ad men could package print and broadcast advertising space together. No other media entity reached more people in the Philadelphia region on a daily basis. 88 Purchasing Stern’s assets positioned McLean at the helm of the largest multimedia corporation in America’s third largest market.

Given McLean’s understanding of the region’s newspaper market, it is puzzling that he did not take the opportunity to launch a morning edition. The Bulletin led the

Inquirer in daily circulation 715,201 to 606,664 in 1947, but closing the Record eliminated Walter Annenberg’s only competition for morning readers and promised to push a significant number of Stern’s almost 300,000 readers toward the Inquirer.89 In the following year, this scenario played out. In 1948, the Inquirer’s circulation spiked to 33

724,767, while the Evening Bulletin’s grew to 771,303.90 The Record’s closing enabled the Inquirer to halve the Bulletin’s circulation lead within a year.

McLean’s decision not to launch a morning edition was likely related to concerns over whether doing so would have given the Bulletin Co. a newspaper monopoly over the

Philadelphia region and raised the ire of the federal government. While reviewing the

Bulletin Co.’s purchase of Stern’s assets, the Federal Communications Commission

(FCC) determined that the acquisition of the Courier and Post papers gave McLean a newspaper monopoly in Camden and southern New Jersey. To gain final approval for the transaction, McLean had to find a buyer for the Camden papers. In the meantime, he suspended publication of the Courier and Post, leaving the South Jersey portion of the

Philadelphia metro area without a representative local daily.91 The FCC also ruled that

McLean had to divest the Bulletin Co. of its existing radio station, WPEN, if he wanted to acquire WCAU, as owning and operating two major radio stations in one city would have given the company too strong a presence in that media market too. Given these rulings, the fact that the Bulletin already had no significant evening competitor, and was among the largest newspapers in the nation, starting a morning daily to compete with the

Inquirer would likely have brought legal problems. Starting a morning daily, given the paper’s other strengths, likely did not seem to be a fight worth picking in 1947, as few could have foreseen that the postwar social, cultural, and economic changes would later privilege morning papers over evening papers like the Bulletin.

The Bulletin Co.’s purchase of the Record and WCAU capped a tumultuous fifty- year period in Philadelphia’s newspaper industry. Under the guidance of William L.

McLean, and following his death, his sons, Robert and William, Jr., the Bulletin Co. 34 navigated these choppy seas masterfully. By adhering to his journalistic ideals, William

L. McLean crafted the Evening Bulletin into a paper perfectly suited to the Philadelphia metropolitan area’s shifting socio-cultural milieu during the period. It covered neighborhood happenings extensively and national and international affairs without an overt slant. In doing so, the Bulletin positioned Philadelphia as the hub of the region’s news. This approach took work and courage. In a period when newspapers and journalists were incorporating more entertainment-based features and techniques to help build their circulation statistics and advertising revenues, the McLeans’ belief in restrained reporting remained steadfast. It would have been easier to follow the popular trends. However, the restrained coverage of stories like the armistice hoax helped build the Evening Bulletin’s reputation as the most reliable source for news in Philadelphia.

That combined with the paper’s relatively moderate political stances, which became more obvious as Stern and Annenberg used their papers as politically partisan mouthpieces, made the paper palatable to a wide cross-section of the area’s economic and social classes. Those wanting political editorializing could read the Inquirer or the Record.

Those that simply wanted the news read the Evening Bulletin.

The McLeans’ approach to journalism was not the only factor in the Evening

Bulletin’s growth, however. Equally important, though less emphasized, was the

McLeans’ business acumen in negotiating the fluctuating market conditions of the early- to-mid twentieth century. Philadelphia’s maturation into a key industrial center, and the nation’s third most populous city, provided a growing mass audience that was ripe for the taking. The Evening Bulletin’s position as an evening paper, combined with William

McLean’s willingness to invest in technological improvements that increased the paper’s 35 efficiency, helped capture the bulk of Philadelphia’s readers. The increased revenues that accompanied the Bulletin’s circulation growth then insulated it from the upheavals that prompted the gradual consolidation of the Philadelphia newspaper market. This became apparent during both World Wars. When numerous smaller Philadelphia dailies failed to balance the increased production costs caused by war rationing with their readers’ demands for war news and went under, the Bulletin absorbed their readers and increased its already sizable circulation and advertising lead. These factors also helped the paper withstand the economic contractions that shook the city and the nation during the Great

Depression, and put it in a position to expand into new and larger mediums in the post

World War II years.

In the end, it was a combination of journalistic approach, changing market conditions, and savvy business decisions that enabled the Bulletin to rise to the top of the

Philadelphia metro area’s newspaper market and the Bulletin Co. to rise to top of its media market. Despite this reality, Robert McLean continuously cited the paper’s approach, community service, and its intimate relationship with its readers as the foundation for the company’s successes. McLean never ventured far from his core beliefs that “the prime duty of a newspaper is to serve its community,” and that “a clean, sane, and progressive newspaper, with high ideals, succeeds only when those it serves approve and continue to be its readers.”92 He argued that the paper’s restrained coverage and extensive focus on local news was what drew readers, drove circulation up, attracted advertisers, and enabled it to capitalize on the opportunities to grow and expand. As the

President of the Bulletin Co. and President of the Associated Press, McLean continually highlighted the importance of restrained, fact-based journalism during public appearances 36 and speeches. In the process, he established himself as a national advocate for unrestrained freedom of speech and heightened the Bulletin’s national reputation as a bastion of clear, factual journalism.93

This focus was never more apparent than in the spring of 1947, during the

Bulletin’s centennial birthday celebration. The McLeans celebrated with uncharacteristic grandeur, holding a gala event at Philadelphia’s famed Convention Hall for 1,700 employees, guests, and national dignitaries. Congratulatory notes poured in from local and national politicians and were reprinted in the paper. The letters revealed the high regard that Robert McLean and the Evening Bulletin were held in nationally and the extent to which their reputations were connected to the paper’s journalistic approach. In the process of offering his congratulations, Philadelphia’s Mayor, Bernard Samuel, wrote that Robert McLean’s successes were a result of his adherence “to the principles laid down by your father nearly 52 years ago,” and went on to commend the paper for maintaining the “highest lines of independent and progressive journalism.”94 New

Jersey’s Governor, Alfred E. Driscoll commented that the Bulletin’s history revealed a

“constant devotion to the public service and to fair presentation of the news and editorial integrity.”95 Both of Pennsylvania’s U.S. Senators weighed in as well. Senator Edward

Martin argued that “the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, and indeed the whole nation, should be grateful to the Bulletin for its complete, fair, and impartial presentation of the news and the wholesome guidance of its editorial policy,” while his colleague, Senator

Francis J. Myers, called Robert McLean a “modern-day Benjamin Franklin,” and the paper “factual, reliable, enterprising,” and “generally outstanding.”96 Even President 37

Harry Truman recognized the paper’s journalistic approach, commending it for “never hitting below the belt.” 97

The Evening Bulletin’s widespread popularity across the Philadelphia metropolitan region seemed to be further proof that the paper’s approach was the root of its success. By 1949, the Bulletin reached 86.3 percent of the families in the Philadelphia city zone. 98 The paper maintained almost the same level of dominance in the seven suburban counties surrounding the city. In Pennsylvania’s Bucks, Montgomery, and

Delaware counties, the Evening Bulletin’s coverage hovered around 65 percent. It reached 55 percent of Gloucester County’s families and close to 45 percent of those living in Chester, Burlington, and Camden County.99 The county statistics only paint a partial picture of the Bulletin’s range and popularity however, as the paper’s reach extended into numerous small boroughs and townships on the outskirts of the metro area.

Its stats were not padded by saturating suburban towns located on the immediate outskirts of the city. The Bulletin was received as well in outlying locations like Sellersville, in

Upper Bucks County, (99 percent coverage) and Pottstown, Montgomery County, (72 percent coverage) as it was close to the city limits. The paper even reached into 61 percent of the homes in Atlantic City, New Jersey.100 How else could the Bulletin’s popularity amongst such a wide range of communities and readers be explained than through its restrained, straight-ahead journalism, which, theoretically, offended none and appealed to all?

Robert McLean’s emphasis on maintaining the Bulletin’s traditional approach did not prevent him from taking steps to ensure that the paper’s future was secure. McLean understood that the Bulletin would only continue to grow if it had the capacity to do so. 38

McLean was also likely aware of the larger shifts taking place in the national newspaper market. Not only had consolidation reduced the number of dailies in Philadelphia, but the number of daily papers operating throughout the nation had also declined by 442 between 1910 and 1956.101 These changes forced newspaper owners and publishers to put a premium on cutting costs and improving efficiency. In an effort to stay ahead of the curve, newspaper owners and publishers across the country invested almost $700 million into the construction of new plants and faster, more efficient, equipment between 1947 and 1956.102

Robert McLean positioned the Evening Bulleting at the head of this movement.

By 1950, the Bulletin’s growth combined with the need to stay ahead of the larger market trends necessitated a move from the paper’s home at Filbert and Juniper Streets, near City

Hall. The paper needed a plant that befitted its status as the largest evening daily paper in the nation and which would give it the capacity to compete as the market changed. To remedy the situation and put the Evening Bulletin in a position to prosper well into the future, McLean utilized the model his father used earlier in the century. He commissioned the head of Yale University’s Department of Architecture, George Howe, who also designed Philadelphia’s famed PSFS building, the Bulletin Co.’s WCAU television station on City Line Avenue, and McLean’s home in Montgomery County, and

Robert Montgomery Brown, to design a brand new, world-class newspaper plant. The plant was to be located on a six-acre site at the western fringe of Philadelphia’s urban center, directly behind the 30th Street Station railroad depot along Market St.103

The new Bulletin building that emerged between the 1952 groundbreaking and the

July, 1955, opening celebration was nothing less than the most modern newspaper plant 39 in the world. Architectural Forum commented that, “sheer size prevents the Bulletin plant from being anything but awesome.”104 At an estimated cost of $15 million, the building was the most expensive of the nation’s new coterie of newspaper plants.

Spreading out over 266,000 square feet, the plant contained two press lines, each with a capacity to print 2,900 eighty-page newspapers a minute, or close to 500,000 papers an hour when combined.105

The plant’s emphasis on efficiency went far beyond simply increasing its production capacity. Its layout positioned each department in proper accordance with another, so as to ensure the fastest possible transmission from typed to printed story. The stereotype room adjoined the pressroom to expedite the production and transfer of the printing plates, which were carried by conveyor belt to the presses. An extensive system of conveyor belts also ran throughout the four-story building, carrying copy and supplies to the various departments. The plant’s size and location near Philadelphia’s railroad hub also improved the Bulletin’s capacity to bring in and store supplies in bulk, thereby lessening costs and reducing the chances of shortages. Newsprint arrived by train cars via tracks that linked to the Pennsylvania Railroad and was stored in the plant’s massive warehouse. Automated conveyor belts and a 300-foot wide loading dock then hastened the speed at which the Bulletin’s finished papers were shipped out of the factory for delivery. From start to finish, the plant was a modern news-making marvel.106

The technologies that were built into the plant only partly reveal McLean’s understanding of the changing market. Its location too was a strategic decision. Placing the new plant at 30th and Market Streets served multiple purposes. Its presence alongside the Market Street subway line and the trolleys that linked West Philadelphia to center city 40 and adjacent to the city’s railroad hub at 30th Street Station put the paper in position to capture those readers who continued to commute by rail. The location also placed the

Evening Bulletin at the hub of what was then a developing network of regional highways that were to connect the city and its developing suburban regions. The east-west running

Schuylkill Expressway (later designated Interstate 76) was constructed during the same period (1949-1956) as the new Bulletin building, and ran close by the plant. It promised to provide quick access to southern New Jersey via the Walt Whitman Bridge, which was also under construction at the time, and the city’s western suburban counties in

Pennsylvania by intersecting with the proposed Mid-County Expressway. The highway’s anticipated junction with the proposed Roosevelt Expressway (U.S. Rte. 1) at City Line

Avenue also promised quick access to Northeast Philadelphia and Lower Bucks County’s booming suburban developments.

In location, function, and form, the new Bulletin building seemingly put Robert

McLean’s paper in a position to dominate the daily newspaper market in the Philadelphia metropolitan region for the foreseeable future. It provided all of the necessary structural supports that would enable the Bulletin’s signature style to continue on. McLean had ostensibly hit on the perfect equation, modern technology, plus a prime location, coupled with a tried and true approach to covering the news, would bring continued success. So sure were McLean and the building’s architects of the Bulletin’s future growth that the plant was designed with the capacity to add two additional lines of presses, which, when combined with the original two lines, could have produced almost 1,000,000 papers an hour.107 Yet, McLean’s analysis suffered from one fatal flaw, it presupposed that

Philadelphia would remain the region’s news hub even after the suburban counties 41 developed. It assumed that the milieu that had contributed heavily to the Evening

Bulletin’s rise would not change. Ironically, this focus would inhibit the Evening

Bulletin’s ability to effectively adapt to the economic and structural changes that arose within the metropolitan area’s newspaper market during the post-World War II decades. 42

Endnotes

1 The reports emanated from Paris and were approved by censors. “The United Press and the Armistice Dispatch,” Philadelphia Public Ledger, 8 November 1918, 1.

2 “Washington Wild Over False Report,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 8 November 1918, 2.

3 “Unconfirmed Report Set N.Y. Wild With Jubilation,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, November 8, 1918, 2.

4 Ibid.

5 “Cruel Peace Hoax, Ending War Stirs City,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 7 November 1918, 1-2. “Fake Peace News Sent City Wild,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 8 November 1918, 1-2.

6 “Fake Peace News Sent City Wild,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 8 November 1918, 1-2. “Shipworkers Celebrate Reported Surrender,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 8 November 1918, 2.

7 “Cruel Peace Hoax, Ending War, Stirs Nation,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 7 November 1918, 1.

8 “Who Did It?” New York Times, 8 November 1918, 14.

9 “The United Press and the Armistice Dispatch,” Philadelphia Public Ledger, 8 November 18.

10 “Harcum-Scarum ‘News,’” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 8 November 1918, 16.

11 Aurora Wallace, Newspapers and the Making of Modern America: A History (Westport, Ct: Greenwood Press, 2005), 3.

12 For an excellent discussion of these debates: Michael Schudson, Discovering the News: A Social History of American Newspapers (New York: Basic Books, 1978), 88- 120.

13 “Wm. L. McLean Dies at His Home Here After Long Illness,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

14 All circulation figures for Philadelphia newspapers between 1895 and 1935 are derived from: The Evolution of Philadelphia Newspapers chart, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin 43

Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 3, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

15 “Wm. L. McLean Dies at His Home Here After Long Illness,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

16 Reprinted in: Peter Binzen, “Nearly Everybody Read It,” in Peter Binzen ed. Nearly Everybody Read It: Snapshots of the Philadelphia Bulletin (Philadelphia: Camino Books, 1998), 4.

17 “Wm. L. McLean Dies at His Home Here After Long Illness,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

18 Ibid.

19 Schudson, Discovering the News, 88-120.

20 “Publisher talks to Poor Richard,” J. David Stern file, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

21 Ibid.

22 The Inquirer’s circulation that year was 281,863. The Evolution of Philadelphia Newspapers chart, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 3, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

23 All statistics from: Ibid.

24 Sam Bass Warner, The Private City: Philadelphia in Three Periods of Its Growth, 2nd ed. (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1987), 161.

25 Warner notes that Northwest Philadelphia’s heterogeneity was somewhat overstated as African Americans and Jews could both freely live in the inner part of the section near Center City, but only Jews were permitted in its outer rings as the region expanded toward Germantown. Bass Warner, Private City, 178-197.

26 Kenneth T. Jackson, Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985), 13-16.

27 For a brief, topical, photo-oriented look at each of these communities see Ed Ludwig, Brooks McNamara, Betty Strecker, Images of America: Doylestown (Charleston, SC: Arcadia Publishing, 2004); Vince Profy, Images of America: Yardley (Charleston, SC: Arcadia Publishing, 1999); Bruce Mowday, Images of America: Coatesville (Charleston, 44

SC: Arcadia Publishing, 2003); Chester Historical Preservation Committee, Images of America: Chester (Charleston, SC: Arcadia Publishing, 2004). See also, Hazel B. Simpson, Ed., Under Four Flags: Old Gloucester County, New Jersey, 1686-1964 (Woodbury, NJ: Board of Chosen Freeholders, 1965); Commissioners of Chester County, History and Progress of Chester County, 1968.

28 Robert H. Wiebe, The Search For Order, 1877-1920 (New York: Hill and Wang, 1967).

29 Jackson, Crabgrass Frontier, 91-92.

30 For the Pa. suburbs see: E. Digby Baltzell, Philadelphia Gentlemen: The Making of a National Upper Class (Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1971), 205-215. For New Jersey see: Jeffrey M. Dorwart, Camden County, New Jersey: The Making of a Metropolitan Community, 1626-2000 (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2001), 63-95.

31 The Audit Bureau of Circulations included Camden, NJ, and Colwyn, Darby, East Lansdowne, Lansdowne, Millborne, Yeadon, and Upper Darby, Delaware County, in its classification of the Philadelphia City Zone. The Evening and Sunday Bulletin: 1954 Circulation and Coverage, 6, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 10, Folder 5, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

32 Mowday, Images of America: Coatesville; Chester Historical Preservation Committee, Images of America: Chester; Commissioners of Chester County, History and Progress of Chester County, 45-60; Dorwart, Camden County, New Jersey, 50-61.

33 Ludwig, McNamara, Strecker, Images of America: Doylestown; Vince Profy, Images of America: Yardley; Commissioners of Chester County, History and Progress of Chester County, 29-42; Simpson, Ed., Under Four Flags: Old Gloucester County, New Jersey, 1686-1964, 80-100.

34 The Camden Courier-Post dated to 1875, the Woodbury Daily Times to 1897, the Bristol Daily Courier to 1910, the Chester Times to 1876, the Doylestown Daily Intelligencer to 1804, and the Norristown Times-Herald to 1799. Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1962, 160-164, 223-232.

35 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1925, 62-65.

36 For more on the characteristics of small local dailies during the pre-World War II era: John Cameron Sim, The Grass Roots Press: America’s Community Newspapers (Ames: Iowa State University Press, 1969).

37 The actual total was 204,324. Figure based on author’s calculations of figures listed in: The Evolution of Philadelphia Newspapers chart, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin 45

Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 3, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

38 The actual total was 91,405. Figure based on author’s calculations of figures listed in: Ibid.

39 Ibid.

40 For the Inquirer’s history see: John Cooney, The Annenbergs (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1982), 101-105; Christopher Ogden, Legacy: A Biography of Moses and Walter Annenberg (New York: Little, Brown and Company, 1999), 163-170; Nicholas Wainwright, “The History of the Philadelphia Inquirer,” Philadelphia Inquirer supplement, September 16, 1962.

41 Cooney, The Annenbergs, 103.

42 Market surveys conducted for the Evening Bulletin by outside research firms in the 1960s, and 70s reveal that a significant portion of Philadelphians read both papers on a daily basis. See: W.R. Simmons and Associates Research Inc., Philadelphia Market Profile – 1962: Daily Newspapers, Analysis and Interpretation, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 39, Folder 8; Belden Associates, Belden Continuing Market Surveys, Philadelphia ’72: The Greater Philadelphia Newspaper Audience, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 39, Folder 4, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

43 Cooney, The Annenbergs, 101-105; Ogden, Legacy, 163-170.

44 The Evolution of Philadelphia Newspapers, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 3, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

45 Ibid.

46 J. David Stern, Memoirs of a Maverick Publisher, (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1962), 169-173.

47 Ibid, 10.

48 Ibid, 165.

49 For accounts of Stern’s personality and work ethic: Stern, Memoirs of a Maverick Publisher; Jerrie Newman, “Newspaper Labor Relations Breakdown: Closing of the Philadelphia Record (1947)” (master’s thesis, Temple University, 1972); “Philadelphia Feud,” Time Magazine, November 11, 1935. 46

50 Stern, Memoirs of a Maverick Publisher, 285-292; Newman, “Newspaper Labor Relations Breakdown,” 45-56,

51 “Stern and Guild Sign Collective Bargaining Pact,” unknown publication, 9 April 1934, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

52 The Evolution of Philadelphia Newspapers chart, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 2, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

53 Ibid.

54 Stern, Memoirs of a Maverick Publisher, 237.

55 Cooney, The Annenbergs, 27-39; Ogden, Legacy, 9-22, 24-56.

56 Cooney, The Annenbergs, 40-55, Ogden, Legacy, 55-74.

57 Cooney, The Annenbergs, 54-55; Ogden, Legacy, 89-100.

58 Cooney, The Annenbergs, 57-70; Ogden, Legacy, 101-112.

59 Cooney, The Annenbergs, 80-100; Ogden, Legacy, 146-161.

60 Ogden, Legacy 172-175.

61 Ibid

62 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1936; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1937.

63 Quote from letter to Stern from Roosevelt that was reprinted in the Record, 8 December 1933, “J. David Stern of Philadelphia buys ‘the Post’,” New York Herald Tribune, 8 December 1933, “Evening Post Sold to J. David Stern,” 8 December 1933, “Leaders of Nation Felicitate Stern on Buying Post,” 12 December 1933, all in J. David Stern File, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. See also: Stern, Memoirs of a Maverick Publisher, 215-227.

64 Ogden, Legacy, 187-188. Stern, Memoirs of a Maverick Publisher, 245-255.

65 David M. Kennedy, Freedom From Fear: The American People in Depression and War, 1929-1945 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 350-362. 47

66 Cooney, The Annenbergs, 138-154; Ogden, Legacy, 204-227.

67 Ibid.

68 Ibid.

69 Stern, Memoirs of a Maverick Publisher, 252-254.

70 The Bulletin’s 1930 circulation figure was 560,855. The Evolution of Philadelphia Newspapers chart, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 3, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. For the 1940 figure: Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1940, 82.

71 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1941, 84.

72 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1944, 98.

73 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1945, 110.

74 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1946, 114.

75 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1940, 82-84; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1946, 114.

76 Newman, “Newspaper Labor Relations Breakdown,” 99.

77 David R. Davies, The Postwar Decline of American Newspapers, 1945-1965 (Westport, Ct.: Praeger, 1994), 1-13.

78 Ibid.

79 Newman, “Labor Relations Breakdown,” 60-75.

80 “Philadelphia Record Buys Station WCAU,” 8 May 1946, J. David Stern file, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

81 Newman, “Labor Relations Breakdown,” 95-120, Stern; Memoirs of a Maverick Publisher, 283-292.

82 Ibid.

83 Binzen, “Nearly Everybody Read It,” 7.

84 Stern, “Announcement,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 1 February 1947, 1, J. David Stern file, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

85 “The Philadelphia Story,” Newsweek, February 10, 1947, 61-62; “Stern Measures,” Newsweek, February 24, 1947, 67-68.

86 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1947, 112.

87 Greater Philadelphia Magazine noted that, when completed, the WCAU TV station was the largest in the world. “The ‘Big’ Trend,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, December 1952, 26-27.

88 The FCC did not o.k. the Bulletin Co.'s take over of WCAU until December, 1947, when it sold WPEN. “WCAU Now is Operating as The Bulletin Station,” 19 December 1947, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives; Binzen, “Nearly Everybody Read It,” 6-10; Newman, Newspaper Labor Relations Breakdown, 130-145; Stern, Memoirs of a Maverick Publisher 299-301.

89 Ibid.

90 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1948, 107.

91 Binzen, “Nearly Everybody Read It,” 7-8.

92 “M’Lean Is Elected President of A.P.,” New York Times, 27 April 1938, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

93 McLean gave numerous speeches and received multiple awards during his term as president of the Bulletin Co. and A.P. For a sampling of this coverage see “Robert Mclean is Honored For 20-Year AP Presidency,” Editor & Publisher, April 24, 1958, 20; “McLean Will Get Poor Richard Medal,” Poor Richard’s Almanac, November 1946; “Philadelphia Chamber Honors Robert McLean,” New York Herald Tribune, 16 September 1951; “Robert McLean is Honored by Penna. Associated Press,” Philadelphia Sunday Bulletin, 1 October 1961; “Robert McLean Honored by Journalism School,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 3 May 1951; “Impartial Press Called World Aid,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 11 April 1945; “Unbiased Reporting Press’ First Duty Maj. M’Lean Says,” Philadelphia Record , 26 May 1938; “U.S. Press Termed Best News Medium,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 26 January 1945; “Gov’t must not hamper news flow: McLean,” Philadelphia Daily News, 10 December 1954; “M’Lean Denounces Truman News Curb,” New York Times, 16 October 1951. All articles from Robert McLean files, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. 49

94 “Congratulations Flood Bulletin on Anniversary,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 4 November 1947, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

95 Ibid.

96 Ibid.

97 Binzen, “Nearly Everybody Read It,” 7.

98 “The Philadelphia Bulletin, Evening and Sunday: Circulation and Coverage By Towns and Counties, 1949,” 5, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 10, Folder 5, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

99 The precise statistics for each county were: Bucks, 63.5%, Chester, 43%, Delaware 65%, Montgomery, 64.5%, Burlington, 45%, Gloucester, 55.2%, Camden, 44%. Note: The Evening Bulletin included Camden City and some Delaware County townships close to Philadelphia in the City Zone and not the county statistics. Ibid, 5.

100 Ibid, 6-11.

101 “What’s New in Newspaper Plants,” Architectural Forum, May 1956, 131-135, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 34, Folder 2, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

102 Ibid.

103 “Bulletin Starts New Building,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 13 April 1953, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

104 Ibid, 134.

105 “Wonderland of Electronic Miracles Turns Out Today’s BULLETIN,” Unnamed Philadelphia Press Association publication, November 20, 1955, 14, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 34, File 2, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

106 Ibid, 14-15, 37, 48.

107 Ibid, 14.

CHAPTER 2 CRAFTING THE SUBURBAN IDEAL IN “AMERICA’S MOST PERFECTLY PLANNED COMMUNITY”

On Monday, June 23, 1952, John and Philomena Dougherty became the first official residents of Levittown, Pennsylvania. In packing up their two daughters and making the short move from a northeast Philadelphia government housing project to their new home, they joined the thousands of Philadelphians fleeing the city’s expensive, cramped, and outdated urban spaces for the promise of a better life in the suburbs. For these families, the days of renting and making due with antiquated appliances and amenities was a thing of the past. In the suburbs, everything was new.1

As in most of the nation’s metropolitan areas, Philadelphia’s suburban counties’ populations increased dramatically in the immediate postwar years. By 1950, Bucks,

Chester, Montgomery, Delaware, Camden, Burlington, and Gloucester Counties had cumulatively cut the city’s population lead by almost 200,000 people.2 It was a harbinger of things to come. During the fifties, each of the city’s seven neighboring counties’ populations grew by more than thirty percent. By 1960, they had surpassed Philadelphia in total population by 337,873 people.3

Nowhere did the population grow faster than in Levittown, Bucks County, where the Evening Bulletin estimated that residents arrived at a rate of one every eight and a half minutes between 1952 and 1957.4 Begun in early 1952 by one of the nation’s most famous suburban developers, William (Bill) Levitt, the massive seventeen thousand home subdivision was intended to surpass its Long Island predecessor in size and scope. Within 51 three years, eleven thousand families had moved in, pushing the population past forty thousand.5 By 1957, the subdivision’s total population exceeded fifty thousand, and was expected to reach 70,000 by 1960, making it the tenth largest “city” in the state.6 By the end of the decade, Levittown housed almost half of the county’s 163,947 new residents and was largely responsible for the 113 percent population increase that made Bucks

County the fastest growing county in the region.7

However, there was more to relocating to the suburbs than the physical move.

Subdivisions like Levittown were wholly new socio-cultural spaces, where the community’s norms and values had yet to be formed. Not only did families like the

Doughertys need help finding their way around, and figuring out where to shop, where to worship, and where to send their kids to school, but they also needed help determining how their own experiences and expectations about what life in Levittown should entail fit with Bill Levitt’s plans for the subdivision as well as the larger Lower Bucks County area’s established traditions and values.

The new suburban environment that emerged in Lower Bucks County during the

1950s created an opening for the birth of the Levittown Times (PA), a new weekly newspaper, and provided the Bristol Daily Courier, the small paper that already serviced the towns and boroughs located on Philadelphia’s outskirts, with the opportunity to increase its size and scope. In this milieu, the local papers emerged as the best sources for local news and information. They did this not by competing with their urban counterparts, whose coverage overwhelmingly focused on events within the city limits, but by adhering to the small town papers’ traditional provincial and community centered approach. In doing so, the papers filled an important community niche and took 52 advantage of the massive influx of new residents, whose readership eventually enabled the Levittown Times to grow into a daily publication, and helped the papers begin chipping away at the Bulletin and Inquirer’s dominance over the northern part of the

Philadelphia region.

More important however, was the increased social influence that the suburban papers acquired during this period. In the fluid socio-cultural environment that was

1950s suburbia, suburban newspapers did more than simply report the news. They acted as the filter through which residents understood the shifting social and cultural environment around them and helped shape the new suburban ideals as they emerged. In

Levittown, the Levittown Times facilitated the creation of a new socio-cultural community among residents by indicating who and what was, and was not, acceptable, what types of behavior fit, and which types were to be considered suspect. By blending suburban developers’ plans with national and regional trends in editorials and columns whose topics ranged from proper gardening techniques to home decorating and finding the perfect Thanksgiving turkey, the papers, in effect, helped teach the new suburbanites how to be suburban.8

The Levittown Times also influenced Levittown’s political structures and physical boundaries. Its editorials and stories promoted political and civic action among the new residents, granting favorable coverage to organizations and causes that it supported and negative coverage to those it opposed. By covering and loudly editorializing on topics such as local taxes, public schools, and community boundaries, the paper shifted from fostering community to influencing the actual making of place in Levittown, highlighting 53 and framing many of the issues and ideals that later became lasting components of the subdivision’s political culture.9

However, in carrying out these processes, the Times fostered an environment in which Levittown’s residents felt as though they had the power to set and define the socio- cultural boundaries of their community as they saw fit. In this supposedly classless community, rooted as it was purported to be in traditional Americanism, the dividing line that determined who was and was not welcome became most visible on matters concerning racial integration. When a single black family attempted to move into the all- white community in 1957, local residents banded together and drew on many of the practices and ideals that the Levittown Times had promoted in the years prior, creating new civic organizations to act as their mouthpiece and voicing concerns over schools, family life, the possibility of declining property values, and the loss of their own constitutional rights as reasons to prevent racial minorities from moving in. In keeping with their community-centered approach, neither the Levittown Times nor the Bristol

Daily Courier overtly critiqued the residents for their actions, even as Philadelphia’s urban dailies did. Instead, they offered the protestors sympathetic coverage, and shifted the focus from the violent racial demonstrations taking place to the community’s attempts to find a peaceful solution. This approach implicitly reinforced the protestors’ belief in their right to keep Levittown a racially closed community. It also strengthened the bonds between the suburban papers and their readers, as the disparity in the newspaper coverage created an environment in which the local papers seemingly reflected the social and cultural values of the community more accurately than the Evening Bulletin and Inquirer. 54

Across the nation during the 1950s, in communities like Levittown, PA, suburban papers like the Levittown Times and Bristol Daily Courier increasingly stepped into the roles previously filled by urban dailies like the Evening Bulletin and Inquirer as conduits of local news and information and as socio-cultural producers. By providing intimate coverage of local events and happenings for a rapidly growing population occupying wholly new physical, social, and cultural spaces, the suburban papers helped establish, define, and reinforce many of the suburban ideals that emerged during the period and which became a lasting part of the social and political culture of postwar America.

Much of Bucks County’s initial postwar growth stemmed from United States

Steel’s decision to build the largest integrated steel facility ever constructed at one time in

America near Morrisville, PA, in 1949. It was a decision that promised to bring thousands of jobs and millions of dollars of revenue to the area, and prompted many to predict that Lower Bucks County would become the heart of a world-class industrial center that would eventually envelop the entire Delaware Valley and make the region the

“Ruhr of the Atlantic.”10 One local Chamber of Commerce official went so far as to call the decision to build the $400 million Fairless Steel Works, “the most momentous event in our Delaware Valley since the night Washington crossed the Delaware River to deliver his surprise blow to the Hessian mercenaries.”11

The plant promised to bring a myriad of benefits, but it also raised numerous logistical issues. Foremost among these was how to house the thousands of new families that would inevitably flood the area looking to take advantage of the employment 55 opportunities. To help remedy the problem and ensure that its new workers had a place to live, U.S. Steel financed the construction of Fairless Hills, at that point “the largest planned community in Bucks History,” on a 2,000-acre site less than five miles from the

Fairless Works.12 Yet, in spite of its unprecedented size, Fairless Hills only put a small dent in the county’s emerging housing problem. As a result, many regional developers also looked into buying land for proposed subdivisions near the Fairless Works.

However, U.S. Steel’s announcement to build the plant and Fairless Hills drove land costs up, precluding most local developers from building large subdivisions in the area.

Within a short period of time, Bucks County had become a seller’s market, and its farmers did not plan on vacating the area without getting all that they could for their land.

The one firm that had the capacity to absorb the increased land costs, build on the scale needed, and still turn a profit on affordable suburban housing was Levitt & Sons, builders of the massive Levittown subdivision near Hempstead, New York. The timing was perfect for the company, as U.S. Steel’s announcement to build in Lower Bucks

County came as Levittown, NY, was entering its final two years of construction.

Anxious to line up another long-term development project, Levitt and Sons’ President,

William (Bill) Levitt, seized the opportunity, and began acquiring parcels of land within an eight square mile stretch of farmland between routes 1 and 413, not far from the

Fairless Steel Works. By 1951, the company had acquired more than 5,700 acres of contiguous land that spanned four neighboring municipalities (Falls, Bristol, and

Middletown Townships and Tullytown Borough) and was making preparations to break ground on what would become “the largest self-contained planned community constructed by a single builder in the United States.”13 56

It was a large investment, but Levitt believed that buying all of the land up front would enable the firm to plan every aspect of the subdivision before hand and remedy many of the problems encountered at Levittown, NY, where the firm bought and developed the land as it went. Bill’s brother Alfred, the firm’s architect and designer, stated “On Long Island, we never knew from one year to the next how much more we could build so we never had an overall master plan.”14 Whereas Levittown, NY, was built rapidly and somewhat on the fly, Levittown, PA, would be thoroughly planned out ahead of time. Years later, in referring to the Pennsylvania subdivision, Levitt boasted,

“we planned every foot of it – every store, filling station, school, house, apartment, church, color, tree, and shrub.”15

Planning the full subdivision ahead of time also enabled Bill Levitt to build and market his own vision of what life in America’s postwar suburbs should look like. To this, and despite the fact that they expected the subdivision to eventually house upwards of 70,000 residents, the Levitts designed Levittown, PA, to be a completely self- contained garden community. The subdivision’s final master plan reflected this vision.

It designated forty individual neighborhoods, which ranged in size from fifty-one to 990 houses and had a mean average size of 430 homes. The plan also located every three to five neighborhoods together in “master blocks” that were set at approximately one square mile in size. To give the master blocks a neighborhood-like feel, all houses located on a neighborhood’s perimeter were set facing inward, and all internal neighborhood streets were set in curvilinear patterns to slow the pace of traffic and encourage through traffic to stick to the larger parkways, which were heavily landscaped to soften their appearance.

Levitt also provided each neighborhood with an idyllic name, such as Dogwood Hollow 57 or Stonybrook. The developer believed dividing the subdivision in this manner would foster a sense of inclusion and community pride among the residents of each neighborhood and master block, and thereby promote the maintenance of the garden community concept.16

Creating a self-contained development also necessitated the construction of municipal, recreational, and shopping facilities within the subdivision. Levitt & Sons began the development by installing a multi-million dollar sewer and water delivery system that was far more advanced than that used by any of the neighboring communities. The company also constructed a large town hall to serve as a centerpiece of the community, reserved land for churches of all denominations, and set aside land near the center of each master block for elementary schools, to ensure that no small child would walk more than a half mile or cross a major roadway on their way to school. All recreational spaces included baseball diamonds and play areas, and several featured

Olympic size swimming pools. In a departure from the design of Levittown, NY, where large shopping centers on the outskirts of the development pulled shoppers out of the subdivision, Levitt figured in land on the southeastern edge of the development for the construction of the largest outdoor shopping center east of the Mississippi River. The

Levittown Shop-A-Rama, as it was sometimes called, was designed to attract national retailers that would not only accommodate residents but also draw shoppers from surrounding communities. Land for smaller shopping centers was left throughout the subdivision to augment the services provided by the larger center. Levitt believed that building municipal, recreational, and shopping facilities into the subdivision would keep 58

Levittown self-contained, augment the neighborhood layout, and encourage neighbors to interact and socialize.17

At the center of Levitt’s vision for the subdivision were the homes themselves.

With an eye toward his garden community ideal, Levitt provided for a mixture of income levels within the development, with home prices initially ranging from the $9,990

Levittowner to the $17,000 Country Clubber. To offset the critiques of suburban critics like Lewis Mumford, and to add an element of variety to the look of the neighborhoods, which consisted of one home model only, Levitt offered several different styles of each model per year, and varied their locations on each plot. Buyers could select one of seven different exterior color combinations and three or four different variations of front and rear rooflines and carport placements. To enhance the garden community feel that Levitt so desired, the company landscaped every home with a pre-selected combination of thirteen trees and forty-three “assorted shrubs, bushes, and vines rotated in several patterns.”18 The effect was that only two of every fifty-six houses were identical, a far cry from the picture painted by the suburban critics.19

In all, Levitt offered six different styles of homes in Levittown, PA, between 1952 and 1957, when construction finally wrapped up. Mixed in amongst the Levittowners and Country Clubbers, were the Jubilee and Jubilee, Jrs., numerous Ranchers, and a few

Pennsylvanians, all of which offered buyers a variety of layouts, lot sizes, and amenities on a tiered price scale.20 Building a sequence of homes that escalated in size and price ensured that the subdivision offered buying options to the wide variety of socio-economic groups that Levitt wanted to attract and accommodated the different lifestyles that assuredly would come with them. Introduced in 1953 at a new low price of $8890, the 59

Rancher was marketed to upper-working-class and middle-class buyers who needed, or would potentially need, more space than the Levittowner provided. Despite its name, the house was actually a modified two-bedroom Cape Cod and included a large unfinished second-floor “attic,” where enterprising buyers could build two additional bedrooms and an extra bathroom.21 The layout gave handy homeowners the ability to accommodate their growing families without moving while simultaneously enhancing their existing homes in a personal way that would increase their property values. Including homes at several price points also provided upwardly-mobile residents with the opportunity to move into larger homes in pricier sections of the subdivision without leaving Levittown’s borders, thereby allowing them to improve their standard of living without breaking their ties to the community.

By appealing to a variety of income groups and providing for internal upward mobility within the subdivision, Levitt attempted to construct an environment in which the maintenance of the garden community was paramount. Levitt likely understood that, since most of the incoming residents’ personal wealth was tied up in their new homes, gaining access to the larger homes in the more expensive sections of Levittown required them to maintain their own properties, if only to ensure a continued increase in property values. It also gave residents the incentive to police themselves and see to it that their neighbors did the same, as one bad neighbor could, theoretically, cause a drop in home values.

With all the necessary foundations set in place, Levitt opened his exhibit center, to the public in December, 1951, almost a year before the opening of the Fairless Works and in time to capture the majority of those looking for affordable housing near the plant. 60

Replete with three model homes and sample materials, the exhibit center became a veritable tourist attraction, playing host to an estimated 30,000 people during its opening weekend.22

Levitt kept the crowds coming by taking out full-page ads in local and regional newspapers. Largely writing his own copy, Levitt promoted his vision of suburbia and emphasized his homes’ variety of styles, wealth of amenities, and affordability. A

January, 1952, full-page ad run in the Evening Bulletin for the Levittowner model typified Levitt’s advertising style and read more like an automobile ad than a real estate advertisement. It included idyllic pictures of all four variations of the Levittowner and provided a comprehensive list of the homes’ amenities, including a “real log-burning three-way fireplace,” a “complete bath with tub, toilet, shower, and basin,” “floor to ceiling windows of Thermopane insulated glass,” “closets eight feet long that open edge to edge,” “a radiant hot-water heating system, automatically controlled,” and “sliding aluminum windows that glide at a finger touch.” Most importantly, the ad noted that no buyers would carry a mortgage of more than $60 a month.23

The sales brochures that potential buyers received at the exhibition center took the newspaper advertisements’ messages one-step further. Whereas the newspaper ads emphasized cost and measurable quality of life improvements like new appliances, the sales brochures promoted the numerous, but less quantifiable, benefits that life in Levitt’s preplanned garden community would bring. The cover of one brochure boldly announced Levittown, Pennsylvania as “The Most Perfectly Planned Community in

America!” and prompted prospective buyers to “always remember that every house, every road, every facility has been planned and planned and planned.”24 It included 61 several picturesque renderings of Levittown homes and a photo of residents enjoying the community pool in Levittown, NY, while noting that the Pennsylvania subdivision would include four pools and be superior to its famous predecessor.25 The message was clear; the development’s preplanned structure would provide residents with a comfortable lifestyle surpassing those found in Levittown, NY, and other nearby developments. All they had to do was adhere to the plan.

Selling this grand vision of Levittown life was the most critical component to

Levitt’s goal of creating a large-scale garden community out of a mass subdivision of

17,000 houses. By 1952, Levitt & Sons had the resources, experience, and know how to erect the houses and get buyers approved for mortgages with relative ease. What promised to be more difficult however, was getting Levittown’s new residents, most of whom were from the working-class, row-home districts of Philadelphia and Trenton, northeastern Pennsylvania’s hard-scrabble coal region, or the Pittsburgh area’s cramped steel towns, to understand and fully buy into the garden community concept. It was one thing to build the structures that would push new residents toward the garden community model, but if they didn’t believe in the ideal, the physical elements would not matter.

Levitt even attempted to mandate the maintenance of his garden community through deed restrictions and rules set forth in the homeowners guides that came with the purchase of all Levittown properties. In the process, he formally linked the upkeep of each home to the maintenance of the community. To prevent confusion, Levitt included some of the deed restrictions, which he considered necessary in every “fine residential community” to “insure the maintenance of its high standards,” in the guides.26 The restrictions set the ground rules for those wishing to add onto their Levittown home and 62 banned several items and practices including residence signs larger than one square foot, wood or metal fences, which would negate the “openness and park-like appearance,” of the neighborhood, and hanging laundry on Sundays and holidays, when residents were most likely to be relaxing in their back yards.27

The how-to portion of the manuals also attempted to educate the new homeowners on the merits of keeping up and maintaining their new homes. Going beyond simply explaining how to operate each home’s plumbing, heating, and electrical systems, they emphasized that each homeowner had a hand in maintaining property values and ensuring that the community was a pleasant place to live. Levitt’s focus on creating a garden community ensured that the topic of lawn care was addressed in detail in the guide and made a central component of the community’s upkeep. Taking up almost a quarter of the manual, the section, entitled “The Lawn and Its Upkeep,” alerted new residents that:

No single feature of a suburban residential community contributes so much to the charm and beauty of the individual home and locality as well-kept lawns. Stabilization of values, yes increase in values, will most often be found in those neighborhoods where lawns show as green carpets, and trees and shrubbery join to impart the sense of residential elegance. Where lawns and landscape material are neglected the neighborhood soon assumes a sub-standard or blighted appearance and is naturally shunned by the public.28

Subsections further explained how to properly water new lawns (with an overhead sprinkler and never a hose and nozzle), how high to let the grass grow before cutting it

(one and a half inches, except between June 15th and August 15th, when two and a half inches was acceptable), and how frequently to mow the lawns (preferably twice a week).29 63

Levitt’s deed restrictions and homeowner rules represented his last formal chance to convince new homeowners to buy into the garden community ideal. However, despite

Levitt’s imposing threat in the homeowners guide that the official standards and restrictions would be “strictly enforced,” the reality was that he had relatively little power over Levittown residents once the sales were consummated.30 It remained to be seen whether Levitt could convince local or county authorities to crack down on residents for hanging their laundry outside on Sundays. Levitt could only hope the desire to live in a garden community took root and residents seized the initiative to police themselves.

Regardless of whether residents caught on to Levitt’s messages about life in a garden community, the advertising worked. By May, 1952, the firm was averaging 1,600 sales per month and had sold out the entire year’s supply of Levittowners.31 By the time the Doughertys moved into their Levittowner in late June, the number of buyers waiting to take possession of their Levittown home stood in the thousands. In the months and years that followed, an almost perpetual influx of people flowed into the subdivision.

The flood of people into Levittown created ample opportunity for the creation of a new community newspaper. Anticipating this need, Ira L. Joachim launched the

Levittown Times as a devoutly local community weekly in 1952. Following a trial issue in January, the paper’s inaugural issue coincided with the first residents’ arrival and immediately announced its devotion to the community in a small column that read:

In every community, there is a need for a single representative newspaper, which is exclusively devoted to serving the needs of residents. The Levittown Times is devoted to serving all of Levittown and its residents, reporting important and vital news as it happens, as well as county and state events that affect our daily lives. The Levittown Times is exclusively yours, Mr. and Mrs. Levittowner.32

A follow-up editorial in the next week’s edition reiterated the point and promised that the paper would “sift the news each week” to bring “reports of just those events that affect

Levittown and Levittown life” and produce the “kind of home newspaper” Levittowners really wanted.33 Early advertisements hammered the point home even more and overtly linked the paper’s interests with those of the readers, establishing the paper’s slogan as

“Levittown’s Home Newspaper” and emphasizing that it was “written, edited, and published by Levittown residents.”34

Joachim’s community-centered approach to the news was critical to the paper’s success and was not dissimilar to that used by Robert McLean and his editors at the

Evening Bulletin. However, while other daily papers, like the Bulletin, the Inquirer, and even the nearby Bristol Daily Courier, covered Levittown from the outside and serviced other communities and demographics, the Levittown Times carved out a niche for itself by covering the day-to-day issues that impacted the new residents’ lives. More often than not, the stories presented in the paper paled in international, national, or regional importance to those making headlines in the larger dailies. Nevertheless, the issues making headlines in the Levittown Times frequently had a greater impact on

Levittowners’ daily lives than those presented in the other papers. By making the Times the only publication to focus specifically on news and events emanating from, and having an impact on, Levittown, Joachim ensured that the weekly would be essential reading for those adjusting to life in the new community.

Joachim and his small staff at the Times ingratiated themselves to Levittown’s incoming residents by fostering the idea that the paper and the incoming residents belonged to a new socio-cultural community and were linked through the shared 65 experience of being among the first group of people to move into and experience life in

Levittown, PA. The paper’s stories and editorials in those first weeks enhanced the notion among residents that Levittown, PA, was a distinct place, and that Levittowners, as they were frequently thereafter called, were a distinct group. The paper’s preview edition established the precedent, carrying a story that likened the move to Levittown to a

“pioneer activity” and Levittowners to iconic American historical figures such as Daniel

Boone and Benjamin Franklin.35 The story encouraged Levittowners to seize the opportunity to “make Levittown a symbol of modern living according to the great principles upon which America was founded.”36 Similar stories and editorials followed in other editions and carried the theme forward. An editorial commenting on the first day of move-ins in the Stonybrook section overtly linked the paper with the new residents, claiming that it was “especially happy to pioneer along with Levittown’s first families.”

The editorial continued the metaphor by noting that “Everyone at Levittown is new!” and that the “establishment of customs and habits, civic and social organizations – as well as setting the precedent and example of Levittown’s living conditions – all fall in the laps of the first people.”37

The Levittown Times pushed Levittowners to seize the opportunity to shape and create a new social and cultural environment within the subdivision, however, the paper also promoted standards that it thought the new residents should follow and adhere to.

Many of these built on the rules and restrictions that Bill Levitt had attempted to plan and build into the development. Indeed, in many cases, the paper acted as a watchdog protecting Levitt’s vision for a garden community. Editorials cautioned against and highlighted infractions to Levitt’s rules, and reminded residents that their quality of life 66 was based primarily on a voluntary willingness to abide by the principles laid out beforehand. One such editorial preemptively warned Levittowners to drive slowly and abide by traffic regulations because, despite the plans that ensured children did not have to cross any major arteries on the way to school or recreation areas, “danger from an improperly handled automobile can come from any street.”38 Another editorial scolded residents for “decorating” the neighborhood by stringing up clotheslines in their carports and for hanging wash out on Sundays and holidays like “flags waving in the wind.”39 It prodded them to consider their neighbors, and the appearance of their home, when deciding when and where to hang their wash. The paper’s perspective was clear;

Levittown’s existence as a planned garden community rested on its ability to reinforce

Levitt’s ideals and help Levittowners create a social and cultural environment where a failure to adhere to those principles was seen as out of the norm. The paper, in effect, set

Bill Levitt’s rules as the boundaries for the Levittown community, those who followed them were in and those that did not were out.

These ideas were manifested in the paper’s reoccurring weekly columns as well as in its editorials. Abraham Levitt’s weekly column, “Chats on Gardening,” was perhaps the most overt example of this. A passionate gardener and amateur horticulturalist, Levitt has been cited as a primary influence on his sons’ desire to design and build a large and lasting garden community.40 His weekly columns in the Times reiterated, sometimes in an almost verbatim manner, the rules and techniques for lawn and plant care that Bill

Levitt spelled out in the homeowners guides, and openly tied the upkeep of one’s lawn to the maintenance of property values and the betterment of the community. Levitt mirrored his son’s guidelines in his first column, stating: 67

No single feature adds as much to the attractiveness of suburban living as a collection of tidy and well-kept lawns. The masses of green carpeting in a community constitute in great part the difference between City and Country life.41

Levitt also repeated many of the lawn care directions listed in the homeowners guide.

The opening column reemphasized and explained why using a sprinkler rather than a hose and a nozzle to water the lawn was the only way not to destroy it. Later columns continued the theme and focused on the care and maintenance of the trees, plants, and shrubs found throughout the development.42

However, whereas Bill Levitt’s homeowners guides carried an imposing, if not punitive tone, his father’s columns had an educational quality to them. The columns explained why various landscaping techniques were preferred over others and tied the act of gardening to living a tranquil life in the suburbs, claiming:

it is good for a man to be in close contact with nature; it is soothing to his nerves, restful to his spirit. From the maddening rush and turmoil of present-day life, the fond gardener finds a restful respite.43

The friendlier tone assuredly made the paper better reading than the homeowners guide.

In addition, by framing lawn care as way for men to remain close to nature and ease their mind after a hectic day or week at work, Levitt essentially tutored Levittown’s men on what their proper domestic roles were in the new suburban environment. In doing so,

Levitt’s column implicitly tapped into a growing national debate and offered a counter to the criticisms that the suburbs were feminizing. By situating lawn care as an activity that impacted whether each household’s place within the community was secure, Levitt connected it and suburban life to traditional gender roles that posited men as breadwinners and protectors of each family’s place on the social ladder. In effect, maintaining a proper lawn was masculine because it was a way of solidifying and 68 protecting their family’s newfound social status within Levittown and a failure to do so would situate the husband and the household outside the community’s boundaries.44

Several of the paper’s other columns used a similar framework, localizing national trends on topics ranging from home decorating to family life and parenting for

Levittowners. As with Abraham Levitt’s column on lawn care, most were overtly gendered and reflected the national shift toward traditional divisions of labor and familial structures. The columns aimed at women taught Levittown housewives how to make popular decorating trends work within their home without disrupting the planned layout.

They also instructed women on the best ways to incorporate the latest high fashion trends into casual attire appropriate for life in the suburbs and attempted to help young mothers cut off from traditional familial support structures by adapting the latest parenting techniques to life in Levittown. By funneling national socio-cultural norms through its columns, the Times linked proper Levittown life to that of the nation. Residents who followed the columns’ advice and instructions not only found themselves situated within the Levittown community, but also firmly within the mainstream of American social and cultural life. In the early postwar years, when communist fears were running high in

America, that was a good place to be.

Many historians have already linked the nation’s shifting social and cultural environment in the late 1940s and 1950s to changes in Americans’ day-to-day domestic life. Elaine Tyler May’s seminal work, Homeward Bound: American Families in the

Cold War Era, explained how popular anxieties over the Cold War created a national cultural climate that emphasized the maintenance of traditional gender roles and proper family life within the suburban home. Media scholars like Lynn Spigel, Denise Mann, 69

George Lipsitz, and Mary Beth Haralovich have also examined the varying ways that the advertising and content of mass media mediums such as national magazines and television reflected and reinforced many of these same ideas. However, whereas the overarching national trends permeating the mass media did broadly influence Americans’ attitudes about the home and family during the early postwar period, those ideas were not explicitly tailored for specific populations living in specific places. Rather, they were designed to reach the masses, the broadest cross section of Americans possible. In contrast, the Levittown Times’ columns melded America’s changing social norms with

Levitt’s ideas for the maintenance of a garden community and funneled them directly into the new residents’ homes, thereby showing them how to be proper Levittowners and proper Americans at the same time. The paper’s use of these techniques made it more imperative for Levittowners to abide by the content of the columns, as doing so carried immediate gains and failing to do so carried real losses. Levittowners wanted to fit in and be a part of their community as it was forming. Following the instructions and advice in the Times’ columns provided a way to do that in ways that that the content of larger mediums could not. By melding the two sets of ideas, suburban papers like the

Levittown Times carried America’s changing social and cultural norms farther into

Americans’ homes than any other medium.45

Another column that overtly adapted national trends to Levitt’s plans and the needs of Levittowners was Beatrice West’s, “Decorating Your Levittown Home.” West was the interior designer who had furnished and decorated the model homes at Levitt’s exhibition center. Like Abraham Levitt, West was closely affiliated with Levitt & Sons and had a vested interest in writing a column that would help uphold the garden 70 community ideal. She used the column to introduce readers to the latest trends in home décor, and more importantly, to show Levittowners how to incorporate those trends into the decoration of their Levittown homes without disrupting the design and feel of Levitt’s plan for the houses. In her opening column, West explained that the Levittown homes had been “planned” to accommodate a “casual, gracious” style of living, “where friends may gather for informal parties in the living room,” or “where you may entertain in the kitchen,” and noted that the design elements incorporated into the homes had

“conclusively exploded many “old hat” concepts of color planning and interior decoration.” 46 West’s column built on the idea that Levittown was a wholly new entity, and her tone implied that Levittowners would only be able to simultaneously stay up to date with national trends and within the confines of Levitt’s plans by reading her column and following her advice.

West’s initial column focused on helping Levittowners avoid using outdated decorating practices and selecting interior paint colors while those that followed tutored readers on choosing fabric textures and proper furniture for each room, among other things. The articles took a gendered tone and generally tilted toward female readers. For instance, West tailored her discussion on selecting interior paint colors toward women, whom she obviously thought would be in charge of color selection for the home. In putting her advice into a gendered parlance that her female readers could understand,

West advised that the new decorating approach was to coordinate interior and exterior colors and drew the analogy that just as “no well-dressed woman would wear a bright red hat with a magenta suit,” no “well-dressed house will wear barn red on the outside and magenta on the inside.”47 A later column took a similarly gendered tone by offering 71

“good advice for mothers planning rooms for growing daughters” and recommended infusing practical materials with “a few frivolous touches” and “gay colors.”48

Beatrice West’s column was the flip side to Abraham Levitt’s gardening column.

Whereas Levitt tutored men on how to maintain their masculinity and their families’ place within the Levittown community through the proper upkeep of their yards, West’s column similarly reinforced women’s prescribed gender role as the caretaker of the domestic sphere and provided housewives with a comparable level of responsibility.

Housewives reading the column could fulfill their domestic roles and keep their families in line with community standards by selecting the proper paint color and ensuring that the décor of their homes had a personal touch but remained in accord with Levitt’s design concepts.

Barbara Archer’s column, “For Women Only,” similarly targeted women. The column focused on housekeeping and included advice on cooking, fashion, and shopping.

Like Levitt and West, Archer also folded the national and local cultural climate into her weekly columns. An early piece built on the emerging notion that housewives should be overjoyed at the wealth of new homemaking appliances at their disposal. Archer welcomed women to Levittown by encouraging them to “imagine the joy” of preparing meals in the “beautiful atmosphere” of their new kitchens and by pressing them to:

Just think, at the same time, without leaving the room, you can prepare a roast, do the dishes, and wash the week’s laundry. It’s truly the type of living we’ve wanted for a long, long time. And it’s here now … in every one of the Levittown homes. Housekeeping really can be fun.49

Later columns implied similar gender constructs. Many figured Levittown housewives as each family’s primary consumers and food preparers, carried instructions for shopping on a budget and making the best use of in-season fruits and vegetables, and included recipes 72 for daily and holiday meals.50 Others focused on the fashions coming out of New York and Paris. Several columns combined coverage. A spring, 1953, article explained “fruits are literally pitting themselves against flowers as the modish motif of the Easter-and-on season,” and noted that a new “peanut snack,” packaged in eight ounce rolls “for easy slicing” and coming in orange, maple, and chili, flavors would be hitting the markets soon.51

Archer’s column lacked the serious intonations that Levitt’s and West’s columns contained, and she did not overtly indicate that a Levittown family’s status within the community rested on a woman’s capacity to cook a roast while looking fashionable.

However, the columns did frame prevailing national assumptions about women’s roles in the home and as consumers within the context of Levittown life. In the process, they helped reinforce those assumptions and contributed to the socio-cultural environment within Levittown that set women who did not fulfill these roles as outside the norm.52

When taken together, the Levittown Times’ editorials and weekly columns helped establish and set clear boundaries for the community that emerged in Levittown, PA, during the early 1950s and helped Levittowners understand what their roles were within that environment. These boundaries drew primarily on Bill Levitt’s plans and aspirations for the subdivision, but they also incorporated many emerging national social and cultural norms as well. The standards that emerged held that, as long as husbands and wives fulfilled their individual duties within and around the home, the households would retain their social standing within Levittown, and through that, the nation.

Even though the promotion of these ideas was, in fact, a form of cultural production, Levittowners responded positively to the paper’s content and direction 73 through letters to the editor. One early resident wrote in to say that, upon returning home from vacation, she was so impressed with the paper that she couldn’t continue unpacking until she had read every back issue.53 Several letters also remarked positively on the paper’s weekly columns. Barbara Archer’s column proved so popular that the editors included a disclaimer that they could not print all of the letters complimenting her on it.54

Mrs. Alan Kremer happily noted that Archer’s column helped her along with her “daily chores.”55 Another letter thanked the paper for Abraham Levitt’s column and remarked that Levittowners would likely have been “viewing a very dejected landscape” without it.56 Accolades also came from future Levittowners awaiting the completion of their homes. Jean M. Wright of Philadelphia wrote in to say, “If Levittown is just half as wonderful as your paper, it will certainly be a great pleasure to live there.”57 Mrs. Esther

R. Zweig of East Orange, New Jersey, noted that the paper gave her a “feeling of belonging to this new community” prior to moving in, and Mrs. Ida Taylor commented that the paper’s “friendly and genuine” tone contributed to her family’s anticipation at becoming Levittowners.58

The letters present an overwhelmingly positive portrait of life in the new subdivision, and they were likely filtered by the Times staff. Yet, they also indicate that many Levittowners were eager to fit in, welcomed any tool that helped them become a part of the Levittown community, and made the paper a primary source of local news. In addition to facilitating the creation of a new socio-cultural community in the subdivision, the Times also impacted the formation of Levittown’s civic and political structures. The paper attempted to rally residents around political issues that seemingly posed a threat to their planned paradise, and pushed Levittowners to get involved in the subdivision’s civic 74 affairs. The Times helped shape Levittowners’ attitudes on topics such as property taxes, public schools, and political autonomy by positioning those topics as critical components of Levittown’s political culture. In doing so, the paper connected civic awareness and action to the upkeep of Levitt’s garden community and membership within the larger

Levittown community.

Joachim and his staff at the Times’ began this process early on, as they were working to influence the community’s social and cultural makeup. Like those editorials,

Joachim’s initial editorializing on Levittown’s civic affairs was welcoming, and attempted to educate the new residents on the area’s established political structures. This was not an uncomplicated task, as Levittown was then being constructed in three distinct municipalities, and the majority of new residents were relocating from Philadelphia or

Trenton, whose city governments were extremely different than those of Lower Bucks

County’s small boroughs and townships. The paper had to explain the differences between city and small town government and the factors distinguishing the three municipalities that Levittowners would reside and pay taxes in. Joachim’s initial editorial explained that whereas Philadelphia’s and Trenton’s city governments were large active bodies run by full-time staffs and professionals, the bodies governing the municipalities in which sections of Levittown were being built were small and frequently relied on civic associations to carry out tasks and help run things.59 A later editorial entitled, “Taxation Without Representation?” explained that the municipal boundaries cutting through Levittown split master blocks and neighborhoods and informed

Levittowners that residents living on one side of the neighborhood often paid different taxes, received different services, and sent their kids to different schools than their 75 neighbors on the other side of it. Thus, the editorial argued, Levittowners needed to be aware of which municipality they lived in and join its civic associations, so as to stay informed on its laws, regulations, and taxes.60 Another editorial urged Levittown men to join their local fire company, noting that volunteers, not municipal employees, provided fire protection in the suburbs.61

Joachim framed this type of activity as part of the community building process.

He urged Levittowners to take advantage of the “extraordinary opportunity to form the core of an active civic organization” that could represent individual neighborhoods, and

Levittown as a whole, while hastening the creation of community ties among residents.62

In pushing men to join the local volunteer fire company, he noted that “the “vols” can become one of the most popular social organizations at Levittown.”63 This approach linked civic and political participation in Levittown with community membership. By framing the debate in a way that put the political welfare of Levittown’s neighborhoods in the hands of Levittowners, Joachim attempted to create an environment where a resident’s failure to participate in the civic life of the community was equated with a lack of concern for its welfare. In this environment, civic inaction threatened to place

Levittowners outside the community norm.

As with his editorials on Levittown’s social and cultural issues, Joachim’s civic and political editorials quickly shifted from educating and encouraging Levittowners to actively attempting to shape their views. The editorials forced specific issues to center stage and demanded Levittowners take action on them. Joachim’s stance on Lower

Bucks County’s public schools represents the first and best example of this. The initial influx of Levittowners in the summer of 1952 brought an enormous expansion in the 76 number of school-age children residing in Bristol Township and Tullytown Borough, where most of the early Levitt homes were built. While Levitt’s plan left room for the construction of schools in his master blocks, it did not stipulate who would build them or when they would be built. Levitt had left the details of building schools for Levittown’s children to be hashed out between his company, the municipalities’ school boards, and local residents at a future date. As a result, the primary questions facing Levittown parents during that first summer were how, where, and when their children would go to school, as the local school districts’ boundaries cut a seemingly arbitrary swath through

Levittown neighborhoods and their facilities were already overcrowded and unequipped to manage such a large influx of students.

Joachim took up the school issue through his editorials in the Times, stressing the matter and calling for Levittowners to get involved in finding a solution to the problem.

A July editorial entitled “The Rest Is Up To You!” revealed the editor’s new crusading tone on civic issues. While explaining that not all children residing in the Stonybrook section of Levittown would attend the same school district and that the Tullytown school district, which some Stonybrook kids would be a part of, was contemplating using buildings in outlying areas of the district for temporary schools, Joachim voiced his and the paper’s opposition to the proposed remedies, and Levittowners’ tepid response to them, claiming “The whole arrangement seems to be a series of ‘ifs’ … ‘buts’ … and

‘whiches.’ And Levittowners, thus far, have done NOTHING about ANYTHING!”64 He then reiterated his call for the formation of a new resident group empowered to meet with local school board officials and help find a better solution to the problem, noting “They 77 want our children to attend school this Fall. We want our children to attend school this

Fall. The rest is up to you!”65

Taking such a vociferous stance on the school issue paid dividends for Joachim in several ways. Most importantly, it provided him with a concrete local news story to latch onto, cover, and comment on. Covering the issue from the perspective of a Levittowner also enabled Joachim to continue highlighting the differences separating Levittown and its neighboring municipalities and to further promote the subdivision as a distinct community with distinct needs. Finally, the school problem lent credibility to Joachim’s arguments that Levittowners needed to actively involve themselves in the area’s local politics and form a civic organization to represent the community as a whole, as the decisions regarding where and when Levittown kids went to school were largely out of their hands and being made without their input. These factors all combined to legitimize the Times’ claim that it was the watchdog for and voice of the community and

Levittowners’ best source for Levittown news.

Throughout that first summer, Joachim’s editorials and the paper’s stories pushed for the formation of a new civic association and urged local leaders to find a solution to the problem that was amenable to Levittowners.66 In August, his crusading paid dividends. In the early part of the month, a group of Levittowners came together and officially formed the Levittown Civic Association (LCA) to represent the subdivision’s neighborhoods in local affairs. Shortly thereafter, local leaders solved the school problem in a way that pacified most local residents by enabling students to attend local schools in split shifts until the new facilities could be constructed. 78

By fall, 1952, Joachim had established the Levittown Times as a key player in

Lower Bucks County’s civic arena. The formation of the Levittown Civic Association and the compromise solution to the school problem revealed that the editor and his paper had the power to rally Levittowners around a community problem and generate civic action on the issue in an organized manner. That both events worked for the betterment of Levittowners only strengthened the Times’ place within the community and its connections to the LCA.

The relationship that developed between The Times and the LCA was an important and symbiotic one, as Joachim’s capacity to highlight important social and political issues impacting Levittown and prompt community action through the LCA added members to its roles and helped increase the Association’s standing among residents. At the same time, the LCA’s development into a formal organization with the capacity to act in the name of the community provided Joachim with an entity that could help make the initiatives presented in his editorials and the paper’s stories a reality.

Working together enabled both parties to increase their presence in Levittown as well as their capacity to shape the community as it developed. This relationship would come into its own in the ensuing years, as both entities pushed Levittowners toward the goal of making the subdivision a self-contained, politically-autonomous, community by incorporating into a singular borough.

Incorporating Levittown into a separate political entity was not a topic that was seriously mentioned in either the local or regional presses prior to fall, 1952, and there was no indication that residents moving to Levittown that summer were thinking of taking up that cause. However, the school issue highlighted the problems associated with 79 building a large subdivision over four separate municipalities and revealed that as long as

Levittown remained politically divided, Levittowners would never be able to make full use of their population advantage and exert their due influence on local politics. This dilemma was not just restricted to matters concerning the public school districts. It also had the potential to impact decisions on taxes, municipal services, and industrial and commercial development. Further, as Joachim and the Levittown Times promoted

Levittown as a distinct place, and Levittowners as a distinct group, the subdivision’s political disunity appeared decidedly unplanned and out of step with Levitt’s original concept.

This disconnect gave rise to a “persistent rumor” within Lower Bucks County in late 1952 that Levitt & Sons was investigating the possibility of incorporating Levittown as borough.67 Neither the Times, the LCA, nor Levitt & Sons publicly commented on the idea until Levitt’s public relations counsel disclosed the plan to Ira L. Joachim at the end of October. The Times’ November 6 edition then broke the story with a headline reading

“Levitt’s Plans for Borough of L’town Confirmed by Officials” and an accompanying story that linked the emergence of the plan to a meeting between the LCA executive committee and Bill Levitt.68 Joachim weighed in on the issue as well, announcing his support for incorporation in an editorial in that same edition.69

The newspaper’s initial coverage of the possible incorporation of Levittown attempted to softly introduce the topic to Levittowners by emphasizing that it was a complex issue needing thorough study and one on which residents would have the ultimate say through a popular vote. The headlining story and Joachim’s editorial both made these points clear. By emphasizing that the question of incorporation emanated 80 from LCA representatives and not Bill Levitt, the newspaper’s stories implicitly ensured readers that the issue was in their hands. Incorporation would not be something set upon

Levittowners without their input.70

However, Levitt’s original master plan seems to have at least accounted for the possibility that Levittown could develop into an autonomous political unit. With a population expected to exceed seventy thousand and a total acreage exceeding that of numerous cities, including neighboring Trenton, the foundations were certainly there. All of the subdivision’s preplanned features seemingly pointed in this direction as well. Its sewer system, road and neighborhood layout, and internal shopping centers were all designed to keep residents, and retail tax revenues, in the development. Levitt’s community center even had the capacity to serve as a town hall and was strategically located at a spot near the subdivision’s large shopping district. Levitt also had something to gain through incorporation, as working with the government of an incorporated

Levittown rather than those of four separate, and sometimes competing, municipalities also promised to give him more control and power as the development’s construction proceeded.

Bill Levitt was not the only one who stood to gain should Levittowners choose to secede from their parent municipalities and form an independent Levittown Borough, however. The newspaper’s initial coverage of the incorporation issue revealed some of the larger political machinations linking Levitt, Joachim and the Times, and the LCA on the issue. For Joachim and his paper, the issue offered another important story to cover on a week-in week-out basis that would draw readers and increase its power in the community. The newspaper’s initial article took what was by then a familiar stance and 81 placed incorporation squarely within the framework of Levitt’s planned community. It highlighted comments from Levitt and Sons’ public relations council that there was little need for four separate governments to share the responsibility of running Levittown when it was, in fact, a preplanned community. It also positioned those who questioned or opposed incorporation as outsiders not wholly concerned with Levittown’s welfare.71

Joachim built on these points and approached incorporation as though it were inevitable, noting in one editorial, “The question that Levittown residents must decide is whether now is the right time to incorporate.”72 For Joachim, it was not a matter of if Levittown would incorporate, but when. Joachim also admitted in the editorial that the paper had investigated the possibility of incorporating Levittown six months before the first residents arrived by consulting Pennsylvania’s Secretary of Internal Affairs, thereby revealing that the issue had been under consideration for some time and establishing the paper’s credibility when commenting on it. The editorial then urged residents to conduct their own study of the issue through the LCA, once again funneling community action through the organization, further increasing its role in the community’s political affairs, and giving its leadership a stake in the issue. Indeed, as the closest thing to political leadership that Levittowners had at the time, the LCA executives stood to gain should

Levittown incorporate and become an autonomous political body with duly elected public officials.73

In the ensuing months, the Levittown Times took the lead on the incorporation issue, keeping it in the news and explaining its complexities. All the while, it framed the discussion in a way that pointed toward incorporation while overtly maintaining that the decision remained in Levittowners’ hands. Between November, 1952, and January, 82

1953, the paper ran a series of articles entitled “Incorporation – Yes or No?” that attempted to delineate whether or not incorporation was financially feasible. The articles drew on a 1945 Commonwealth of Pennsylvania study on incorporating boroughs, and revealed that the largest question those in favor of incorporation had to confront was whether or not Levittown, as a residential community with little industry, could afford to pay for the necessary municipal services and support a public school system through property taxes and revenues garnered from the shopping centers. In doing so, the articles brought a question that would eventually make its way to the forefront of American suburban life to the front of the incorporation debate; how could the community simultaneously maintain high-quality public schools and low property taxes without a pronounced industrial tax base? The articles thoroughly covered all aspects of the issue, listing and explaining all possible community expenditures and sources of income, and eventually concluded that, if Levittowners decided to do so, incorporation was financially feasible.74

While running its series on the ins and outs of incorporation, the Times also recommended that Levittowners get specific facts pertaining to incorporation in

Levittown prior to making a decision. Initially, this information was to be presented in a study conducted by the University of Pennsylvania’s Institute of Local and State

Government at Bill Levitt’s behest, but when that fell through, the onus fell to the leadership of the LCA. 75 The Times again lent its support to the organization through positive coverage of incorporation and by situating other civic problems as a result of the neighboring municipalities’ inadequacies. Times articles focused on Levitt’s support for the undertaking, quoting the developer as saying the incorporation of Levittown was “the 83 only thing that makes sense” and explaining his belief that the tax revenues from the shopping centers would offset the increased community expenses and keep property taxes low.76 A separate editorial continued the push for incorporation by blaming the lack of street lights in the Falls Township section of Levittown on the “darkness provided by the red tape and confusion” that the township was administered with.77 Surely an incorporated Levittown would handle these types of problems more efficiently.

The Levittown Times’ coverage during this period elicited numerous letters to the editor that revealed support for an LCA incorporation study and residents’ concerns for the community as a whole. One letter noted that the topic was becoming divisive within the community and that some Levittowners were becoming increasingly self-interested and protective of their given municipality’s tax revenues, but also pointed out that a study was needed because making “an arbitrary decision without the facts is bad business.”78

Another supported incorporation and complained that the local municipalities were happily accepting the revenues accompanying the growth of Levittown but were applying the money to improving the older parts of their districts and not servicing the needs of

Levittowners. The writer objected, “When I pay taxes into a boro [sic] I want to make sure they will be used to improve my streets, schools in my town and for my benefit.”79

It seemed that that the Times’ coverage was having its intended impact, and it was in this environment that the paper announced its support for the start of the LCA’s incorporation study under the leadership of Levittown resident Joseph Hitov in May, 1953.80

Despite the Times’ coverage, incorporation emerged as a politically divisive topic in Lower Bucks County as the LCA conducted its study and the prospects of a unified

Levittown emerged as a real possibility. Incorporation promised to have an enormous 84 impact on the region, as well as the subdivision. There would be clear-cut winners and losers. Tullytown Borough stood to lose the most, as incorporation promised to remove the Levittown Shop-A-Rama’s tax revenues and the Levittowners’ property taxes from the district’s boundaries, thereby shrinking its size and income without any compensation. Falls and Bristol Townships fared a little better, since the predominance of industrial-based tax revenues in those municipalities, almost all of which were located outside Levittown’s boundaries, kept property taxes low and insulated them economically.81 However, just as important were the political ramifications that would come with Levittown’s incorporation. Incorporating promised to make Levittown the largest, most populous municipality in the county, thereby making it a dominant force in local and state politics at the expense of its neighboring municipalities. The incorporation of Levittown into an autonomous political entity then threatened the political autonomy of the Falls, Bristol, and Middletown Townships and Tullytown

Borough, as it would render them almost completely economically and politically subservient to the needs, desires, and whims of Levittowners.

Falls Township’s tax structure also drove a wedge into the coalition of

Levittowners supporting incorporation. Levittown residents living in Falls Township were mostly blue-collar factory workers who paid low taxes as a result of the municipality’s industrial base. Most needed the savings they got from living in Falls and were not inclined to sacrifice their guaranteed low taxes for the betterment of neighbors living in other sections, where many of the homes were more expensive than their own.

In this part of Levittown, neighborliness had its limits. 85

By the time the LCA announced that it was ready to present the findings of its study almost a year later, the nascent community bickering was on the verge of exploding into an outright political controversy. Levittowners’ letters to the editor during the year continued to support incorporation and complain about their treatment at the hands of the municipal governments. The majority of Levittowners seemingly supported the incorporation push, however, the feeling among many outside of Levittown was that the

LCA report would obviously recommend incorporation because all of the key players

(Levitt and Sons, The Levittown Times, and the LCA) had backed it from the outset and stood to gain from it. Regardless of the real facts, the LCA committee would twist them in a way that supported incorporation.82 Thus, the report was not to be trusted.

The LCA’s incorporation study committee presented its findings to the public in mid-March, 1954. True to what many in Levittown and the surrounding communities expected, the thirty-four-page report, or “Blue Book,” concluded that the overall tax rate in an incorporated Levittown would be lower than those in either of the four surrounding municipalities, that all Levittowners would receive more services for their tax dollar, and benefit from “many intangible advantages” should they opt for incorporation.83 It then recommended that the LCA sponsor the incorporation of Levittown into a borough, so as to raise the necessary funds and prevent political party differences from hindering the process. The committee also recommended that the process of determining whether or not to incorporate Levittown get underway quickly, since state laws required petitions and paperwork to be submitted by August of that year to ensure incorporation by January,

1956. If Levittowners missed the deadline, they would have to wait two years for another opportunity.84 86

The Levittown Times supported the report from the outset, running uncritical stories that did not question or contest any of the report’s findings. Headlines, like

“Lower Taxes Probable Through Incorporation,” framed the debate in a way that emphasized the positive aspects of the report and shifted readers’ attention from any possible downsides. The paper ran articles penned by academics and state officials that supported the report’s findings and endorsed the drive for incorporation. One such lengthy three-page article, written by H.E. Febich, explained in detail why the report’s findings were correct and noted that comments made against the incorporation report were made “by people with better intentions than knowledge.”85 Another feature article quoted deputy superintendent of the Pennsylvania State Department of Public Instruction,

John Lumley, as calling incorporation “wise.”86 The paper also announced meetings and events geared to drum up support for the movement and allowed LCA members to respond to critics through published articles.87 Indeed, someone reading the Times’ coverage of the incorporation report in the spring of 1954 would have been hard pressed to find anything wrong with it.

Yet, numerous people did find something wrong with the report. Throughout the spring and summer of 1954, people inside and outside of Levittown opposed incorporation by writing letters to the editor, forming new civic organizations, and attacking the facts and figures laid out in the Blue Book. In many ways these citizens were acting in accordance with the ideas put forth by Joachim and his staff at the Times.

They were taking the initiative to get involved in community affairs and forming new civic organizations that represented their interests and the welfare of their neighborhoods.

Regardless, the Times’ did not grant these individuals or groups the same preferred 87 coverage that the LCA or pro-incorporation individuals got. Rather, through its headlines and content, the Times framed these individuals and organizations as reactionary, uninformed, and decidedly uninterested in Levittown’s welfare. The paper printed few letters to the editor critiquing the LCA or the incorporation report. The letters that were printed gave voice to some of the popular anxieties regarding incorporation but also revealed their authors to be concerned more with their own self-interests than those of

Levittown as a whole. George W. Barclay’s letter argued, “Those of us who had the foresight to pick houses in Falls Township should think twice before giving up what we have. Let the others incorporate if they want to – after all, they have less at stake. But why should we help to foot the bill?”88 Clearly these were not the sentiments of a true

Levittowner.

New organizations that questioned the LCA report or cautioned against a quick decision on incorporation also found it hard to get objective coverage in the Times. The

Levittown Joint Citizens Council (LJCC) formed in April, shortly after the LCA committee announced its findings, and took the formal steps of adopting a constitution and appointing an executive board made up of white-collar residents. It was not uninformed, reactionary, or decidedly anti-incorporation. Rather, the LJCC wanted the

LCA to delay its drive to get Levittowners to sign incorporation petitions until a professional, independent study could be conducted to check the Blue Book’s findings.

The letters the Council delivered to Levittowners did not contain misinformation and were not filled with inflammatory rhetoric or hyperbole. They even urged Levittowners not to support Falls Township’s attempt to incorporate into a borough of its own.

However, the Times’ slanted its coverage of the organization in articles entitled 88

“Incorporation Opponents Organize to Fight Move,” and “Joint Council Continues

Assault on Incorporation,” that characterized the Council as obstructionist and against incorporation altogether.89

As the summer wore on, the Times stepped up its support of the LCA and incorporation. Articles emphasized the LCA’s willingness to discuss the merits of incorporation and the Blue Book openly and in public forums. They also highlighted the

Association’s continued stand in defense of its report. Headlines like “Civic Association

Maintains Its Stand In Favor of Incorporation” ran on a consistent basis. Other articles informed readers when, where, and how they could get copies of the Blue Book and other

LCA flyers. The paper also allowed the chairman of the LCA’s Incorporation Petition

Committee, James D. McMenamin, to layout the Association’s case for incorporation in a front-page op-ed entitled “A Statement on Incorporation,” which essentially reiterated the

Blue Book’s findings. It followed that up by printing the Blue Book in its entirety over the course of two weeks in late July.90

Nevertheless, as the LCA’s petition drive got underway in August, it remained to be seen whether there was enough community support to garner the necessary number of signatures to initiate the incorporation process. With the Times’ help, the LCA had certainly earned a broad range of support. However, a significant amount of anti- incorporation sentiment had developed in the months since the Blue Book was released.

Numerous Levittowners living in Tullytown Borough and Falls Township were wary of what they considered to be the financial risks associated with incorporation. Many non-

Levittown residents in Tullytown also feared the impact that a new Levittown Borough would have on their own community. In the weeks leading up to the petition drive, 89

Tullytown residents made their voices heard, distributing and posting flyers that claimed incorporation was a “road to ruin” that would bring bureaucracy and financial loss.91 One document, entitled “Mistakes Could Cost You Money,” warned that “A little clique of

LCA politicians and propagandists are out to rush you into incorporation” and that incorporation would bring an $86 tax increase during the first year alone.92 Another urged Levittowners to resist signing the incorporation petitions and to “wait and compare” the tax rates between an incorporated Levittown and Tullytown.93 In what had been a long and loud public debate, it seemed that the side with the last word might win out.

Ultimately, the incorporation movement failed, and Levittown did not become a politically autonomous borough. Reasons put forward to explain the incorporation movement’s failure have varied. More recent accounts have laid the blame at the feet of

Levittowners living in Falls Township who were unable or unwilling to separate themselves from the low taxes already ensured by the nearby Fairless Steel Works.94

However, a 1956 article in the Levittown Outlook, a local publication, claimed that LCA canvassers acquired more than the necessary fifty one percent of signatures from residents in Bristol and Falls Townships but came up just short in Tullytown. Without the tax revenues from the Shop-A-Rama, and with no industrial base, an incorporated

Levittown could not sustain itself without raising property taxes, regardless of the number votes collected. As a result, the petitions were never filed with the state.95 The latter reason appears to be the more likely scenario, as Tullytowners stood the most to lose and put up the most vehement counterattacks to the push for incorporation. It is likely that Levittowners would have proceeded with incorporation had those living in 90

Tullytown voted for, and those living in Falls against, incorporation, as the shopping center would have provided the financial base for an independent Levittown Borough. In the end, a small group of Levittowners held more power over the decision to incorporate than the majority and proved that it was easier to stop incorporation than to push it through.

Ira Joachim did his best to convince Levittowners to support the initiative through the Levittown Times. The paper’s articles and editorials overtly slanted coverage in favor incorporation and insulated the LCA and the “Blue Book” report from criticisms. In the process, the paper further embedded itself in Levittown’s affairs, impacting not just the subdivision’s social and cultural development but its political environment too. By framing civic engagement as a necessary part of Levittown life, highlighting important political issues, and supporting the LCA, Joachim and the Times helped foster the formation of a vibrant political community in Levittown between 1952 and 1954. In doing so, the Times pushed the issues of low taxes, public schools, and political autonomy into Levittown’s public arena and helped establish them as lasting parts of the subdivision’s political culture. Even though the Times stood on the losing side of the incorporation issue, the critical point that August lay in the fact that Levittowners responded to the paper’s content, took ownership of their community, and defined the political structure of the subdivision. Deciding against incorporation was not so much a turn away from the social and cultural ties binding residents together in a community of

Levittowners, but toward the security of the surrounding communities’ already established low property taxes, locally controlled public schools, and political autonomy.

Levittowners were not choosing one or the other. They were, in a typically suburban 91 way, having their cake and eating it too, choosing to define themselves socially and culturally as Levittowners, and politically as residents of Falls and Bristol Townships, and Tullytown Borough.

Ira Joachim benefited from the incorporation saga as well. The story, along with

Levittown’s continued growth, attracted readers, drew advertising revenue from national retailers with stores in the Shop-A-Rama, and made the paper profitable enough that, in the midst of the incorporation petition drive, Joachim turned the Times into an evening daily and sold it to S.W. Calkins. Calkins then pared the Times with his other recently acquired newspaper in the region, the Bristol Daily Courier, as part of the newly formed

Bristol Printing Co. In an attempt to attract a wider audience, Calkins toned down the

Times’ editorial voice and expanded both paper’s purview beyond that of Bristol and

Levittown, running international, national, and regional headlines alongside community news. The papers shared content and remained parochial and community-oriented, but they presented the news in ways that linked old and new residents, downplayed divisive issues, and emphasized the larger interests of the Lower Bucks County region.

The Levittown Times’ transition changed little in Levittown in the ensuing years.

By the summer of 1957, the subdivision was nearing completion. All but the last few neighborhoods had been completed, and upwards of 60,000 residents had settled into new daily routines. It seemed as though most of the subdivision’s early growing pains were behind it. The roads had been paved, the phone lines had been run, and several new schools had been erected or were under construction. With the help of the Levittown

Times, Levittowners had established many of the subdivision’s socio-cultural boundaries, formed a civic association, and settled the incorporation debate. However, one primary 92 question remained unsettled. Despite the community’s rapid growth, Levittowners had yet to officially determine whether to open Levittown’s gates to African Americans and welcome black families into the community.

Bill Levitt had not officially refused to sell homes to black families in Levittown,

PA. However, Levittown was an all-white community in the summer of 1957, and

Levitt’s practice of selling new homes to white families only was well known. In 1948, following a United States Supreme Court ruling that forced him to remove a racial exclusion clause from his Levittown, NY, leases, Levitt proudly proclaimed, “the policy that prevailed in the past is exactly the same policy that prevails today,” and “the elimination of the clause has changed absolutely nothing.”96 Six years later, in an interview for a local Bucks County magazine, Levitt reiterated his stance on opening his developments to blacks, commenting:

The plain fact is that most whites prefer not to live in mixed communities. This attitude may be wrong morally, and someday it may change. I hope it will. But as matters now stand, it is unfair to charge an individual with the blame for creating this attitude or [to] saddle him with the sole responsibility for correcting it. The responsibility is society’s. So far society has not been willing to deal with it. Until it does, it is not reasonable to expect that any one builder should or could undertake to absorb the entire risk and burden of conducting such a vast social experiment.97

This ideal, like Levitt’s other selling points, was written into the company’s advertising copy and sales brochures, as not one featured an image of an African-American family enjoying Levittown life. Clearly, racial integration was not part of Bill Levitt’s plans for

Levittown.

Many incoming Levittowners were attracted to Levitt’s stance. A large percentage of these residents were part of the first wave of white flight from America’s 93 cities following World War II. Many attributed the declining living conditions and property values within their urban neighborhoods to the dramatic influx of African

Americans over the preceding decades and carried preconceived notions about the viability and impact of racial integration with them into Levittown. Levitt’s public stance, along with his advertisements and sales brochures, reinforced the belief among these residents that clean, safe, luxurious suburban living occurred in communities devoid of African Americans.

The Levittown Times did not attempt to alter this dynamic or challenge the developer’s practices as the subdivision grew. Despite Ira Joachim’s willingness to speak out on virtually any issue impacting Levittown, he never ran an editorial or story on the absence of minorities in the subdivision. Levittowners did take it upon themselves to use the Times as an outlet to debate the topic, however. A July, 1953, letter to the editor by a resident of the Thornridge section noting the “peculiar circumstance” that no minority families had moved into Levittown and suggesting that the issue be “brought out into the open and thoroughly discussed” elicited numerous responses.98 While a few letters revealed support for opening Levittown to blacks, the majority adamantly opposed it. A letter from a “neighbor from WHITE Spruce Lane” sarcastically suggested the

Thornridge author would find happiness by moving to a “heavily Negro populated area” in North Philadelphia and wondered, “why not leave well enough alone?”99 Another expressed dismay at the possibility of an “inter-racial social experiment” in Levittown because of the prospects of violence and decreased property values.100 Mrs. Roy

Cheatham’s letter argued, “the freedom to live in an all-white community should be allowed to those of us who wish it.”101 After noting that he or she cherished the 94 friendship of African Americans and had nothing against “them,” a Stonybrook resident put the issue in starker terms, arguing “Many of us purposefully moved from old communities to get away from them. When they gain a foothold in a section, they finally end up with the whole community.”102 Joachim later noted that the anti-integration letters outnumbered the pro-integration letters by more than two to one.103

The letters reveal the extent to which Levittowners were concerned about the possibility of admitting an African-American family to their community well before being faced with an actual attempt at racial integration. They also highlight the varying arguments that Levittowners used to justify Levittown’s racial exclusivity. Rather than relying on the arguments traditionally used to legitimize the maintenance of racially homogenous neighborhoods, ideas that were beginning to come under fire in 1953, these

Levittown letter writers cast the argument for racial exclusivity through the coded suburban lingua franca of individual civil liberties and property rights. In doing so, they drew on the ideas put forth in the Levittown Times’ early editorials and columns and framed themselves not as racists but as citizens concerned with the maintenance of their community. The letter writers did not argue that African Americans should not have the opportunity to attain affordable suburban housing or that integrated subdivisions should not be built, they instead argued in defense of their capacity to shape their community’s socio-cultural boundaries and protect their investments.104

Ira Joachim’s silence on racial integration, even as Levittowners debated the topic in the pages of the Levittown Times, was undoubtedly a missed opportunity to encourage a larger public discussion on the matter and avoid or lessen possible later conflicts.

Rather than dissuading the type of racially-motivated panic selling that frequently led to 95 decreasing property values by rallying residents around the notion that integration could better the community, the paper’s refusal to take a progressive stand on the subject helped facilitate the growth of an environment in which many residents’ fears and concerns about integration festered and grew.105 As a result, the issue simmered unresolved in Levittown long after Joachim sold the paper. However, when taken in conjunction with the editor’s loud calls for community action between 1952 and 1954, the paper’s silence becomes even more problematic. A large thrust of the Times’ content in those early years was dedicated to creating the belief among Levittowners that they controlled and were responsible for the shape that Levittown would take, that only through active participation in the subdivision’s social, cultural, and political affairs could residents protect their investments and ensure the maintenance of the community.

The formation of the LCA, the incorporation debates, and Levittowners’ letters regarding racial integration reveal that residents understood and acted on these ideas. When combined with Bill Levitt’s and many residents’ attitudes toward racial integration, and its own general calls for action, the paper’s silence on the topic of integration helped perpetuate the belief among many Levittowners that the maintenance of Levittown’s homogeneity through community action was not just a right, but a duty as well. It was no different than joining the local volunteer fire department.

The collective failure to deal with the subject of racial integration in a constructive way during Levittown’s formative years ensured that any later attempts to integrate the subdivision might spark a large resident backlash and split the community.

This scenario became a reality in August, 1957, when hundreds of Levittowners welcomed Bill and Betty Myers’ attempt to move into the Dogwood Hollow section of 96

Levittown with eight days of group protests, harassment, and violence that briefly made the subdivision the epicenter of racial conflict in America.

Situated as it was in the North, and coming as it did in the wake of Emmett Till’s murder and the Montgomery Bus Boycott, and as Congress debated a Civil Rights Bill, the conflict over whether America’s most perfectly planned community would be integrated was perfect fodder for the press. As a result, coverage of the conflict stretched far beyond that presented in the Bristol Daily Courier and Levittown Times. In

Philadelphia, both the Evening Bulleting and Inquirer covered the story, as did the New

York Times and national mass magazines such as Time, Life, and U.S. News and World

Reports.106

Yet, despite covering the same series of events, Philadelphia’s dailies approached the conflict and characterized Levittowners in dramatically different ways than the Daily

Courier and Levittown Times. Philadelphia’s papers framed the story as one in which an angry mob of white racists attempted to prevent an upstanding, middle-class black family from integrating their community through unlawful violence and intimidation. The differences between the two papers’ coverage reflected their established approaches to presenting the news. Inquirer articles were less detailed, and played up the more fantastic elements of the conflict, while the Evening Bulletin offered the most balanced, in depth coverage of events. The local papers also drew on their established methods, but they used a different narrative. The Daily Courier and Levittown Times’ coverage sympathized with the protestors and legitimized their actions by downplaying the extent of the protests, framing the conflict as one bound up in larger debates about resident civil 97 liberties and property rights and emphasizing the community’s orderly attempts to settle the issue.

The Levittown Times kicked off the coverage of the Myers’ arrival in a small page-three column in its August 13, 1957 edition. The column included a brief biography of the Myers family and announced them as the “first Negro family to buy a Levittown house.” The column’s simplicity was deceptive, however.107 By 1957, the arrival of new residents into previously owned Levittown homes was far from a newsworthy event and not something that generally made the local papers, let alone the “second front page.”108

The column also ran as word spread throughout the community about the Myers’ move.

Earlier in the day, crowds of onlookers and protestors gathered around the house after a local postman discovered that the Myerses were moving in and not simply cleaning up the property for a white family. The Times’ small column aided the dissemination of this news and served as an alarm to residents. That evening, while streams of cars waving

Confederate flags cruised past the house, the crowd outside the Myers’ home grew to more than 200 and turned unruly. Police escorted of the family from the house around

8:30, but that did not end the demonstration. By nights end, two rocks had been thrown through the home’s front picture window, the county sheriff had been called out to restore order for the first time in twenty-nine years, and five Levittowners had been arrested.109 Levittown’s veneer was cracking.

Coverage of the protest in the following day’s Daily Courier and Levittown Times made little mention of the mob-like atmosphere that predominated the previous night and set the model for the papers’ coverage that would follow in the ensuing days. One front- page story contained a bare bones outline of the night’s events, and downplayed the 98 hostilities, noting that the crowd had simply “gathered” near the Myers’ home and that the arrests were only made because the five residents refused to leave the scene when prompted by police. A second article recounted a statement from Rev. William Warren, chairman of the Human Relations Council of Bucks County, commending “the great majority of residents of Levittown on their calm and understanding attitude” toward the

Myers family. Though the paper printed parts of Warren’s statement that openly promoted his organization’s pro-integration stance and dispelled myths about integration, the article itself did not discuss the Myers’ perspective or criticize the purpose of the protest, which was to prevent the family from moving in. By attributing the pro- integration commentary to the Human Relations Council, the editors at the Bristol Daily

Courier and Levittown Times avoided taking a stand on the issue that could possibly alienate it from its readers.110

The size and scope of the protests attracted the Inquirer and Evening Bulletin, and both papers ran stories on it in the ensuing days. Each paper painted a very different picture of the conflict than that which was presented in the Daily Courier or Levittown

Times. In typical fashion, the Evening Bulletin offered the most straightforward and extensive coverage of the protest, dedicating almost an entire page to the story and running photos of the mob and the Myers’ broken window alongside it. Unlike the

Lower Bucks County papers, the Bulletin article framed the protest as out of control, quoting the local sheriff’s comment that the protestors formed “a boisterous, milling mob.”111 The Bulletin article also focused sympathetically on the Myers family.

Whereas the Daily Courier and Levittown Times article offered little information on the

Myerses, the Bulletin article presented them as a normal, middle-class family. It 99 emphasized Bill’s veteran status and that he and Betty were college educated, gainfully employed, active in national civic organizations, and moving from an integrated suburban community nearby. The story distanced the Myerses from rumors that they were blockbusters or acting at the behest of the NAACP and gave Bill a platform to make the case for his family’s inclusion in the Levittown community, quoting him as saying, “We are church-going, respectable people. We just want a nice neighborhood in which to raise our family and enjoy life.”112 The article clearly positioned the Evening Bulletin’s sympathies with the Myers family and cast the conflict in a racial context. The paper’s readers following the story would not receive a sympathetic portrait of embattled

Levittowners defending their community but rather an ignorant mass determined to deny a deserving family the right to live in a house they had legitimately purchased.

In the following days, the Bulletin continued its sympathetic coverage of the

Myers family. An article running after the second night of protests in front of the home entitled, “Negro Family Insists It Will Move Into Levittown Despite Crowds,” reinforced the larger narrative and further characterized the Myerses as a determined family besieged by racial hostility. It highlighted the actions of a large group of Levittowners, who stormed a Bristol Township Commissioners’ meeting, demanded that the family be prevented from moving in, and, after getting no satisfaction there, marched again on the

Myers’ home in protest, where police worked to maintain order. The Bulletin story juxtaposed the protestors’ increasing hostility with the Myers’ staid resolve in the face of the demonstrations by using quotes from each party. Theodore Harris, a Levittown resident and spokesman for the protestors, complained that the police had acted unlawfully in breaking up the protests and argued that the protestors were not disturbing 100 the peace but acting on their right to free speech. He further argued, “There’s no law in this land that says we have to live beside of them. The family that moved into Dogwood

Hollow caused the riot not us.”113 These comments, combined with the story’s description of the protests and ensuing arrests, characterized the protestors as defiant and intolerant and stood in contrast to the image of William Myers that had been presented. The article again framed Myers as a hard-working veteran, and allowed him to explain that utility problems, and not the protests, had kept his family from moving in, and that he was not discouraged by the animosity directed at his family. Unlike the Levittown protestors, the

Myerses were calmly going about their daily business, and expected a peaceful resolution once they moved in.114

Following the first two days of protests, Pennsylvania’s Governor, George M.

Leader, spoke out on the issue, announcing “the stoning of the home of the first Negro family in Levittown is completely alien to the historic principles upon which

Pennsylvania was built,” and “any family has the right to live where they can obtain the right of legal possession – on any street, road, or highway in the commonwealth.”115 The

Governor also responded to an appeal from Bucks County Sheriff, G. Leroy Murray, deploying twelve uniformed state troopers to Levittown to help quell the third straight night of protests. The Inquirer used the Governor’s comments and actions to fully involve itself in covering the Levittown conflict, running a front-page story, “Crowd

Menaces Levittown Home Despite Troopers,” that framed protestors as standing in opposition to the Governor, the police, and numerous civic groups. The story highlighted the protestors’ attendance at a mass anti-integration meeting on the grounds of the local

VFW post and their willingness to assemble and picket near the Myers’ home despite the 101 state police presence and the Governor’s public stance. It also included comments from numerous local and national organizations rallying to the Myers’ defense, quoting the

Bucks County unit of Americans for Democratic Action’s insistence that “the right to live where one chooses is a basic American tradition.”116 In constructing its story in this manner, the Inquirer joined the Bulletin in positioning the Levittown protestors as residents standing in defiance of traditional state and national values on civil liberties and property ownership rights.117

While the Inquirer and Evening Bulletin characterized the Levittown protestors’ actions as outside the norm, the Daily Courier and Levittown Times did just the opposite.

Rather than casting the protestors’ actions as reactionary or unlawful and urging an end to the protests, the local papers portrayed the demonstrators as rational actors operating in the face of irrational state attempts to restrict their capacity to exercise their constitutional rights and defend their community. Whereas the articles in the August 16, editions of the

Philadelphia papers focused on the intransigence of the protestors, the coverage of the day’s events in the Daily Courier and Times offered little coverage of the Governor’s comments or the actions that necessitated the deployment of the state troopers to

Levittown. They instead focused on the orderliness of the meeting at the VFW post and the formation of the Levittown Betterment Association (LBA), the new anti-integration civic organization that emerged from it. The front-page article highlighted the fact that those attending the VFW meeting voted down suggestions to “burn out” the Myers family and resolved to use “peaceful and legal” means to prevent the family from moving into Levittown.118 Apparently, denying minorities their civil rights was acceptable as long as it was done in a nonviolent way. The same article publicized the new group, 102 printing its official goals as “To protect the betterment of our homes, community, family, and investment, and to organize interested active citizens in a legal and peaceful manner,” listing its officers, contact information, and the date and time of its next meeting.119

In positioning the protestors as the law-abiding group, the local papers framed the police and some pro-integration individuals as out of control. The same story explained that, following the VFW meeting, a large body of protestors peacefully marched on the

Myers’ home in an orderly manner, where “a dozen grim-faced state police troopers as well as a contingent of Bristol Township police” met them and quickly dispersed their peaceful “picket line.”120 It also contrasted the protestors’ orderliness with the actions of

Bernard Bell, a pro-integration resident who reacted to the presence of demonstrators on his lawn by driving his car over it, stopping only a few feet short of hitting them where they stood. The article noted that Bell’s actions marked the only point in the evening when violence threatened to break out among the crowd, as Bell and numerous protestors got into a heated argument that the sheriff eventually broke up. In this depiction, it was the police, and Bell, the Myers’ sympathizer, who were acting unnecessarily, irrationally, and precipitating violence. By framing its coverage along these lines and not condemning the protests, the Daily Courier and Levittown Times helped legitimize the protestors’ actions and ensure that the demonstrations continued.

Though the Bristol Daily Courier and Levittown Times’ sympathies clearly lay with the protesting residents, the papers did not cast all pro-integration supporters or organizations in a negative light. Doing so would have risked offending a portion of their readers in the same way that taking a harsh stand against the anti-integration factions 103 might have. Instead, the papers worked coverage of pro-integration organizations into a larger narrative that emphasized the orderly and communal ways that most Lower Bucks

County residents and organizations were attempting to deal with the conflict. This storyline began early in the papers’ coverage but came to the fore in the days following the emergence of the LBA. In spite of a fourth straight day of protests at the Myers’ home, coverage in the August 17th editions of the Daily Courier and Levittown Times focused on local organizations’ attempts to find a peaceful resolution to the matter. The front-page article, “Both Factions Seek Peaceful Solution,” included separate photos of the LBA and the Citizens Committee of Levittown (CCL), a newly formed civic organization founded by local religious leaders to counter the LBA, discussing the issue in organized and orderly meetings. The article emphasized LBA leader James Newell’s calls for the avoidance mob violence and placed the organization’s nonviolent petition drive to collect signatures from Levittowners wishing to keep Levittown all-white in the same context that it did the CCL’s distribution of a seven point “fact sheet” dispelling rumors about the Myers’ purchase and integration’s impact on communities and property values.121

Covering the organized and nonviolent approach that many Lower Bucks County residents and organizations were taking while trying to resolve the conflict provided the

Daily Courier and Levittown Times with the final narrative component to their coverage.

By framing violent protestors as a distinct minority acting in spite of the larger calls for peaceful, orderly behavior emanating from both pro and anti-integration groups, the local papers further made the case that the conflict in Levittown was not an overwhelmingly violent confrontation necessitating aggressive state police action. The violent acts were 104 anomalies committed by a few residents and not indicative of the larger community activities. Presenting Lower Bucks County residents and organizations in this way helped the Daily Courier and Levittown Times counter the images and narratives presented in Philadelphia’s daily papers, which many residents, including Bill Myers, considered sensational, misleading, and incomplete. Indeed, the papers reported numerous calls complaining about other news outlets’ coverage, and at a press conference given in his Levittown home, Bill Myers asked reporters, “Why don’t you newspapermen write about the good things happening to us? One hundred and fifty

Levittown people have written us letters. Others have mowed our lawn, hung our curtains, presented us with a fine oil painting, brought cakes and fruit, and kept us busy receiving well-wishers.” 122 It seemed that the one thing that Levittowners and Lower

Bucks County residents could agree on, regardless of their stance on integration, was that the image of their community being presented in Philadelphia’s dailies was inaccurate.

The disparity in coverage between Lower Bucks County’s daily papers and

Philadelphia’s dailies became more apparent over the next four days, as the Myerses prepared to take up residence in their new home and the tensions in Levittown reached their apex. Following a mass LBA meeting on August 17th, during which Bucks County

Sheriff Leroy Murray informed the group that no further outdoor public assemblies would be permitted, protestors defiantly marched on the Myers’ home, where state and local troopers forcibly prevented them from gathering. Days later, protestors met the

Myers’ official move-in with two days of demonstrations that degenerated into violent clashes with club-wielding police, and only subsided when a rock thrown from a crowd knocked a local policeman unconscious. 105

True to form, the Bulletin and Inquirer continued to frame the police actions as necessary and justified. Inquirer articles entitled “Troopers’ Sticks Rout Protestors in

Levittown,” “Troopers Repel Unruly Crowd at Levittown,” and “2 in Levittown Seized as Rock Hits Sergeant,” as well as Bulletin stories like “State Police Swing Clubs in

Levittown Row,” and “Rock Injures Policeman in Levittown Row” sensationalized the confrontational aspect of the protests.123 Each paper also emphasized state and local police attempts to be respectful of the protestors’ rights. Articles in the Bulletin and

Inquirer discussing the protests that followed the Myers’ formal move in on August 19, pointed out that State Police Lt. J.M. Wicker appealed to protestors’ sense of law and order, asking them to end the five-hundred-person demonstration prior to commanding his troops to act. The Bulletin noted that Murray needed a bullhorn to address the crowd over catcalls, stating “I realize you have a problem and I respect it. However, we too have a problem and we ask you to respect it,” and that “You may not take the law into your own hands.”124 The Bulletin and Inquirer stories also reported that Wicker only ordered his men to act after stones flung from the crowd hit troopers and after protestors refused to disperse after being given a ten-minute deadline. In doing so, the Philadelphia papers laid the blame for the violence that followed at the feet of the protestors. Had the protestors obeyed the law and reacted appropriately to the sheriff’s appeal, the confrontation and the violence would have been avoided.125

The violent turn assuredly made it more difficult for the Daily Courier and

Levittown Times to put a positive spin on the demonstrations, but like the Philadelphia papers, the Lower Bucks County dailies steadfastly stuck to their own narrative. An

August 19 article downplayed the nightly protests, further stressed the community’s 106 attempts to hold more meetings, and reaffirmed both the LBA and CCL’s stance that peaceful assemblies were necessary parts of the democratic process.126 Whereas the

Evening Bulletin and Inquirer had overtly framed LBA protestors as defiant law breakers, willingly ignoring a local law set in place to help curb the emergency situation, the Daily

Courier and Levittown Times once again positioned the organization’s members as peaceful citizens looking to exert their constitutional rights despite unwarranted and quasi-legal state actions.

The papers also worked coverage of the violent August 19th and 20th protests into their overarching narrative by distinguishing them from the week’s earlier demonstrations. The Courier and Times’ front-page story detailing the first of the two protests claimed that, by 6:30 p.m. on August 19th, the crowd was already “larger and noisier” than any that had gathered by that point on previous days and that “it was apparent that something was going to happen.”127 According to the papers, this crowd was different and the fact that it was the largest yet meant that many newcomers had joined the fray. Despite the chaotic environment, the Courier and Times did not detail or mention Sheriff Murray’s appeals to the crowd. Instead, they noted the crowd’s

“reluctant but orderly” move “at the behest of State troopers’ riot sticks.”128 The article noted that the crowd’s rock throwing precipitated Murray’s ten-minute ultimatum, but it framed the police violence that followed as uncontrolled and indiscriminate. The story emphasized that troopers struck several women on the buttocks while they fled and excessively beat Donald Walker while he attempted to flee the melee with his wife and children. In recounting the beating, the story used Walker’s account as evidence of random police violence, quoting him as explaining: 107

“I guess I didn’t move fast enough. I hear a policeman holler arrest him and the next thing I know four state policemen grabbed me. My son fell to the ground as the police dragged me away. I didn’t struggle and didn’t resist arrest. Just the same a policeman split my head open from behind.”129

Accounts from the arresting officers were not included and, in this version of events, the police not only wielded their clubs wantonly while subduing an innocent man but also put his family at risk in the process. The article countered the Philadelphia papers’ assessments and enabled the Courier and Times to maintain their overarching narrative despite the increased hostilities.

The next night’s protest, during which a thrown rock felled a Bristol Township police officer, marked the pinnacle of the conflict and offered the Daily Courier,

Levittown Times, Evening Bulletin, and Inquirer one more opportunity to frame the story.

Each paper again held to its established narrative. As in the previous day’s story, the

Daily Courier and Levittown Times identified the August 20th mob as different and more agitated than previous groups, and they implied that those assembled were as angered by police attempts to curtail their activities as they were the integration of Levittown. While the article did not condone the rock throwing, it did make the point that the event only occurred after police pushed back protestors’ attempts to move closer to the Myers’ home and that a second melee was avoided only because protestors fled before police could react. The Philadelphia papers also noted the heightened tensions but clearly framed the protestors as aggressors shouting down police commands and resisting their attempts to maintain control.130

August 21st, 1957, marked the first night without a protest in Levittown in eight days. From then on, no mass demonstrations or confrontations between police and anti- 108 integration protestors occurred in Levittown. The newspaper coverage subsided as the chances of violent confrontations diminished. Smaller, isolated incidents made the papers in the ensuing weeks, but in early September, events in Little Rock, Arkansas, shifted the locus of national race relations back to the South.

However, the absence of mass protests and daily news articles did not mean that that matter was resolved, or that lingering resentments did not remain. Indeed, the break in the hostilities seemed to welcome some editorial commentary. But despite the vitriol and violence, the Evening Bulletin offered the only formal commentary on the matter in an August 21 editorial entitled “Too Close to the Edge.” In it, Bulletin editors finally called for an end to the protests. They argued that continued demonstrations only invited

“idle and mischievous” elements and chanced “worse episodes” than those which had already taken place.131 In contrast, and despite its reputation for outspoken commentary,

Walter Annenberg’s Inquirer did not utter an editorial word on the Levittown conflict.

Both papers did, however, allow citizens to make their opinions known through letters to the editor.

The letters to the Bulletin and Inquirer echoed those printed years earlier in the

Levittown Times. They revealed a deeper regional split on the issue of integration and ambivalence at the papers’ coverage of the conflict. One Levittowner expressed disillusionment at the demonstrations and wondered how the protestors could be the same

“kind neighbors” that “smiled at you on the commuter train” and “offered you half of their newspaper.”132 Other letters were critical of what they perceived to be outsider and state police attempts to force integration on Levittown. One rhetorically asked supporters of integration if they were “willing to have a colored son or daughter-in-law” 109 and “the offspring that will belong to neither race?”133 Still others questioned the papers’ coverage of the conflict. Residents of Greenbelt Knoll, an integrated community located in Northeast Philadelphia, countered the Inquirer’s narrative, which they claimed positioned the “all-white suburban community which resents the ‘intrusion’ of a family of different complexion,” as the norm in the Delaware Valley and argued that a story on the many integrated communities in the area was needed, “so as not to leave readers with the impression that the pattern of living in [the] Delaware Valley has not progressed beyond the 19th century.”134

Like the Inquirer, the editors at The Bristol Daily Courier and Levittown Times did not take an editorial position on the protests or protestors at any point during the eight-day standoff. Nor did they print letters to the editor pertaining to the conflict or racial integration. Doing either would have chanced alienating a segment of their readership and moved the papers away from their larger narrative. Instead, the papers forced any organization or individual wishing to comment on the conflict to buy advertising space to do so. This policy ensured that the majority of the community-based commentary printed in the Courier and Times came from local civic associations and homeowners groups, which, as a result of their collective memberships, could more readily afford to buy the space than individual readers.

Beginning with the full-page “Declaration of Concern,” collectively paid for by the Council of Churches of Lower Bucks County, the Jewish Community Council, the

William Penn Center (a part of the Friends Service Association), and the Levittown Civic

Association, most of these ads denounced the “violence, mob gatherings, and other unfortunate actions” directed at the Myers family.135 In the following days and weeks, 110 local religious groups ran ads promoting housing equality and nondiscriminatory lending practices. For its part, the CCL ran a “Declaration of Conscience” ad containing more than one hundred Levittowner signatures that urged an end to the violence and intimidation and called for the return of law and order. Residents of the Concord Park

Civic Association, an integrated community located eight miles from Levittown, took out a half-page ad that promoted the increased property values in their community and urged

Levittowners to welcome the Myers family.136 Even the ads contesting the Myers’ right to live in Levittown came from groups of citizens. While they were forceful and drew on popular misconceptions about integration, the anti-integration ads avoided overly caustic language and continued to build their appeals on the idea that their rights not the Myers’, were being violated. Ads from a “A Group of Residents from Quincy Hollow,” a neighboring section of Levittown, argued that those supporting integration were

“discriminating against non-negroes” while another “Group of Levittowners” protested being denied the right to protect their families and bring up their children in a trouble-free community, “one of the fundamental ideals of all men.”137

Forcing readers to pay to make their positions known created an additional filter for the papers and made it harder for the community’s harshest individual voices to find an outlet. Taking this approach enabled the Daily Courier and Levittown Times’ to continue emphasizing the orderly ways that Levittowners, and local organizations as a whole, were approaching the matter, even if the ads printed were not wholly representative of the discourse emanating from all sectors of the Lower Bucks County community. 111

As with the papers’ coverage of the conflict, the pro and anti-integration ads appeared with less frequency as the tensions eased and it became more apparent that violence and intimidation would not force the Myers family from their home. Following one last attempt to intimidate the Myerses into moving out in late September, the topic of racial integration in Levittown largely dropped from the pages of the Daily Courier and

Levittown Times. However, in some respects the protestors achieved their goal. They did not force the Myerses to leave Levittown, but they did serve notice that many

Levittowners did not welcome minorities and that integration was not an accepted part of the nation’s most perfectly planned community. The conflict’s symbolism had a lasting impact. In 1983, a local newspaper looking back on the episode estimated that, twenty- six years later, less than one hundred of Levittown’s 17,000 families were black.138

The integration battle capped an extended period of socio-cultural change in

Levittown. In the five years since the first residents moved into the subdivision,

Levittowners had done nothing less than define the social, cultural, and political boundaries of a massive new suburban community. The Levittown Times, and later, the

Bristol Daily Courier, were instrumental parts of this process. Through its content and editorials, Ira Joachim’s Levittown Times helped teach new suburbanites what life in

Levittown entailed and fostered the creation of a new community of “Levittowners,” replete with distinct norms and values. In the process, the paper helped establish civic participation as a critical component of the upkeep and maintenance of the subdivision and facilitated the construction of an entrenched belief among Levittowners that they had the right and duty to defend their community. However, when this ideal collided with the complex issue of racial integration, the papers failed to condemn the community’s 112 reactionary, and sometimes violent, protests, choosing instead to defend the residents’ rights and actions. In some ways the Courier and Times were right, numerous

Levittowners and Lower Bucks County residents quietly organized in support of the

Myers family and worked to find a peaceful resolution to the conflict. However, by not condemning the racially motivated demonstrations, the papers reinforced the quietly emerging suburban ideal that property rights trumped minority civil rights. In later years, this debate would again gain a national spotlight, as school busing and public housing controversies rocked the suburbs in the late 1960s and 1970s.

Despite the long-term impact, the local papers gained from their community-first approach, endearing themselves to local suburbanites, and increasing their presence in the area. The papers did not immediately cut into the Philadelphia dailies’ circulation or advertising lead as a result of their coverage of local events during the 1950s. In these years before television news’ emergence as a prime source for city, regional, and international information, Levittowners and other suburban residents of the Philadelphia metropolitan area, still needed the city papers for non-local news. However, the Bristol

Daily Courier and Levittown Times’ coverage and approach and heavily local focus, as well as that of other suburban dailies in the region, began severing the social and cultural ties that bound the former city residents to the Bulletin and the Inquirer. In the 1960s, as the locus of local news shifted to the suburbs, and television increasingly provided suburbanites with news from beyond their communities, suburban readers’ reasons for reading Philadelphia’s dailies dwindled. As a result, both the Evening Bulletin and

Inquirer lost their hold on the region’s suburbs, and suffered from circulation decreases during the 1960s, while the region’s suburban papers grew exponentially. 113

Endnotes

1 Miner, “Picture Window Paradise,” Pennsylvania Heritage, Spring 2002, 12.

2 The city’s population lead over its seven nearby suburban counties dwindled from 663,031 in 1940 to 472,162 in 1950. Population Growth Trends in the Greater Philadelphia Market, 1930--1940—1950--1960, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 6, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

3 Philadelphia’s population in 1960 stood at 2,002,512, a 3.3% loss from 1950. The population of Philadelphia’s 7 nearby suburban counties was 2,340,385 in 1960, a 46.3% increase from 1950. Ibid.

4 Daniel P. O’Leary, “Levittown: A Neighbor Arrives Every 8 1/2 Minutes,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 1957, Levittown Collection, Box 4, Levittown, PA, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

5 Lydia Rogane, “11,000 Families Move Into Area,” Bristol Daily Courier, 1955, Levittown Collection, Box 4, Levittown, PA, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

6 O’Leary, “Levittown: A Neighbor Arrives Every 8 1/2 Minutes,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 1957, Levittown Collection, Box 4, Levittown, PA, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

7 Bucks County’s official population increase during the 1950s was 113.4 percent. Burlington County, NJ had the next highest population increase at 65.2 percent. Population Growth Trends in the Greater Philadelphia Market, 1930--1940—1950--1960, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 6, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

8 My analysis of the ways in which Joachim attempted to facilitate the growth of a new socio-cultural community in Levittown draws from Benedict Anderson’s seminal work Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, rev. ed. (New York: Versa Books, 1991).

9 Media Scholar Aurora Wallace has argued that throughout the 20th century, newspapers actively influenced place making in America. In looking at suburban newspapers, she argues that Newsday rallied people in support of Levitt and helped get important changes made to the building code that made it possible for Levitt to begin his subdivision on Long Island. Aurora Wallace, Newspapers and the Making of Modern America: A History (Westport, Ct.: Greenwood Press, 2005), 77-98.

114

10 Wilfred Jordan, “Steel,” Philadelphia Magazine, October 1951, 22.

11 Quote reprinted from unnamed article in Pittsburgh Press, 2 May 1954, in: Kenneth Warren, Big Steel: The First Century of the United States Steel Corporation, 1901-2001 (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2001), 210. For general coverage of U.S. Steel’s decision to build the $400 million Fairless Steel Works see: Warren, Big Steel, 203-217; “New Towns,” Architectural Forum, November 1951, 137-143, Levittown Collection, Box 4, Levittown, PA, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

12 David R. Vasquez, “In Fifties – 17,311 Homes Sprung Up on Fertile Land,” The Advance of Bucks County, Levittown Collection, Box 4, Levittown, Pa., Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

13 The subdivision still holds the distinction. Miner, “Picture Window Paradise,” 12.

14 “New Towns,” Architectural Forum, 138.

15 Kenneth T. Jackson, Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985), 237.

16 David Kushner, Levittown: Two Families, One Tycoon, and the Fight for Civil Rights in America’s Legendary Suburb (New York: Walker & Company, 2009), 52-62; Miner, “Picture Window Paradise,” 12-21; “New Towns,” Architectural Forum, 137-138.

17 Kushner, Levittown, 52-62; Miner, “Picture Window Paradise,” 12-21.

18 Don Weldon, “Ready-Made City Will House 70,000,” Popular Science, November 1952, 158, Levittown Collection, Box 18, Levittown, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

19 Ibid.

20 By 1957, only the Rancher was no longer being constructed. The Jubilee Jr. was the cheapest home at $10,990, followed by the Levittowner at $11,500, the Jubilee at $12,500, the Pennsylvanian at $14,4990, and the Country Clubber at $19,990. “Levittown in 1957” sales brochure, Levittown Collection, Box 3, Levittown, PA, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

21 “The Rancher” sales brochure, Levittown Collection, Box 20, Levittown, PA, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

22 Miner, “Picture Window Paradise,” 12-21; Kushner, Levittown, 52-62.

115

23 Down payments varied and depended on buyer’s service and employment status. Levittowner Advertisement, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 25 January 1952, Levittown Collection, Box 20, Levittown, Pa., Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

24 Levittown, Pennsylvania sales booklet, Levittown Collection, Box 20, Levittown, Pa., Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

25 Ibid.

26 Levittown, PA, Homeowner’s Guide, 21, Levittown Collection, Box 3, Levittown, Pa., Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

27 Quote on pg. 22, Ibid, 21-23.

28 Levittown, Pa. Homeowner’s Guide, Levittown Collection, Box 3, Levittown, Pa., Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

29 Ibid, 12-15.

30 Ibid, 21.

31 Miner, “Picture Window Paradise,” 18.

32 “Exclusively Yours,” Levittown Times, 19 June 1952, 1.

33 “A Letter From the Editor,” Levittown Times, 26 June 1952, 4.

34 Advertisement, “Your Home Town Newspaper,” Levittown Times, 2 October 1952, 20.

35 “Governor Fine Greets Levittown Community,” Levittown Times, Preview Edition, 29 January 1952, 1.

36 Ibid.

37 “Your Wonderful!,” Levittown Times, 26 June 1952, 4.

38 “Driving a Factor in Levittown Life,” Levittown Times, Preview Edition, 29 January 1952, 7.

39 “Waving in the Wind,” Levittown Times, 18 September 1952, 4.

40 Kushner, Levittown, 42-43.

41 Abraham Levitt, “Chats on Gardening,” Levittown Times, 21 August 1952, 4.

116

42 In later editions, Levitt stepped aside, and local landscapers and horticulturalists took up the column. The column’s stance changed little, however. Ibid.

43 Ibid.

44 Ibid.

45 Among the many works examining American culture in the early postwar era are: Elaine Tyler May, Homeward Bound: American Families in the Cold War Era (New York: Basic Books, 1988); Paul Boyer, By Bombs Early Light: American Thought and Culture at the Dawn of the Atomic Age (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1994). For more specific coverage of postwar media and advertising see: Lynn Spigel, Make Room for TV: Television and the Family Ideal in Postwar America (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1992); Mary Beth Haralovich, “Sitcoms and Suburbs: Positioning the 1950s Homemaker,” in Lynn Spigel and Denise Mann, ed., Private Screenings: Television and the Female Consumer, (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992), 111-142; George Lipsitz, “The Meaning of Memory: Family, Class, and Ethnicity in Early Network Television Programs,” in Spigel and Mann, Private Screenings, 71-110.

46 Beatrice West, “Decorating Your Levittown Home,” Levittown Times, 19 June 1952, 7.

47 Ibid.

48 Beatrice West, “Decorating Your Levittown Home,” Levittown Times, 31 July 1952, 7.

49 Barbara Archer, “For Women Only,” Levittown Times, Preview Edition, 29 January 1952, 3.

50 For a sampling of these types of columns see: Barbara Archer, “For Women Only,” Levittown Times, 19 June 1952, 6; Barbara Archer, “For Women Only,” Levittown Times, 24 July 1952, 6; Barbara Archer, “For Women Only,” Levittown Times, 30 April 1953, 12.

51 Barbara Archer, “For Women Only,” Levittown Times, 19 April 1953, 10.

52 Katherine Baine’s “Your Child and Mine,” column used similar structures when discussing childcare. Katherine Baine, “Your Child and Mine: Out of Babyhood into Childhood,” Levittown Times, 22 January 1953, 12; Katherine Baine, “Your Child and Mine: Preserving Health,” Levittown Times, 19 February 1953, 10.

53 Mrs. Max Eisenberg, Letter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 24 July 1952, 4.

54 “Letters to the Editor,” Levittown Times,” 17 July 1952, 4.

117

55 Mrs. Alan Kremer, Letter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 14 August 1952, 4.

56 Patricia Holden, Letter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 16 October 1952, 4.

57 Jean M. Wright, Letter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 24 July 1952, 4.

58 Mrs. Ida Taylor, R.N., Letter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 10 July 1952, 4; Mrs. Esther R. Zweig, Letter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 10 July 1952, 4.

59 “… And Peace Be With You,” Levittown Times, 19 June 1952, 6.

60 “Taxation Without Representation?” Levittown Times, 24 July 1952, 4.

61 “Fire!” Levittown Times, 19 June 1952, 6.

62 “… And Peace Be With You,” Levittown Times, 19 June 1952, 6.

63 “Fire!” Levittown Times, 19 June 1952, 6.

64 “The Rest Is Up To You!” Levittown Times, 17 July 1952, 4.

65 Ibid.

66 For examples of this see, “Can It Be Done?” Levittown Times, 14 August 1952, 4; “Resident Groups Forming Levittown Civic Association,” Levittown Times, 31 July 1952, 1.

67 “Levitt’s Plans For Borough of L’town Confirmed By Officials,” Levittown Times, 6 November 1952, 1, 23.

68 Ibid.

69 “About Borough Government,” Levittown Times, 6 November 1952, 2; “Description of Procedures For Creation Of A Borough,” Levittown Times, 6 November 1952, 2. For Joachim’s editorial: “Go Slow!” Levittown Times, 6 November 1952, 4.

70 Ibid.

71 “Levitt’s Plans For Borough of L’town Confirmed By Officials,” Levittown Times, 6 November 1952, 1, 23.

72 “Go Slow!” Levittown Times, 6 November 1952, 4.

73 Ibid.

118

74 The series of articles ran from November 20, 1952 to January 1, 1953. “Incorporation – Yes or No?” Levittown Times, 20 November, 1952, 8; “Incorporation – Yes or No?” Levittown Times, 27 November 1952, 18, 23; “Incorporation – Yes or No?” Levittown Times, 4 December 1952, 5, 8; “Incorporation – Yes or No?” Levittown Times, 25 December 1952, 18-19; “Incorporation – Yes or No?” Levittown Times, 1 January 1953, 12, 14.

75 “U. of P. Conducting Survey on Levittown Incorporation,” Levittown Times, 27 November 1952, 1, 7.

76 “Levitt Says He is in Favor Of Incorporating Levittown,” Levittown Times, 26 February 1953, 1, 3.

77 “Fall Street Lights By May – We Bet!” Levittown Times, 5 February 1953, 4.

78 Stonybrook Resident, Letter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 16 April 1953, 4.

79 Willowood Resident, Lettter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 30 April 1953, 4, 8.

80 “LCA Committee Goes Into Action On Problems of Incorporation,” Levittown Times, 28 May 1953, 1, 3.

81 Levitt had yet to build in Middletown Township, and there were no Levittowners living there at the time.

82 For Levittowner letters: James H. Towle, Letter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 11 February 1954, 4; Mrs. Martha H. Vorse, Letter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 4 March 1954, 4. For overview: Charles J. Haye, “How Accurate Was the Levittown Blue Book?” Levittown Outlook, 1959, Levittown Collection, Box 18, Levittown, PA, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

83 The report was nicknamed the “Blue Book,” because of its blue binding. For the quote: The Incorporation Study Committee of the Levittown Civic Association, “A Study of the Factors Involved in the Incorporation of Levittown Bucks County, PA,” March 1954, 29- 30, Levittown Collection, Box 19, Levittown, PA, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

84 Ibid, 30.

85 The article included a caption that listed the author’s academic credentials from Temple University, the University of Pennsylvania, and the University of California and noted that he was also a member of the LCA. H.E. Febich, “Would Levittown Benefit Through Incorporation?” Levittown Times, 1 April 1954, 1, 5, 9.

119

86 “Incorporation Would Be Wise Move, Says Lumley,” Levittown Times, 3 June 1954, 1, 15.

87 For LCA responses see: “Report on School Costs is Sound, Says Committee,” Levittown Times, 1 April 1954, 2; “Civic Association Maintains Its Stand in Favor of Incorporation,” Levittown Times, 22 July 1954, 1,14; “LCA Answers ‘Stand on Incorporation’ By Tullytown Citizens Committee,” Levittown Times, 12 August 1954, 6. For meeting announcements: “Panel to Debate Incorporation at Meeting Tomorrow Night,” Levittown Times, 1 April 1954, 1; “20 Incorporation Meetings Held Monday to Start Series,” Levittown Times, 15 July 1954, 1, 3.

88 George W. Barclay, Letters to the Editor, Levittown Times, 1 April 1954, 4.

89 For Joint Citizens Council documents: William C. Prentiss letter to Levittowners, 3 July 1954, Levittown Collection, Box 19, Levittown, PA, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room. For newspaper coverage: “Incorporation Opponents Organize to Fight Move,” Levittown Times, 15 April 1954; “Joint Council Continues Assault on Incorporation,” Levittown Times, 22 April 1954, 8, 26.

90 “Fuchs Accepts Debate Challenge, But After ‘Information Drive,’” Levittown Times, 8 July 1954, 1, 17; “20 Incorporation Meetings Held Monday to Start Series,” Levittown Times, 15 July 1954, 1, 3; “Civic Association Maintains Its Stand In Favor of Incorporation,” Levittown Times, 22 July 1954, 1, 14; James D. McMenamin, “A Statement on Incorporation,” Levittown Times, 22 July 1954, 1; “LCA Board of Directors Forced to Reaffirm Incorporation Stand,” Levittown Times, 29 July 1954, 1, 19.

91 “Road to Ruin” anti-incorporation flyer, Levittown Collection, Box 19, Levittown, PA, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

92 “Mistakes Could Cost You Money” anti-incorporation flyer, Levittown Collection, Box 19, Levittown, PA, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

93 “Why Take a Chance” anti-incorporation flyer, Levittown Collection, Box 19, Levittown, PA, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

94 Miner, “Picture Window Paradise,” 21.

95 Charles J. Haye, “How Accurate Was The Levittown Blue Book?” Levittown Outlook, 1959, Levittown Collection, Box 19, Levittown, PA, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown Room.

96 Quote originally printed in Newsday, June 1, 1949. Reprinted in Kushner, Levittown, 43.

120

97 Allen Ward, “Levittown, PA: Negroes Not Wanted,” Bucks County Traveler, June 1954, 27-28.

98 Thornridger, Letter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 16 July 1953, 4.

99 Neighbor from White Spruce Lane, Letter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 23 July 1953, 4.

100 George H. Spiro, Letter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 23 July 1953, 4.

101 Mrs. Roy N. Cheatham, Letter to the Editor, Levittown Times, 30 July 1953, 4.

102 Stonybrooker, Letter to Editor, Levittown Times, 30 July 1953, 4, 21.

103 Ward, “Levittown, PA: Negroes Not Wanted,” 12.

104 Numerous recent scholarly works to have examined the ways in which racial and socio-economic exclusivity were maintained in many of America’s postwar suburbs. For reference see: Robert O. Self, American Babylon: Race and the Struggle for Postwar Oakland (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003); Mathew D. Lassiter, The Silent Majority: Suburban Politics in the Sunbelt South (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006); Kevin M. Kruse, White Flight: Atlanta and the Making of Modern Conservatism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005); David L. Kirp, John P. Dwyer, and Larry A. Rosenthal, Our Town: Race, Housing, and the Soul of Suburbia (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1997); Arnold R. Hirsch, “Less Than Plessy: The Inner City, Suburbs, and State-Sanctioned Residential Segregation in the Age of Brown,” in The New Suburban History, ed. Kevin M. Kruse and Thomas J. Sugrue (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), 33-56; Andrew Weiss, “The House I Lived in: Race, Class, and African American Suburban Dreams in the Postwar United States,” in The New Suburban History, 99-119, Lizabeth Cohen, A Consumer’s Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America (New York: Vintage, 2003). For added context see: Thomas J. Sugrue, The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar- Detroit (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996); Thomas J. Sugrue, Sweet Land of Liberty: The Forgotten Struggle for Civil Rights in the North (New York: Random House, 2008).

105 For an incisive look at the various ways in which local actors and community groups actively attempted to fashion a racially integrated neighborhood in the northwest Philadelphia neighborhood of West Mt. Airy, see: Abigail Perkiss, “Racing the City: Intentional Integration and the Pursuit of Racial Justice in Post-WWII America” (PhD Dissertation, Temple University, 2010), http://cdm2458- 01.cdmhost.com/u?/p245801coll10,89132.

106 “Race Trouble in the North: When A Negro Family Moved into a White Community,” U.S. News & World Reports, August 30, 1957, 30-32; “Integration 121

Troubles Beset Northern Town, Life, September 2, 1957, 43-46; “Pennsylvania: War of Nerves,” Time, October 7, 1957, 29; David B. Bittan, “Ordeal in Levittown,” Look, August 19, 1957, 84-86; William G. Weart, “Crowds Banned in Levittown, PA.,” New York Times, 22 August 1957, 16; “Embattled Home Owner: William Edward Myers Jr.,” New York Times, 22 August 1957, 16. The episode was also mentioned in the Saturday Evening Post as part of a larger series. See: Carl T. Rowan, “The Negro in the North: Part I,” Saturday Evening Post, October 12, 1957, 32-33, 74-78; Carl T. Rowan, “The Negro in the North: Part II,” Saturday Evening Post, October 19, 1957, 44-45, 85- 90.

107 “First Negro Family Moves Into Levittown,” Bristol Daily Courier, 13 August 1957, 3.

108 The subheading on the Levittown Times’ third page titled it, “The Second Front Page.” Ibid.

109 Kushner, Levittown, 86-94.

110 “Five Arrested in Levittown Disorder,” Bristol Daily Courier, 14 August 1957, 1, 3; “Council Lauds Calm Levittowner Stand,” Bristol Daily Courier, 14 August 1957, 1, 3.

111 Charles H. Walton, 3rd, “5 of 200 Seized at Levittown Home of Negro,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 14 August 1957, 3.

112 Ibid.

113 “Negro Family Insists It Will Move Into Levittown Home Despite Crowds,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 15 August 1957, 3.

114 Ibid.

115 “Crowd Menaces Levittown Home Despite Troopers,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 16 August 1957, 1, 42; “Negro Home Stoning ‘Riles Up’ Governor,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 16 August 1957, 2.

116 Ibid.

117 The Bulletin ran a similar story that evening, albeit with a much less sensational headline. See Ibid; “State Police Guard Home in Levittown,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 16 August 1957, 2.

118 “Anti-Negro Group Seeks Legal Bolster,” Bristol Daily Courier, 16 August 1957, 1, 3.

119 Ibid.

122

120 Ibid.

121 “Both Factions Seek a Peaceful Solution,” Bristol Daily Courier, 17 August 1957, 1, 3.

122 Ibid; Myers quote attributed to Associated Press, 19 August 1957 in: Kushner, Levittown, 127.

123 “Troopers’ Sticks Rout Protestors in Levittown,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 18 August 1957, B4; “Troopers Repel Unruly Crowd at Levittown Home,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 20 August 1957, 3; “2 in Levittown Seized as Rock Hits Sergeant,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 21 August 1957, H25; “State Police Swing Clubs in Levittown Row,” Philadelphia Sunday Bulletin, 18 August 1957, 2; “State Police Swing Clubs in Levittown,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 20 August 1957, 3; “Rock Injures Policeman in Levittown Row,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 21 August 1957, 3.

124 “State Police Swing Clubs in Levittown,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 20 August 1957, 3.

125 Inquirer coverage of the evening’s events was much less detailed than the Bulletin’s but generally followed the same narrative. “Troopers Repel Unruly Crowd at Levittown Home,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 20 August 1957, 3.

126 “More Meetings Planned on L’town Issue,” Bristol Daily Courier, 19 August 1957, 1, 3.

127 “Troopers Break Up Crowd; Man Arrested,” Bristol Daily Courier, 20 August 1957, 1, 3.

128 Ibid.

129 Ibid.

130 “State Police Ban Crowds; Township Policeman Felled,” Bristol Daily Courier, 21 August 1957, 3; “Rock Injures Policeman in Levittown Row,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 21 August 1957, 3; “2 in Levittown Seized as Rock Hits Sergeant,” Philadelphia Inquirer, H25.

131 “Too Close to the Edge,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 21 August 1957, 21.

132 Levittowner, Letter to the Editor, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 20 August 1957, 30.

133 G.P., Letter to Editor, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 24 August, 1957, 6.

123

134 Residents of Greenbelt Knoll, “Message from the People of Greenbelt Knoll,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 28 August 1957, D28.

135 “A Declaration of Concern,” Bristol Daily Courier, 17 August 1957, 7.

136 Among the many pro-integration ads run were: Women’s Chapter, Levittown Division, American Jewish Congress, “Equality of Opportunity in Housing …,” Bristol Daily Courier, 23 August 1957, 4; Citizens Committee for Levittown, “A Declaration of Conscience!” Bristol Daily Courier, 23 August 1957, 4; Plymouth Congregational Church, “Statement of Principles and Public Notice,” Bristol Daily Courier, 5 September 1957, 9; Executive Committee of the Concord Park Civic Association, “To Our Neighbors in Levittown,” Bristol Daily Courier, 20 August 1957, 7.

137 A Group of Residents from Quincy Hollow, “An Appeal,” Bristol Daily Courier, 28 August 1957; A Group of Levittowners, “We Are Afraid,” Bristol Daily Courier, 29 August 1957, Levittown Collection, Box 4, Levittown Regional Library, Levittown, PA, Levittown Room.

138 David R. Vasquez, “In Fifties – 17,311 Homes Sprung Up on Fertile Land.”

CHAPTER 3 SELLING COMMUNITY IN SOUTH JERSEY: THE CAMDEN COURIER-POST AND THE MARKETING OF THE CHERRY HILL MALL

On October 11, 1961, the Camden Courier-Post announced to the paper’s more than 80,000 readers that the Cherry Hill Mall was finally open for business. With a headline reading “Throng Views Opening of Big Cherry Hill Mall,” two accompanying pictures, and a front-page story, the paper celebrated the first major retail shopping center to be located in the southern New Jersey part of the Philadelphia metropolitan area. The pictures provided a window into the festive grand opening celebration. The first showed the many dignitaries that participated in the opening ceremonies smiling at the sight of the fruit of their labors while the second pictured a portion of the 3,500-member crowd excitedly streaming through the mall following the ribbon cutting ceremony. Clearly, everyone in attendance was delighted about the mall’s opening.1

However, the Courier-Post’s coverage that day went beyond simply informing readers about the ceremony and promoted the many functional and symbolic ways that the mall promised to serve as the social and cultural hub of Delaware Township and

South Jersey. The front-page article, entitled “3,500 Participate in Event At $30 Million

Shop Center,” highlighted the mall’s many shops and state-of the-art accoutrements, including the Strawbridge and Clothier department store and the Cherry Court, a public space almost the size of the primary concourse at Philadelphia’s famed 30th Street Station.

It listed the mall’s many “convenient services,” which included a free community room, expert repairmen, dry cleaning, ample parking, and a bank, travel agency, and service 125 center.2 The article also cited New Jersey Governor Robert B. Meyner’s belief that the mall represented an important point in the area’s development, quoting his statements that “installations” like the mall were “not arbitrarily located,” and were a “well-founded expression of confidence” that the area would continue to grow and prosper.3

The Courier-Post’s coverage of the mall’s grand opening provides some insight into the complex relationship that developed between suburban shopping centers and suburban newspapers during the early post World War II decades. It also offers a representative sampling of the multiple messages that the paper carried to its readers about the mall and its role in the community. As the first enclosed, climate-controlled shopping center on the east coast, the Cherry Hill Mall heralded a new phase of the prolonged retail explosion engulfing America’s suburbs. Its size, scope, cost, and location along Route 38 in suburban Delaware Township, New Jersey, east of Camden and Philadelphia, revealed that the region’s, and the nation’s, retail landscape was shifting in form and function beyond the gauche “strip centers” randomly dotting the area’s new highways. Unlike most of the early suburban shopping centers, the mall’s architects and developers designed and built it to serve as the keystone for the rapidly growing, but seemingly disconnected, area by incorporating shopping convenience and community friendly-features. Turning the mall into a successful community center, they thought, would simultaneously generate higher sales, make the area attractive to greater commercial and light industrial investment, and attract more residents.

In this changing environment, suburban developers’ and retailers’ needs aligned them with the nearby suburban papers, which stood to gain substantially from the increased circulation and advertising revenues that successful suburban shopping centers 126 would bring. With an immediate vested stake in seeing the shopping centers succeed, suburban newspapers emerged as the perfect places to advertise the outlets and promote their capacity to serve as community centers, as they offered cheaper advertising rates and thorough coverage of the young, upwardly-mobile, middle-class families with disposable incomes then relocating to the suburbs. In Camden, recognition of these initial demographic shifts led the Courier-Post’s ownership to relocate the paper’s production facilities to suburban Delaware Township. The new location allowed the

Courier-Post to easily reach the subdivisions in Delaware Township and its neighboring municipalities and made it the perfect outlet through which the Cherry Hill Mall’s developers and retailers could promote it as a regional shopping destination and as the growing community’s social hub.

The path by which the Cherry Hill Mall emerged as southern New Jersey’s social and commercial epicenter fits in with the broader currents of the post-World War II retail decentralization that Lizabeth Cohen charted in her seminal work A Consumer’s

Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America.4 Through her examination of the shopping centers placed in Paramus, New Jersey, on the outskirts of

New York City, Cohen adroitly notes that developers thought that regional shopping centers “would provide the ideal core for settlements that grew by adding residential nodes off major roadways” and rationalize “consumption and community” by creating a

“centrally located public space that integrated commerce with civic activity.”5 However,

Cohen’s larger arguments center on the ways that the regional shopping centers brought market segmentation to the suburbs and privatized and feminized public space. As a result, she does not examine how the shopping centers’ management staffs and retailers 127 fostered the idea among suburbanites that the large strip centers and malls were both places to consume and engage in civic activity. Instead, Cohen explains, “anecdotal evidence suggests” that many suburbanites did come to see the regional shopping centers in this light. By skipping this important step, Cohen overlooks the key role that suburban newspapers, like the Courier-Post, had in constructing this ideal among suburbanites via the advertising that they carried for and the coverage they granted to the centers and their retailers. In effect, by framing the growth of suburban shopping centers and malls strictly as part of a nationwide trend pushing America toward an economy based on mass consumption, Cohen overlooks the fact that these outlets were regional and local entities that had to sell themselves to local populations through local media outlets.6

Other scholars who have examined America’s postwar shopping mall phenomenon have also ignored the central role that suburban newspapers played in making the centers community hubs. In her essay, “The World in a Shopping Mall,” scholar Margaret Crawford argues that malls repackaged urban shopping districts in a

“safe, clean, and controlled form,” provided “sprawling” suburban communities with

“spatial centrality, public focus, and human density,” became important “community and social center(s),” and served as “the hub of public life,” for the “amorphous suburbs.”7

However, Crawford’s argument, like Cohen’s, positions shopping mall development in a

Field of Dreams, build-it-and-they-will-come type paradigm in which virtually omnipotent cultural producers only had to construct these majestic shopping palaces to lure unsuspecting suburbanites. Once built, suburbanites simply could not resist the malls’ many conveniences and attractions and magically placed them at the center of their social, cultural, and shopping universe.8 128

Yet, shopping malls did not miraculously emerge as the social, cultural, and commercial hearts of America’s suburbs unaided. Suburban newspapers played a central role in the construction of this mindset. In explaining the who, what, where, and when of the Cherry Hill Mall’s grand opening, the Courier-Post informed its readers of a legitimate news story occurring in the area. However, in specifically highlighting the many benefits that the mall would bring, the paper blurred the lines between news and promotion and helped frame the mall as a community center. Through coverage like this, the paper spread the idea that shoppers attending functions at the mall could consume and support the community all in one trip, that consumption and civic participation were not mutually exclusive. By serving as the primary media outlet through which the Cherry

Hill Mall was promoted, the Courier-Post helped the mall’s management and retailers establish the shopping center as the social, cultural, and retail heart of suburban Camden

County and its environs. The Post’s coverage of the mall and the events it hosted demonstrates that suburban daily newspapers played a central role in establishing shopping malls’ central place in America’s suburban communities and helped facilitate the growth of the “consumer’s republic” during the postwar decades.

During the 1950s and 1960s, New Jersey’s Burlington, Gloucester, and Camden

Counties underwent physical, demographic, and economic shifts that were as dramatic as any in the nation. Though they were more gradual than those that quickly transformed

Lower Bucks County, Pennsylvania, these changes created ample opportunity for at least one suburban newspaper to grow and prosper in Southern New Jersey. To fill the void left by the collapse of J. David Stern’s burgeoning media empire and the Evening 129

Bulletin’s subsequent suspension of the Camden Evening Courier and Morning Post newspapers, Harold A. Stretch, the Inquirer’s advertising director, purchased the Camden dailies from the Bulletin Co. for approximately $3 million in May, 1947.9 Stretch benefited from the Bulletin Co.’s retention of the Courier and Post’s full mechanical and distribution staffs during the suspension. He also immediately brought back all of the papers’ primary executives, allowed them to rehire some of the guildsmen who struck the papers earlier in the year, and positioned his sons, William A. and Harold, Jr., and his daughter, Jane, on the business and advertising staffs. With all the necessary parts quickly reassembled, the first editions of the Courier and Post under Stretch’s ownership hit the Camden streets less than two weeks after his purchase.10

Stretch’s rehiring of much of the papers’ notable staff and journalists provided some continuity with their previous versions and helped ensure a successful re-launch. In his first communiqué with Courier and Post readers, Stretch highlighted the connections to the papers’ past, as well as their future, stating that the links of “heritage and tradition” would be retained, but that the new ownership would bring a renewed vigor to the dailies.11 Stretch used the statement to distance the papers from J. David Stern’s political partisanship and assert their allegiance to the community, pledging to be “beholden to no political party, to no man or group of men, but dedicated to the general welfare of the community.”12 Stretch and his executives also made significant structural changes at the

Courier and Post to hasten their resurgence. In 1949, Stretch officially merged the two papers, creating the Camden Courier-Post.13 The grand statements and popular demand for Stretch’s papers did not immediately wash away the impact of the Courier and Post’s three-month suspension. The papers’ cumulative paid circulation dropped from 84,829 to 130

60,443 in 1947.14 However, shortly thereafter the Courier-Post began recouping its circulation losses, reaching 62,765 in 1949 and 66,137 in 1953.15

As the Inquirer’s advertising director, president and chairman of the American

Newspaper Advertising Network, and a longtime newspaper man, Stretch undoubtedly saw a major opportunity in the postwar South Jersey area. The City of Camden, like

Philadelphia, appeared to be on the rise. Wartime government defense contracts put much of the city back to work in the wake of the Depression. Major manufacturers like the Campbell Soup Co. and RCA Victor remained within the city limits and were prospering, while the New York Shipbuilding Co. employed 30,000 defense workers along the city’s waterfront.16 During the early postwar period, Camden’s population grew to 125,000. The city’s nearby railroad suburbs experienced significant growth as well. Between 1940 and 1950, Haddon Township’s population grew from 9,708 to

12,379, Audobon’s from 8,906 to 9,531, Bellmawr’s from 1,250 to 5,213, and Mt.

Ephraim’s from 2,282 to 4,449.17 Deindustrialization’s first cracks had yet to show through.

The postwar expansion also occurred outside the city limits, in the rural townships that made up the rest of Camden County. Much of this growth occurred east of the city in Delaware Township. After falling into bankruptcy during the Depression, the township foreclosed on thousands of acres of vacated tax-delinquent land, putting it in a strong position to benefit from the postwar housing boom. Situated less than ten miles from Philadelphia and Camden with a wealth of open available land, Delaware Township was ripe for the picking. First to capitalize on the opportunity was Eugene Mori, a local entrepreneur and real estate developer with plans to turn the area into South Jersey’s 131 primary entertainment, business, and housing sector. Between 1941 and 1942, Mori’s

Garden State Racing Association acquired nearly 550 acres of the foreclosed land for the purposes of building a horseracing track. Mori marketed the track to the government as a recreational outlet for the thousands of war industry workers plying their trades in

Philadelphia and Camden. In October of 1941, over heated local protests, the State of

New Jersey granted Mori’s company the necessary permits to operate the track with onsite betting. Garden State Race Track represented the first large-scale construction project in Delaware Township since the onset of the Depression. It opened on July 18,

1942. Delaware Township emerged from bankruptcy that same year.18

Mori envisioned the track would serve as the foundation for Delaware

Township’s growth. In addition to bringing tax revenues from gate and gambling receipts, he expected the track to draw thousands of prospective residents and business speculators to the area. Mori then founded Cherry Hill Enterprises (taking the name from a local 19th century farm) and funneled revenues from the racetrack into land purchases and developments that also bore the Cherry Hill moniker. By the early 1950s, his company had built the Cherry Valley and Cherry Hill Estates subdivisions and two of a proposed twelve high-rise apartment buildings. Mori’s housing projects had their intended effect, as large portions of Camden’s Jewish population began relocating to the area shortly thereafter. After a decade of virtually no growth, Delaware Township’s population doubled during the 1940s, from 5,811 in 1940 to 10,358 in 1950 19

Mori was the most influential developer in Delaware Township during the early postwar years, but his projects did not squeeze other developers out of the area.

Delaware Township did not become home to an enormous Levittown-styled subdivision. 132

Levitt’s imprint on South Jersey would come a few miles north, in Burlington County, in the late 1950s and early 1960s. Instead, numerous contractors bought land and constructed their own subdivisions in the township. Bob Scarborough, a resident of nearby Collingswood, was among the many local builders to take advantage of the developing opportunities in the area. After building the seventy-one-home Kenwood subdivision in the township in 1953, Scarborough began buying large parcels of land held by the Barclay/Cooper family since the early 19th century. In 1955 and 1956 he developed four sections of the 1,500-home Barclay Farms subdivision, the largest in the area. Scarborough mimicked Bill Levitt’s sales techniques, advertising heavily in local newspapers and opening a sales center with fully furnished models. However, the terms of Scarborough’s land purchases necessitated that he market the subdivision to higher income groups than those targeted by Levitt. The terms of the sale stipulated that no

Barclay Farms home could be less than 1,000 square feet or sold for under $12,000.20

Both figures were significantly higher than Levitt’s entry-level homes in Bucks County.

Scarborough’s houses went beyond the minimum requirements and sold for much higher than the figures set forth in the land agreement. The homes ranged in price from $17,900 to $23,200, ensuring that those buying houses at Barclay Farms were predominantly middle- and upper-middle-class families.21 Scholar Ann Marie Cammarota has argued that, by the late 1950s, Barclay Farms was “the premier South Jersey Community with a custom look,” and that the subdivision provided Delaware Township with its “colonial- residential” image.22

Other local builders got in on the action as well. Richard Goodwin built the 800- home Kingston estates while Scarborough was building the Barclay subdivision. Charles 133

Gamberling developed Candlewyck, Max Olden, Downs Farm, and Arthur and Albert

Steinberg built Haddontowne. As in Bucks County, the developers precipitated a mass influx of residents. Between 1950 and 1960, Delaware Township’s population tripled, rising to 31,522.23

Mori and township officials envisioned much more than a disconnected collection of bedroom communities in Delaware Township, however. They wanted to turn the township into a fully functioning suburban city that would serve as the entertainment, commercial, and employment hub of Southern New Jersey. During the 1950s, local officials and business leaders, Mori included, aggressively attempted to lure business interests to Delaware Township. The State of New Jersey aided these efforts in 1952 by granting local townships the power to write their own land use laws and rezone the territory along major highways passing through their districts for commercial development. The new laws opened up much of Delaware Township’s land along the

Route 38 highway and enabled Mori, whose Cherry Hill Enterprises coincidentally owned much of that land, to begin developing it. Mori scored an early success by convincing RCA president Frank Folsom to build the company’s new research center in the township along Route 38 in 1952, in part by promising to build a 400-room inn capable of hosting RCA corporate functions and business travelers on an adjacent site.

Mori’s Cherry Hill Inn, opened in 1954, and welcomed guests affiliated with RCA, as well as those making the trip to Garden State Race Track. The Inn’s modern, California- inspired appearance, along with its restaurant and banquet facilities, quickly made it an iconic part of the growing community and simultaneously added to Delaware Township’s allure as an all-in-one business and entertainment destination. These important, but 134 limited, capacities did not, however, enable the Inn to serve as the community’s social and cultural hub. As the Inn was constructed, Mori also began planning a large regional shopping center for the site across the highway from the RCA building and the inn to serve this purpose.24

Harold Stretch’s resuscitation of the Camden newspapers benefited from and occurred within the context of these changes. Camden’s early postwar prosperity ensured a captive audience of urban newspaper readers anxious for a paper devoted to their interests, and Delaware Township’s growth potential provided an opportunity for future circulation gains and increased advertising revenues. Stretch picked up on the rapid suburbanization taking place outside the city and endeavored to put the Courier-Post in a position to benefit from the demographic and economic expansion. In 1954, Mrs. Harold

A. Stretch, who became the paper’s president and publisher following Harold’s passing in

1951, along with her sons, daughter, and Courier-Post executives, broke ground on a brand new plant near Route 38 in Delaware Township. In doing so, the paper joined the growing outflow of people and industry from the City of Camden and started on the path to the suburbs cut by Mori and RCA.

The new Courier-Post plant was not the world-class technological marvel that the

Evening Bulletin’s was, but at 63,000 square feet, it was nearly double the size of the paper’s old facility at Third and Federal Streets in Camden and a huge step up.25 The plant’s new custom-made Goss Headliner High Speed Press had the capacity to print

60,000 papers an hour (enough to service a 150,000 circulation) with multi-colored advertisements and supplemental inserts. The plant’s suburban location also provided easier and faster access to the new highways crisscrossing southern New Jersey and 135 revealed that the Stretches possessed a foresight that those running the Evening Bulletin lacked. Whereas the Evening Bulletin’s ownership envisioned Philadelphia as the hub of the whole Delaware Valley and elected to erect the paper’s new plant near the heart of the city during this same period, the Stretches understood that Delaware Township’s growth was irrevocably shifting the social, cultural, and political heart of Southern New Jersey to the suburbs and that their readers’ tastes were changing accordingly. They realized that locating the new plant in Delaware Township, the locus of this suburban growth, would put the Courier-Post in a perfect position to capitalize on these changes and insulate it from Camden’s decline. In the years following the plant’s dedication in July, 1955, as deindustrialization descended upon Camden and the city’s population began to dwindle, the Courier-Post’s circulation continued to climb, reaching 72,817 in 1956 and 77,331 in

1960.26

The paper’s resuscitation during the 1950s did not come without some hiccups.

In 1956, the Courier-Post was hit by a newsprint shortage, and in June, 1958, the paper, along with the Evening Bulletin and Inquirer, felt the sting of a month-long teamsters strike that caused its daily circulation to drop by 30,000 papers per day, or 180,000 papers per week.27 Both episodes were representative of larger trends rippling through the newspaper industry in the 1950s, and though the Courier-Post recovered from them relatively quickly, the events suggested that, even in the suburbs, larger industry dislocations had the potential to derail a prospering paper.28

Business historian Elizabeth MacIver Neiva has argued that, by the late 1950s, larger, industry-wide problems, including newsprint shortages and labor strikes like those that hit the Courier-Post and changes in the ways that the Internal Revenue Service 136 appraised newspapers’ net worth, were contributing to a wave of mergers across the nation and the rapid growth of newspaper chains.29 One of the companies prospering in the fluctuating newspaper market was Gannett Co., Inc., a growing chain of seventeen small and midsized newspapers, four radio stations, and two television stations based in

Rochester, New York, which, in July, 1959, abruptly purchased the Courier-Post for

$4.86 million from the Stretches.30 While there is no indication in the Courier-Post’s daily editions, the weekly editions of the trade publication Editor & Publisher, or

Gannett’s official corporate history of what exactly prompted the paper’s sale, MacIver

Neiva has argued that the new IRS appraisal methods made it prohibitively expensive for family-owned newspapers to transfer control from one generation to the next and that the

Stretches sold the paper to Gannett to avoid paying the taxes and losing a great deal of money.31 Under the agreement, the Stretches immediately received $1.4 million in cash and, at least in principle, retained full operating control of the paper. Mrs. Stretch retired from her post as president and publisher, but her son, William, retained his position as general manager, and daughter, Jane, held her place as editor. For the Gannett Co., the

Courier-Post became the eighteenth, and fourth largest, newspaper in its chain and gave it a presence in one of the fastest growing segments of one of America’s largest markets.32 As a whole, the sale benefited both parties. Gannett’s corporate umbrella provided the Stretches with financial security, shielded the Courier-Post from the larger industry upheavals that threatened its growth in prior years, and tied it in to the company’s large advertising network, while giving the chain access to an increasingly lucrative market. 137

Delaware Township was a promising, but still emerging, segment of the

Philadelphia metropolitan region when Gannett purchased the Courier-Post in 1959. The township’s population had tripled its 1950 level and showed no signs of slowing down, but it still only stood near 30,000, less than half the size of Levittown, PA. Several corporations, including RCA, had established a presence in the area, but the township was far from the hub that it would become in later years. Amidst these changes,

Delaware Township officials and local developers were still actively attempting to attain the seemingly contradictory goals of developing a community “focal point” and retaining a “low-density suburban character” while “broadening the tax base with economic development.”33

Complicating matters further was the fact that Southern New Jersey was not experiencing the same type of commercial retail expansion taking place in Philadelphia’s

Pennsylvania suburbs. In 1956, Greater Philadelphia Magazine reported that a “golden ring” of new department stores and strip shopping centers was “girdling” Philadelphia and shifting the region’s retail base to the suburbs.34 However, only two of the fifteen department stores listed and four of the thirty-five shopping centers accounted for were located in Southern New Jersey.35 By 1959, little had changed. An Inquirer survey of retail shopping districts and shopping centers in the fourteen-county Philadelphia Retail

Trade Area published that year listed only ten small suburban shopping centers within

Burlington, Gloucester, and Camden counties combined and revealed that none of the new centers were home to a major department store.36 In comparison, the study listed fifty-four shopping centers, many of which were anchored by large department stores and national retailers, in its survey of Pennsylvania’s Bucks, Montgomery, Delaware, Chester 138

Counties.37 Even Eugene Mori’s initial plans for a regional strip shopping center near his other prospering properties along Route 38 fell through in 1957 due to a lack of financing.

Luckily for Mori, Delaware Township officials, and Gannett, the postwar consumer boom and suburban explosion created an environment in which department stores needed to continue expanding into the suburbs to keep pace with their competitors and negate the dwindling sales at their urban flagship stores. By the mid-fifties the

Strawbridge & Clothier Company, one of Philadelphia’s largest and most famous retailers found itself in just this position. Strawbridge’s was the first Philadelphia-based department store to venture into the city’s suburbs, placing stand-alone stores near the city’s most affluent western and northwestern suburbs in Ardmore and Jenkintown prior to the Depression. Following World War II, the company continued to expand, locating a branch store in Wilmington, Delaware, but fell behind rival retailers John

Wanamaker’s, Lit Brother’s, Gimbels, and Pomeroy’s, each of which opened several new department stores in the new suburban strip shopping centers on the city’s outskirts. 38

Recognizing that his company simply didn’t have enough suburban branch stores to effectively compete in the expanding Philadelphia market and the growing demand for a regional shopping center in southern New Jersey, G. Stockton Strawbridge, the company’s new president, actively took up the challenge of placing a large outlet and shopping center in Delaware Township after Mori’s initial plans fell through. He had no choice. In 1955, the company’s 7 percent sales increase came fully from its suburban branches and in spite of the center city store’s performance, which declined for the fourth year in a row.39 The only way for the company to further increase its profits and offset 139 the center city store’s declining revenues was to open another branch store. Putting a large suburban store in Delaware Township gave the company the opportunity to do this in a part of the Philadelphia market that was largely devoid of any competition. It was a perfect fit. In the ensuing years, Strawbridge convinced the company’s executive board to o.k. the purchase of ninety-six acres of land on Mori’s original shopping center site and enlisted James Rouse’s Community Research and Development Corporation to develop, construct, and manage the center. Rouse then brought in Victor Gruen, one of

America’s most famous shopping center architects, to redraw Mori’s original plans. With

Rouse and Gruen signed on to the project, Strawbridge had no problems finding investors.40

Strawbridge and Clothier’s groundbreaking at Cherry Hill in September, 1960, came none to soon. Despite its suburban stores’ increasing revenues during the latter half of the 1950s, the company’s total sales dwindled from $81,100,000 in 1955 to

$72,700,000 in 1960.41 The writing was on the wall, the new branch store at Cherry Hill had to be a major success.

Strawbridge and Clothier’s desire for a profitable regional shopping center at

Cherry Hill, aligned it with Delaware Township officials and Gannett, who each had a vested stake in it the project as well. For Delaware Township officials, a profitable regional shopping center with a high-profile department store promised additional tax revenues, and much like the industrial era’s urban shopping districts had before it, would stand as a symbol of the township’s growth and economic stability, thereby attracting more business and investment to the area. It also had the potential to serve as a the social and cultural epicenter of Delaware Township, linking what many local officials worried 140 were a series of increasingly distinct and disconnected subdivisions by providing a place where families could gather to socialize, eat, shop, and commune.42

For Gannett and the Courier-Post, a large successful shopping center at Cherry

Hill promised a long-term increase in retail advertising revenues that would help the paper expand its reach across southern New Jersey and insulate it from Camden’s deteriorating retail core. As the primary daily newspaper servicing southern New Jersey, and more specifically, Delaware Township, the Courier-Post had an immediate advantage over Philadelphia’s dailies in this area. The paper’s location gave it ready access to the customer base closest to the center, its advertising rates were significantly lower than the Inquirer’s and the Bulletin’s, and Gannett’s advertising network gave it the capacity to package advertising space with other papers in the chain.43 Whereas advertising in the Philadelphia dailies guaranteed retailers broad coverage of the entire

Philadelphia metropolitan area at a much higher cost, the Courier-Post offered retailers more refined coverage of a growing mid-to-high income demographic, at a lower price.

Retailers placing stores in Cherry Hill did not need the broad coverage afforded by the

Philadelphia papers, they needed the focused affordable coverage offered by the Courier-

Post and would have been foolish to place their ads elsewhere. Moreover, a successful and profitable center promised to attract additional commercial development in the area, which would then beget still more advertising revenues for the paper. Indeed, the paper’s future success was tied as much to the potential increases in advertising revenue that a successful regional shopping center would bring as it was to its increasing circulation figures. 141

With so much riding on the outlet’s short and long-term success, designing a typical regional strip shopping center was not in the cards. The Cherry Hill Shopping

Center needed to be a place that would simultaneously serve as the township hub, stick out amongst the numerous centers going up in the metro area, and reveal Delaware

Township as an up and coming community worthy of future business investment. It needed to be large, grand, and much more than a strip shopping center.

Luckily, James Rouse and Victor Gruen each believed that shopping centers needed to fill a larger social role in America than simply providing suburbanites with a convenient place to consume. Architecture scholar Stephanie Dyer has argued that, although their philosophies were rooted in different ideals, both Rouse and Gruen were

“obsessed with the role of the shopping center in the ‘community.’”44 Victor Gruen, who had been honing his architectural ideas about retail spaces since the 1930s, saw properly planned shopping centers as a way to build a traditional urban-oriented community into a decentralized suburban environment, and argued:

By affording opportunities for social life and recreation in a protected pedestrian environment, by incorporating civic and educational facilities, shopping centers can fill an existing void. They can provide the needed place and opportunity for participation in modern community life that the Ancient Greek Agora, the Medieval Market Place, and our own Town Squares provided in the past.45

Gruen believed that designing and constructing shopping centers in this manner would create suburban central business districts that combined commerce and community.

James Rouse’s approach to suburban shopping centers lacked Gruen’s high- minded philosophical underpinnings, but was, nonetheless, similar. Rouse believed that to remain popular and profitable in an increasingly competitive environment, suburban shopping centers needed to: 142

create an environment, an atmosphere, a physical condition in which resourceful management can work to discover all sorts of ways in which that environment can be used to serve the community – to become central to the community, so that the community will adopt it as its center and develop feelings of pride, enthusiasm and concern for it, and for its shops.46

For Rouse, designing a flexible functionality into suburban shopping centers was less about curing suburbia’s ills and more about ensuring long-term profits in an ever- changing marketplace where consumer tastes and needs could shift quickly.47

Gruen understood that, in order to design a structure that incorporated all of these ideas and met the needs of each interested party, he needed to go beyond the strip shopping center aesthetic. As a result, he did not design an outdoor strip center at all.

Gruen instead drew up plans for the first fully enclosed, climate-controlled shopping mall east of the Mississippi River. The architect built on his earlier designs for the enclosed

Southdale Shopping Center in Edina, Minnesota, the first modern shopping mall in the country, inverting the standard layout, so as to avoid the “vulgarity” of the strip centers, give the mall a “greater utility as a community space,” and provide retailers with a

“captive consumer base.”48 He designed the Cherry Hill Mall in an L shape, with more than one million square feet of retail space. Two 215,000 square foot department stores

(Strawbridge and Clothier and Bamberger’s) and a large supermarket served as the mall’s anchors. They were connected by two large extended concourses (Delaware Mall and

Penn Mall), which housed the smaller shops and eateries, and funneled people from one end of the mall to the other. All stores at the mall opened onto the concourses and were designed with large open entrances, rather than traditional doorways, so as to appear more welcoming and encourage foot traffic. The concourses also included a variety of kiosks, cafés, and eateries among the shops. In addition, Gruen designed in community- 143 friendly elements that would draw people to the mall for reasons other than shopping.

Among these were a modern movie theater and a changeable 400-seat auditorium that could host a wide variety of community functions.49

Gruen intended the Cherry Hill Mall to be more than a strip center turned inside out. To meet his and Rouse’s philosophical ideas, as well as the needs of Strawbridge &

Clothier executives, Gruen designed the mall’s interior to be a spectacle beyond most consumers’ wildest dreams. He planned the enormous 180-foot long, 50-foot high

“Cherry Court,” as the mall’s social heart, fitting it with benches, a large water fountain spouting a “changing pattern of gushing waters,” and “dense islands of tropical foliage.”50

Another of the mall’s leisure areas included a sitting gazebo situated near a man-made stream. The architect continued the tropical theme throughout the mall, incorporating more than 14,000 real tropical trees and plants, and a twenty-foot aviary that included parrots, mynas, toucans, and other tropical birds from all over the world. A small ice- skating rink and a “Kiddieland” mini amusement park, complete with a motorboat ride and a small roller coaster, at which mothers could drop their kids off while they shopped or socialized were incorporated into the design as well. When completed, Gruen’s plans provided the framework for nothing less than a tourist attraction, retail outlet, and community center all rolled into one.51

The mall’s location on Route 38, which put it within a fifteen-minute reach of

500,000 people, combined with its status as the only enclosed shopping center on the east coast and its innovative interior design, made it attractive to retailers looking to expand. 52

By December, 1960, almost a year prior to its opening, eighty four percent of the mall’s space had been leased, a remarkable achievement for a facility that could not generate 144 financial backing three years earlier. Among the tenants joining Strawbridge and

Clothier were a wide range of retailers, including national chains like Woolworth’s, and smaller, locally-based stores, like Cherry Dale Farms, which sold fresh confections. In

March, 1961, Bamberger’s, New Jersey’s largest retailer, heightened the expectations and anticipation surrounding the center when it agreed to open its first southern New Jersey branch store at the mall.53

As the mall’s grand opening drew close and popular anticipation grew, the amount of retail advertising placed in the Courier-Post increased significantly. Mall retailers, including Woolworth’s, Kresge’s, the Food Fair supermarket, ran multiple full- page ads in the paper during this period. The mall’s management ran ads in the paper as well. Much of the retail advertising promoted the wide array of goods and great buys to be had at the mall, but some ads, including those run by Strawbridge and Clothier and the mall’s management, also worked to position the shopping center as a community-friendly leisure destination.

Strawbridge and Clothier began advertising its new branch store more than a week before the grand opening, taking out numerous full-page ads in the Post. The company’s ads included the standard sale items, but also promoted the new store and the services that would be available at it. In doing so, they went beyond traditional retail newspaper advertising. One ad revealed that the Cherry Hill store’s amenities included a beauty salon, restaurant, photo studio, film developing, a bridal service, a sewing center, fur storage, rug cleaning, furniture repair, home decorating and repair services, and tire service.54 The same ad pictured an illustration of a happy housewife claiming:

None of us in our neighborhood have enough time to really shop. However, since I became a Strawbridge & Clothier customer, my 145

shopping problems have vanished. That’s because, gathered under one big roof is everything – from services for wrapping my gifts to cashing my checks. No more trudging around town for all those tiresome little repair errands – I just drive into Strawbridge & Clothier’s big easy to park area and do them all! (At Cherry Hill, I hear there will be room for 4500 cars!) Some afternoons, I even get my hair done – without an appointment! (Cherry Hill’s beautiful Salon will give me the same service too!) With so many hours saved, I have more time to buy the things that I need. Because Strawbridge & Clothier is always at my service, I say: THAT”S MY STORE!55

In making these points in the advertisement, the store used the Courier-Post as a means of promoting its, and by way of affiliation, the mall’s, central place within the growing

South Jersey community. According to the ad, Strawbridge and Clothier was obviously much more than a place to shop, it was a place to spend the day. If local residents could find all of these amenities at Strawbridge’s branch outlet, which was only one store among seventy-five, one could only imagine what conveniences could be found among the mall’s other retailers.

The mall’s management also used the Courier-Post as an outlet to promote the mall as an all-in-one leisure, entertainment, and shopping destination. One small mall ad was strategically placed amidst advertisements for local theaters and restaurants in the

Post’s entertainment section. It reminded readers that they could “shop at night at Cherry

Hill,” and listed all of the mall’s stores.56 Large full-page ads promoting the mall were more centrally located. One multi-colored advertisement included an inviting picture of the Cherry Court’s fountains bathed in sunlight from the above skylight, and invited customers to “shop in eternal spring,” at “the most exciting shopping center in the

Delaware Valley!”57 In this case, it was not the mall’s goods or services that were supposed to lure consumers, but its climate-controlled grandeur. Another mall ad 146

(Figure One) included a similar picture of Cherry Court and framed the center as a joint shopping and leisure destination, proclaiming:

This is Cherry Hill. A new world of shopping convenience … comfort … and economy. An exciting world of variety, from alligator bags to zithers in 75 great stores serving every need. An air-conditioned world, completely covered, weather free. (No rain, snow, heat, or cold while you stroll on the Cherry Hill mall.) A spacious, easily accessible world with free parking for nearly 5,000 cars. A beautiful world of trees, plants, flowers, birds, benches, and wonderful, wonderful stores. And there is nothing like it in the whole, wide world!58

By constructing their ads in this way, Strawbridge & Clothier and the mall’s management framed the mall as more than a place to consume and the ideal replacement for urban shopping districts and strip shopping centers. When compared to urban shopping districts, the mall was much more convenient to get to, had ample parking, and was clean, spacious, and relaxing. The mall was also comfortable regardless of the weather, allowing it to trump even the most modern, centrally located, outdoor strip centers.

Together, the advertisements projected the mall as a community hub and convenient shopping destination wrapped in one.

As the medium through which the mall’s management and retailers fostered the notion among local residents that the Cherry Hill Mall was an ideal place to relax, shop, and participate in community activities, the Courier-Post had a direct hand in the construction of this mindset. However, the paper’s role in fostering these ideas went beyond carrying messages via retail advertising. Much of the Courier-Post’s coverage of mall events provided what amounted to free advertising to those looking to promote it as

Delaware Township’s social epicenter. Balanced and critical commentary regarding the mall’s impact on Delaware Township, Camden County, and/or southern New Jersey was virtually nonexistent. In its place were overwhelmingly positive articles highlighting the 147

Figure One: Cherry Hill Mall advertisement (1961) 148 benevolence of the mall and its retailers and the fantastic community events that they sponsored and hosted. The paper’s coverage of the mall’s grand opening offers perhaps the most cogent example of this.

Set for October 11, 1961, the Cherry Hill Mall’s grand opening was the single most anticipated community event in Delaware Township’s postwar evolution to that point. At a cost of $30 million and three years in the making, it was certainly the largest retail or entertainment venue constructed in the area since the Garden State Race Track was built in 1942.59 The Courier-Post’s coverage of the grand opening began a day prior, when the paper dedicated a large portion of its October 10 edition to the mall. Stories outlining the opening ceremonies and promoting the mall, its architects, developers, and retail outlets filled the paper. The articles were not part of an overtly designated promotional section, but many reiterated the points made in the advertisements. They emphasized the variety of services available at the mall, played up its extravagant interior, and framed the mall as a leisure destination that shielded visitors from the elements outside. In describing the mall’s climate controlled interior, one article mirrored the mall’s advertising almost verbatim, commenting “no matter what the weather is outdoors on Wednesday, it will be Spring in Cherry Hill.”60 Another emphasized that “Under the fronds of tropical palm trees and beside sparkling fountains in the temperature-controlled mall,” visitors could “stroll in complete comfort from one tempting display to another.”61 Separate articles also focused on the mall’s gardens and aviary. The article entitled “Beautiful Gardens Enhance Center Malls,” detailed the many types of trees and shrubs located in the mall and quoted Community Research and 149

Development’s landscape consultant, Mrs. C. O’Donnell Pascault’s description of the

Cherry Court as “a true oasis from the hustle and bustle of the outside world.”62

Numerous other articles focused on the mall’s individual retailers and promoted each store’s services. Stories on Strawbridge & Clothier, Ritz Camera, Kresge’s,

Bamberger’s, Thrift Drug, and Food Fair, among others, included company biographies telling of long histories of community service and listed the benefits of shopping at each outlet. One, “Strawbridge & Clothier Opens Largest Branch,” emphasized that the store was the largest of the company’s suburban branch outlets and the only one equipped with the flagship store’s popular “bargain basement” clearance section. It explained the store’s department layout by floor and emphasized that its “fresh, unpretentious, and daringly cheerful,” design and decoration created a “spirit of light heartedness for the shopper of all ages.”63 The article focusing on the Ritz Camera Center opening at the mall not only promoted the store’s services but also told visitors exactly where to find it, noting that “an extensive line of photographic equipment and photo-finishing service,” was available at the island shop in the center of Penn Mall.64

More importantly, numerous articles relating to the mall’s opening in the Courier-

Post’s October 10 edition referred to its capacity to serve the community. Several of these pointed to the mall’s four-hundred-seat community hall as the primary evidence that it would serve purposes other than shopping. One called the hall a “remarkable civic contribution.”65 Another discussed the hall in detail, listed its modern amenities, which included a full kitchen, explained that it was free to local non-profit and charity groups, and concluded that it was “destined to become a focal point of the community.”66

Another Post article explained that “realizing the attractions Cherry Hill will exert upon 150 local residents,” the mall’s management decided to keep the concourses and courts open to the public on Sundays, when the stores remained closed, so that “strollers could enjoy its balmy air and beautiful floral displays.”67 The same article promoted the fact that the mall was scheduled to host free events and programs, including an auto show, a boat show, fashion shows, concerts, and kids programs.68 The paper’s coverage of the mall’s anchoring department stores also promoted their capacity and willingness to serve the community. An article titled “Strawbridge and Clothier Opens Largest Branch,” highlighted the retailer’s in-store auditorium and explained that it could also be used for charity fundraisers.69 In a similarly structured story, Bamberger’s President, David L.

Yunich described his company to Delaware Township residents as a “public servant,” that “throws itself heart and soul into collecting pencils for the education of children around the world,” “holds an annual party for the blind children of the city,” [Newark] and sponsors a “My Dad’s the Greatest” contest for Father’s Day.70 Readers turning to the Courier-Post for information on the mall that day received the assurance that with the requisite facilities, an enlightened management staff, and civic-minded retailers, the mall was poised to assume its mantle as Delaware Township’s community hub.

James Rouse and G. Stockton Strawbridge both spoke at the Cherry Hill Mall’s grand opening ceremonies at 9:30 a.m. in front of Strawbridge & Clothier’s primary entrance the following morning. Each spoke of the mall’s impact on the region and local community and built on the messages conveyed in the previous day’s Courier-Post.

Strawbridge announced “We tried to bring something new in the way of shopping – more than a shopping center, a new community,” while Rouse promised the crowd that the mall would “enrich the lives of the people of the Cherry Hill area.”71 The mall’s first 151 visitors appeared duly impressed. Mrs. Nancy Mirenda, of Levittown, NJ, described the mall as “the most fabulous thing I’ve ever seen,” to an Evening Bulletin reporter and explained “it has everything that I want in the way of shopping.”72 Another visitor likened it to Disneyland.73

The advertising and positive newspaper coverage helped make the Cherry Hill

Mall an instant financial success. The Bamberger’s anchor store and several smaller retailers opened in spring, 1962, finalizing construction and providing the mall with an added boost. Within a year of opening, the mall had emerged as the premier shopping destination in southern New Jersey. In the end, its total first-year sales topped $40 million, exceeding expectations by fifteen percent, and Strawbridge & Clothier’s Cherry

Hill branch earned $16,600,000 in 1962, sparking a major turnaround for the company.74

The Courier-Post reaped the benefits of the mall’s success as well. In 1961, the paper published 15,198,219 total lines of advertising, a 719,825-line improvement over its 1960 figure and “all-time high” at the Post.75 During the first eight months of 1962, the

Courier-Post ranked third among all daily newspapers in the nation in retail advertising gained over the previous year, as it ran an additional 1,702,435 lines of advertising over its 1961 total.76 Only the Los Angeles Times and Los Angeles Herald Examiner gained more during this period.77 The mall also seemingly helped make the township, which changed its name to Cherry Hill shortly after the mall opened, more attractive to industry.78 Between 1961 and 1963, more than 100 “firms” and “industries” either moved into Camden County or constructed new plants there.79

However, the mall’s initial financial successes did not, by themselves, ensure that local residents had accepted it as their community’s social and cultural hub. As a result, 152 the mall’s management and merchants association attempted to build on the initial successes and strengthen the mall’s community ties by co-sponsoring and hosting numerous free social and cultural events with local businesses and organizations in the ensuing years. Though the primary reasoning for organizing the promotions was undoubtedly to increase foot traffic at the mall and increase sales for retailers and exhibitors alike, sponsoring and hosting the promotions also helped position the mall as a community hub where commerce and culture could coexist. Included among these events were an annual summer pops concert series and an almost continuous string of car shows, boat shows, flower shows, home improvement expos, student art exhibits, ice- skating festivals, holiday extravaganzas, musicals, beauty pageants, petting zoos, and anniversary celebrations.80

The mall’s management and merchants association used the events to make the mall enticing to people with a variety of interests and lure a continuous flow of men, women, children, and families to the mall for reasons other than shopping. Many of the promotions simultaneously combined entertainment, education, and culture and reflected the mall’s emphasis on grand, exotic visual displays. The pops concerts and musicals provided visitors with access to traditional forms of high-culture entertainment, while the car and boat shows provided visitors with up-to-date information on the latest technologies in those industries and offered glimpses of the latest models and foreign imports. The flower shows included colorful displays filled with rare flora as well as lectures and demonstrations for home gardeners and plant enthusiasts. Even children’s events like the “Old MacDonald’s Farm” petting zoo combined entertainment and education, allowing kids the thrill of petting live ponies, pigs, sheep, and goats while 153 teaching them about the local 4-H club’s techniques for raising and caring for the animals.81

As with the mall’s grand opening, the Courier-Post served as the primary medium through which the mall’s management and retailers promoted these events. However, whereas the Post originally carried news of the mall’s opening to local residents via a mix of run of press advertising and articles placed on broadsheets within the paper’s primary sections, news of the mall’s major promotional events often came in the form of smaller supplemental inserts that resembled the paper’s Sunday “Weekend Magazine” section. Supplemental inserts were a common part of the Courier-Post’s weekday and

Sunday editions by the early 1960s, and more often than not, they carried dedicated advertising for area department stores, including those located in Camden and at the mall.

These types of inserts centralized retailers’ advertising in one location and were more user friendly than the broadsheet sections. Rather than paging through the full newspaper, interested shoppers could easily find and remove the supplement, consult it for the latest sales, and carry it with them to their shopping destination.82

Not all inserts were so clearly rooted in retail advertising, however. Some supplements blurred the lines between what was news and what was advertising by carrying local news and promotional information in the form of by-lined articles that disguised their true intent. The October 23, 1963 supplement, “Industry Changing Face of County, 100 New and Expanded Industries Since 1961” included numerous advertisements from businesses and municipalities promoting Camden County as the

“Heart of the Delaware Valley” but also contained several articles by prominent local politicians and officials.83 Local power players like Camden’s Mayor, Alfred R. Pierce, 154

Harry W. Young, the Executive Vice President of the Camden County Chamber of

Commerce, and Barton E. Harrison, the chairman of Cherry Hill’s Advisory Industrial

Board, used their columns to explain the area’s industrial growth to local readers in overwhelmingly positive articles like “Mayor Says Camden is City on the Go,”

“Industrial Development is Seen ‘Everybody’s Business,’” and “Cherry Hill Shows

Phenomenal Gains.”84 These articles appeared in the same format as those located in the

Courier-Post’s main news sections, and the authors’ community status gave the stories an immediate credibility that distanced their content from the insert’s more overt advertisements. However, the articles’ content also mirrored that of the advertisements.

Mayor Pierce’s article on Camden said nothing of the problems besetting the city and emphasized the “opportunities” generated by the opening of Rutgers University’s new branch campus and the construction of several new apartment towers and industrial facilities in the city.85 A full-page advertisement on the next page reiterated his message, announcing: “IF IT IS OPPORTUNITY YOU WANT CAMDEN HAS IT!”86 Similar correlations linked other supplement articles and advertisements.87 That inserts like this contained both articles and advertisements overtly indicated that some supplements were more than just paid advertising sections and that they could contain valuable local information too. This larger idea obscured the fact that many of the stories blurred the lines between news and advertising by carrying slanted commentary that reinforced and built upon the ideas presented in the advertisements.

Department stores like Lit’s and Bamberger’s frequently promoted their sales through supplements that were clearly advertising, but the inserts carrying news of the

Cherry Hill Mall’s events utilized the more complex format. As a result, they too blurred 155 the lines between news and advertising. The supplements contained several pages of advertising from the mall’s department stores, national retailers, and even its locally- based stores, however the bulk of this content was often situated amidst numerous articles resembling those run in the lead-up to the mall’s grand opening. Here, the information contained in the stories, not the advertising, appeared to be the supplements’ focus. The articles informed the public of mall news, but also continued framing the mall’s retailers as charitable, community-minded entities and the mall as the keystone of Cherry Hill’s social and cultural life. In the process, they distanced the mall from its primary function as a shopping center. Rather than luring consumers by emphasizing the mall’s bountiful array of goods and great values, the articles in the Cherry Hill Mall’s supplemental inserts attempted to attract residents by emphasizing its fantastic social events and activities.

These types of hybrid news/advertising techniques were most evident in the supplements that promoted mall events not directly tied to specific shopping seasons.

The supplement promoting the mall’s January, 1962, boat show, its first major, non- holiday related exhibit, included advertising for numerous mall stores, including

Strawbridge and Clothier, Kresge’s, and Thrift Drug, as well as for the event’s co- sponsors, the Bass River Marina. Woolworth’s even aligned its advertising with the event by running a sale on model boats.88 However, as in the supplements that would follow, the insert primarily encouraged residents to attend the show, and mall, for reasons other than shopping. The supplement’s cover made no mention of the sales taking place at the mall, but beckoned residents to come see “the greatest collection of new boats ever shown in the only completely covered, weather-free shopping center in [the] Delaware 156

Valley.”89 Its primary article, entitled “Cherry Hill Offers Colorful Boat Show,” continued the theme, noting that admission was free and explaining that the more than fifty boats on display would provide attendees with “gaiety,” and the “assurance that warm weather can’t be far behind.”90 The supplement’s last page, a multi-colored advertisement replete with an illustrated bird dressed in sailor’s garb (Figure Two), rounded out the message. It again promoted the boat show’s size and family-friendly nature, stating:

More than forty of the latest model boats – from swift, sleek sailboats to plush, powerful cabin cruisers – are dropping anchor at Cherry Hill to delight salty sailors and landlubbers alike. A big exhibit of nautical watercolors … and a full display of 1962 outboard engines combine to make this a must for the entire family.91

When the ad did mention shopping, it placed the activity within the larger context of enjoying a leisurely day at the mall by inviting visitors to “take the time to shop and stroll midst waterfalls, plants, flowers, and colorful birds.”92 According to the ad, the Cherry

Hill Mall’s boat show offered visitors a free, family-friendly exhibit, where they could wander amongst an extensive array of ships and learn about the latest nautical products, all the while getting a taste of spring. For this event at least, shopping was of secondary importance. By shifting the focus away from shopping, the supplement framed the mall as a suburban civic center rather than a retail outlet and helped further position it at the center of the Cherry Hill community.

Even the supplements that were directly connected to prime shopping seasons or mall-wide sales attempted to give readers multiple reasons for visiting the mall. They did so by promoting its fantastic decorations and promotional events as well as its array of retail bargains. The cover of the insert kicking off the 1963 Christmas shopping season 157

Figure Two: Cherry Hill Mall Boat Show Advertisement (1962) included an illustration of an enormous Christmas tree towering above the mall and invited customers to “Come see the largest Christmas tree in the world and select from thousands of exciting gifts at Bamberger’s, Strawbridge & Clothier and over 100 other fine stores.”93 (Figure Three) A second caption on the cover promoted the tree further, explaining “the largest Christmas tree in the world rises 110 feet above Cherry Hill Mall.

Capped by a 10-foot snowflake and lit by more than 8,000 bulbs, it’s unbelievably 158 colorful.”94 By erecting and promoting an enormous seasonal tourist attraction, the mall’s management constructed an additional reason for people to visit the mall during the holiday season. While readers might be able to find gift buys at other retail outlets, they could only see the world’s largest Christmas tree at the Cherry Hill Mall.

Figure Three: Cherry Hill Mall Christmas Advertisement (1963) 159

The 1963 Christmas supplement’s content reiterated the cover’s message that the mall was a place where shoppers could find a wide array of gifts for all members of the family and experience the holiday season in an entirely new and fantastic way. At a length of thirty-two pages, the supplement was longer than other inserts promoting mall events and included much more retail advertising. Bamberger’s and Strawbridge and Clothier ran six and five full pages of advertising and other mall retailers also placed ads in the insert.

One short article located near the front of the supplement explained that mall retailers offered a variety of gift options for each member of the family, including rare imports from India, Switzerland, and Germany.95 In addition to the added emphasis on consumption, the supplement also highlighted the mall’s new and extravagant holiday attractions. The article entitled “Christmas Village is Mall Spectacle” invited readers to bring their children to the newly decorated Wonderworld kids section, which had been transformed into a “fantasy in sight, sound, and emotion,” and contained a “30,000 square foot castle,” “frosted caves,” a large “toy machine” equipped with “200 flashing red and green lights, moving valves and gauges,” a “smoke spouting chimney,” and four portals through which kids could watch the mechanism work.96 The article also explained that each child visiting the Christmas Village would be given a post card to fill out and mail to Santa via the village’s post office.97 The advertisement located on the supplement’s last page succinctly combined the mall’s dual holiday message. After announcing “Happiness is a Cherry Hill Christmas,” the ad defined the holiday as it related to the mall, claiming:

Christmas is a tree, brightly blinking on a winter’s night … the largest Christmas tree in the world, over 110 feet high … at Cherry Hill Mall now.

160

Christmas is shopping – and there are 101 stores, all under one roof, at Cherry Hill Mall. Free Parking for 6000 cars. Over 1,000,000 square feet of mall to shop and stroll and enjoy.

And:

Christmas is decorations, colorful and gay – 1500 twinkling stars, a huge glistening chandelier and life-size Mother Goose characters give the magic Mall a warm holiday glow.

Christmas is pleasant, convenient shopping … complete selection at the price you want to pay … Christmas is a happy holiday mood.98

Together, the supplement’s ads and articles framed the mall as central part of Cherry

Hill’s Christmas season and encouraged residents to view the mall as a multi-use facility where they could simultaneously find an extensive gift selection and establish new holiday traditions.

Later supplements promoting the mall’s annual post-Christmas Cherry Hill Days sales events in late January incorporated elements from the Christmas insert and the initial boat show insert. They too blurred the lines between news and advertising. Like the Christmas insert, the Cherry Hill Days supplements carried more retail advertising and some articles promoting the mall’s many bargains. However, in the absence of a major holiday or shopping season, the mall sponsored boat and car shows to draw potential shoppers during a traditionally slow sales period. In each supplement, articles like “Mall Merchants Plan 2nd Annual Boat Show,” “Favorite English Vehicles Exhibited at Mall Car Show,” “Mall to Combine Autos, Fashions in 6-day show,” and “‘Jolly

Jungle Safari’ New Attraction for Children at Mall Wonderworld,” promoted the size and extravagance of the mall’s latest non-shopping based activities and gave men, women, and children new reasons to attend.99 As with the earlier inserts, numerous articles in the

Cherry Hill Days supplements framed the mall and its retailers in a positive light by 161 emphasizing their commitment to the Cherry Hill community. Brief stories like

“Auditorium is Popular For Meetings of Clubs,” “Cherry Hill Bootery Sells Shoes That

Fit; Prescriptions Followed,” “Strawbridge Store Forms Organ Club,” and “Auditorium

Ready at S&C,” permeated each Cherry Hill Days insert and combined to carry the larger message to readers.100 An article in the 1963 supplement entitled “Mall is New

Downtown,” went one step further and formally placed the mall at the center of Cherry

Hill’s social and cultural nexus. It argued that the mall was “not just another place devoted to selling items of merchandise,” but a “cultural hub, a new downtown for suburbanites, an independent self-contained unit capable of sustaining humanity on the products contained within, and the center of almost everything except nightclubbing, parking problems, and traffic congestion.”101

The car and boat shows and holiday extravaganzas helped establish the mall as veritable civic center willing to host a variety of spectacular events, but the mall’s birthday celebrations took things a step further and positioned the mall as a cultural center. Beginning in October, 1962, the mall’s management and merchants association sponsored annual celebrations of a foreign, and stereotypically exotic, culture to mark the anniversary of the mall’s opening and thank the community for its support. The inaugural anniversary celebration was Hawaiian themed, while later celebrations focused on Asia, Mexico and Italy. Each celebration attempted to lure visitors to the mall by providing a week of authentic and entertaining educational and cultural activities. By decorating the mall, handing out free giveaways such as Hawaiian leis, orchids, chopsticks, dragon kites, and other kitsch, and by providing entertainment that included strolling musicians and daily concert performances, the mall’s management transformed 162 the mall into an ethnic Xanadu where visitors could actively consume a foreign culture for free each fall.102

Like the other inserts, the supplements that carried word of the anniversary celebrations distanced the mall from its primary function as a shopping center and blurred the lines between news and advertising. The supplements began this process by highlighting the mall management’s and merchants association’s commitment to the community and framing each festival’s size and authenticity as proof of their gratitude.

The cover of the supplement promoting the mall’s first anniversary Hawaiian Luau festival positioned the ten-day celebration as a free thank you from the mall and its retailers for a successful first year and rhetorically asked readers:

Who made Cherry Hill’s first year so wonderful? You did! Who’s going to thank you by throwing a big, big Hawaiian Luau and birthday celebration? We are!103

A year later, an article in the supplement promoting the “Oriental Festival” that marked the mall’s second anniversary alerted readers that the entire mall had been converted into a “colorful Oriental shopping street,” replete with “thousands of Japanese lanterns,”

“brilliant” parasols, “gigantic fish kites,” sales personnel “attired in gay Asian apparel, and a tea house built to Japanese specifications by Japanese craftsmen to give the mall an

“authentic air.”104 Articles in later supplements carried similar messages, explaining that the mall’s third anniversary Mexican festival “captured” Mexico’s “spirit and charm” and that the mall had been “transformed” into a Hawaiian village for the fourth anniversary.105

Apparently, the extent to which the mall’s management and retailers were willing to go to authentically recreate another culture at the mall was indicative of their commitment to the community. 163

The Courier-Post’s anniversary supplements also framed the mall as an outlet for cultural consumption, a place where visitors could experience and consume foreign cultures in a fun educational way. Visitors attending the second anniversary festival could get an authentic sampling of a variety of Asian cultures by viewing a “Kabuki

Revue” performed by the “world famous” Sahomi Tachibana and her five-member dance troupe at either 7 or 9 p.m. on weeknights, watching a Karate exhibition, or attending a demonstration on building “unique Oriental flower arrangements.”106 Attendees visiting the third anniversary Mexican festival could sample “authentic Mexican tamales” for a dime while listening to a real mariachi band.107 Those stopping in for the mall’s fourth anniversary Hawaiian celebration had the opportunity to receive free orchids and refreshments from “hula girls” during the day and listen to Johnny Pineapple and his

Hawaiian troupe play authentic Hawaiian music at night.108 Even kids got to experience the foreign cultures by attending themed puppet shows and participating in activities like daily piñata parties. Annual travel contests also gave visitors the opportunity to fully experience each culture by awarding all expense paid vacations to Hawaii, Mexico, Italy, and the “biggest, and by far, the most interesting Chinese neighborhood outside the

Orient,” San Francisco’s Chinatown.109

Like the earlier inserts, the supplements promoting the anniversary celebrations shifted the focus from away from retail consumption. Each supplement did contain several pages of retail advertising, and consumers could still come to the mall to shop, but the larger message was clear, the ethnic celebrations were for cultural consumption.

Mall ads in each of the supplements made little to no mention of shopping and carried 164 this idea to the public. A mall ad running in the second anniversary supplement announced in a stereotypically ethnic tone: (Figure Four)

Ten Days of fun and whoopee. Make Mall like Oriental shopping street. Whole place look like combination Hong Kong-Tokyo. Real tea house. Cherry Hill Geisha girls give away tea and fortune cookie. Number one sons and daughters get free Oriental toys. Kabuki Revue too. Dancing, jumping. Exciting, exotic. Karate demonstration by experts. Throw each other for loop. More fun than you can shake chopstick at. Everything free. Everything fun. Get rickshaw and bring family to Cherry Hill Mall.

Chop Chop. Sayanora.110

A mall ad promoting the Mexican fiesta in the following year’s insert took a similar, albeit more politically correct, approach. It noted “When you walk into Cherry Hill Mall

You Walk Into A Mexican Fiesta !!!” and highlighted the “dancing, music, fun and frolic with a Mexican accent.”111 The ad’s only reference to shopping was the list of mall retailers located at the bottom of the page.

The supplements also worked to position the mall as Cherry Hill’s community hub through articles not directly related to the anniversary celebrations. These stories mirrored those that originally promoted the mall’s grand opening and appeared frequently in the inserts. An article directly commenting on the mall’s service to the community quoted the mall’s general manager, John Pierson as saying that the mall had “earned its rightful place in the community – both as a shopping center and a community center.”112

Another, titled “Cherry Hill Mall Hailed,” carried a similar message in the second anniversary supplement and emphasized the public’s positive response to the community hall.113 Still others kept readers abreast of new retailers at the mall and the many free programs, courses, and events sponsored by Bamberger’s and Strawbridge and Clothier. 165

Among these were stories promoting Strawbridge and Clothier’s weekly fashion shows and etiquette classes for teens and Bamberger’s charm classes and beauty courses.114

Figure Four: Cherry Hill Mall 2nd Anniversary Celebration Advertisement (1963) 166

When taken together, the supplemental inserts promoting the boat and car shows,

Christmas shopping season, Cherry Hill Days sales events, and anniversary celebrations collectively framed the mall as community gathering place known for its free spectacular social and cultural events, as much, if not more, than as a shopping center. While retail advertising for individual mall stores was an important part of each insert, their individual

“news” articles appeared to be the primary focus. These articles built on the original ideas fostered in the Courier-Post’s coverage of the mall’s grand opening and continued framing the mall as the social and cultural epicenter of Cherry Hill. They also cast the mall’s management and retailers as beneficent entities whose drive for increased sales was matched only by their commitment to serving and improving the community.

Each supplement’s overt purpose was to frame the mall as the hub of the Cherry

Hill community and inform the public about the fantastic events taking place there, but their implicit goal, like each promotion’s, was to bring more people into the mall and help retailers generate more sales. Though the supplements made no mention of it, all of the promotions were set up to facilitate greater consumption at the mall. Each event’s fantastic and exotic environment was designed to lure potential consumers by providing them with access to elements that many thought the suburbs lacked, community and culture. In this case, more foot traffic naturally equated to higher sales.

This ideal went beyond simply luring people to the mall for one-time visits to the events.

Staggering the schedule of performances, giveaways, and contests throughout the length of each event encouraged visitors to make several return trips to the mall. Residents wishing to catch a morning puppet show with their kids and the evening concert performance had to make multiple trips. Locating the performances, attractions, and 167 give-aways in different parts of the mall also encouraged visitors to stroll its concourses and heightened the chances that window-shopping might turn into real shopping. By informing readers as to how, when, and where they could participate in each event’s many activities, the Courier-Post supplements helped facilitate consumption at the mall while promoting its capacity to serve the community in other capacities at the same time.

The Cherry Hill Mall’s events and the Courier-Post’s supplemental inserts that promoted them had their intended impact. In 1964 alone, more than 7.5 million people visited the mall.115 During the early 1960s the mall’s profits climbed continuously until they reached their peak in the first quarter of 1966.116 Stephanie Dyer has also noted that a focus group study conducted by Community Research and Design that included architects, mall merchants, and local residents, indicated that area residents accepted the

Mall as the community’s hub. She noted that a local high school girl claimed that, until

Cherry Hill was built, there was no sense of community in the area. The local assistant superintendent of schools added, “we were just another series of housing developments until the mall was built … Now we have a sense of community – Cherry Hill Mall is the only main street in South Jersey.”117

The mall’s success prompted the construction of several others in Philadelphia’s

Pennsylvania and New Jersey suburbs in the following years. In 1963, John

Wanamaker’s and Gimbels anchored the Moorestown Mall, less than five miles from the

Cherry Hill Mall. Buoyed by its success at Cherry Hill, Strawbridge & Clothier opened new anchoring stores at the Plymouth Meeting Mall (Montgomery County, PA) in 1966 and the Neshaminy Mall (Bucks County, PA) in 1967. By 1968, Strawbridge’s suburban branch stores accounted for sixty eight percent of the company’s total sales volume.118 168

The mall also directly impacted Cherry Hill’s development into a prosperous suburban “edge city” during the 1960s. By 1963, the township was home to ten thousand single-family homes, six high-rise apartment buildings, and twenty-seven industrial complexes.119 Ann Marie Cammarota has noted that “the mall provided an economic base to cement the individual housing developments together to help defray the increasing costs of suburban services,” and that “after the introduction of the mall, Cherry

Hill and other outer rim suburbs in southern New Jersey developed as large townships anchored by similar enclosed malls providing a pivotal business, cultural, and recreational center.”120

In the late 1960s, Rouse returned to Camden County to develop Echelon, a smaller version of the all-in-one New Town subdivision his company had constructed at

Columbia, Md. Here again Rouse and Gruen teamed with Strawbridge and Clothier to develop the Echelon Mall as the social and cultural centerpiece of the community. Once again the Courier-Post was the primary medium through which the mall’s advertising reached the public. In the day’s leading up to the mall’s grand opening the Post carried advertisements for the mall and Strawbridge and Clothier that mirrored those run prior to the Cherry Hill Mall’s opening. A full-page multi-colored mall ad described it as an

“extravaganza of fountains, fauna, and fascinating facades” and “an exceptional value … an exquisite import. It’s an expanse of parking. It’s an Exhibition arena that brings the outdoors in. It’s a constant 72 [degree] temperature that keeps the outside extremes outside.”121 A Strawbridge and Clothier’s ad (Figure Five) included an image of the picturesque court in front of the store’s mall entrance and alerted readers that “Here’s where shopping turns into fun!”122 Like its coverage of the Cherry Hill Mall’s opening, 169 the Courier-Post dedicated a full section of its September 29, 1970 edition to the Echelon

Mall. Articles like “Rouse Firm’s Master Plan Needed 3 Years to Finish,” “Strawbridge

& Clothier’s 9th Store in ‘Mini-City,’” “Lit Brothers Will Open 12th Store at Echelon,” and “Urban Unit Idea Behind New Mall,” among others, presented the Echelon Mall’s developers and retailers in an overwhelmingly positive light and framed the mall as the future centerpiece of the community.123 The Echelon Mall did not have as large an impact on the region as the Cherry Hill Mall, but it was successful enough that the

Deptford and Hamilton Malls were built to anchor other suburban areas in southern New

Jersey during the 1970s.

For the Courier-Post and Gannett, southern New Jersey’s continued expansion fostered more growth. The paper’s circulation rose throughout the decade, climbing from

79,898 in 1961 to 119,209 in 1971.124 In comparison, the Evening Bulletin’s and

Inquirer’s figures dropped by 71,628 and 155,409 respectively during the same period.125

The Post’s advertising rates also increased from $.37 to $.48 per line during the period.126

In 1965, the Courier-Post ran 6,000,785 lines of classified advertising, surpassing the

Evening Bulletin by 241,919 lines.127 The total positioned the Courier-Post 49th out of

1400 daily papers in the nation in that category.128 The profits generated by the circulation and advertising gains coupled with the continued demographic and retail expansion in southern New Jersey prompted Gannett to extend its reach in the region. In

1966, it acquired “The Suburban Newspaper Group,” a collection of ten weekly community newspapers located in Camden and Burlington counties with a combined circulation of more than 80,000.129 The purchase gave Gannett a dominant position in the

South Jersey portion of the Philadelphia metro newspaper market. By 1967, the company 170

Figure Five: Strawbridge and Clothier Echelon Mall Advertisement (1970) was large and profitable enough that it offered a $500,000 initial public offering on the

New York Stock Exchange.130 Gannett’s purchase also created a scenario in which two advertising organizations, Gannett’s advertising leg and the Penn Group, which the

Bucks County Courier-Times belonged to, controlled the bulk of Philadelphia’s northern 171 and eastern suburban regions, thereby creating significantly more problems for

Philadelphia dailies.

By the mid 1960s, Philadelphia and its daily papers were in trouble. Suburban subdivisions had lured residents to the suburbs and multi-million dollar shopping malls kept their retail dollars there, thereby reversing the core-periphery paradigm that had governed Americans’ residential and consumption patterns since the industrial city’s rise in the late 19th century. While these changes hurt the city and stymied their large daily newspapers, they also put suburban newspapers in a position to prosper. When given the opportunity, Camden’s Courier-Post abandoned the city for the more prosperous confines of Delaware Township, where it aided its own cause by running advertising and articles promoting the Cherry Hill Mall’s many benefits, including its capacity to act as a community social and cultural center. The mall’s successes prompted more retail development in the South Jersey region, which further benefited the Courier-Post, and its parent company, Gannett. Cumulatively, the rise of two profitable and influential regional suburban daily papers across the northern and eastern portions of the metropolitan area put the Evening Bulletin and the Inquirer in a position where they had to figure out how to tap into the suburban markets and regain the readers and advertisers who were leaving it behind. With mixed results, both papers took this task on during the sixties. 172

Endnotes

1 “Throng Views Opening of Big Cherry Hill Mall,” Camden Courier-Post, 11 October 1961, 1.

2 “3,500 Participate in Event at $30 Million Shop Center,” Camden Courier-Post, 11 October 1961, 1, 2

3 Ibid.

4 Lizabeth Cohen, A Consumer’s Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America (New York: Vintage Books, 2004).

5 Cohen, A Consumer’s Republic, 259-261.

6 For more on Cohen’s discussion of shopping malls’ roles in the creation of the “consumer’s republic,” see: Cohen “Commerce: Reconfiguring Community Marketplaces,” in A Consumer’s Republic, 257-290.

7 Margaret Crawford, “The World in a Shopping Mall,” in Michael Sorkin, ed. Variations on a Theme Park: The New American City and the End of Public Space (New York: Hill and Wang, 1992) 23.

8 Other works that ignore the role that suburban papers played the growth and popularity of malls in postwar America include: James J. Farrell, One Nation Under Goods: Malls and the Seductions of American Shopping (Washington: Smithsonian Books, 2003); William Severini Kowinski, The Malling of America: An Inside Look at the Great Consumer Paradise (New York: William Morrow and Co., Inc, 1985).

9 The U.S. Justice Department forced the Bulletin Co. to sell the Courier and Post papers on the grounds that a Bulletin-Courier-Post combination would constitute a monopoly in the region. Peter Binzen, ed., Nearly Everybody Read It: Snapshots of the Philadelphia Bulletin (Philadelphia: Camino Press, 1998) 7-8. For the sale see: “Courier and Post of Camden Sold,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 3 May 1947, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

10 For Stretch’s hiring practices see “Courier and Post of Camden Sold,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 3 May 1947; “Camden Courier Back Next Week,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 6 May 1947; “Papers Resume in Camden, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 14 May 1947; “Camden Dailies Start, Some Guildsmen Rehired,” Editor & Publisher, 17 May 1947, 12; “2 Sons and Daughter Aid Stretch in Camden,” Editor & Publisher, 24 May 1947, 28. All located in the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

173

11 “Papers Resume in Camden,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 14 May 1947, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

12 Ibid.

13 “Camden Courier-Post to Drop Morning Edition,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 8 September 1949, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

14 The reported 1948 statistics counted only the last quarter of 1947. Editor and Publisher International Yearbook, 1947, 84; Editor and Publisher International Yearbook, 1948, 78.

15 Editor and Publisher International Yearbook, 1949, 87; Editor and Publisher International Yearbook, 1953, 93.

16 For coverage of Camden’s decline and, specifically, Campbell’s attempts to find ways to stay in the city, see: Daniel Sidorick, Condensed Capitalism: Campbell Soup and the Pursuit of Cheap Production in the Twentieth Century (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2009).

17 Historian Jeffrey M. Dorwart, has pointed out that much of the population increases stemmed from an influx of African Americans and Hispanics looking for work in defense industries, the byproduct of which was the initial outflow of white residents from the city, thereby accounting for some of the neighboring suburbs’ population growth. Jeffrey M. Dorwart, Camden County, New Jersey: The Making of a Metropolitan Community, 1626-2000 (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2001), 140-143.

18 Ann Marie Cammarota, Pavements in the Garden: The Suburbanization of Southern New Jersey, Adjacent to the City of Philadelphia, 1769 to the Present (Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2001), 167-170; Dorwart, Camden County, New Jersey, 141, 165-168.

19 For population statistics see: Dorwart, Camden County, New Jersey, 165. For Mori and his projects see: Stephanie Dyer, “Designing ‘Community’ in the Cherry Hill Mall: The Social Production of a Consumer Space,” Perspectives in Vernacular Architecture 9 (2003): 267-268.

20 Cammarota, Pavements in the Garden, 172.

21 Ibid, 172.

22 For quote: Ibid, 186. For general information on Scarborough and Barclay Farms: Cammarota, Pavements in the Garden, 171-174, 182-186. 174

23 For coverage of the builders and their subdivisions: Cammarota, Pavements in the Garden, 174. For population statistic: Dorwart, Camden County, New Jersey, 166.

24 Dorwart, Camden County, New Jersey, 165-168; Cammarota, Pavements in the Garden, 167-169; Dyer, “Designing Community in the Cherry Hill Mall,” 266-267.

25 “Ground is Broken For New Plant of Courier-Post,” Camden Courier-Post, 20 July 1954, 3; Joseph S. Wells, “Big Presses Are Started By Publisher,” Camden Courier-Post, 5 July 1955, 1, 3.

26 For general coverage of the Courier-Post’s new plant, see its 96-page “Progress- Dedication,” issue, which marked its dedication and official opening, Camden Courier- Post, 26 July 1955. For the circulation statistics see: Editor and Publisher International Yearbook, 1956, 101; Editor and Publisher International Yearbook, 1960, 165.

27 Figures attributed to a Courier-Post spokesman. “Newspaper Drivers End 29-Day Camden Strike,” New York Herald Tribune, 29 June 1958, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. For general coverage of the strike, see: “Truck Drivers Go On Strike at 3 Newspapers,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 31 May 1958, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

28 The Courier-Post regained its lost circulation within months of reaching a settlement with the teamsters. Newspaper historian David R. Davies has revealed that newsprint shortages and labor problems generated increasing costs, logistical problems, and lower- quality products at suburban and urban papers across the country in the postwar years. David R. Davies, The Postwar Decline of American Newspapers, 1945-1965 (Westport, Ct: Praeger, 1994).

29 Elizabeth MacIver Neiva, “Chain Building: The Consolidation of the American Newspaper Industry, 1953-1980,” The Business History Review 70 (Spring 1996): 1-42.

30 J. Donald Brandt, A History of Gannett, 1906-1993 (Arlington, VA: Gannett Co., Inc., 1993), 280.

31 Word of the sale was not mentioned in the Courier-Post or Editor & Publisher until its formal announcement on July 17, 1959. Following that, articles appeared in both, though none explained what exactly prompted the sale. MacIver Neiva, “Chain Building: The Consolidation of the American Newspaper Industry, 1953-1980,” 27-29.

32 Gannett’s papers also operated in New York, Connecticut, and Illinois. Brandt, A History of Gannett, 283; “The Courier-Post is Formally Joined to Gannett Group,” Camden Courier-Post, 1 September 1959, 1.

175

33 Cammarota, Pavements in the Garden, 193.

34 “Girdling Philadelphia, A Golden Ring,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, August 1955, 18-19.

35 “Retail Leaders Outward Bound,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, June 1956, 66-67; “Girdling Philadelphia, A Golden Ring,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, August 1955, 19.

36 “Delaware Valley Shopping Centers: A Descriptive Analysis of 284 Shopping and Business Centers in the Philadelphia Retail Trading Area” (Philadelphia: Philadelphia Inquirer, 1959), 94-108.

37 Ibid, 50-94.

38 For coverage of Strawbridge’s suburban growth: Alfred Lief, Family Business: A Century in the Life and Times of Strawbridge and Clothier (New York: McGraw Hill, 1968), 180-187. For general coverage of Philadelphia’s postwar retail expansion: “Retail Leaders Outward Bound,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, June 1956, 66-67.

39 Lief, Family Business, 283.

40 Lief, A Family Business, 278-283; Cammarota, Pavements in the Garden, 165-167; Dyer, “Designing ‘Community’ in the Cherry Hill Mall” 267-268; “Strawbridge & Clothier Breaks Ground for N.J. Store,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 22 September 1960, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives..

41 Lief, Family Business, 283.

42 Cammarota, Pavements in the Garden, 165-167.

43 In 1960, the Courier-Post’s reported advertising rate was $.37, while the Bulletin’s was $1.50, and the Inquirer’s minimum rate was $1.20. Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1960, 165, 234.

44 Dyer, “Designing ‘Community’ in the Cherry Hill Mall,” 264. For similar coverage of Gruen’s ideas see: Cohen, A Consumer’s Republic, 261-263.

45 Quoted in Dyer, “Designing ‘Community’ in the Cherry Hill Mall,” 264, from Victor Gruen and Larry Smith, Shopping Towns USA, (Rheinhold Publishing, 1960) 23-24.

46 Quoted in Dyer, “Designing ‘Community’ in the Cherry Hill Mall,” 267, from James Rouse, “The Regional Shopping Center: Its Role in the Community It Serves,” 4, Box 201, Columbia Association Archives, Columbia, Md. 176

47 For coverage of Gruen’s architectural career and philosophies see M. Jeffrey Hardwick, Mall Maker: Victor Gruen, Architect of an American Dream (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004). For more on Rouse see Dyer, “Designing ‘Community’ in the Cherry Hill Mall,” 263-267.

48 M. Jeffrey Hardwick has argued that Gruen’s design for Southdale became the model that virtually all enclosed shopping malls in America followed. Hardwick, Mall Maker, 142-148. For quotes see: Dyer, “Designing ‘Community’ in the Cherry Hill Mall,” 265.

49 Ibid, 264-265.

50 Quote from “Cherry Hill: Retailing’s Lush Greenhouse,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, April 1963, 61.

51 Dyer, “Designing ‘Community’ in the Cherry Hill Mall,” 268; “Cherry Hill: Retailing’s Lush Greenhouse,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, April 1963, 26-35, 58- 65; “3,500 Participate in Event At $30 Million Shop Center,” Camden Courier-Post, 11 October 1961, 1-2.

52 “Largest All-Weather Shopping Center In the East Is Opened at Cherry Hill,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 11 October 1961, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

53 “84% of Store Space taken in New Cherry Hill Mall,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 6 December 1960; “Cherry Hill Store Planned by Bamberger’s of Newark,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 16 March 1961. Both articles from Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. See also “Bamberger’s Chain Plans $7 Million Store at Cherry Hill Center,” Camden Courier-Post, 17 March 1961, 1-2.

54 Strawbridge & Clothier advertisement, Camden Courier-Post, 4 October 1961, 56.

55 Ibid.

56 Cherry Hill Mall Advertisement, Camden Courier-Post, 5 October 1961, 30.

57 Strawbridge & Clothier advertisement, Camden Courier-Post, 9 October 1961, 5.

58 Cherry Hill Mall advertisement, Camden Courier-Post, 9 October 1961, 32.

59 “75 Stores To Open on Wednesday,” Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1961, 2a, 33a.

60 Ibid.

177

61 “Variety Sets Keynote at Cherry Hill,” Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1961, 2a, 33a.

62 “Beautiful Gardens Enhance Center Malls,” Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1961, 32a. For the aviary see, “Exotic Birds Imported to Beautify Center,” Camden Courier- Post, 10 October 1961, 28a.

63 “Strawbridge & Clothier Opens Largest Branch,” Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1961, 2a.

64 “Strawbridge & Clothier Opens Largest Branch,” Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1961, 2a; “Ritz Center is Camera Headquarters,” Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1961, 33a; “Kresge’s Co. Prominent at Center,” Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1961, 16a; “Bamberger’s Will Bring Traditional Service to Cherry Hill Center,” Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1961, 34a; “Food Fair Store is Company’s 99th in New Jersey,” Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1961.

65 “75 Stores To Open on Wednesday,” Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1961, 2a.

66 “Community Hall Will Seat 400,” Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1961, 10a.

67 “75 Stores To Open on Wednesday,” Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1961, 33a.

68 Ibid.

69 “Strawbridge & Clothier Opens Largest Branch,” Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1961, 2a

70 “Bamberger’s Will Bring Traditional Service to Cherry Hill Center,” Camden Courier- Post, 10 October 1961, 34a.

71 Lief, Family Business, 285; Dyer, “Designing ‘Community’ in the Cherry Hill Mall,” 268.

72 “Largest All-Weather Shopping Center In the East Is Opened at Cherry Hill,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 11 October 1961, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

73 Stephanie Dyer, “Designing Community in the Cherry Hill Mall,” 268.

74 Ibid.

75 “C-P Dinner Attended by 500 Workers,” Camden Courier-Post, 5 February 1962, Cherry Hill Collection, Cherry Hill Public Library, Cherry Hill, New Jersey.

178

76 Courier-Post advertisement, Camden Courier-Post, 10 October 1962, 56.

77 Ibid.

78 Both Stephanie Dyer and Ann Marie Cammarota dispute the idea that the mall was a factor in the township’s name change. They point to Delaware Township officials’ desire to alter the name as early as 1957, before the mall’s planning had begun, and the fact that Eugene Mori’s Cherry Hill section of the community was already the township’s most known entity. However, the public referendum that enacted the change came less than a month after the mall’s opening, and at that point it was the most publicized part of the community. It is highly unlikely that excitement over the mall did not play some part in the resident’s choice of Cherry Hill as their new municipal name. See Dyer, “Designing ‘Community’ in the Cherry Hill Mall,” 270; Cammarota, Pavements in the Garden, 190.

79 John A. Healey, “Industry Finds Camden County Ideal for Plant,” in “Industry Changing Face of County, 100 New and Expanded Industries Since 1961,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 23, 1963, 2.

80 “5 Pop Concerts Scheduled at Cherry Hill Mall,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 11 July 1962; “Pops Concert Set At Cherry Hill Mall,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 11 July 1963; “Free Concerts to Start At Cherry Hill Mall,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 28 June 1964; “First ‘Pop’ Concert At Mall Tonight,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 6 July 1965; “Concert Series Set For Cherry Hill Mall,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 10 July 1966; “Concert Series to Start At Cherry Hill Mall,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 15 July 1968; “Boat Show Opens at Cherry Hill Center,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 26 January 1962; “Cherry Hill Mall Has Ice Show,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 18 August 1963; “Flower Show Opens At Cherry Hill Mall,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 7 March 1963; “Fall Flower Show to Open At Cherry Hill,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 12 November 1963; “Flower Lecture Slated At Mall,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 29 October 1964; “Autos on Display,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 29 October 1963; “Cherry Hill Mall To Display Sports Cars,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 17 January 1965; “Miss Camden County Pageant at Mall,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 7 February 1965; “Kiddie Show Planned At Cherry Hill Mall, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 17 June 1965; “’MacDonald’s Farm’ Set Up At Mall,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 8 April 1965; Freddie Boyle, “Shop Centers Spending Thousands to Entertain Customers Constantly,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 27 August 1964. All above articles from Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. See also: “Cherry Hill: Retailing’s Lush Greenhouse,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, April 1963, 65.

81 Ibid.

82 These types of inserts generally ran at least once or twice a week during the early 1960s. For a representative sampling see: Lit Brothers sale insert, Camden Courier- 179

Post, October 22, 1963; Lit Brother’s sale insert, Camden Courier-Post, November 12, 1963; Bamberger’s sale insert, Camden Courier-Post, November 14, 1963; Lit Brother’s anniversary sale insert, Camden Courier-Post, September 22, 1964.

83 Camden County, New Jersey advertisement sponsored by the Public Service Electric and Gas, Co., “Industry Changing Face of County, 100 New and Expanded Industries Since 1961,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 23, 1963, 6.

84 Alfred R. Pierce, “Mayor Says Camden Is City on Go,” in “Industry Changing Face of County, 100 New and Expanded Industries Since 1961”, Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 23, 1963, 4; Harry W. Young, “Industrial Development Is Seen ‘Everybody’s Business,’” “Industry Changing Face of County, 100 New and Expanded Industries Since 1961,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 23, 1963, 4; Barton E. Harrison, “Cherry Hill Shows Phenomenal Gains,” “Industry Changing Face of County, 100 New and Expanded Industries Since 1961,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 23, 1963, 6.

85 Alfred R. Pierce, “Mayor Says Camden Is City on the Go,” in “Industry Changing Face of County, 100 New and Expanded Industries Since 1961,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 23, 1963, 4.

86 “Camden Has It!” advertisement, in “Industry Changing Face of County, 100 New and Expanded Industries Since 1961,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 23, 1963, 5.

87 See Barton E. Harrison, “Cherry Hill Shows Phenomenal Gains,” and “You’re in Good Company When You Locate in Cherry Hill,” advertisement, in “Industry Changing Face of County, 100 New and Expanded Industries Since 1961,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 23, 1963, 6, 7.

88 Woolworth’s sale advertisement, Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, January 25, 1962, 5.

89 1962 Cherry Hill Mall boat show supplemental insert cover, Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, January 25, 1962, 1.

90 “Cherry Hill Offers Colorful Boat Show,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, January 25, 1962, 2

91 Cherry Hill Mall boat show advertisement, Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, January 25, 1962, 16.

92 Ibid.

180

93“It’s Christmas At The Cherry Hill Mall,” supplemental insert cover, Camden Courier- Post supplemental insert, December 3, 1963, 1.

94 Ibid.

95 “Mall Stores Have Many Rare Gifts,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, December 3, 1963, 3.

96 “Christmas Village is Mall Spectacle,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, December 3, 1963, 5.

97 Ibid.

98 Cherry Hill Mall advertisement, Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, December 3, 1963, 32.

99 “Mall Merchants Plan 2nd Annual Boat Show,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, January 8, 1963, 2; “Favorite English Vehicles Exhibited at Mall Car Show,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, January 23, 1964, 3; “Mall to Combine Autos, Fashions in 6-Day Show,” and “‘Jolly Jungle Safari’ New attraction For Children at Mall Wonderworld,“ Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, January 5, 1966, 2, 4.

100 “Auditorium is Popular For Meetings of Clubs,” “Cherry Hill Bootery Sells Shoes That Fit; Prescriptions Followed,” & “Strawbridge Store Forms Organ Club,” all in Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, January 23, 1963, 5, 6, 10; “Auditorium Ready for Use at S&C,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, January 5, 1966, 11.

101 “Mall is Now Called New Downtown,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, January 8, 1963, 19. For general coverage, see Cherry Hill Days supplemental inserts in the Camden Courier-Post, for January 8, 1963, January 23, 1964, and January 5, 1966.

102 For detailed coverage of each anniversary celebration see Courier-Post inserts for each event: First anniversary “Luau” supplemental insert, Camden Courier-Post, October 9, 1962; Second anniversary “Oriental Festival” supplemental insert, Camden Courier-Post, October 8, 1963; Third anniversary “Gala Mexican Fiesta” supplemental insert, Camden Courier-Post, October 14, 1964; Fourth anniversary “Luau” supplemental insert, Camden Courier-Post, October 7, 1965; Fifth anniversary “Italian Festival,” supplemental insert, Camden Courier-Post, October 10, 1966.

103 Cherry Hill Mall first anniversary supplemental insert cover, Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 9, 1962, 1.

104 “Oriental Festival Colorful,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 8, 1963, 3.

181

105 “Mexico Charm, Spirit Captured in Mall Celebration,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 14, 1964, 2; “Mall is Transformed To Hawaiian Village,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 7, 1965, 4.

106 “Oriental Festival Colorful,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 8, 1963, 2.

107 “Mexico Charm, Spirit Captured in Mall Celebration,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 14, 1964, 2.

108 “Pineapple’s Troupe Featured at Mall Fete,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 7, 1965, 2; “Mall is Transformed To Hawaiian Village,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 7, 1965, 4.

109 Each festival included a travel contest. For quote: “Couple Can Win ‘Dream Holiday,’” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 8, 1963, 6.

110 Cherry Hill Mall advertisement, Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 8, 1963, 32.

111 Cherry Hill Mall advertisement, Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 14, 1964, 20.

112 “Accolades Earned at Cherry Hill,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 9, 1962, 2.

113 “Cherry Hill Mall Hailed,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 8, 1963, 9. For similar articles in later anniversary inserts see: “Community Center Remodeled at Mall,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 14, 1964, 12; “Merchants of Mall Organized Five Years,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 11, 1966, 19.

114 The supplements were littered with articles fitting this mold. For a representative sampling see: “S&C Places Emphasis on Fashion,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 8, 1963, 29; “Charm Class is Popular With Girls,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 8, 1963, 30; “Beauty Queen Trained At Teen Classes on Mall,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 7, 1965, 22; “Course in Beauty, Grooming Offered at Bamberger Store,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert October 14, 1964, 15.

115 “7.5 Million Persons Visit Mall in One Year,” Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 7, 1965, 12.

116 Dyer, “Designing ‘Community’ in the Cherry Hill Mall,” 271.

182

117 Ibid, 270.

118 Lief, Family Business, 291-315.

119 Dorwart, Camden County, New Jersey, 168.

120 Cammarota, Pavements in the Garden, 166-167.

121 Echelon Mall ad, Camden Courier-Post, 28 September 1970, 14

122 Strawbridge and Clothier advertisement, Camden Courier-Post, 28 September 1970, 38.

123 “Strawbridge & Clothier’s 9th Store in ‘Mini-City,” “Rouse Firm’s Master Plan Needed 3 years to Finish,” “Lit Brothers Will Open 12th Store at Echelon,” and “Urban Unit Idea Behind New Mall,” Camden Courier-Post, 29 September 1970, B1, B3.

124 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1961, 164; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1971, 155.

125 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1961, 234; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1971, 218.

126 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1961, 164; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1971, 155.

127 Courier-Post advertisement, Camden Courier-Post supplemental insert, October 11, 1966, 15.

128 Ibid.

129 “Gannett Company Purchases 10 Suburban Group Weeklies,” The Jersey Publisher, June 1966, 5.

130 “Initial Offering of Gannett Sold,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 25 October 1967, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

CHAPTER 4 COVERING THE SUBURBS IN A CHANGING NEWSPAPER MARKET

In late January, 1962, newspaper executives, journalists, and scholars from across the nation gathered in Chicago for the Suburban Press Foundation’s second annual conference. Speaking there, Dr. Curtis D. MacDougal, professor of Journalism at

Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism, called suburban newspapers the

“fastest growing journalistic form,” and Dr. Charles L. Allen, Director of the School of

Journalism and Communications at Oklahoma State University, commented that suburban papers had the opportunity to become “America’s most dynamic communications medium.”1 In another session, Professor William Dulaney of Penn State

University described suburban newspapers as “the only medium capable of digging in on a substantial basis and telling suburban residents what was happening in their community and how it affected them.”2 He claimed that for approximately thirteen million American households there was “absolutely no substitute for the suburban paper.”3

However, while much of the conference was devoted to suburban newspapers’ newfound importance, one conference subtheme focused on the ways that urban papers could expand into the suburbs as well. Derick Daniels, city editor of Detroit’s Free

Press, directly addressed this topic in his presentation. Daniels admitted that America’s urban newspapers could not “beat” the suburban papers at covering local government and community functions in detail, but he also argued that they could “fight” for and gain a place in the suburbs by breaking down “municipal barriers” and establishing the idea that suburbanites were part of a “greater family” within each metropolitan area.4 Urban 184 newspaper editors and publishers may have “missed the boat the suburban editors caught” during the fifties, but they were determined to close the suburban gap and regain their market share during the sixties.5

The Suburban Press Foundation conference and the comments made there reveal a great deal about the state of the American newspaper industry in the early 1960s. The

Foundation’s success in bringing together executives and academics from across the country was an indication that suburban newspapers had collectively emerged as a major force in America’s national newspaper market and, like suburban subdivisions and shopping centers, had carved out a permanent niche in American society. As important, however, were Daniels’ comments, which revealed that urban newspaper executives’ were acutely aware of the suburban presses’ emergence and the importance of establishing their own presence in the suburbs.

Historians and scholars have overlooked the ways in which America’s urban newspaper executives attempted to stay abreast of the changing newspaper market and counter the suburban papers’ growth during the 1950s and 1960s. This has largely been because they have not counted competition from suburban newspapers among the most significant problems besetting big city dailies during the postwar era. Scholars such as

David R. Davies and Peter Benjaminson have argued that structural changes, including increased labor and newsprint costs, competition from television for national advertising, and changing commuter patterns, created the largest issues for America’s urban dailies, not competition from suburban papers.6 Accordingly, neither Davies nor Benjaminson detailed what urban newspaper executives understood about the suburban presses’ impact on the changing market during the 1950s and 1960s or how they used this information. 185

Hal Lister’s The Suburban Press: A Separate Journalism did examine urban newspaper executives’ attempts to compete with the suburban papers via special suburban-zoned editions, but it did not place these maneuvers within a larger context or explain why they ultimately did not work.7 As a result, the extant historiography has inaccurately framed urban newspaper executives as complacent, misinformed, and misguided.

Urban newspaper executives recognized the suburban papers’ growth and actively attempted to counter it during the sixties. In Philadelphia, executives at the Evening

Bulletin commissioned numerous demographic and readership studies of the fourteen- county region that revealed which of the city’s suburban counties were gaining the most population, which were seeing the most commercial and economic growth, and, more specifically, which residents read their paper on a daily basis. The reports showed that the exodus of working- and middle-class whites from the city to the suburbs correlated directly with the Bulletin’s sagging circulation figures. In an attempt to ensure the

Evening Bulletin’s continued financial success, Robert McLean authorized a multifaceted diversification plan that included acquiring numerous suburban papers operating in the region. However, the Justice Department’s anti-trust division halted this move on the grounds that the acquisitions violated the FCC’s “multiple voice” policy. The decision severely hindered the Bulletin’s attempts to enter the suburbs and forced Bulletin executives to rely on the paper’s four semi-weekly suburban-zoned editions as the primary vehicles for competing in the suburbs. Unfortunately, covering all of the region’s suburban communities effectively from Philadelphia was expensive, inefficient, and near impossible to do well, and as a result, the zoned editions were short, shallow, and largely ineffective. 186

The expansion of televised news programs from fifteen to thirty minutes and the emergence of a twenty-four-hour AM news radio station (KYW) in the region further hindered the Bulletin’s attempts to establish a strong presence in the region’s suburbs.

During the sixties, the broadcast news outlets emerged as suburbanites’ primary source for the regional, national, and international news that previously had been the Bulletin’s purview. Combined, the suburban dailies’ and broadcast media significantly reduced suburbanites’ need for the Bulletin, as they could listen to the radio during their commutes or watch the evening news after arriving home.

In the midst of this crisis, Bulletin executives worked to modernize the paper and make it more appealing to suburbanites and city residents alike. They authorized more interpretive and investigative journalism at the paper, so as to provide suburbanites with news stories that they could not get in their local dailies or through the broadcast news.

The executives also attempted to attract African-American readers by hiring several black reporters. However, Robert McLean’s unwillingness to make a full break from the

Bulletin’s traditional approach limited each initiative’s effectiveness. By the late 1960s, the Bulletin had not significantly expanded its presence in Philadelphia’s suburbs nor had it attracted a large minority readership. Accordingly, the paper’s circulation and advertising revenues declined sharply.

Bulletin executives understood the importance of breaking into the region’s lucrative suburban markets and moved to do so during the 1960s. However, despite their varied attempts, the executives were unable overcome the forced closing of the Bulletin’s suburban operations and failed to alter the paper’s make-up and image enough to attract suburban readers. By the end of the decade the paper was hemorrhaging profits. Like 187 many other urban dailies across the nation, the Evening Bulletin staggered into the 1970s in an economically vulnerable state and with no guarantee that it would be able to survive the decade to come.

By the early sixties, suburban daily newspapers had emerged as significant players in virtually every major metropolitan newspaper market in America. The

Levittown Times’, Bristol Daily Courier’s, and Camden Courier-Post’s dramatic circulation and advertising gains were in line with those of suburban dailies in other metropolitan markets and part of a larger national trend that did not go unnoticed by the nation’s print media. Mass magazines, trade publications, and academic journals heralded suburban newspapers as an important new part of the news media and discussed their impact on the nation’s urban dailies. In 1959, two brief Newsweek articles highlighted the growth of suburban newspapers outside Detroit, New York, Los Angeles, and Washington D.C. One highlighted L.A. Times publisher Norman Chandler’s assessment that “metropolitan papers can’t compete with them [suburban newspapers] for local news. We’ve tried it and it doesn’t work.”8 Between January and March, 1962, the trade magazine Editor & Publisher printed a series of articles that documented the suburban newspapers’ growth and examined suburban journalism’s increasing influence.9

One of these stories reported on Dow Jones Co. president Bernard Kilgore’s position that suburban newspapers represented the best opportunity for young journalists breaking into the industry and his estimation that “the big brassy metropolitan newspaper,” had “all but come to the end of its era.”10 In 1963, the Columbia Journalism Review highlighted

Kenneth Byerly’s findings that suburban newspapers (dailies, tri-weeklies, bi-weeklies, 188 and weeklies) in America’s ten largest metropolitan areas gained 8,500,000 readers between 1945 and 1962 while their urban counterparts only gained 304,000 during the same period.11

These publications clearly presented the suburban papers as a prominent new force in print journalism, but they only hinted at the impact that the suburban dailies were having on America’s newspaper market. Byerly’s study analyzing the performance of urban and suburban dailies in America’s twenty-one most populous metropolitan regions between 1950 and 1968 later revealed the full extent of the suburban papers’ gains during the 1950s. His research showed that suburban dailies operating in these areas increased their collective circulation by 27 percent (from 6,284,933 to 8,012,374) and their percentage of the nation’s total circulation from 21.1 percent to 26 percent between 1950 and 1960. 12 Urban dailies’ operating in the same metropolitan areas suffered a 667,714, or 2.8 percent, decrease in circulation and saw their percentage of the nation’s total newspaper circulation drop from 78.9 percent to 74 percent.13 These market transitions impacted the number of daily newspapers operating in America’s major metropolitan areas, as the number of suburban dailies in these regions increased slightly from 305 to

308 and the number of urban dailies declined from seventy-nine to sixty-nine.14 The changes hit evening metropolitan dailies hardest, as these papers saw their percent of the total evening circulation drop from 67.3 percent to 60.8 percent and their numbers dwindle from forty-five to thirty-seven.15

Despite these statistics, Byerly did not conclude that the suburban papers constituted a threat to the metropolitan dailies’ long-term financial wellbeing. He, in fact, argued just the opposite, stating “the decline in total metro circulation is due primarily to 189 the folding or merger” of some “weaker” daily papers in a few concentrated cities, not competition from the suburban papers.16 Byerly based his argument on statistics revealing that, in most metropolitan areas, climbing suburban daily newspaper circulations did not bring with them a concomitant decrease in the urban papers’ cumulative circulations between 1950 and 1960. Byerly’s research showed that while suburban papers’ circulations increased in every metropolitan area in America with a population exceeding one million during the decade, save Minneapolis-St. Paul, only

New York, Chicago, Boston, Pittsburgh, St. Louis, Cleveland, Cincinnati, and Kansas

City’s urban papers experienced a collective drop in their circulations.17 In five of these eight cities, newspaper closings accounted for most of the circulation losses. Chicago,

Pittsburgh, and Kansas City, MO, were the only major cities in America to see declining daily newspaper circulation without experiencing a newspaper closing during the 1950s.18

It was more common for urban areas’ cumulative newspaper circulations to increase rather than decrease during the fifties, as the combined circulations of dailies in cities like

Los Angeles, San Francisco, Detroit, Milwaukee, Seattle, Atlanta, and Philadelphia all increased during the decade.19

These types of statistics presented urban newspaper executives with a contradictory image of the national newspaper market at the outset of the 1960s. They clearly revealed the suburban dailies’ substantial growth during the fifties and provided no indication that that growth would slow during the sixties. They also showed the suburbs as lucrative markets worth establishing or expanding their presence in. However, the broad statistics did not present suburban dailies as a threat to the urban papers’ future growth. As a result, urban newspaper executives developed differing attitudes regarding 190 the suburban dailies and how to best increase their papers’ share of the suburban markets.

Many executives agreed with Derick Daniels’ assessment that urban and suburban papers could both prosper in the suburban “jungle,” so long as each realized their “limitations” and exploited their “strengths.”20 Otis Chandler’s unsuccessful attempts to conquer Los

Angeles’ suburbs with weekly suburban editions of the L.A. Times and daily zoned editions of the Los Angeles Mirror revealed that effectively covering every suburban community from an urban center was virtually impossible. 21 As a result, many urban editors and publishers came to the idea that they could cede coverage of local news to the suburban dailies and still establish their papers as an “indispensable” part of life in the suburbs by refining and improving their own operations and by giving suburban readers the types of information that they could not get from the local dailies.22 After all, in these years before televised broadcast news’ predominance, suburbanites’ still needed in-depth coverage of the regional, national, and international events that the urban papers’ were still the best, and sometimes only, sources for. To the executives who followed this line of thought, it mattered little whether suburbanites turned to the suburban papers for local news first, so long as long as they found reason to pick up an urban daily as well.

Robert McLean understood the importance of establishing a presence in the suburbs better than anyone, since several Bulletin-commissioned studies of the

Philadelphia metropolitan area provided him with a clear picture of the changing market.

Among these were two surveys measuring the newspaper reading characteristics of

“influential business executives and advertising agency executives” living in the region, a

1957 study comparing the Bulletin and Inquirer’s “adult readership,” and the paper’s annual circulation reports.23 The studies provided Bulletin executives with information 191 regarding who was reading the paper, where they read it, and for how long, which they could then use when marketing the paper to advertisers. For example, the Bulletin’s 1957

“Member of the Family” survey revealed that the paper’s 413,436 circulation within the

City of Philadelphia, equated to 837,000 adult readers, 462,000 of which read the Bulletin exclusively.24 Of these exclusive readers 201,000 were male and 261,000 were female.25

The survey broke the paper’s suburban readership down in a similar fashion and showed that the Bulletin’s 239,162 circulation in metropolitan Philadelphia’s seven suburban counties represented 35 percent of its total circulation in the larger fourteen-county region.26 The paper’s 1955 report on the readership characteristics of executives living in the Philadelphia metro area revealed that the majority of business executives polled lived in the suburbs and spent more than thirty minutes reading the Bulletin in their homes every day.27 In addition to their intended use as marketing tools, the surveys revealed that suburbanites constituted a significant part of the Evening Bulletin’s readership by 1957.

The paper’s annual circulation reports provided Robert McLean and Bulletin executives with further evidence of the suburban markets’ importance. The reports showed that the Evening Bulletin lost circulation during the 1950s, dropping from a high of 720,331 to 705,503.28 In addition to the broad circulation figures, the reports charted the number of households in every municipality in the metropolitan region with a population over 1,000 and the Bulletin’s circulation in each locale.29 They indicated that the paper’s circulation trends directly correlated with the exodus of city residents to the suburbs and revealed that the Bulletin’s circulation within the Philadelphia city zone, which also included Camden and parts of Delaware County bordering the city, dropped at a substantial rate during the 1950s, declining from 486,059 in 1949 to 465,587 in 1954 192 and 444,592 in 1959.30 In contrast, the Bulletin’s circulation in Philadelphia’s seven surrounding counties rose by 36,715 between 1956 and 1959, increasing from 168,282 to

204,997.31 Here, the Bulletin’s circulation gains in the suburbs almost completely offset the losses it sustained within the city. Without its suburban readers, the 1950s would have been catastrophic for the Bulletin.

The surveys and circulation reports gave Robert McLean and Bulletin executives a much more in-depth view of the Philadelphia newspaper market than that which was presented in Kenneth Byerly’s study, and at an earlier date. Whereas Byerly’s study showed that Philadelphia’s urban and suburban dailies increased their cumulative circulations during the 1950s and implied that the urban papers were holding their own in a changing market, McLean’s circulation reports revealed that the Bulletin was losing ground. Later Bulletin research reports showed these connections more dramatically.

They revealed that the 1960 U.S. census report showing Philadelphia’s population decline at a marginal 3.3 percent between 1950 and 1960 obscured the fact that a much larger percent of percent of the city’s white working- and middle-class residents (-

225,158 people, -13.3 percent) left the city and were replaced by an influx of African

Americans and other minorities (+156,065 people, +41.2 percent) who, by and large, read the tabloid Daily News, not the Bulletin.32 Indeed, as whites abandoned the city and the

Bulletin lost circulation in the city zone during the 1950s, the Daily News reaped the benefits of the city’s surging minority population and gained 64,320 readers between

1950 and 1959.33

With its core readership leaving the city and the new residents choosing a rival paper, McLean realized earlier than most urban newspaper executives that securing and 193 maintaining a strong presence in the suburbs was critical to the paper’s future financial success, as a high suburban circulation would keep advertisers happy and bring in additional revenues. As a result, Bulletin salesmen marketed the paper’s growth in the suburbs to advertisers in a booklet entitled “The ABC of Daily Newspaper Circulation in the Suburbs of Philadelphia” in the early 1960s. The booklet charted the Evening

Bulletin’s circulation growth in the city’s seven suburban counties between 1950 and

1959 and showed that the Bulletin’s suburban circulation grew by 28 percent (53,685), more than doubling the Inquirer’s pedestrian 24,957 increase during the decade.34

Despite the Bulletin’s suburban gains, McLean understood that further expanding the paper’s place in the region’s suburbs during the 1960s would be easier said than done.

McLean’s experience in trying to establish the Evening Bulletin’s presence in Levittown

(PA), led him and other Bulletin executives to believe that suburbanites were unlikely to accept it as their primary newspaper when they could instead turn to a locally published daily that more accurately reflected the community’s tenor. Robert Taylor, whom

McLean promoted to Bulletin president in 1959 and publisher in 1964, later claimed that

Bulletin executives knew by 1954 that the paper “could not compete head to head with the evening Levittown Times in Levittown.”35 Taylor noted, “continuing readership surveys showed us unmistakably that newspaper readers, whether continuing with the

Bulletin or not, preferred local news” and explained, “this meant that the Bulletin became the 2nd paper to the local evening paper” in most suburban homes.36 McLean also knew of Otis Chandler’s difficulties in L.A. and was aware of the numerous physical and cultural obstacles that made supplying every suburban community with its daily local news from the city expensive and inefficient at best and virtually impossible at worst. 194

Covering each suburban area required setting up branch offices and hiring new journalists and editors, and the afternoon deadline ensured that there would be precious little time to gather the news, write and edit the articles, develop the paper’s layout, send it to the presses, load it on the trucks, fight through traffic, and transport the copies to the suburban delivery boys with enough time for them to have the papers on suburban doorsteps by 5 p.m.

Regardless of these obstacles, Robert McLean was loath to cede coverage of local news to the suburban dailies. He knew that the Bulletin’s rise during the first half of the twentieth century was largely a result of its capacity to supply Philadelphians with their local news, and he firmly believed that in-depth coverage of local events was what tied readers to newspapers. Whereas many of his colleagues were willing to settle for second- class status in suburban homes, McLean understood that doing so was akin to handing the suburban markets over to the local dailies, since they would likely use the privileged position as the foundation for their papers’ future growth, just like his father did with the

Evening Bulletin in Philadelphia. Consequently, McLean was caught in a difficult situation at the outset of the 1960s. Ceding coverage of local news to the suburban dailies promised to strengthen their position in the regional market and create more competition for the Bulletin, yet attempting to cover the suburbs in their entirety from the city on a daily basis was not practical. As a result, McLean took a different path.

McLean began his attempts to expand the Bulletin Co.’s presence in the suburbs in 1959, when he authorized Robert Taylor to begin a multipronged diversification process that included acquiring suburban newspapers in the Philadelphia region and creating four separate semi-weekly suburban sections for the paper. Acquiring suburban 195 newspapers, both daily and weekly, constituted the Bulletin Co.’s only real shot at competing toe-to-toe with the other suburban papers as a provider of local news. Taylor and McLean believed that establishing a coterie of Bulletin-affiliated papers would allow them to maintain the Evening Bulletin’s traditional city-centric approach and significantly reduce many of the costs and growing pains associated with setting up branch offices full of new reporters and editors in the suburbs, as the new acquisitions would come with intact staffs possessing a full understanding of how to effectively cover their service areas. These publications could also feed important suburban news to the Evening

Bulletin, thereby improving the paper’s suburban coverage and freeing up its journalists and editors for work on other stories. Publishing newspapers from plants located in the suburban counties promised to reduce the logistical problems associated with producing a finished product in Philadelphia and transporting it to the suburbs as well. However, establishing a network of suburban papers in the Philadelphia area risked violating federal anti-trust regulations and increased the likelihood of labor problems, as most suburban papers were union free.

To circumvent these problems, Robert Taylor enlisted Warner R. Moore, a former

Inquirer advertising manager and New York Herald Tribune business manager, to establish a “non-public (confidential) Bulletin enterprise” with “the aim of finding ways through acquisition to strengthen the Bulletin in the suburbs.”37 The “enterprise” that resulted was called Warner R. Moore Associates, and its “first step” entailed establishing a new “association” with William E. (Bill) Strasburg, owner of the Montgomery

Publishing Company, which published several suburban Montgomery County weeklies, including the Ambler Gazette, Hatboro Public Spirit, and Oreland Sun.38 As Taylor 196 explained in his memoir, “the plan was to establish a network of weeklies surrounding

Philadelphia in the eight-county Retail Trade Zone,” some of which could then be turned into dailies, and all of which were “non-union operations that did not have to be composed and printed in the Bulletin plant” and could be “sold to advertisers on top of or in combination with The Bulletin.”39 In the ensuing five years (1959-1964), the Moore-

Strasburg association acquired several weeklies in Pennsylvania for the Bulletin, including the Jenkintown Times Dispatch, Glenside News, Willow Grove Guide,

Huntingdon Valley Globe, Warminster Spirit, Southampton Spirit, Feisterville Spirit,

Montgomeryville Spirit, Montgomery Post, and twelve more in southern New Jersey.40

The second part of Taylor’s plan to expand the Bulletin’s presence in the suburbs involved developing four distinct suburban sections for inclusion in the paper’s Thursday and Sunday editions. Work on the sections began near the same time that the paper formed Warner R. Moore. The existing historiography has presented the zoned editions as part of a larger national trend among urban dailies and as evidence of the Bulletin’s misguided attempts to compete with the suburban papers. However, considering the paper’s attempts to establish a separate ring of suburban newspapers, it seems inconceivable that this was Taylor’s original intent.41 The sections likely were modeled on the L.A. Times’ pioneering regional weekly suburban sections and, to some extent, the

Sunday Inquirer’s dedicated New Jersey section. Though they were much smaller than those run in the Times, the Bulletin’s new sections were intended to increase circulation and advertising revenues by providing suburban readers with a survey of their zone’s news and by providing advertising space for local and regional retailers that could be purchased at discounted rates or packaged with additional space in the larger paper. They 197 were not intended to provide detailed coverage of each suburban community nor were they designed to compete directly with the suburban dailies for local news. That was the new acquisitions’ job. Rather, the zoned editions were designed to help the Evening

Bulletin compete with the Inquirer for the second spot in the suburbs.

Between January, 1963, and February, 1964, the Bulletin rolled out its four suburban-zoned editions. The first of these targeted the South Jersey portion of the metro area and was a direct attempt to recoup some of the advertising lost when the Cherry Hill

Mall opened. The Bulletin’s “Suburban West” edition targeted the Main Line in

Montgomery County and also served Chester and Delaware Counties. Its “Suburban

North” edition served Eastern Montgomery County and Upper Bucks County. The

“Suburban Northeast” edition served Lower Bucks County and Northeast Philadelphia.42

Since the suburban sections were designed to inform suburbanites within each zone of some of the happenings in their surrounding communities, each presented suburban news broadly and topically. Their front pages frequently featured one story of regional interest mixed amongst a random array of stories on local and regional politics, police activity, and public schools from locales with seemingly little in common. The front page of the

January 6, 1963 “New Jersey News” section of the Sunday Bulletin included a feature story detailing the increasing number of airports popping up across South Jersey and several disparate articles from opposite ends of the suburban zone, including “Police

Escapee is Recaptured in Mt. Laurel” (Moorestown), “Gloucester City Boy is Bitten by

Pet Dog” (Gloucester City), and “Three Men, Cat Spend 8th Day in ‘Ice Trap’” (Long

Beach Island).43 Of critical import, these stories certainly were not. 198

The suburban sections were also designed to attract local and regional advertising to the Bulletin to help it compete with the suburban dailies and offset the losses stemming from center city Philadelphia’s declining retail core, the rise of suburban shopping centers, and television’s emergence as the primary medium for national advertisements.

McLean and Taylor envisioned that the zoned sections would draw advertising from the department stores and retailers setting up shop in the malls and shopping centers under construction throughout the area. Their plan was to offer cheaper advertising space in the zoned additions for smaller retailers and package rates that included space in the larger

Bulletin for department stores and national chains. To do this, the Bulletin used the suburban sections as a means of marketing itself as the “Home Town Paper For 370

Home Towns” in southern New Jersey and as the “Home Town Paper for 180 Home

Towns,” in the Suburban West zone.44 It appears that the campaign worked, initially.

Department stores such as Bamberger’s and J.M. Fields each frequently ran multiple pages of advertising in the Thursday and Sunday New Jersey sections.45

By 1964, Taylor’s plans for expanding the Bulletin’s presence in the suburbs were paying dividends. Warner R. Moore Associates’ acquisitions were making Bill

Strasburg’s Montgomery Publishing Co., and through it, the Evening Bulletin, “stronger” in Montgomery and Chester Counties and making a “future expansion” in Delaware

County and New Jersey “likely.”46 After suffering stagnating advertising revenues that dipped below $500,000 between 1960 and 1962, the Bulletin’s ad revenues increased to more than a million in 1963 and climbed above $3 million in 1964.47 Further, the

Bulletin’s circulation, which had dropped from 707,406 in 1958 to 695,830 in 1960, rose 199 to 718,173 in 1962 and 718,167 in 1964, its high-water marks for the decade.48 It appeared that the paper was back on track.

However, the promise of the Bulletin’s two-pronged suburban operation was short-lived. In 1964, federal anti-trust officials stepped in and abruptly stopped the program “in its tracks.”49 The federal government ruled that the Bulletin’s attempts to establish a “network” of suburban papers violated the Federal Communications

Commission’s (FCC) “multiple voice” policy and represented an attempt to establish an illegal concentration of newspaper holdings in one metropolitan area.50 In levying its decision, the government forced Warner R. Moore Associates’ closure and ordered

Taylor and McLean to cease acquiring newspaper properties in the eight-county

Philadelphia metro area. Taylor later argued that he and McLean believed that they could

“make acquisitions or connections with suburban weeklies or dailies that the government could not object to,” because it had allowed Walter Annenberg’s purchase of the Daily

News in 1957, Gannett’s purchase of the Camden Courier-Post in 1959, and S.W.

Calkins’ establishment of a new Levittown Times (later renamed the Burlington County

Times) in Burlington County, New Jersey in 1958.51 He called the Bulletin’s attempt to establish a “suburban ring” a “countermove” to these market changes, which it in part was.52 However, none of the earlier moves provided Annenberg, Gannett, or Calkins with a monopoly extending across the metro area, and the establishment of a

“confidential” company for the sole purpose of acquiring competing papers in the same metropolitan region seemed to be a clear attempt to skirt federal anti-trust laws.

Fair or not, the federal government’s ruling ended any prospects McLean and

Taylor had for establishing the Bulletin Co. as suburbanites’ primary source of local news 200 and forced them to rely much more heavily on the zoned editions as a means of attracting suburban readers. This was an unenviable and difficult task to be sure, as the suburban sections were not originally designed to compete with the suburban dailies. Without its coterie of suburban papers to offset some of the costs and logistical problems, the strains that producing the zoned editions put on the paper increased significantly. Eliminating the Bulletin’s suburban network all but ended the paper’s capacity to offer advertisers multi-paper package rates in the suburbs, thereby making it much more difficult to generate the higher advertising revenues needed to offset the costs of establishing new suburban bureaus and producing the suburban sections. The decision also increased the costs affiliated with starting the suburban bureaus, as there were no suburban affiliates to augment the Bulletin’s coverage and feed it stories. Instead, McLean and Taylor had to hire more journalists and editors to get the same amount of news, which, in the end, could not compare to that produced by the suburban dailies. Further, losing access to the suburban newspaper plants eliminated any production flexibility that could have helped ease the difficulty of delivering the Evening Bulletin to suburban readers in a timely manner.

The loss of its suburban network was not the only impediment hindering the

Evening Bulletin’s attempts to expand into the suburbs during the 1960s. While McLean and Taylor were attempting to build the Bulletin’s suburban operations, in September,

1963, CBS became the first television network to expand its national evening news program to thirty minutes. In doing so, the network responded to the popular demand for more coverage of important national stories like the Civil Rights Movement and the

Kennedy administration’s confrontations with Cuba and the Soviet Union. NBC 201 followed suit shortly thereafter. In later years, network affiliated local television stations across the country expanded their news programs to thirty minutes as well. 53 Prior to these changes, television programming primarily competed with the Bulletin, and other evening dailies, for national advertising and readers’ attention as an entertainment medium, not as a daily news source. Indeed, television’s percentage of national advertising jumped from 9.2 percent in 1950 to 46.9 percent in 1965, while newspapers’ cut decreased from 33.6 percent to 19.3 percent.54 However, network news programs’ vivid coverage of civil rights confrontations, the Kennedy assassination, and later, the

Vietnam War, during the 1960s established television as Americans’ primary source for national and international news.55 In the process, they helped establish local broadcast news programs as a primary source for daily regional news. Combined, the regional and national television news programs significantly lessened readers’ dependency on urban evening dailies.

Television’s emergence in the 1950s also created problems for radio stations across the country. During the decade, ABC, NBC, and CBS all shifted their attention and resources to developing entertaining and profitable programming for the new medium. Their successes combined with Americans’ rapid embrace of television forced radio stations across the country to adopt a music, news, or sports format in order to stay alive, since they too were in the process of losing a significant portion of their national advertising.56 In Philadelphia, one byproduct of this market transition was the reemergence of radio station KYW (1060, AM) as the region’s first 24-hour news station.

While the station’s new format was ultimately a response to television, it also provided one more outlet that Philadelphia area residents could turn to for news.57 202

The maturation of broadcast news, both on television and radio, during the 1960s created multiple problems for the Evening Bulletin. On one level, television’s ever- tightening grip on the national advertising market turned newspapers and radio stations into primarily local advertising mediums. In doing so, it forced newspapers and radio stations to compete for a smaller and less lucrative part of the advertising pie. More importantly, it significantly increased the amount of competition the Bulletin faced. As late as 1963, the Bulletin had served as the region’s primary source for national and international evening news. Some readers may have preferred the Inquirer’s more interpretive and demonstrative approach, but if they wanted to know what happened in the nation or world that day, they had to read the Evening Bulletin. This applied to suburban readers as well. The suburban dailies may have provided better local news, but the Evening Bulletin was their only source for in-depth coverage beyond their community. This fact is likely one of the reasons that many new suburbanites initially maintained a subscription to the Bulletin after leaving the city. However, the new broadcast news formats ended the Bulletin’s monopoly on daily national and international news and provided its readers, in the city and out, with new choices. This transition ultimately gave suburbanites little reason to maintain a subscription to the Evening

Bulletin, as the suburban dailies provided their local news, and they could get their regional, national, and international news for free by listening to the radio during their commutes or by watching TV.

Ironically, McLean could have profited from the expansion in broadcast news.

The publisher had ventured into the broadcast media during the late 1940s and early

1950s when he built the WCAU radio and television stations that he acquired from J. 203

David Stern into profitable entities. However, rather than holding on to the stations and building the Bulletin Co. into a large multi-media corporation, like Walter Annenberg’s

Triangle Publications, McLean sold both properties to NBC in 1957 for a reported $20 million.58 Looking back on the decision, Robert Taylor explained, “What looked like a good deal in 1958 did not look like a good deal 25 years later.”59

The dismantling of its suburban network and the expansion of broadcast news dealt the Evening Bulletin a devastating blow from which it never fully recovered. After climbing back above 715,000 in 1962 and 1964, the Evening Bulletin’s circulation declined precipitously. Between 1964 and 1965, the paper lost more than 35,000 subscribers.60 By 1966, it had lost another 10,000 readers.61 In 1968, the Evening

Bulletin’s circulation fell to 671,525, its lowest total since 1945.62 The Bulletin’s circulation losses slowed its advertising gains as well, as they pushed the percentage of suburban households the paper reached “down to and below the magic 50%” figure advertisers desired.63 After hitting hit $3.5 million in 1965, and in spite of the fact that the paper actually increased its share of the advertising run in Philadelphia’s three dailies, the Bulletin’s advertising revenues slipped back down and hovered around $2 million for the remainder of the sixties.64 Making matters worse, each of the Bulletin’s suburban competitors grew at a substantial rate during the same period. Among these, the Camden

Courier-Post’s circulation jumped from 77,331 to 115,825 between 1960 and 1970, while the combined circulation of the Bristol Daily Courier and Levittown Times, which were merged and renamed the Bucks County Courier-Times in the mid-sixties, increased from

33,279 to 51,850, and the Burlington County Times’ circulation rose from 7,500 to

21,633.65 204

Despite these setbacks, McLean, Taylor, and other Bulletin executives continued looking for ways to strengthen the paper in the city and the suburbs and reestablish it as an indispensable part of daily life in the Philadelphia metro area. During the sixties, they worked to acquire additional media properties, attract more African-American subscribers, and develop a more interpretive and engaging style. Cautiously expanding the Bulletin Co.’s media holdings was part of Robert Taylor’s initial diversification plan.

In 1961, the company launched WPBS, an FM music station that featured “popular” daily programs such as, “Matinee Continentale,” which consisted of ten minute segments of music from different parts of the world, “Opening Night,” which played “show music,” and “Smoke Rings,” a late evening program featuring music of a “langorous [sic] nature.”66 In addition to establishing the company’s place in the burgeoning field of FM radio, the station also provided a broadcast outlet for Bulletin news and features such as

Finance Editor Joseph Newman’s five-minute “stock market round up” segment.67 Later,

Taylor pushed the Bulletin into another burgeoning media field, cable television, by entering into a partnership with Comcast in Florida and gaining a Bulletin franchise covering the eastern half of Northeast Philadelphia.68 In 1964, McLean purchased the

Santa Barbara News-Press and its radio station from Thomas M. Storke. However, that sale was made to Robert McLean as an individual buyer and on the condition that he reside in Santa Barbara for at least part of the year. To complete the purchase, McLean stepped down from his post as publisher of the Evening Bulletin and promoted Robert

Taylor to the position. Later in the sixties, Taylor also established the Bulletin Co. as a partial owner of the Nashua (NH) Telegraph.69 Unlike the earlier acquisitions, these did 205 not violate federal anti-trust laws because the papers were located outside the

Philadelphia metro area.

Taylor argued that these acquisitions helped give the Bulletin much “broader strength,” but this part of the diversification plan was hindered by Robert McLean’s cautious approach and characterized by what was not done more than what was.70 The company let its cable television franchise in northeast Philadelphia expire because of high infrastructure expenses, thereby allowing a potentially profitable venture to fall by the wayside. McLean and Taylor later missed out on an opportunity to purchase Newsweek when the Washington Post’s Phil Graham outbid them. Taylor also passed up on opportunities to acquire newspapers in Altoona (PA), New Bedford (MA), Oneida (NY),

Annapolis (MD), Alexandria (VA) and Arlington (VA), among others, because Robert

McLean was not interested in papers he considered to be of a lesser quality. Taylor later explained that “news quality” was more important to McLean than “acquiring multiple newspaper properties in small towns.”71 Yet, had McLean adopted a Gannett-like approach to expansion and established a chain of Bulletin-owned dailies in these suburban communities, some of which were among the wealthiest and fastest growing in the nation, many of his later problems may have been avoided.

Taylor also attempted to bolster the Bulletin’s sagging center city circulation figures during the 1960s by increasing its African-American readership. In his memoire,

Taylor argued that the Bulletin was the first “major” newspaper in the nation to “adopt a policy of building home delivery circulation in the depressed black and Hispanic areas where newspaper reading was not a habit,” and that hiring blacks became a “major policy” at the paper.72 In the early 1960s, the paper began running Roy Wilkins’ and 206

Whitney Young’s columns as well as articles by African-American reporters, including

Orrin Evans, Malcolm Poindexter, Joe Davidson, and Claude Lewis, formerly of the New

York Herald Tribune. Taylor claimed that, by 1969, the Bulletin was home to the “largest lineup of black columnists in the country,” and that the paper had dedicated more significant coverage to African-American issues. He cited Joseph R. Daughen’s 1966 article, “The Negro in Philadelphia,” which was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize as evidence of this shift.73 Unfortunately, these initiatives paid little dividends. By the late

1960s, the percentage of Philadelphia area African-American households maintaining a subscription to the Evening Bulletin had actually declined from a postwar high of 70 percent during the fifties to little more than 20 percent.74

Robert Taylor attributed the paper’s failure to attract a large minority readership to “gang warfare,” racial tensions, “robbings,” “muggings,” and the “hostility of blacks to newspapers.”75 However, while he was quick to lay the blame for the paper’s failure at the foot of Philadelphia’s African-American community, Taylor did not investigate how the Bulletin’s approach and content may have engendered and perpetuated the larger animosities. In 1968, the Report of the National Advisory Commission on Civil

Disorders, more commonly referred to as the Kerner Commission Report, addressed these issues in detail. The report explained that numerous poor and middle-class African

Americans distrusted large urban newspapers because of their substandard coverage of black issues and the black community. The Commission scathingly asserted that newspapers, along with the rest of the mainstream media, had not communicated “a sense of the degradation, misery, and hopelessness of living in the ghetto,” had failed to show an “understanding or appreciation,” of “Negro culture, thought, or history,” and had 207 generally covered racial issues as though blacks “were not part of the audience.”76 This type of coverage, the Commission argued, provided African Americans with little incentive to read urban dailies, like the Evening Bulletin, and ultimately “contributed to the black-white schism” engulfing the nation.77

The Kerner Commission’s findings highlighted the inherent flaws in Taylor’s approach to increasing the Bulletin’s African-American readership. Whereas Taylor seemingly thought that hiring more African-American journalists and running a few investigative articles on black life in the city would be enough to satisfy Philadelphia’s growing minority population, the Kerner Commission revealed that a much deeper and significant change in approach was necessary. This appears to be something that Taylor and other Bulletin executives were unwilling to do, as they did not run a minority- authored column in the paper until 1969, following Claude Lewis’ promotion to columnist. Prior to that, the paper’s black journalists generally covered standard newsbeats.78 Given the Bulletin’s penchant for preferring slow and gradual change to any sudden shifts, it is likely that the paper’s coverage was a primary reason that its black readership actually decreased during the decade.

Even though it ultimately failed to increase black readership, the influx of

African-American journalists was part of a larger movement to refashion the Bulletin’s stodgy image and provide readers with the type of information that they could not get from other sources. Taylor began this transition following a July, 1959, memo in which

Robert McLean urged him to “seek the most complete and searching analysis of every one of our procedures and policies,” so as to “produce a more modern product that will become more acceptable to our readers.”79 In the ensuing years, Taylor authorized the 208 expansion of the Bulletin’s bureaus in Washington D.C. and abroad, so as to rely less on the wire services, instructed managing editor Bill Dickinson to begin incorporating more investigative journalism in the paper, and supported the hiring of several “specialists” to produce interpretive stories on topics such as medicine, education, organized labor and mass transit. He also sent journalists around the world to produce stories from Thailand,

South Africa, Rhodesia, Alaska, the South Pole and the Soviet Union.80

One of the paper’s first moves in the shift toward engaging in more investigative journalism came with the promotion of Earl Selby from staffer to City Editor in 1959.

Selby pushed Bulletin reporters to engage in investigative journalism and began running their stories on graft and corruption within the city government on a regular basis.

Philadelphia Magazine later noted that “scarcely a week went by when there weren’t new revelations of persons on the take in high places” coming from the Bulletin.81 This new approach paid off in the form of the paper’s first Pulitzer Prize in 1964 for an investigative article that highlighted police involvement in a waterfront numbers racquet.

A year later, the Bulletin’s syndicated columnist Joe Livingston was awarded a Pulitzer for his series on the possibilities of trade with Eastern Europe. In 1966, Daughen’s report on African-American life in the city garnered the paper’s third Pulitzer Prize nomination in as many years.82 After years of avoiding it, the Bulletin’s forays into investigative journalism earned the paper some much-needed critical praise.

The Bulletin’s editorial shift complicates the predominant historiographical arguments detailing the mainstream press’ turn toward investigative journalism during the 1960s and 1970s. Among the many works to examine this part of journalism history,

James Aucoin’s article “The Re-Emergence of American Investigative Journalism 1960- 209

1975,” and James L. Baughman’s The Republic of Mass Culture offer perhaps the most concise versions of the two prevailing interpretations. Aucoin argues that, in the early

1960s, many journalists, editors, and publishers who were embarrassed at their role in facilitating McCarthyism and skeptical of the federal government’s handling of the early

Civil Rights Movement began engaging in more investigative journalism at the same point that a “better-educated” core of young reporters who viewed the press as an

“instrument of social change” entered the profession. 83 Aucoin also claims that these initial stirrings were further fueled by the growing social chasms that developed over the

Vietnam War and the decade’s other social movements. Baughman locates this transition in the 1970s but presents a similar argument, citing Vietnam and the Watergate scandal as the key events that prompted the mainstream press to engage in more investigative journalism.84 However, while these arguments are, no doubt, at least partially correct,

Robert McLean and Robert Taylor’s decision to engage in investigative journalism at the

Evening Bulletin was prompted by the changing regional newspaper market and their desire to supply readers with the types of stories that they could not get from their local papers or the evening news, not by a larger moral imperative to muckrake or serve as a watchdog press. As such, it is likely that changing market conditions in America’s other metropolitan areas played a central role in urban editors and publishers’ decisions to engage in investigative journalism during the 1960s and 1970s.

Taylor’s decision to push more investigative journalism at the Evening Bulletin marked a significant break with the paper’s past and brought the paper its first Pulitzer

Prizes, however, the publisher did not turn the paper into a muckraking journal.

Unfortunately, the awards and recognition did not fully alter Robert McLean’s position 210 that readers would eventually tire of the scandalous headlines or alleviate his fear that the new investigative stories risked alienating long-time Bulletin readers unaccustomed to that type of coverage. McLean did not want to change the paper too dramatically overnight, and as a result, Taylor was forced to balance the investigative pieces with traditional Bulletin coverage of the day’s events. The paper’s wavering commitment to investigative journalism was never more apparent than when it failed to cover the news that Harry Karafin, the best known muckraking journalist in Philadelphia during 1950s and 1960s, and a close acquaintance of Walter Annenberg, had subsidized a luxurious lifestyle by blackmailing individuals and companies while reporting for the Inquirer.

The story that exposed Karafin’s fraudulent and illegal activities ran in the April, 1967, edition of Philadelphia Magazine, cost the reporter his job at the Inquirer, and garnered national attention. 85 In the ensuing weeks, magazines and newspapers including Time,

Newsweek, the Saturday Evening Post, and the New York Times, Washington Post, and

Los Angeles Times all reported on the scandal.86 For its part, the Inquirer launched its own investigation of Karafin and published a ten-column story, “Inquirer Traces The

Sordid Story of One ‘Reporter,’” that explained the episode two weeks later.87 Despite the national interest and the Inquirer’s decision to air its own dirty laundry, the scandal elicited no response from the Bulletin. Indeed, it was not until after Karafin was convicted on twenty counts of extortion and blackmail that Bulletin editors saw fit to cover the story.88

The Evening Bulletin’s failure to cover the Karafin scandal, let alone break the story, generated criticisms and clearly revealed that Taylor’s attempts to alter the paper’s approach had only gone so far. In a follow-up article, Philadelphia castigated Bulletin 211 editors for running a large picture of University Pennsylvania students painting a Snoopy on a campus fence on its front page on the day the Karafin story broke and specifically called out managing editor Bill Dickinson for refusing to explain why the paper had not covered the scandal when it was, by definition, local news. The Columbia Journalism

Review questioned why a “theoretically competitive paper” did not touch the story and rhetorically wondered “Is news about newspapers still a special category?”89 Comments from Bulletin employees also made their way into the press. One of the paper’s “top reporters,” later explained that the failure to investigate and report on the Karafin scandal was the byproduct of an entrenched belief in the status quo at the Bulletin and a longstanding assumption among its employees that “we wouldn’t touch another paper.”90 He claimed, Bulletin reporters “didn’t go looking around for this kind of thing.”91

The Bulletin’s temperate embrace of investigative journalism during the mid- sixties prevented the paper from establishing itself as a primary source for muckraking stories not available in the suburban papers or on the broadcast news. Thus, it did not help attract suburban readers or offset any of the paper’s circulation losses, which increased as the decade wore on. Like the attempts to expand its newspaper holdings and attract African-American readers, Taylor’s push to alter the paper’s approach simply did not go far enough. In each case, McLean and Taylor’s desire to simultaneously enact change at the Bulletin and remain true to its traditional standards and methodologies significantly limited the scope of their initiatives. Whereas following the Gannett model of expansion would have provided the Evening Bulletin with a collection of papers located outside the Philadelphia region to help bolster its sagging circulation and advertising revenues, McLean’s lack of interest in acquiring newspapers that he 212 considered of a lesser quality severely hindered their attempts to expand the paper’s holdings. In addition, giving black journalists their own columns might have resulted in the type of interpretive coverage and commentary that actually attracted minority readers, however, the decision to restrict black reporters to covering standard news beats did little to help the paper in this area. Finally, had Taylor fully transformed the Evening Bulletin into a fiery muckraking newspaper with a penchant for breaking important stories, not ignoring them, he may have succeeded in establishing the paper as an indispensable part of daily life in the Delaware Valley’s suburbs. Instead, Philadelphia Magazine emerged as the only mainstream publication in the region willing to run hard-hitting investigative pieces on a regular basis and the Bulletin’s slide continued.

As the 1960s wore on, the Bulletin’s problems increased. In 1967, rumors abounded that famed publisher Ralph Ingersoll was on the verge of launching a large suburban daily modeled after Alicia Patterson’s Newsday in the city’s western suburbs.

Ingersoll was the figurehead of an operation that had quietly accumulated three newspaper properties in the metro area between 1961 and 1967, including the Delaware

County Daily Times, the only suburban daily serving the wealthy communities along the

Main Line, Suburban Philadelphia Newspapers, Inc., a chain of high circulation weeklies operating in Delaware and Montgomery Counties, and the Pottstown Mercury, located in western Montgomery County.92 Regardless of the whether he planned to start a new suburban daily with them, the acquisitions gave Ingersoll a strong presence in the region and added one more element to the suburban noose that was strangling the Evening

Bulletin. In 1968, the Delaware County Daily Times’ circulation stood at 47,370, up almost 8,000 readers from its 1960 figure while the Pottstown Mercury’s circulation 213 hovered near 25,000.93 Ingersoll’s suburban weeklies included the Main Line Times and the News of Delaware County, one of the nation’s largest weekly papers with a circulation of 31,000, and had an estimated cumulative circulation of 135,000.94 All told,

Ingersoll’s suburban papers rivaled S.W. Calkins’ holdings in Bucks and Burlington

Counties and Gannett’s presence in South Jersey and threatened to exact a similar toll on the Evening Bulletin’s circulation and advertising revenues.

In response to the rumors that Ingersoll intended to use his acquisitions as the foundation for a new suburban daily, Robert Taylor ordered Al Spendlove, another executive, to “cost out” a potential new morning daily edition of the Bulletin dedicated entirely to the “Suburban West” zone.95 He explained in his memoir that Ingersoll’s purchases made “‘Suburban West’ zoning” a “top priority” at the Bulletin and prompted a great deal of internal debate among the paper’s officers.96 Executives including

Circulation Manager Lou Trupin, Advertising Director, Dick Carpenter, and Managing

Editor Bill Dickson, all expressed their support for a possible new suburban daily edition of the Bulletin. Dickson commented that a new daily paper dedicated to the Suburban

West area would be “ideal.”97 Carpenter added “the threat of daily suburban newspapers in the western suburbs is sufficiently great that we should immediately study the ways and means to try and develop a Suburban West edition on a daily basis.”98 Trupin laid the situation out in starker terms, stating “We have 2 alternatives – adding another page of Suburban West News or matching their effort with a new daily by the Bulletin.” He argued, “to merely add another page will not accomplish the result we are seeking,” and that, “it is my opinion that we should meet it [Ingersoll’s competition] head on by establishing a morning daily publication.”99 214

Despite the overwhelming support for the launch of a daily suburban Bulletin, no such thing ever came about. In a memo to Robert McLean, Taylor explained that developing a new suburban daily that could be published by Bill Strasburg in the mornings and printed in the suburbs would be much cheaper than taking on all of the costs of launching a new paper themselves. Rather than significantly increasing the

Bulletin’s staff, production, and newsprint costs, Taylor authorized the addition of a daily

“Suburban West” page to the Evening Bulletin and instructed the paper’s executives and staffers to “beef-up” the existing Thursday and Sunday suburban-zoned editions.100

Unfortunately, a Strasburg-published morning daily did not appear in Philadelphia’s western suburbs until the King of Prussia Today’s Post began printing in early 1971, almost four years after the initial discussion over how to deal with Ingersoll’s papers.101

Here again, Taylor and McLean’s initiatives did not go far enough. As with the other attempts to strengthen the Bulletin in the face of the suburban competition, adding a page of suburban news and expanding the suburban editions was not enough. Had they preemptively launched a new daily suburban edition, it is possible that Taylor and

McLean may have been able to steady the Bulletin’s declining fortunes. Instead, the paper’s circulation continued to dwindle. Between 1968 and 1970, the paper lost more than 30,000 subscribers. As a whole, in excess of 77,000 readers dumped the Evening

Bulletin between 1964 and 1970, more than 10 percent of its readership.102

Perhaps the only solace available to Taylor and McLean by the late 1960s lay in the fact that the Evening Bulletin actually outperformed the Inquirer during the decade.

Despite the Bulletin’s problems, the Inquirer’s circulation had dropped at an even more precipitous rate. Indeed, the Inquirer lost 113,739 daily subscriptions between 1961 and 215

1969, 50,000 more than the Evening Bulletin.103 Regardless of the fact that both papers’ were hemorrhaging daily readers by the thousands, Taylor actually managed to drive the

Bulletin’s daily circulation lead over the Inquirer up from 77,273 to 149,568.104 Further, while Taylor was able to generate a slight increase in the Sunday Bulletin’s circulation during the sixties, the Sunday Inquirer’s readership dropped by more than 100,000.105

Despite all of its setbacks during the 1960s, the Bulletin’s dominance over the Inquirer appeared to be growing.

A significant portion of the Inquirer’s poor performance was attributable to the fact that Walter Annenberg, unlike Robert McLean, spent much of the early postwar era building the paper’s parent company, Triangle Publications, Inc., into a national multimedia conglomerate. Rather than focus on strengthening the Inquirer’s place in

Philadelphia’s regional newspaper market, Annenberg began diversifying his media holdings in 1944, when he launched Seventeen, one of the first mass fashion magazines directed at teenage girls. He followed that up by acquiring the WFIL radio station in

1947 and then applying for and receiving an FCC license for a WFIL television station in

1948. The publisher started TV Guide in early 1953 and acquired the tabloid Philadelphia

Daily News in 1957.106 By the late sixties, Annenberg had accumulated numerous print media properties, six television stations, and ten radio stations across the country.107 He held the largest concentration of media outlets in one metropolitan area in Philadelphia and had established himself as one of the nation’s wealthiest and most powerful media

“barons” with a net worth exceeding $100 million.108

These gains were of little benefit to the Inquirer, however. Whereas Robert

McLean and Robert Taylor actively attempted to find ways to make the Bulletin stronger 216 and more competitive in the regional market, Annenberg did not do the same at the

Inquirer. Instead of using his newfound wealth to help transform the Inquirer into a high-quality paper with a broad, regional readership, Annenberg continued using the paper as his personal mouthpiece and enacted little change. The results of his inaction were clear by 1969, when the Inquirer’s circulation dropped to 505,173, its lowest total since 1945.109

The Inquirer’s problems went far beyond its circulation figures however. The

Harry Karafin scandal brought a tremendous amount of negative attention to the paper and forced many longstanding questions regarding Annenberg’s editorial integrity to the forefront. Philadelphia’s revelations that Karafin was a part of the media lord’s inner circle and often introduced himself as Annenberg’s “hatchet-man” directly connected the publisher to the scandal and seemingly made him complicit in Karafin’s crimes.110 While

Annenberg was never directly connected to Karafin’s actions, the scandal highlighted the problems associated with his penchant for using the Inquirer to settle personal and political scores and made him a target of investigative reporters and the Federal

Communications Commission (FCC).

In April and May, 1969, exactly two years after it broke the Karafin scandal,

Philadelphia published Gaeton Fonzi’s two-part investigative profile of Annenberg.

Fonzi’s articles painted Annenberg as a power hungry media baron who frequently sacrificed his paper’s and his journalist’s integrity for the sake of advancing his own political agendas.111 They brought to light the existence of “Annenberg’s shit list,” which consisted of people and organizations whose names were not to be mentioned or covered in the Inquirer, regardless of their importance to a news story, and included Dinah Shore, 217

Imogene Coca, and the Philadelphia 76ers, the city’s NBA basketball team, among others.112 In regards to the 76ers, Annenberg allowed nothing more than a two-paragraph summary of the previous night’s game and banned all player profiles, features, and promotional advertisements from the paper. In spite of the fact that his Philadelphia television station was contractually bound to broadcast the team’s games, Annenberg banned any and all promotional content from it as well.113 More importantly, the articles highlighted Annenberg’s role in the 1966 smear campaign that cost Milton Shapp (D) the

Pennsylvania governorship. Fonzi argued that Annenberg used his vast array of media holdings in Pennsylvania to wage “one of the most vicious editorial campaigns ever conducted against any political candidate,” because Shapp had blocked Triangle’s attempts to gather exclusive cable television rights in Philadelphia and opposed the merger between the New York Central and Pennsylvania Railroads, of which Annenberg was the largest individual stockholder.114

Fonzi’s articles were one component of a larger web that was shrinking around

Walter Annenberg at the end of the sixties. In addition to the articles, the Inquirer’s poor performance, the lingering effects of the Karafin scandal, and the looming threat of a possible FCC investigation of Triangle’s media holdings drained Annenberg’s enthusiasm for publishing the paper and made President Richard Nixon’s request that he serve as the United States’ ambassador to England that much more enticing.115 In order to distance himself from his paper’s many problems and help ensure a smooth confirmation process, Annenberg abruptly sold the Inquirer and Daily News to Knight

Newspapers in October, 1969, for $55 million.116 Shortly thereafter, Annenberg won confirmation and set off for the Court of St. James in London. 218

Knight’s acquisition of the Inquirer and the Daily News was an ominous sign for the Evening Bulletin. The paper had long benefitted from Annenberg’s haphazard handling of his papers, but Knight was not likely to make the same mistakes. The newspaper chain brought with it vast corporate funds and a willingness to completely transform the Inquirer and Daily News into respectable and profitable papers. With the

Bulletin’s suburban expansion effectively halted, its circulation and advertising revenues on the decline, and with no corporate backing on the horizon, it remained to be seen whether the paper could compete with the Knight-owned Inquirer/Daily News combo.

Despite their best attempts, Robert Taylor and Robert McLean were unable to successfully navigate the changing newspaper market during the 1960s. The Justice

Department’s decision to close down the Bulletin Co.’s nascent suburban operation just as it was beginning to pay dividends forced McLean and Taylor to try to reinvent the paper on the fly and in the face of increased competition from the suburban papers, television, and radio. Had they not been prevented from establishing a coterie of

Bulletin-affiliated suburban papers, it is likely that many of the later problems would have been avoided. Instead, McLean’s decisions not to aggressively accumulate newspaper and broadcast media properties in other metropolitan areas and his unwillingness to fully alter the Bulletin’s approach and content took on a greater significance. As a result, the Bulletin stood in a vulnerable position when Knight entered the Philadelphia newspaper market. The paper was still the circulation and advertising leader in the region in 1969, but it seemed doubtful that McLean and Taylor would be 219 able to right the ship, fend off Knight and the suburban competition, and reestablish the

Evening Bulletin as indispensable reading in the 1970s. 220

Endnotes

1 Rick Freidman, “Suburban Press Tabbed ‘Journalism of Tomorrow,’” Editor & Publisher, February 3, 1962, 64.

2 Ibid.

3 Ibid.

4 Freidman, “Suburban Press,” 64; Hal Lister, The Suburban Press: A Separate Journalism (Columbia, MO: Luca Brothers Publishers, 1975), 56.

5 Ibid.

6 Benjaminson’s work focused exclusively on urban evening dailies. David R. Davies, The Postwar Decline of American Newspapers, 1945-1965 (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2006); Peter Benjaminson, Death in the Afternoon: America’s Newspaper Giants Struggle for Survival (New York: Andrews, McMeel, and Parker, 1984). See also, Edwin Emery and Michael Emery, The Press and America: An Interpretive History of the Mass Media, 4th ed. (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1978), 393-480.

7 Lister, The Suburban Press.

8 “Making Publishing Hay in the Suburbs ….. Local Names, and Local News,” Newsweek, June 22, 1959, 88-89; “The Need to Holler,” Newsweek, June 22, 1959, 88- 89.

9 For the individual article see Freidman, “Suburban Press,” 9, 64-65. For the run of articles on suburban newspapers see Rick Freidman, “Journey into Suburbia Part II: Suburbia Today,” Editor & Publisher, January 6, 1962, 42-43; Rick Freidman, “Journey into Suburbia Part III: Suburbia’s Voice,” Editor & Publisher, January 13, 1962; “Kilgore Directs Students to ‘Lively, Local Papers,’” Editor & Publisher, February 17, 1962, 11; Rick Friedman, “New Day For Weeklies,” Editor & Publisher, March 24, 1962, 46-47; Philip N. Schuyler, “Suburban Newspaper Groups Gain Advertising Support,” Editor & Publisher, March 31, 1962, 16, 123-124.

10 Kilgore was the man largely responsible for turning the Wall Street Journal into a newspaper with a national circulation. “Kilgore Directs Students to ‘Lively, Local Papers,’” Editor & Publisher, February 17, 1962, 11.

11 “Suburb and City,” Columbia Journalism Review 1 (Summer 1963): 13.

12 Kenneth R. Byerly, “Metropolitan and Community Daily Newspapers: A Comparison of Their Number, Circulation, and Trends for 1950, 1960, and 1968 in the Nation’s 21 221

Most Populous Metropolitan Areas” (School of Journalism, University of North Carolina, 1968), 4.

13 Ibid.

14 Figures derived from statistics presented in Byerly, “Metropolitan and Community Daily Newspapers,” 14-18.

15 Ibid.

16 Ibid, 6

17 Ibid, 28-29, 34-35, 40-41.

18 Ibid.

19 Ibid.

20 Freidman, “Suburban Press,” 64.

21 David Halberstam’s, The Powers That Be is still the best account of Chandler’s management of the L.A. Times during the early postwar era. David Halberstam, The Powers That Be (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1979). For specific commentary on why the L.A. suburban editions did not work see: Lister, The Suburban Press, 49-53.

22 Freidman, “Suburban Press,” 64.

23 For quotes: “The Report on Daily Newspaper Readership of Influential Business Executives and Advertising Agency Executives Living in Metropolitan Philadelphia,” 1959, 1, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 39, Folder 7, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives; “Member of the Family: 1957 Adult Readership of the Evening Bulletin and the Morning Inquirer in Greater Philadelphia Families,” 1, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 10, Folder 4, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. See also: “A Report on Readership of Daily Newspapers by Business and Advertising Agency Executives In Metropolitan Philadelphia,” 1955, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 10, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

24 “Member of the Family: 1957 Adult Readership of the Evening Bulletin and the Morning Inquirer in Greater Philadelphia Families,” 17-23, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 10, Folder 4, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

25 Ibid. 222

26 Percentage based on author’s analysis of figures presented in: “Member of the Family: 1957 Adult Readership of the Evening Bulletin and the Morning Inquirer in Greater Philadelphia Families,” 27, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 10, Folder 4, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

27 “A Report on Readership of Daily Newspapers By Business and Advertising Agency Executives In Metropolitan Philadelphia,” 1955, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 10, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

28 “The Philadelphia Bulletin Evening and Sunday Circulation and Coverage By Towns and Counties, 1949,” 3, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 10, Folder 5, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives; “The Evening and Sunday Bulletin 1959 Circulation and Coverage,” 5, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 10, Folder 5, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

29 Bulletin circulation reports for the years 1954, 1956, 1958, 1959, all contained this information. All are located in Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 10, Folder 5, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

30 The Bulletin also suffered smaller losses in its national circulation and in the far suburban counties of the Greater Philadelphia Region. “The Philadelphia Bulletin Evening and Sunday Circulation and Coverage By Towns and Counties, 1949,” 3, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 10, Folder 5, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives; “The Evening and Sunday Bulletin 1954 Circulation and Coverage,” 5, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 10, Folder 5, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives; “The Evening and Sunday Bulletin 1959 Circulation and Coverage,” 5, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 10, Folder 5, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

31 Figures derived from author’s analysis of statistics presented in “The Evening and Sunday Bulletin 1956 Circulation and Coverage,” 5, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 10, Folder 5, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives; “The Evening and Sunday Bulletin 1959 Circulation and Coverage,” 5, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 10, Folder 5, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

223

32 “Population Growth Trends in The Greater Philadelphia Market, 1930-1940-1950- 1960,” and “Population Growth White vs. Non-White, 1950-1960,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 6, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

33 The Kerner Commission report later put this in a larger, national context, noting “ghetto residents,” read tabloid newspapers “far more frequently than standard size newspapers.” Report of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders, New York Times ed. (New York: E.P. Dutton & Co. Inc., 1968), 377. For statistics: Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1950, 120; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1959, 156.

34 “The ABC of Daily Newspaper Circulation in the Suburbs of Philadelphia,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 7, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

35 Here Taylor is using local to refer to locally published news. Robert E.L. Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin and a Look at Our Free Press in 1987 (Bryn Mawr, PA: Dorrance & Company, Inc., 1988), 32.

36 Ibid.

37 Ibid, 123.

38 Ibid.

39 Ibid, 124.

40 Ibid.

41 For the national context: Lister, The Suburban Press, 47-68; Davies, The Postwar Decline of American Newspapers, 90-92. For the Evening Bulletin: Benjaminson, Death in the Afternoon, 59-63.

42 For early editions of each see: “New Jersey News,” Sunday Bulletin, 6 January 1963, Section F; “Suburban West News,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 19 September 1963; “Suburban North News,” Sunday Bulletin, 9 February 1963; “Suburban Northeast News,” Sunday Bulletin, 9 September 1963.

43 This approach was common to each of the Bulletin’s zoned editions. “New Jersey News,” Sunday Bulletin, 6 January 1963, Section F, 1.

44 “Home Town Paper For 370 Homes” advertisement, “New Jersey News” section, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 6 February 1964, 8; “Home Town Paper For 180 Homes” advertisement, “Suburban West” section, Sunday Bulletin, 9 February 1964, 6. 224

45 For a representative sampling see: Bamberger’s advertisements, “New Jersey News,” Sunday Bulletin, 6 January 1963, Section F; Bamberger’s advertisements, “New Jersey News,” Sunday Bulletin, 9 February 1964, 9-12.

46 Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 124.

47 Ibid, 57.

48 Editor& Publisher International Yearbook, 1958, 137; Editor& Publisher International Yearbook, 1960, 234; Editor& Publisher International Yearbook, 1962, 230; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1964, 244.

49 Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 124-125.

50 Ibid, 124.

51 Ibid, 124-125.

52 Ibid.

53 ABC did not move to the half hour format until 1967. James L. Baughman, The Republic of Mass Culture: Journalism, Filmmaking, and Broadcasting in America Since 1941, 3rd ed. (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2006), 91-98; Emery and Emery, The Press and America, 406-414.

54 Emery and Emery, The Press and America, 429.

55 David R. Davies argued that televised coverage of the Kefauver hearings and the 1952 and 1956 Democratic and Republican National Conventions pushed TV news into the mainstream. This maybe true to some extent, however, I follow Erik Barnouw’s interpretation of TV News’ emergence here. Davies, The Postwar Decline of American Newspapers, 51-55; Erik Barnouw, Tube of Plenty: The Evolution of American Television, 2nd rev. ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990) 299-340.

56 Radio’s percent of national advertising dropped from 24.8 percent in 1950 to 7.1 percent in 1965. Emery and Emery, The Press and America, 429.

57 KYW only reemerged in 1965 because of an ongoing suit between its parent company, Westinghouse, and NBC over the network’s attempts to gain control of the Philadelphia market by forcing the company to move its radio and TV operations to Cleveland. “Instant News,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, October 1965, 103-109.

58 “CBS Purchases WCAU TV and Radio Stations,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 20 December 1957; “FCC Approves Sale of WCAU,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 24 225

July 1958. Both articles from the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

59 Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 21.

60 The exact figure was 35,244. Based on the author’s analysis of statistics presented in: Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1964, 244; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1965, .247-248.

61 The exact total was 10,688. Based on author’s analysis of statistics presented in Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1965, 247-248; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1966, 232.

62 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1968, 230.

63 Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 172.

64 Ibid, 57, 80, 171-172.

65 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1960, 165-166, 23; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1970, 180, 184, 243.

66 “The Bulletin Gets A Voice,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, December 1961, 48.

67 Ibid, 46-49.

68 Annenberg’s Triangle Publications, Inc. was awarded a franchise covering the western half of Northeast Philadelphia. Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 127.

69 For the purchase of the Santa Barbara News-Press: “McLean, Taylor Take Over Paper in Santa Barbara,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 1 May 1964, 24; “Storke Sells News- Press to Philadelphia Publisher“ Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 3 March 1964 and “Robert L. Taylor Is Named Publisher of The Bulletin,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 9 March 1964. All articles from Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. For general coverage of Taylor’s diversification plan see: Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 123-131.

70 Ibid, 129.

71 For quote see: Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 129. For general coverage see: Ibid, 126-130

72 Ibid, 69.

73 Ibid, 70. 226

74 Ibid, 73.

75 Quote from memo reprinted in Ibid, 71.

76 Report of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders, 383.

77 Ibid. Scholar Carolyn Martindale has argued that, in the wake of the Kerner Commission Report, numerous journalists and scholars agreed with the findings and discussed them in several conferences between 1969 and 1972. Carolyn Martindale, The White Press and Black America (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1986), 32-50, 53-70.

78 Bernard McCormick, “Getting The Old Lady Off Her Duff,” Philadelphia Magazine, October 1969, 178.

79 Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 38.

80 Stuart Brown, “Depth In The Afternoon,” Philadelphia Magazine, January 1967, 122

81 Ibid.

82 The 1964 Pulitzer was awarded to Albert V. Gaudiosi, James V. Magee, and Frederick A. Meyer (photographer). Brown, “Depth in the Afternoon,” 122; Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 1.

83 James Aucoin, “The Re-Emergence of American Investigative Journalism, 1960- 1975,” Journalism History 21, no. 1 (Spring 1995), Communication and Mass Media Complete, EBSCOhost (March 19, 2007).

84 Baughman, The Republic of Mass Culture, 175-183. Journalism scholar Michael Schudson also argued that the popular distrust of government that developed over the Vietnam War prompted the rise in investigative journalism. Michael Schudson, Discovering the News: A Social History of American Newspapers (New York: Basic Books, 1978), 160-183. For another variation of this argument see: James Brian McPherson, Journalism at the End of the American Century, 1965-Present (Westport, Ct.: Praeger, 2006), 1-22, 45-64.

85 Gaeton Fonzi and Greg Walter, “The Reporter,” Philadelphia Magazine, April 1967, 43-45, 92-103; “The Karafin Case,” Columbia Journalism Review 6 (Spring 1967): 3; “Harry the Muckraker,” Time, April 21, 1967, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,843617,00.html, last accessed August 10, 2009.

86 As reported in: “Aftermath,” Philadelphia Magazine, May 1967, 45.

227

87 Ibid.

88 McCormick, “Getting the Old Lady Off Her Duff,” 175; “Aftermath,” Philadelphia Magazine, 44-45, 140-142.

89 “The Karafin Case,” Columbia Journalism Review, 3.

90 McCormick, “Getting the Old Lady Off Her Duff,” Philadelphia Magazine, 175.

91 Ibid.

92 Hickerson also acquired the Trentonian, in New Jersey. “The Case For a Suburban Daily,” Philadelphia Magazine, July 1967, 97.

93 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1960, 226, 237; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1968, 222, 232.

94 “The Case For a Suburban Daily,” Philadelphia Magazine, 100; “Borough Councilman Bites Little Leaguer,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, October 1965, 104.

95 Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 93.

96 Ibid.

97 Quote excerpted from internal Bulletin memo reprinted in Taylor memoire. Ibid.

98 Ibid, 94-95.

99 Ibid, 94.

100 Eventually a separate page of suburban news appeared daily for each Bulletin zone. Quote from Ibid, 95. See also: “The Case For a Suburban Daily,” Philadelphia Magazine, 98.

101 The Today’s Post’s first edition was printed on February 9, 1971. Nothing in its publication data indicates an affiliation with the Bulletin. Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1972, 217. See also: Willard Randall, “The Daily Crabgrass,” Philadelphia, September 1971, 97-112.

102 Figures derived from author’s analysis of statistics reported in Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1964, 244; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1968, 230; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1970, 246.

228

103 1961 was the Inquirer’s peak circulation year during the 1960s. Figures based on author’s analysis of circulation statistics reported in Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1961, 234, 236; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1969, 224.

104 The Bulletin’s circulation lead increased from 63,432 to 113,739. Figures based on author’s analysis of circulation statistics reported in Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1960, 234, 236; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1969, 224.

105 The actual figure was 101,784. Ibid.

106 For thorough coverage of Annenberg’s acquisitions for Triangle see: Christopher Ogden, Legacy: A Biography of Moses and Walter Annenberg (New York: Little, Brown, & Co., 1999), 286-300, 321-335, 357-371. For more on TV Guide see: Glenn Altschuler and David Grossvogel, Changing Channels: America in TV Guide (Champaign, IL: University of Illinois Press, 1992). Annenberg also discussed a possible Inquirer-Evening Bulletin merger with Robert McLean in 1956. For reference, see: Ogden, Legacy, 357; Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 59-66.

107 “Six in the Stix,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, February 1964, 93-96.

108 Ogden, Legacy, 379.

109 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1969, 224.

110 Gaeton Fonzi and Greg Walter, “The Reporter,” Philadelphia Magazine, April 1967, 45.

111 The articles later became the foundation for Fonzi’s biography of Annenberg, entitled Annenberg: A Biography of Power. Gaeton Fonzi, “Annenberg: Part I,” Philadelphia Magazine, April 1969, 64-79, 119-135; Gaeton Fonzi, “Annenberg: Part II,” Philadelphia Magazine, May 1969, 66-79, 133-156. See also: Gaeton Fonzi, Annenberg: A Biography of Power (New York: Weybright and Talley, 1970).

112 Fonzi, “Annenberg: Part II,” Philadelphia Magazine, 74-75.

113 Ibid.

114 Ibid, 76-77. See also: Ogden, Legacy, 382-384.

115 While the FCC never officially investigated Triangle, Ogden has argued that the political fall out from the Shapp coverage prompted federal officials to begin pressuring Annenberg. Ogden, Legacy, 440.

116 Annenberg was a close confidant of Richard Nixon. For detailed, if slightly slanted, coverage of this episode, see: Ogden, Legacy, 389-391, 440-445.

CHAPTER 5 COMBATING CONSERVATION: THE DELAWARE COUNTY DAILY TIMES AND THE BATTLE TO BUILD THE BLUE ROUTE

On December 21, 1962, the editors of the Delaware County Daily Times issued a challenge to those attempting to block the approval of the “Blue Route,” the proposed six-lane, limited access highway formally known as the Mid-County Expressway.1 In a critical and harshly worded editorial entitled “We Challenge Blue Route Foes,” the editors dared the road’s opponents to prove their argument that the majority of Delaware

County residents opposed the Blue Route by putting the issue to a countywide vote.2

Less than two months later, the editors took up the road’s mantle once again in an editorial that derisively described the route’s foes as a “relative handful of people,” and called for “everyone interested in progress in Delaware County” to “stand and be counted” by “loudly” voicing their support for it.3 At a time when much about the Blue

Route seemed up for debate, two things were certain, the Delaware County Daily Times stood in staunch support of the road, and its editors were not wary of sullying their integrity by framing its opponents in a negative light.

By early 1963, the fight over where to place the Mid-County Expressway had been going on for more than five years and appeared to be reaching its endpoint. The

Pennsylvania Department of Highways had submitted its proposal to the U.S. Bureau of

Public Roads and was awaiting its decision. A yea vote would provide the go ahead; a nay vote promised to send the highway officials back to the drawing board, again. As the

Blue Route moved closer to gaining federal approval, the debates over its costs and 230 benefits grew increasingly contentious and virtually split the county in half. Residents and institutions situated in the affluent bedroom communities through which the Blue

Route was slated to run opposed the road, fearing it would destroy the area’s pristine natural environment, invite unwanted industry and commerce, and reduce property values. Residents, businessmen, and politicians residing and working in Delaware

County’s industrial areas, on the other hand, largely supported the road. These “Blue

Rooters,” as they eventually called themselves, saw the highway as a means to unlocking the “stagnant bottlenecks” choking the county’s roadways and the key to its industrial revival.4 The only thing that the two sides had in common was that each saw the Blue

Route fight as a zero-sum game, a battle for nothing less than the future of Delaware

County.

The struggle over the Blue Route was one of many environmentally based highway conflicts that took place across the nation during the 1960s and 1970s.

Historians Adam Rome and Raymond A. Mohl have examined some of these conflicts and the ways in which grass-roots activists involved in the suburban conservation movement and urban “freeway revolts” impacted the larger environmental movement and the development of the nation’s metropolitan areas during the postwar era. Rome convincingly relocated the nexus of postwar environmentalism to the suburbs in his work, The Bulldozer In the Countryside: Suburban Sprawl and the Rise of American

Environmentalism, arguing that the environmental degradation and loss of open space that resulted from the postwar housing boom prompted many suburbanites to take up the torch against sprawl and fight for the conservation of the nation’s remaining green spaces and environmentally sensitive areas during the late 1950s and 1960s. It was a shift that 231 he claimed marked “a critical stage in the evolution of the modern environmental movement.”5 Mohl’s essay, “Stop the Road: Freeway Revolts in American Cities,” explained how urban grass-roots activists banded together and used environmental arguments, among others, as rationale for preventing the construction of highways through their neighborhoods during the 1960s and 1970s.6

While persuasive, these scholars’ arguments also present a relatively narrow portrait of the environmental controversies that emerged during the postwar era and the activists that participated in them. In focusing primarily on suburban activists’ attempts to rein in developers and builders, Rome establishes a paradigm in which virtually all suburban environmental conflicts were between private middle and upper-class actors.

He does not examine the conflicts that arose between suburbanites and state and federal government agencies over issues such as interstate highway construction. Rome does note the growth of a significant amount of anti-environmental sentiment during the

1970s, but he locates the genesis of this sentiment with suburban landowners unhappy with new federal and state legislation that infringed upon their property rights. He does not examine the instances when residents of working and lower middle-class suburbs, and the politicians who represented them, stood in opposition to environmentalists and environmental legislation that they felt impeded industrial growth and economic development. Mohl’s essay works within a similarly narrow perspective. By only examining urban freeway revolts and framing the activists that participated in them as primarily working-class and minority residents standing in opposition to city, state, and federal planners, Mohl does not address the instances when middle- and upper-class suburbanites organized to oppose highways on environmental grounds or the instances 232 when working-class and minority residents actually supported the construction of controversial highways for economic reasons. While these scholars both note that print media outlets played a role in the success of the suburban conservation movement and freeway revolts, neither examines the ways in which local newspapers framed the debates, motivated people to engage in activism, and ultimately influenced the physical development of America’s postwar metropolitan areas.7

The battle to get the Blue Route built through suburban Delaware County, PA, complicates the existing portrait of postwar environmentalism and anti- environmentalism. Between the mid-1950s, when the debates about where to place the highway began, and the mid-1980s, when Pennsylvania Department of Transportation

(PennDot) officials received the final go ahead to complete the Blue Route, a variety of middle-and upper-class suburban actors emerged to fight the road on environmental grounds and were met by an equally staunch group of pro-industry, pro-road forces whose primary voice was the county’s only suburban daily newspaper, the Delaware

County Daily Times. During the thirty-year conflict, the paper used its editorials, guest columns, and news articles to wage an unceasing campaign in support of the Blue Route.

Times editors routinely used the paper’s editorials to forcefully, and often uncritically, endorse the positions, plans, and goals of citizens, planners, politicians, and organizations that supported the Blue Route and to rally support for the road when it was needed. In turn, they also used their editorials to demonize those who dared oppose the road, regardless of the merit of their positions. Times editors consistently framed the road’s opponents as a small but vocal minority of self-interested institutions and residents whose wealth and status gave them power and leverage that was disproportionate to their 233 numbers and whose position was out of step with the majority of the county’s citizens.

These biases were also present in the paper’s extensive daily news coverage of expressway controversy. The Delaware County Daily Times’ unabashed support for the

Blue Route and willingness to present the debates in a way that favored those who backed the road played a significant role in its final, if delayed, construction and stands as a representative example of the influential role that suburban daily newspapers played in shaping the physical development of America’s suburban areas in the post-World War II era.

With more than 414,000 residents, Delaware County had the largest population of

Philadelphia’s suburban counties and ranked as the third most populous in Pennsylvania at the beginning of the postwar era.8 Located to the immediate south/southwest of

Philadelphia, the county was home to four major creek valleys (Crum, Ithan, Darby, and

Chester) and numerous farms and fields, which provided it with a reputation as a place of pristine natural beauty. Already dotting much of the picturesque landscape were famous

Main Line bedroom communities like Haverford, Villanova, and Radnor, and other affluent towns and boroughs like Swarthmore.9 These locales were home to some of the region’s wealthiest and most powerful families as well as some of the nation’s elite liberal arts institutions, including Haverford College and Swarthmore College.

The Main Line municipalities often served as the public face of Delaware County, but their prominence in the media overshadowed the area’s many industrial communities.

Stretching from the county’s eastern border with Philadelphia south along the Delaware

River waterfront to the Pennsylvania-Delaware state line were a number of 234 predominantly working-class townships and boroughs, including Darby, Folcroft,

Eddystone, and Marcus Hook. Anchoring them was the small industrial city of Chester, which served a role similar to that which the City of Camden played in Camden County,

NJ during the same period. These communities were more populous than their bucolic counterparts and supplied most of the workforce for the shipbuilding corporations, defense contractors, and locally-based companies like Sun Oil and Scott Paper, whose odiferous plants and factories lined the waterfront.10 Making up the remainder of the county were the rural communities located near its western border with Chester County.

Residents of Delaware County’s diverse array of communities received their news from a variety of sources. The Evening Bulletin and the Inquirer did well in the county.

The Inquirer’s status as the only morning paper in the region, and its largely Republican slant, made it essential reading for those businessmen riding the Paoli local into the city every morning.11 The Bulletin’s reserved tone and thorough coverage attracted enough of an audience that the paper included a small “Delaware County News” section in its final daily editions years before experimenting with larger suburban zoned sections. Providing county news for residents was the Chester Times, the fourth largest circulation paper in the Philadelphia metro area and the only daily based in Delaware County. With a 1950 circulation of 30,464, the paper’s primary demographic was Chester and its surrounding communities, but its reach extended across the county.12 Also servicing the county’s numerous municipalities were several weekly community newspapers such as the

Swarthmorean, which covered Swarthmore Borough, the Main Line Times, and the News of Delaware County.13 235

The proximity to both industry and picturesque bedroom communities made

Delaware County an attractive place to build in the early postwar years. However, while the county was Pennsylvania’s third most populous, it was also the second smallest, spanning a scant 185 square miles.14 The existence of so many established communities left comparatively less developable land than in Philadelphia’s other suburban counties.

By the late 1950s, when most other suburban areas were still coming into their own, much of the open land that had provided the buffer between eastern Delaware County’s industrial areas and its affluent communities had been swallowed up.15

The influx of new residents during the immediate postwar years exacerbated an already longstanding traffic problem in Delaware County. Since, to that point, most of the county’s traffic had flowed into and out of Philadelphia, there was no viable means for fast, efficient transportation between the Main Line and the industrial waterfront. The existing regional rail lines largely ran in a spoke pattern, reaching out across the county from a hub in Philadelphia and did not connect the two areas. Those traveling through the county from the Chester area to points northwest, like the Pennsylvania Turnpike interchange in Montgomery County, had to use narrow outdated roads, many of which had their origins in the colonial era.

In an attempt to limit and address the myriad problems that came with suburban development, Delaware County officials established the Delaware County Planning

Commission in 1950. A year later, they tasked it with finding ways to alleviate the county’s rapidly growing traffic problems. The commission dredged up an old plan for a north-south limited access highway linking the Chester industrial areas to the Norristown and Conshohocken industrial areas along the Schuylkill River in neighboring 236

Montgomery County.16 The desire for a north-south highway aligned the planning commission with its it Montgomery County counterpart, which was looking for a way to alleviate traffic congestion in the industrial communities along the Schuylkill River and establish a link to the then-under-construction Schuylkill Expressway. In their joint 1955 proposal to the state, the planning commissions requested an approximately 19-mile expressway running from the southern terminus of the Pennsylvania Turnpike’s

Northeast extension in Montgomery County southeast to a junction with the Chester

Expressway and Industrial Highway near Eddystone in Delaware County. They argued that traffic in eastern Delaware County and southern Montgomery County, promised to become an “intolerable mess” unless “major new improvements” such as the north-south expressway were “constructed relatively immediately” and that “inadequate highway facilities” would likely “check the prosperity and expansion of the entire Philadelphia

Metropolitan Region.”17 Shortly thereafter, the Southeastern Pennsylvania Regional

Planning Commission called for the expressway’s construction as a part of a regional highway plan. The commission argued that a north-south highway through the area would be of “immense value to the City of Philadelphia and indirectly aid Bucks and

Chester Counties.”18 It also estimated that connecting the highway to the proposed

Delaware River Bridge would link it to the New Jersey highways, permitting “a circumferential movement around the entire urban core.”19

The impetus for a highway through Delaware County got a boost on June 29,

1956, when President Dwight Eisenhower signed the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956 into law, inaugurating the largest public works project in American history. The act stipulated that the Federal Government would cover 90 percent of the costs of any road 237 built as part of the national interstate highway system. Delaware and Montgomery

County planners likely saw the Highway Act’s passage as a boon and a final justification to build the much-needed highway. With the Federal Government covering 90 percent of the costs, the planners could get their road at one-tenth the price. There appeared to be no reason not to build it.20

But some in Delaware County did find reasons for not building the road. As word of a possible expressway filtered out to the public in 1955 and 1956, the planners’ highway dreams ran headlong into growing popular concerns regarding sprawl and environmental conservation. First to stand in opposition to the road was Courtney C.

Smith, the President of Swarthmore College, who learned of a possible highway route through the Crum Creek Valley in a confidential meeting with the Delaware County

Planning Commission’s Executive Director, Todd Cooke in July, 1955. Smith understood well that postwar developments were gobbling up much of the remaining open space in eastern Delaware County and that a highway through the creek valley would likely require Swarthmore to forfeit some of its property, as it ran through the western portion of its campus.21

Rather than waiting for state planners to officially propose a path for the highway,

Smith acted preemptively to block any nascent plans for a road through Swarthmore

College property or the surrounding communities. Shortly after his meeting with Cooke,

Smith appointed Swarthmore College Vice-President Joseph B. Shane “Chief Defender of the Crum” and instructed him to begin contacting local officials who would also be concerned about a possible expressway through the area.22 He also began formulating the

College’s official position on the highway, so as to be ready if and when the state 238 released its plan to the public. Smith used two primary arguments as the basis for the

College’s opposition to the road: that it would do “irreparable injury” to several miles of the Crum Creek Valley, and that it would “hamper” the College’s long-term development plans by bisecting property slated for new buildings and “altering the way of life” that had “from the very beginning characterized the fineness of the College.”23 In framing the

College’s opposition in this manner, Smith attempted to establish it as equally interested in the conservation of the county’s open spaces, the protection of the community’s suburban character, and the preservation of its own land holdings.

Smith’s conservation-based arguments aligned the college with the Citizens’

Creek Valley Association of Delaware County (CCVA), a nascent environmental group whose stated goal was to “Save the creeks of Delaware County.”24 The CCVA argued that the county’s four creek valleys offered “marvelous potential” for hiking, picnicking, and nature study and supported a proposal that sought to turn each into a 400 foot wide swath of public parkland. They claimed that in addition to supplying Delaware County residents with some much-needed recreational areas, preserving the creek valleys would keep pollutants out of the water supply and lower the right-of-way costs associated with building sewer lines for the new subdivisions still popping up across the area.25

By early 1957, the three routes that the Pennsylvania State Department of

Highways was considering for the Mid-County Expressway had become public knowledge.26 The two alignments that garnered the most attention were the “Blue” and

“Yellow” routes, which followed the same essential path through the northern part of

Delaware County and Montgomery County but whose southern sections differed dramatically. Whereas the Blue Route’s southern section was planned to run through the 239

Crum Creek Valley for several miles, the Yellow Route’s path was set farther east and slated to run through residential areas in Springfield Township, Folsom, and Prospect

Park. County planning officials, politicians, and residents of the communities threatened by the Yellow Route favored the Blue Route on the grounds that it would require the condemnation of far fewer residential properties. On the other side, Swarthmore

College, the CCVA, and many residents of communities sitting near the Crum Creek

Valley argued that the Blue Route would cause undo environmental harm to the area and ruin the tranquility that had long characterized that part of the county. Many in this group declined to support either the Blue or Yellow routes, and instead favored the

“Green Route,” the state’s third alternative whose path lay several miles to the West through what was then largely undeveloped land.27

The simmering public debates about the prospective routes prompted Courtney

Smith to publicly announce the college’s opposition to the Blue Route and to step up his attempts to influence the state’s final decision. In late January, 1957, Smith wrote executives at the Evening Bulletin and the Chester Times, informing them of the college’s position on the Blue Route and asking them to print it in their papers.28 In February he penned letters to Pennsylvania Governor George M. Leader and all Swarthmore alumni.

In his letter to the Governor, Smith reiterated his positions that a highway through the creek valley would have a “deleterious effect” on Swarthmore’s existing campus and do

“grave and irreparable harm” to its long-term development.29 He further argued that, in defending its “heritage,” the College was also “looking toward the good of all” students, faculty, and local residents who benefitted from its facilities and park-like spaces.30

Smith’s letter to the alumni framed the road as a “threat” to the College and its 240 surrounding communities that necessitated an immediate letter writing campaign. It included the mailing addresses of the Governor and two state highway officials.31

Smith’s offensive against the Blue Route provides an early example of the larger strategy that he and other Swarthmore officials would use to drum up support for their cause as the highway controversy evolved in the ensuing years. Smith seems to have had the mindset that, if forced to choose between a highway route that destroyed homes and neighborhoods and one that ran through Swarthmore’s campus in 1957, most Delaware

County residents would choose the latter. He also understood that Swarthmore’s position as an elite institution positioned in an upper-crust area with a network of highly educated, politically connected alumni made it difficult to argue against the Blue Route without making the college appear self-interested and inviting criticisms from County officials and politicians whose primary constituencies lay in the working and lower middle-class communities to the east. As a result, the more inclusive argument that the college was acting in defense of the many communities situated along the Crum Creek Valley and for the greater good of the area that Smith and other college officials utilized was designed to give them the necessary room to oppose the Blue Route, draw in support from local communities, and provide a more nuanced rationale on which to defend their position.

Smith’s strategy initially delivered mixed results. In March, 1957, Swarthmore

Vice Presidents Joseph Shane and Edward Cratsley spoke out against the Blue Route alongside representatives of the CCVA and several area civic associations at a meeting of more than 800 residents of Nether Providence Township, which bordered the western bank of the Crum Creek Valley near Swarthmore Borough. 32 By late spring, the College was part of a growing anti-Blue Route faction that included the CCVA, six Nether 241

Providence civic associations, the Nether Providence Township Board of Commissioners, the Delaware County Sewer Authority, and the Combined Civic Associations of

Montgomery and Delaware Counties.33 However, an appearance by Smith and Cratsley before the Delaware County Commissioners turned up no support for their cause. In addition, several local Swarthmore alumni took offense at Smith’s request that alumni no longer living in the area involve themselves in the fight. The renegade alumni bucked

Smith’s requests and attempted to counter his campaign by telegraphing the Governor a message requesting that he regard all letters from Swarthmore alumni living outside the area as “expressions of opinion not founded on complete knowledge of the facts.”34 In doing so, the college’s own alumni essentially accused Smith of misleading the public to protect a few acres of land.

More importantly, Smith’s actions raised the ire of the Chester Times, which consistently portrayed him and Swarthmore College in a negative light as the highway debate heated up. The paper did not run an editorial openly commenting on Smith’s tactics, but its news stories frequently distanced the college from the other organizations opposing the Blue Route and framed it as a singular entity fighting, often manipulatively, against the larger public sentiment that supported the expressway. Stories entitled

“College’s Road Action is Opposed,” and “College Accused in Rd. Dispute,” said nothing of Swarthmore’s desires to protect its neighboring communities and preserve the

Crum Creek Valley on environmental grounds and instead gave voice to local residents who were critical of Smith and the college.35 The latter article highlighted five local residents’ accusations that Swarthmore was “hoarding land” and their assertions that

Smith was purposefully distorting the extent of the damage that the Blue Route would 242 inflict on the college. Without critiquing them, the story printed the residents’ arguments that, with a population that equated to 3 students per acre, Swarthmore was unlikely to expand in the near future, that the Blue Route would not damage the campus because “no educational or dormitory building would be less than a thousand feet from the expressway,” and that the college was “asking for the destruction of more than 250 homes in order to avoid inconveniencing its own future plannings.”36 Articles like these did little to help Smith’s cause and clearly revealed which side of the expressway fight the Chester Times was on.

Smith paid attention to the newspaper coverage of the highway issue and attempted to sway it in the college’s favor. Following a benign Philadelphia Inquirer story in which reporter Robert Barry highlighted the basic sticking points on each proposed route, Smith wrote Walter Annenberg expressing his displeasure with the piece.37 Smith complained that the article did not “reference” the ideas that he had set down in a section of an earlier memo to Annenberg titled “Consequences for the

Community,” and closed the letter by stating: “I had hoped that the Inquirer, in its survey of the expressway controversy, might explore some of the longer range problems which face the community and every other expressway location. I would be grateful if in any further studies which your paper does, some suggestion of the issues could be given.”38 Smith then noted in a memo to Ed Cratsley that he was “very much disturbed” by Barry’s take on the expressway controversy and suggested that it was “important to get him straightened out for he will no doubt handle the Inquirer coverage of the story when the news starts popping.”39 243

If Smith was displeased with the Inquirer’s largely neutral stance, he must have been dismayed and distraught with the Chester Times’ coverage when the highway fight really did start “popping.” On July 11th, the Department of Highways announced that it had selected the Yellow Route for the Mid-County Expressway and requested its approval under the Highway Act in a report to the U.S. Bureau of Public Roads.40 But rather than celebrating the decision, the Chester Times’ front page headline announced

“Rd. Choice Stuns Springfield.” Instead of highlighting the preservation of the Crum

Creek Valley and the benefits that the highway promised to bring, the paper’s accompanying front-page story largely focused on the damage that the route would do to the communities that it was slated to run through. The article explained that the route

“cuts through the heart of Springfield, wipes out Rutledge” and “hits hard in Ridley

Township.”41 It also carried Springfield Township Commissioner and longtime Blue

Route backer Lawrence Williams’ full statement on the matter. Williams argued,

“Never before in the history of highways has any route received the support that the Blue Route received. It is difficult to understand why the State Highway Department and the state chose to turn their back on this route. I personally feel a grave injustice has been done by the state in recommending the Yellow Route. It will destroy the effect of countless years of planning that has made Springfield a fine community … We will continue to oppose in every way possible the construction of the midcounty expressway along the Yellow Route.”42

The coverage was hardly a ringing endorsement and a sign of things to come.

The Highway Department’s selection of the Yellow Route generated an immediate outcry within the affected communities and pushed Lawrence Williams to the front of the expressway fight. In the weeks following the announcement, Williams aligned representatives from six municipalities, including Springfield, Ridley, Rutledge,

Prospect Park, Marple, and Swarthmore Borough, and formed the Joint Municipal 244

Officials Opposing the Yellow Route. Williams assumed the leadership of the group and helped generate an anti-Yellow Route resolution that charged the Department of

Highways with a “capricious and irresponsible misuse of its authority,” and demanded that the Governor investigate and make public the reasons for which the Yellow Route was selected.43

The Chester Times covered Williams’ movement extensively as it gained steam during the late summer and fall. The paper carried the full text of the Joint Municipal

Officials’ resolution and granted the organization positive coverage.44 At no point did the

Times run stories opposing the group’s positions or actions as it had while covering

Swarthmore College’s earlier push against the Blue Route. The paper’s underlying position became more problematic for Smith when the Williams-led organization announced its belief that “the only reason the Blue Route was not chosen was opposition by Swarthmore College.”45 All along, Williams’ charges, along with the Times slanted coverage, had hinted that political maneuvering more than any other issue had prompted the Department of Highways’ selection, but with this statement, Courtney Smith and the college had finally been publicly singled out as the party responsible for the Yellow

Route. Chester Times editors and reporters did not qualify or disagree with Williams’ charges against Swarthmore, thus allowing them to linger in the public discourse, a fact that would become problematic for Smith and the college in later years.

The pressure applied by Williams and the Joint Municipal Officials had its intended affect. On October 25th, the U.S. Bureau of Public Roads refused to accept the

Yellow Route plan and ordered Pennsylvania highway officials to conduct a new study and develop a plan that located the highway “outside highly developed areas.”46 In 245

November, the Department of Highways announced that it was initiating a complete restudy of the Mid-County Expressway and its possible routes.47

The decisions effectively ended the first phase of the Blue Route battle in a draw.

Courtney Smith and Swarthmore College officials had managed to stave of the construction of a highway through their property and the Crum Creek Valley for at least two years, the length of time that state highway officials estimated it would take to complete the new study. The U.S. Bureau of Roads’ decision did not definitively eliminate the Yellow Route from future consideration, but its demand for a new plan with a route through unpopulated areas made it highly unlikely that it would be considered in later highway debates. In the ensuing three years, the topic fell from the headlines as

Delaware County residents turned to other matters and waited for word of the next proposed location for the Mid-County Expressway.

While Pennsylvania’s highway officials reworked their plans, Delaware County continued undergoing physical and demographic changes typical of suburban counties across the nation. By 1960, the county’s population had grown to 553,154 people, a 33.5 percent increase from 1950.48 The growth of the county’s suburban areas was exacerbated by the rapid exodus of whites from Chester, which had been sparked by an influx of African Americans and the loss of more than 20 major manufacturers and thousands of industrial jobs in the city during the 1950s.49 Despite Chester’s pronounced decline, the Chester Times’ circulation continued to grow during the decade, climbing to

40,893 in 1959.50 In an attempt to keep up with the county’s changing demographics and distance itself from its affiliation with Chester, the paper’s ownership renamed it the

Delaware County Daily Times in 1959. The paper still focused on the working and lower 246 middle-class industrial communities in the eastern part of the county but also began covering its other sections much more.51 The switch worked, and the paper’s circulation climbed above 44,000 in 1962.52

The Delaware County Daily Times rang the bell marking the start of the highway battle’s second round on June 24, 1960, when it scooped the Philadelphia dailies and announced that the Pennsylvania Department of Highways had settled on an alternate version of the Blue Route as its selected path for the Mid-County Expressway. The story reported that the only element distinguishing the rumored alternate path from the original

Blue Route was the presence of a western loop that circumvented all Swarthmore College property and sliced through an already developed section of Nether Providence

Township.53 The report was based on a Times investigation and did not represent the department’s official stance in any way. Yet, the paper wasted no time in positioning

Swarthmore’s political lever pulling as the sole reason for the alternate route. It noted that the new route, along with the extra $800,000 in costs it required, had been “urged strongly” by the college as the planners resurveyed the area.54

Within days, criticisms filled the public discourse. On June 28, the Delaware

County Planning Commission released a statement supporting the original Blue Route path. The planning commission argued that in attempting to appease Swarthmore

College, the Department of Highways had created a route that would “create several areas of severe conflict in Nether Providence” by “destroying well planned residential patterns,” more than thirty “high value” residences, and disrupting “existing and proposed” township “facilities and services.”55 That same night, representatives of ten

Nether Providence civic associations gathered and developed a resolution urging the 247 highway department to adopt the original Blue Route path. At a separate meeting in nearby Upper Providence Township, more than 50 residents came together and passed a separate resolution opposing the alternate route.56

In the ensuing days and weeks, the Delaware County Daily Times emerged as a leader in the fight against the alternate route. The paper’s editors outlined their reasons for supporting the original Blue Route in a July 1st editorial titled “Let’s Make It Blue.”

The editors cited the planning commission’s support for the original route, called the alternate route expensive and “ill-advised,” and argued:

The opponents of the Blue Route who plead the cause of conservation of river valleys are as sincere as their opposite numbers and their concern can be appreciated, but when it comes to a question of cold hard progress for the greater number, and a relative esoteric interest in beautiful vistas, the former must take precedence.57

The paper’s news coverage reinforced this argument. One article highlighted a Daily

Times “spot survey” on the matter and did little more than provide an outlet for those whose houses lay in the path of the alternate route to voice their opposition to it. The article quoted Thomas S. Griffiths’ claim that “there is no justification to the alternate route,” and his suggestion that running the expressway through the Crum Creek Valley would be “far less offensive.”58 It also voiced Mrs. Herman Staples’ resentment over the

“political pressure” being applied by the proponents of the alternate route and her statement that “the whole thing has become a political issue, which it should not be.”59

In the midst of the rising cacophony against the alternate Blue Route, and on the same day that the Times issued its editorial favoring the original path, Smith announced that Swarthmore College would not support any incarnation of the Mid-County

Expressway through the Crum Creek Valley. In what can only be seen as an attempt to 248 distance the college from the ever-present rumors that it was working the levers of political power, Smith returned to the framework that he had used to oppose the Blue

Route in earlier years. He argued that the college had tried to “make its own position a cooperative one and educative one,” and that it was attempting to preserve what remained of the county’s open space as well as look out for its own long-term interests.60 The

Times printed much of Smith’s statement, but did nothing to help it catch on, running an article discussing the alternate route’s potential impact on Nether Providence alongside it.

The Nether Providence article did not mention Smith’s arguments and noted that in swinging west of the Swarthmore campus, the alternate route “leaves the college grounds in tact,” “cuts a swath through a rich residential area,” and “divides the township in half.”61 It further explained that “most officialdom” in the affected areas was in favor the original route.62

The public sentiment against the alternate route put Smith and the other

Swarthmore College officials in a difficult position. Part of the problem lay in the fact that the Times’ accusations were on point. The alternate route was a concession by the state to their requests that the highway avoid college property, and Smith was actively meeting with state officials to discuss the road. On July 5, Smith met with PA State

Highway Secretary, Park Martin, where he was shown and given a copy of the state’s maps for the alternate Blue Route in confidence. Three days later, Smith convened a special meeting of the Swarthmore College Board of Managers to discuss the route and the college’s stance on it. Despite the concession, Smith wrote Martin on July 11th, explaining that the board stood “unequivocally and unalterably” against the road and had voted unanimously to oppose it in any form.63 Smith and the other board members really 249 had little choice in the matter, regardless of whether they wanted to accept the alternate route or not. The Times’ slanted coverage of the leaked route had created an environment in which endorsing the road would have essentially ruined Swarthmore’s relationship with the surrounding communities and proven the paper’s accusations right.

The Times’ covered the college’s official announcement and its claims that it was

“making every effort to articulate a community, not just a college, point of view.”64

However, subsequent letters to the editor reveal that many Delaware Countians were not buying it. One resident, William Young, argued that prominent urban universities like

Columbia and the University of Chicago made do with limited land and suggested

“President Smith work with the residents of Delaware County towards a truly constructive – not narrowly conceived – community plan,” consisting of a “well- landscaped highway through the Crum Creek Valley.”65 Another letter writer, Roberta

Andrews, called Smith’s claims “unconvincing,” and argued that the institution’s community plan was designed to protect the “partisan interests of Swarthmore College.”66

It seems the Times’ coverage was having its intended effect.

Ironically, the alternate route, which seems to have been an attempt to find a compromise solution to the road controversy, appeased few. By running the alternate route through residential areas in Nether Providence Township, the Department of

Highways replaced one group of angry residents (those living in the path of the Yellow

Route) with another (those living in Nether Providence), and by designing a route that was virtually identical its predecessor, except for a small loop circumventing Swarthmore

College, it put the college’s officials in a position in which they couldn’t support the route and save face among the local communities. Finally, the fact that both incarnations 250 of the Blue Route ran through the Crum Creek Valley ensured that local environmental groups would oppose the highway, regardless of which route was finally selected.

The Delaware County Daily Times continued to openly endorse the original Blue

Route as the debates surrounding the alternate Blue Route wore on. One editorial called the alternate route a “tragic mistake,” that would cost at least $1,800,000 more than the original route, which it termed the “wisest choice for the north-south expressway.”67 The paper’s stance won it the approval of many readers. In her letter, Roberta Andrews congratulated the paper for bringing the issue out into the open where it could be debated.68 C.L. Jordan, a prominent local resident wrote in to say that, like all his neighbors, he wanted to thank the paper’s editors and staff for reporting on the alternate route’s problems in a way that “aroused all the citizens to immediate action,” and for providing a service that “only a courageous and alert newspaper can render to its community.”69

The Times’ position appealed to many residents, but it did not appeal to

Swarthmore college officials, who had no inhibitions against attempting to influence the paper’s coverage. In August, Swarthmore Dean W.C.H. Prentice met with Delaware

County Daily Times editor David Bowers to discuss what he considered to be inaccuracies within a previous article and the paper’s refusal to print his letter to the editor on the matter. Days later, Prentice wrote Bowers, suggesting that the paper pay to have “a skilled reporter make himself really expert on the history and facts of the various proposed routes of the Mid-County Expressway,” as “many of the facts that were public information as recently as three or four years have been clouded by propaganda and 251 special pleading.”70 Prentice’s letter essentially implied that the paper’s coverage was the result of unskilled reporting on the part of uninformed reporters.

The increasingly hostile arguments surrounding the rumored alternate Blue Route and Smith’s public denouncement of it forced the Department of Highways to hedge on its claims that an official announcement was imminent. On July 28, 1960, the department announced an eight-month delay in the official selection of the Mid-County Expressway route.

Additional opposition to the alternate Blue Route emerged in the ensuing months.

Among the most notable opponents were the Combined Civic Associations of

Montgomery and Delaware Counties (CCAMDC), headed by Robert Miller. The organization had aligned with Swarthmore in the earlier Blue Route fight and, like the college, argued against placing any highway through the Crum Creek Valley. However, unlike the college, which did not suggest an alternate location for the highway, the

CCAMDC endorsed the Green Route because it lay several miles to the west.71 The threat of the alternate Blue Route also prompted the rise of several new civic associations, including the Beatty Hills Civic Association and the Avondale Knolls Civic

Association, and motivated some established citizen groups, such as the West Springdell

Farms Civic Association to join the fight.72 Some individuals took up the anti-Blue Route cause as well. John Logue, an Assistant Professor of Political Science at Villanova

University, Swarthmore resident, and Director of the Citizens’ Council of Delaware

County, argued in a letter to the editor printed in the Times that the land slated for the

Blue Route would better serve the community if it were turned into one long public park.73 252

Each of these groups opposed the alternate Blue Route, however their reasons for doing so differed. Logue and the CCAMDC based their arguments on environmental factors, similar to those levied by Courtney Smith and Swarthmore College officials. In contrast, many of the members of the new civic associations were fighting for their homes and their property values. Rather than rely on environmental arguments, these associations based their arguments on economic rationale. They claimed that eliminating numerous high-value homes to make room for the highway would precipitate a significant drop in each municipality’s property tax revenues. Robert G. Hill, President of the Beatty Hills Civic Association argued that the alternate Blue Route would claim between 20 and 30 homes and cost Marple Township “between $18,000 and $25,000 a year in lost property taxes.”74 Nether Providence School Board official John A. Cushman later explained that the alternate Blue Route would necessitate the razing of 100 homes with a combined assessed value of more than $500,000, a fact that would cost the township more than $40,000 in annual property taxes.75 These arguments carried weight within each municipality and helped galvanize opposition against the alternate route. On the night that Hill presented his findings, the Marple Township Board of Commissioners voted to stand in opposition to the highway.76

By late summer, 1961, the Department of Highways had yet to announce the path for the Mid-County Expressway, and only a few facts seemed assured. Virtually all parties opposed the alternate Blue Route. The Delaware County Daily Times, the

Delaware County Planning Commission, and several local politicians, including

Lawrence Williams, favored the original Blue Route. Swarthmore College, Swarthmore

Borough, the CCAMDC, and the Creek Valley Association opposed any incarnation of 253 the road through the Crum Creek Valley. What was less certain, however, was where the local municipalities fell on the original Blue Route.

As anticipation of the impending announcement mounted that autumn, the issue threatened to divide some Delaware County communities. In Nether Providence, where the Township Board of Commissioners and the local General Council of Civic

Associations stood in favor of the original Blue Route, Walter Tyler formed Citizens

Against the Blue Route (CABR), to rally residents against both Blue Route options and force the Board of Commissioners to alter its stance. In October, the group drafted a resolution demanding that the township commissioners “take an uncompromising stand against any Blue Route.”77 Within days, Tyler’s organization aligned itself with eight other area civic associations standing in opposition to any Blue Route.78

The Delaware County Daily Times reported on these events as they occurred, but the paper did not, at this point, take the harsh position against the anti-Blue Route civic organizations that it had against Swarthmore College. This is likely because the College was attempting to protect a small, unused portion of its property while the residents were fighting for their homes. Further, the paper seemed to view the College as the only institution with the power and influence to divert the highway. In these years before the environmental movement gained full steam in America, it is unlikely that the paper saw the citizens’ actions as a real threat to the highway.

The Pennsylvania Highway Department announced that it had settled on the Blue

Route in November, 1961, as tensions within Delaware County were approaching a fever pitch. Unfortunately, the announcement did nothing to obviate the smoldering controversy, as it did not specify which path the highway would take through the 254

Swarthmore/Nether Providence area. The announced route did follow the original Blue

Route path otherwise, but interested parties still had no clue as to how it would proceed through the county’s most talked about parcels of land. 79 A day later, the Times leaked word that PA Highway Secretary Park Martin had acknowledged that both the original and alternate paths through the Swarthmore corridor would be up for debate at two upcoming public hearings on the route.80 The highway officials themselves had yet to choose.

The public hearings on the Blue Route generated an enormous amount of interest.

Scheduled for December 7th and 8th, the meetings represented the lone opportunities for residents to make their positions a part of the official public record, which was to be included in the Department of Highways final proposal to the U.S. Bureau of Public

Roads. In the weeks between the state’s announcement and the public hearings, the forces supporting and opposing the Blue Route each attempted to rally their supporters and galvanize public sentiment in their favor. The Delaware County Daily Times’ editors reiterated the paper’s position several times during this period. In an editorial run shortly after the state’s announcement, they argued in favor of the original Blue Route on the grounds that it was “vital to the industrial and retail development of Delaware County.”

The editors dismissed popular fears that the highway would actually increase local traffic congestion and split the county like “a Chinese Wall,” and took what had become an almost obligatory swipe at Swarthmore College, noting that despite its wishes, the road will likely run near its campus.81

As the hearings drew closer, those opposed to the Blue Route continued to hone and develop their arguments as well. In November, more than 90 officials representing 255 upwards of 35 local civic organizations gathered to discuss how to wage a unified fight against the Blue Route.82 Later, Philadelphia Conservationists, Inc., a local environmental organization, weighed in on the matter. They argued that the “high and irreplaceable values of community environment, community recreation, and community living are lost when open space disappears,” and called the state’s plan “uninformed,”

“destructive,” “out of step with the needs of the times,” and “thoughtless of the future.”83

On November 27th, Citizens Against the Blue Route laid out its arguments in a full-page ad in the Delaware County Daily Times that urged residents to join the fight. The organization argued that in addition to causing environmental harm to the Crum Creek

Valley and Swarthmore College, the highway would be “disastrous” to local real estate values and tax structures, bring the “inevitable re-zoning” of residential areas for commercial and apartment use, “change the entire character “ of the area and “have a serious effect on the school systems.”84 In crafting these arguments, CABR widened the case against the Blue Route and framed it as much more than a battle over environmental or even economic concerns. According to the organization, the Blue Route threatened to do the unthinkable, bring apartment dwellers to the area. At stake was nothing less than the sanctity of each local child’s education.

The following day, the Times headline read “Williams Asks Mass Support of Blue

Route.” The accompanying article highlighted Lawrence Williams’ calls for a “vigorous stand” by the public to “offset the ‘antics of the extremely vocal minority,’” that stood in opposition to the road.85 In a subsequent editorial, Times editors charged CABR with fighting Swarthmore College’s battle for it and reiterated the paper’s support for the 256 road.86 The paper’s editors were ready to match any attempts to raise public opposition against the Blue Route with a campaign of their own.87

More than 1,400 people gathered at the first public hearing in the Marple-

Newtown Junior High School auditorium. Beginning at 7:30 p.m. on December 7th, virtually every major player in the Blue Route fight, including representatives from

Swarthmore College, the Citizens Council of Delaware County (CCDC), the Combined

Civic Associations of Montgomery and Delaware Counties, the Greater Philadelphia

Chamber of Commerce, the Delaware County Planning Commission, as well as

Lawrence Williams and numerous residents presented their arguments. The speakers generally reiterated the claims they had made earlier. Ed Cratsley represented

Swarthmore College and emphasized the damaging effects that either version of the Blue

Route would have on the College and the surrounding communities.88 Walter Carlson, the CCDC’s President, stated that his organization found it hard to reconcile the

Department of Highways’ plans to build the highway through the Crum Creek Valley with Pennsylvania Governor Lawrence’s attempts to obtain approval for a $70 million program for conserving Pennsylvania’s open spaces. He argued that the road should not be built unless the state could offset the environmental damage it engendered.89 James B.

Summy, of the Greater Philadelphia Chamber of Commerce offered his organization’s support for the Blue Route on the grounds that it would aid local and regional traffic problems, increase road safety, save jobs, help “revitalize the Port of Chester,” and

“enable Delaware County to obtain its share in the growth of the Port of Philadelphia.”90

All told, more than 73 people spoke at the hearing, which lasted until 6:47 a.m. on

December 8th.91 257

The marathon public hearing revealed the extent to which the Blue Route controversy had divided Delaware Countians. Even though outlets such as the London

Times, the New York Times, and Newsweek, commented on the highway squabble in the ensuing weeks, the hearing did nothing to resolve the controversy.92 In its aftermath, as state officials readied their highway proposal for submission to the Federal Government,

Courtney Smith continued looking for ways to oppose the road and halt its construction.

He again penned Swarthmore’s alumni, requesting they write to Pennsylvania Governor

David Lawrence and Federal Highway Administrator, Rex M. Whitton on the college’s behalf.93 Following Smith’s request, alumni from institutions including Yale Law

School, Princeton University, the Brookings Institution Center for Advanced Study, the

Foreign Policy Association, and from all parts of the country inundated both men with hundreds of letters arguing against the Blue Route.94 A spokesperson for the U.S. Bureau of Public Roads commented months later that no federal road project had generated more mail, ever.95

Smith also continued attempting to influence local politicians and the newspaper coverage of the Blue Route controversy. In early January, he instructed Cratsley,

Prentice, and Shane to see that a sympathetic New York Times editorial got “into the hands of key public figures,” and forwarded a Delaware County Daily Times article he was unhappy with to Thomas (Tom) B. McCabe, the President of the Scott Paper

Corporation and a Swarthmore alumnus.96 Two days later, McCabe wrote to Delaware

County Daily Times publisher John E. Tompkins expressing his “deep concern” over the paper’s editorials and offered his “personal suggestion,” that the paper interview Robert

Miller, President of the anti-Blue Route Combined Civic Associations of Montgomery 258 and Delaware County.97 McCabe then enclosed copies of the New York Times editorial with letters to Walter Annenberg at the Inquirer and Robert McLean at the Bulletin that expressed his disappointment that neither had felt the need to express similar sentiments in their papers.98

Swarthmore’s crusade was bolstered later that year when the prominent conservationist William H. Whyte wrote Governor Lawrence on its behalf and the CCDC authorized the formation of a special Expressway Action Committee.99 The committee was headed by prominent anti-Blue Route activists Robert Miller and Walter Tyler, and formed to “work closely with other groups opposing the Blue Route” so as to give “give strength and coordination to the common effort.”100

The Delaware County Daily Times continued its staunch support of the Blue

Route during this period. Following Governor Lawrence’s decision to approve the Blue

Route plan and allow its submission to the U.S. Bureau of Public Roads for approval in

May, 1962, the paper’s editors ran an editorial explaining why his decision was correct.

It characterized the Blue Route opponents as “a relative handful” of residents who had confused “private considerations with public good” and explained that thanks were warranted because, “As so often happens, the vociferous few will reach for smoking pen,” and “the majority will be pleased but, having no personal axe to grind,” will remain silent.101 In the editors’ opinion, the Governor had correctly seen through the vitriol and rhetoric and made the best decision for the majority of Delaware County residents.

Despite receiving the Governor’s approval, federal officials twice delayed making a decision on the highway in 1962, first to prevent it from becoming a distracting issue during the Pennsylvania gubernatorial campaign that year and then again to allow for 259 input from the incoming Governor, William Scranton. The Times continued its push to get the road passed through regardless of the delays. In addition to numerous pro-Blue

Route editorials, the paper ran one-sided news articles favoring the arguments and positions staked by the road’s supporters.102 Uncritical articles like those that focused on

Greater Philadelphia Chamber of Commerce representative James Summy’s claims that the Blue Route would improve traffic safety in the area and on the Delaware County

Chamber of Commerce’s arguments that the road was necessary for the industrial waterfront’s economic survival were common.103 When Scranton named Henry D.

Harrall, the first Executive Director of the Delaware County Planning Commission, to serve as the State Highway Secretary, the Times ran a headline announcing, “‘Father’ of

Mid-County Expressway Named State Highway Secretary.” The accompanying article highlighted Harrall’s initial support for the highway and intoned that his selection was a clear indication that Scranton would approve the Blue Route. 104

All the while, the paper continued to save its criticisms for the forces opposing the

Blue Route. When representatives from Citizens Against the Blue Route and the

Combined Civic Associations of Montgomery and Delaware Counties traveled to

Washington D.C. to discuss their concerns with federal officials and refused to discuss the trip with Times reporters, the paper accused the groups of attempting block the road by conducting an “end run” obscured by a “cloud of secrecy.”105

On May 7, 1963, the Times happily announced Scranton’s decision with a headline reading “Blue Route Okayed! 12-Year Wait is Over.” The paper noted that

Harrall had modified the route originally submitted for federal approval in an attempt to placate Swarthmore College and lessen the road’s impact on Nether Providence. It 260 explained that the road would cover 20.65 miles and extend from Ridley Township,

Delaware County and end in Plymouth Township, Montgomery County.106 A day later,

Times editors expressed their approval in an editorial entitled “Blue Route (Finally),” that congratulated the new Governor for having the “plain, old-fashioned, every day courage to act instead of cravenly procrastinating,” on a vital issue that had been “stalled irresponsibly for more than a decade.”107 The editors also pushed local residents to vocally support the road and continued framing Blue Route opponents as a small selfish minority. They called for a “united effort,” to ensure that no “sore loser,” with “the audacity to try to further frustrate half a million Delaware Countians,” caused any further delays.108

The U.S. Bureau of Public Roads approved the Blue Route proposal less than a month later on the condition that its final designs meet four specific qualifications intended to placate the road’s primary critics. They required the Department of

Highways to “shift its alignment for the route in order to avoid affecting Swarthmore

College property to the maximum extent possible,” “aid Swarthmore College in obtaining land adjacent to its present boundaries to offset the small portions of land required for highway purposes,” design the highway so that it preserved “the esthetic values of the western limits of the college grounds,” and preserve the Crum Creek Valley by making portions of land “available for public outdoor use.”109 The stipulations required state highway officials to get the Bureau of Public Roads to sign off on its final designs prior to starting any construction on the highway.

The federal government’s conditional approval seemingly split the Blue Route opposition. In a press release, Courtney Smith explained that, while disappointed in the 261 decision, “the College stands ready to work with federal and state officials toward the achievement of the principles which the Bureau has set forth.” 110 However, in August, members of the Combined Civic Associations of Montgomery and Delaware Counties formed the Anti-Blue Route Action Committee, to coordinate and head up the group’s attempts to block the Blue Route. The group resolved to “adopt more militant tactics,” and in a report sent to “The Hard Core Of The Blue Route Opposition,” announced its plans to send an “indignation expedition,” of upwards of 1,000 activists to the state capitol building in Harrisburg to protest the highway.111

The indignation expedition didn’t quite engender the popular support that its planners thought it would. Only 250 protestors made their way to Harrisburg, where they conducted a brief (15 minute), though vocal, demonstration.112 A week later, Governor

Scranton reaffirmed his support for the Blue Route. The Times emphasized his decision in a short article titled “Route’s Here to Stay.”113 Indeed it was. In February, 1964,

Harrall forwarded the plans for the Blue Route to the Bureau of Public Roads for its final approval and the go ahead to start construction.

Despite the Blue Route’s seeming inevitability, the road’s opponents continually came up with new and creative ways to protest it. In spring, 1964, John Logue and Fred

Luehring, a Professor at the University of Pennsylvania, formed the Blue Route Walk

Committee to urge the Governor to veto the highway and use the land for public parks.

The two men organized and held a protest walk through the areas that the Blue Route was planned to run. The event garnered attention from both Philadelphia dailies, and Greater

Philadelphia Magazine profiled the group in a relatively anti-Blue Route article.114 Upon hearing word of the event, Times editors continued their slanted coverage and 262 unrepentant support for the highway. In a preemptive editorial, they described the walk as “an item which approaches the height of silliness,” conjured up by a “group of ‘never surrender’ obstructionists,” that “will influence no one and affect nothing.”115

Regardless of the editorial’s tone, the editors were correct. Shortly thereafter, the

Bureau of Public Roads approved all sections of the Blue Route, except for the portion passing by Swarthmore College. In April, 1965, Swarthmore College officials and

Pennsylvania highway planners finally agreed on a path for the road that ran along the west bank of the Crum Creek, largely avoided college property, and cut a path through

Nether Providence Township. On June 22, 1965, the federal government finally approved the Blue Route en toto, thereby giving the state the go ahead to start work on the long-awaited expressway.

The federal government’s decision provided what appeared to be the final conclusion to the Blue Route controversy. It was, in every way, a compromise route intended to please as many parties as possible. In avoiding much of the Crum Creek

Valley and Swarthmore College, the planners placated two of the largest and most vociferous road opponents, and by sacrificing a few residential neighborhoods in Nether

Providence Township, the planners gave the Blue Route’s backers, including the

Delaware County Daily Times, the road they had long been calling for.

In the ensuing days, Courtney Smith wrote to Governor Scranton, PA Secretary of

Highways Harrall, and Rex Whitton at the Bureau of Public Roads expressing thanks. In his letter to Scranton, Smith noted that word of Harrall’s decision turned the College’s

Alumni Day and Commencement into “one of the most joyous periods in Swarthmore’s 263 history.”116 Nether Providence Township commissioners begrudgingly gave up their fight a short time later, as did many other organizations and individuals.117

Despite its never-ending support for the Blue Route, the Times coverage of the road’s final approval was not celebratory or triumphant and instead recalled its coverage of the state’s Yellow Route announcement in 1957. Once again, the paper’s editors and columnists singled out Swarthmore College as the primary reason for what they saw as the unnecessary destruction of several residential areas. The paper’s headlines following

Harrall’s decision to forward the route to Bureau of Public Roads read “Blue Route

‘Corridor’ Picked” and “Slashes through Nether Providence.” The accompanying article explained that the route’s location was designed to preserve the creek valley and almost entirely avoid Swarthmore College property, and it emphasized that doing so required the demolition of more than 40 homes with values ranging from $30,000 to $200,000.118

Days later, the paper’s editors criticized the “preferential treatment,” and “overt favoritism,” granted Swarthmore College by the Bureau of Public Roads and called the delays they had caused “a needless waste of public funds.”119 In a guest column, C.L.

Jordan called the decision a “foul blow” to democracy and argued that the Bureau of

Public Roads was more interested in building a highway that did as little damage as possible to Swarthmore College than one that served the “greatest good for the largest number of people.”120 Another columnist agreed and sounded a more weary and cynical tone, arguing that, “like most Delaware County residents,” he had “long since stopped giving serious consideration to the possibility that the Blue Route might be constructed.”121 264

The columnist’s cynicism proved prescient. In 1966, the Pennsylvania

Department of Highways began acquiring land for the highway, and in 1967, it broke ground on the first section. However, construction quickly became mired in land acquisition delays and disputes with individual municipalities, which began looking for ways to limit the Blue Route’s immediate impact. Frequently, these fights centered on the size and location of the interchanges that were to carry traffic on and off of the expressway. Since the Department of Highways had not included each of the seven interchanges that it planned to build in its designs for the expressway, each needed to be designed, discussed, and approved in a process similar to that which the highway had been. Radnor Township officials were the first and most vocal critics of the state’s designs. They objected to its plan to build a large cloverleaf interchange linking the township’s primary roadway, Lancaster Pike, with the Blue Route. Township officials drew on arguments used in the earlier Blue Route fights while making their case, claiming that the interchange would wipe out the Hillside Circle residential development, cost the community valuable property tax revenues, increase traffic on local roads, and invite down zoning.122

Together, the community fights and land acquisition delays slowed the progress on the Blue Route to a crawl and dramatically increased the costs associated with the road. By 1970, only 2.4 miles had been constructed and its estimated costs had soared from $30 million in 1956 to $173 million in 1971.123 Making matters worse, the completed section sat unused because the interchanges had not been built. It was literally, a “road to nowhere.”124 Few realized at the time that the Department of

Highways had missed a golden opportunity to get the Blue Route built. 265

The Times’ coverage of the Blue Route also slowed during this period. With the larger battle seemingly won, the paper’s editors did not cover the interchange squabbles as thoroughly or with as much vigor as they had the earlier Blue Route fights.125

Following several editorials that pushed for a faster pace and called for the road’s completion in 1966, Times editors largely dropped the Blue Route issue.126

The absence of Blue Route coverage did not hinder the Times’ growth. The paper’s circulation continued to climb throughout the late 1960s, rising from 44,490 in

1963 to 50,102 in 1971.127 The paper’s expansion corresponded to the continued influx of residents into Delaware County’s suburban areas. During the decade, more than

48,000 new residents moved into the county, pushing its population to 601,425.128

Radnor Township grew by more than 7,000 people (+33%), Nether Providence gained

3,000 additional residents (+31%), and 5,000 new people moved into Marple (+27%).129

Combined, they accounted for almost one third of the county’s new residents. During the

1970s and 80s, much of the new opposition to the Blue Route that emerged emanated once again from these areas.

While the attempts to build the Blue Route stalled during the late 1960s, the

Federal Government responded to larger popular pressures and passed a spate of environmental legislation. Among these were the National Historic Preservation Act of

1966, the Department of Transportation Act of 1966, which created the Federal Highway

Administration (FHWA) to succeed the Bureau of Public Roads and prohibited the construction of federally funded highways through existing public parks unless no feasible alternatives existed, and the National Environmental Policy Act, which, among other things, required states to conduct Environmental Impact Statement (EIS) for all 266 federally funded projects, including highways. Had the Blue Route been constructed in an expedient manner, these laws would not have been an issue, but with only ten percent of the expressway completed in 1970, they became tools with which a new coterie of activists fought it. 130

In November, 1972, after nearly two years of trying, the FHWA approved the newly formed Pennsylvania Department of Transportation’s (PennDot) EIS for a 1.8 mile section of the Blue Route slated to run through Smedley Park, located just north of

Swarthmore Borough. Once again, the path for the road’s construction seemed clear.

However, the decision to allow construction in the park, which was one of the few readily accessible public recreation areas in eastern Delaware County, generated criticisms from two local organizations, the Citizens’ Council of Delaware County and the Chester-

Ridley-Crum Watersheds Association. The two groups claimed that the decision violated the Department of Transportation Act of 1966 and began the process of filing a federal lawsuit to halt any highway construction in the park. In a letter to its membership soliciting funds for the suit, CCDC President, I.B. Sinclair argued that PennDot’s EIS did not “begin to satisfy the requirements of federal environmental legislation,” and in words that recalled the earlier highway rhetoric remarked, “the nicest thing you can say about the people who planned the Blue Route through our county is that they are totally unconcerned about public space.”131 In September, 1973, the two organizations requested that the FHWA invoke its environmental reassessment policy for that portion of the road.

When the FHWA did not react fast enough, they aligned with the League of Women

Voters of Swarthmore, several individuals, and a group called the Whiskey Run 267

Rebellion and filed suit against the FHWA and PennDot to prevent any highway construction in Smedley Park.132

While the FHWA did not rule on the CCDC’s request, it did deal the Blue Route a separate blow in December, 1973, when it ordered PennDot to conduct a separate EIS for a 13.5-mile section of the road that stretched from its link with the Schuylkill Expressway to the Media Bypass. PennDot officials estimated that it would take at least two years to complete the studies and get them approved. When combined, the FHWA ruling and the

CCDC lawsuit essentially blocked construction on three quarters of the land the highway was supposed to run through. Making matters worse, anti-Blue Route sentiment in the area was on the rise. In September, the Environmental Protection Agency’s (EPA) regional head, Daniel J. Snyder, offered a stinging critique of PennDot’s highway plans, warning that the Blue Route would cause a reduction in farmland, increase air pollution, and have “dire consequences” for the county and the larger Philadelphia region.133 A day later, in a letter to the editor published in the Delaware County Daily Times, Nether

Providence resident and CCDC member Ida Surrency warned that “when the bulldozers come to the valley,” “the land will be completely raped of wildlife and the whole countryside will suffer immeasurable and irreplaceable damage.”134 In October, more than 200 people gathered at a CCDC co-sponsored event in Smedley Park to protest the highway.135 Smelling blood in the water, the Blue Route’s opponents were gathering steam once again.

With environmental critiques of the Blue Route pouring in from all sides,

Pennsylvania Transportation Secretary, Jacob Kassab ordered a new EIS conducted for every section of the highway not already under construction in October, 1974. He 268 estimated that the study would delay the road’s opening until 1980. The decision was a fateful one. Kassab’s order required much more than simply resurveying the area, which amounted to approximately 90 percent of the land needed for the road. Each study had to take into account the highway’s impact on a broad array of environmental factors and consider alternatives, including not building the Blue Route at all. After completing the studies, PennDot then had to forward copies to each municipality and all interested environmental groups and civic associations for review and feedback. Federal regulations also required PennDot to conduct public meetings to explain their findings and allow for local input. Following these steps, PennDot had to submit the reports to the

EPA, the Interior Department, and the President’s Council on Environmental Quality.

Only after surpassing all of these hurdles would the FHWA sign off on the road. Kassab’s decision, in effect, reopened the entire highway debate. It was almost like starting over again.136

By late 1974, the Blue Route’s future was very much in doubt. The road’s opponents, once thought divided and disposed of, now seemingly had the upper hand.

The new environmental laws gave them a legal basis for their arguments, and their opposition to the highway aligned them with other freeway activists in the Philadelphia region and across the nation, some of which had already successfully prevented federally funded highways from being constructed in their communities.137 In November, a U.S.

Highway Administration official called the Blue Route the department’s “longest festering sore,” and threatened to drop it from the interstate highway plan and revoke all federal funding unless a decision on the road was reached by July 1, 1975.138 269

With the Blue Route on the proverbial ropes, the Delaware County Daily Times once again stepped into the fray and emerged as a leader and critical voice in the battle to get the road built. As it did in the earlier rounds of the Blue Route fight, the paper uncritically endorsed local politicians and organizations that supported the road, provided them with ample coverage, and characterized those opposing it as a selfish minority standing in the way of progress. A Times editorial following the protest event in Smedley

Park titled, “Clogged Colonial Trails in Delco,” set the tone for the paper’s later coverage and openly framed the debate as one pitting environmental interests versus industrial ones. It reaffirmed the editors’ position that the county’s need for a north-south highway took “precedence” over ecological concerns and highlighted their full-fledged endorsement of Pennsylvania State Senator Clarence Bell’s arguments that the highway would prevent, “future economic deterioration,” and alleviate unemployment by making the area more attractive to industry.139 The editors also systematically critiqued anti-Blue

Route activist Robert Anthony’s argument that the nation’s “shrinking gas supplies and crowded highways,” necessitated an alternative approach to transportation and his claim that it was “prehistoric thinking” to believe the road was necessary.140 In doing so, the helped set the renewed Blue Route controversy as a fight in which those who opposed the road on environmental grounds appeared unconcerned with the economic hardships that thousands of working-class Delaware Countians were experiencing.

The paper’s news coverage of the Blue Route battles also reflected the editors’ positions and biases. In spring, 1975, the Times covered local U.S. Congressman Robert

Edgar’s attempts to gauge the level of public support for the road via a survey sent to

156,000 of his constituents. Edgar claimed that the survey was an attempt to gather 270

“expressions of opinion not only from the vocal few but from those who have thus far remained silent,” and stated that it would be added to PennDot’s report when the time came. Despite the fact that Edgar’s true interest seemed to lay in establishing evidence that a heretofore silent majority of Delaware Countians supported the Blue Route, the

Times positioned the Congressman as a holistic public servant uninterested in

“jawboning,” for either side.141 When Edgar released the results of his survey, the paper ran a front-page story titled “Majority Favors Blue Route.” The article briefly noted

Edgar’s qualifications that only 500 people responded to the survey and that the findings were not scientific, but the bulk of the story emphasized that the results revealed something much more important. It stressed that most of the respondents did not consider the Blue Route “obsolete” because of environmental considerations, were opposed to conducting more studies on the issue, favored routing the highway through

Smedley Park, and believed the road would “stimulate industry and create jobs.”142

Rather than highlight and explain the survey’s weaknesses and treat its results as a sampling of opinions from a relatively small number of area residents, a vocal few, the paper framed the findings as evidence that a majority of Delaware Countians supported the road and agreed with the positions it had staked out.

This type of slanted coverage stands out even more when compared with the ways in which the paper covered the groups and individuals opposing the Blue Route. During the same period in which Edgar conducted his survey, the Blue Route Coalition, a group representing eight local organizations and civic associations, began pressing PennDot for access to all of the technical studies and engineering reports that it was compiling while conducting the EIS. Coalition representatives argued that they should be allowed to view 271 and comment on the raw data PennDot collected and not just the information it included in the draft of the EIS, as this would likely reflect the state’s desire to get the road built and not include findings that could damage its case. In July, after receiving little satisfaction from PennDot, the coalition filed requests for the materials under the

Freedom of Information Act. The Times reported on the Blue Route Coalition’s activities but did little to aid their cause. The paper’s stories did not criticize PennDot for its refusal to make the materials available or its unwillingness to explain its rationale, and no

Times’ editorial raised the issue or critiqued PennDot for its handling of the Blue Route, something which was very much in order by that point. Apparently, the only parties with valid opinions on the highway were those that supported it.143

The disparity in the Times coverage was also prevalent in the ensuing years, when two new organizations, Blue Route – Now (BRN) and the Regional Transportation

Alliance (RTA), emerged as the primary combatants battling over the highway. Both groups emerged in early 1976, in the weeks leading up to PennDot’s release of the EIS report for the Blue Route. In an editorial, Times editor Joseph Burt explained that the groups were waging “a battle for public opinion” and the “minds of legislators and public officials,” and promised that the paper would “present the facts and opinions of both sides and distinguish between them.”144 The paper did provide background on each organization and did carry basic coverage of their meetings and initiatives. However, from the outset, the Times framed Blue Route – Now as an organization acting in the best interests of county residents and the RTA as group of obstructionists. The Times article announcing the formation of Blue Route – Now explained that it was backed by the

Delaware County Chamber of Commerce and that its goals were to generate publicity for 272 the road by promoting the many positive benefits that it would bring, which included reduced travel times, better gas efficiency, a reduction in air pollution, increased highway safety, and more jobs. The paper’s coverage of the meeting at which the RTA was formed, titled “Blue Route Critics Prepare for Battle,” was less objective. It framed the group as aggressively anti-road and emphasized its goal to serve as a “countervailing force,” to Blue Route – Now in the looming debates.145 Rather than focus on the RTA’s own positions, the article highlighted the group’s claims that Blue Route – Now’s arguments had “no basis in fact,” and its fantastical fears that the environmental destruction wrought by the highway would be so bad that people living in the area would

“be forced to pick up and move.”146 A few days later, a Times editorial commenting on the RTA’s formation further drove the point home when it rhetorically asked,

“environmentalists hindering progress?”147

As the two organizations battled for the hearts and minds of Delaware County residents, each expanded their arguments and attempted to co-opt the other’s positions.

The RTA broadened its arguments beyond environmental issues and began critiquing the underlying assumptions made by the road’s supporters, that it would alleviate traffic problems, bring industry to the area, and create jobs. After analyzing a preliminary draft of the Blue Route EIS, the RTA claimed that the “rapid development of the area stimulated by the Blue Route will quickly create much worse traffic congestion,” not alleviate it, and argued that the added traffic on local roads would require additional police and patrol vehicles, a cost that would be incurred by the communities.148 Later, the group released a fact sheet claiming that its analysis of the preliminary EIS revealed

“PennDot consultants” foresaw “no increase in employment in the area if the highway is 273 built.”149 For its part, Blue Route – Now took to promoting the environmental benefits that the highway would bring in addition to emphasizing its economic benefits.

Following the release of PennDot’s official draft of the EIS, the organization highlighted the report’s claims that the “levels of carbon monoxide and total hydrocarbons would be reduced in the region,” if the Blue Route was built.150

Though it had the opportunity, the Delaware County Daily Times did not sift through these conflicting messages and present its readers with an objective evaluation of either group’s claims. In all likelihood, both organizations were manipulating the EIS findings to further their agendas. Both Blue Route – Now’s claims that the expressway would fully revitalize the county’s industrial economy and improve the environment and the RTA’s assertions that it would destroy the area’s ecology to the extent that residents would flee the area were grandiose embellishments that did little more than convolute an already confusing issue. Instead of running articles and features that critically evaluated all of the central arguments in the Blue Route debate and informed readers of which elements were true and which were false, the paper continued its blind support of the road and failed to adequately perform its proper function as an objective news source.151

The paper’s coverage only exacerbated the Blue Route – Now - RTA feud. As

PennDot conducted the required public hearings on the Blue Route EIS both sides heightened their rhetoric and began criticizing each other. Speaking to a gathering of local residents, Dan Broverman, an RTA member, warned that “increased pollution, crime, traffic hazards, and noise,” would ruin everything in the Blue Route’s path.152

Another RTA member, Dr. Norman Brown, followed up on Broverman’s foreboding argument, claiming “we are going to lose our heritage if this highway is built,” and “we 274 are trying to save a way of life.”153 RTA members took to describing Blue Route – Now as a “special interest group,” whose support for the Blue Route was financially motivated by developers unconcerned with preserving the “historic, aesthetic, and ecological benefits, the affected communities offered their residents.154 In turn, Pennsylvania State

Representative Patrick Gillespie described the RTA as a “fringe group of lunatics,” whose “bottom line is valleys and creeks.”155 The local politician pointedly explained that he represented organized labor interests that “did not give a damn about valleys and creeks.”156

The vitriolic rhetoric heightened the importance of PennDot’s public hearings, which represented the last opportunities for the public to weigh in on the issue.

Representatives from the RTA and Blue Route – Now, along with those from numerous local municipalities, the Delaware County and Main Line Chambers of Commerce, the

Delaware County AFL-CIO, the Chester Teamsters Local 312, environmental groups and hundreds of residents testified at the hearings, which were sometimes extremely contentious. In all, when transcribed and compiled, the testimonies added 16 volumes and 3,900 pages to PennDot’s final report to the FHWA.157

Even though PennDot’s public hearings represented the pinnacle of public input on the Blue Route, Times editors continued supporting it. Days after the last public hearing, in an editorial titled “Stop Bickering – Build the Blue Route,” the editors outlined the numerous bureaucratic hurdles that PennDot had to overcome in order to gain approval for the road and concluded, “the gains to be derived from the construction of this roadway more than offset the disruption that will be caused to the environment,” and that the road “should be completed as soon as possible in the public interest, the 275 weight of which more than offsets the opposing interests of a minority.”158 In the space of one editorial, the Times editors laid out the two primary positions that the paper had argued for almost twenty years: the road’s gains outweighed its environmental costs and the majority of Delaware County residents wanted the Blue Route built.

The Times editorial was far from the last word on the Blue Route. Both the RTA and Blue Route – Now, which later changed its name to the Blue Route Alliance (BRA), continued trying to influence popular sentiment on the road through the late 1970s.

During this period, the paper continued supporting the BRA and the road. In summer,

1976, the EPA and Interior Department released separate reports condemning the EIS and the Blue Route. Both reports substantiated the arguments that the RTA and other local organizations had made during the earlier debates. The Interior Department report claimed that the highway would not reduce traffic volume in the area and that it would have an “unusually severe and adverse impact on parklands.”159 The EPA report was more damaging, citing numerous flaws in PennDot’s methodologies and findings. Both suggested that another, more thorough, EIS be conducted. Rather than investigate the claims, the Times ran an editorial criticizing the EPA for not monitoring PennDot while it was conducting the EIS and a story promoting BRA spokesman Robert Flannery’s claims that the studies were part of a “conspiracy” to prevent the Blue Route from being built.160

Later Times editorials continued pushing the highway and said nothing of the problems it could stimulate. An April 1977 editorial entitled “Let’s Finish the Blue

Route,” once again linked Delaware County’s “economic development” and “industrial development,” to the Blue Route’s construction and called its completion, “most essential.”161 In September, the paper’s editors weighed in on the topic again, labeling 276 the Blue Route opposition a “small group of environmentalists,” and encouraging the readers to show their support for the road by wearing pins that announced “I’m a Blue

Rooter.”162 Even when PennDot finally submitted its EIS to the FHWA in February,

1978, Times editors saw the need to comment, arguing for a quick review and approval that would “get this much-needed route ‘on the road.’”163

Unfortunately, the Blue Route did not earn a quick review or approval. In March

1979, the FHWA halted its review of the highway because an ongoing budget crisis in

Pennsylvania left the state without the funds to pay for its 10 percent share of the road, whose estimated costs had climbed to $216 million. Following the FHWA decision, U.S.

Representative Bob Edgar established a task force to develop a plan for significantly reducing the Blue Route’s size and scale, thereby shrinking its costs and environmental impact. Edgar’s subsequent report, which called for shrinking the highway from six lanes to four, reducing the size of its interchanges, and tying it into mass transit lines more directly, was submitted in 1980 and managed to gain begrudging Federal approval in 1981. Weighing in on the matter, the President’s Council on Environmental Quality endorsed the Blue Route despite “serious misgivings” about its need and environmental impact.164 The council ordered an independent “environmental ombudsman,” to oversee the project and act as a liaison between PennDot and local residents and organizations.165

In effect, the council named a babysitter to watch over PennDot’s work. The changes did little to appease Blue Route opponents, several of which banded together and filed suit in federal court to stop construction shortly after its approval.166 The ensuing court fight lasted almost five years. In that time, work on the Blue Route carried on intermittently until the Unites States Supreme Court declined to hear the case in March, 1986, thereby 277 upholding the Third U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals’ earlier decision allowing construction on the road. In December, 1991, more than thirty years after its initial proposal, the finished Blue Route was finally opened to traffic.167

In the end, it took a lot of litigating and the United States Supreme Court to provide the final go ahead for the Blue Route. However, the final bureaucratic chapter of the Blue Route odyssey does not offset the tremendous influence that the Delaware

County Daily Times exerted during the 30-year war to get the expressway built. During that time, numerous proponents and opponents entered the fight and disappeared from it, but only the Times continually supported the highway from the outset. The paper’s coverage was, more often than not, slanted and biased. Throughout the various highway squirmishes, the paper framed the road’s opponents as a vocal minority of self-interested residents and organizations more concerned with environmental esthetics than economic development and industrial growth. It did this regardless of the merits of these groups’ arguments. Concomitantly, the paper’s support for the road was pronounced and its editorials frequently bordered on campaigning. The Times editors and journalists consistently rallied supporters to the cause and ensured that a pro-Blue Route voice was continually heard amongst and above those that stood in opposition to the road. The Blue

Route’s final, if delayed, construction stands as a testament to the paper’s capacity to influence the physical development of suburban Delaware County during the postwar era. 278

Endnotes

1 The expressway was later officially designated Interstate Route 476.

2 “We Challenge Blue Route Foes,” Delaware County Daily Times, 21 December 1962, 5, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG 6, Series 3, Box 18, Folder 213, Swarthmore, PA, Swarthmore College Archives.

3 “Open Call for Action,” Delaware County Daily Times, 6 February 1963, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG 6, Series 3, Box 18, Folder 214, Swarthmore, PA, Swarthmore College Archives.

4 For “Blue Rooters,” quote see, “Become a Blue Rooter,” Delaware County Daily Times, 16 September 1977, 6. For “bottleneck” quote see, Ibid.

5 Adam Rome, The Bulldozer in the Countryside: Suburban Sprawl and the Rise of American Environmentalism (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001) 120.

6 Raymond A. Mohl, “Stop the Road: Freeway Revolts in American Cities,” Journal of Urban History, Vol. 30 No. 5 (2004): 674-706. For reference, see: Samuel P. Hays, Beauty, Health, and Permanence: Environmental Politics in the United States, 1955- 1985 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1987); Mark H. Rose, Interstate: Express Highway Politics, 1939-1989, rev. ed. (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1990); Bruce E. Seely, Building the American Highway System: Engineers as Policy Makers (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1987). Hays’ work provides an excellent account of the social and political forces that shaped America’s postwar environmental fights but does not thoroughly examine the highway controversies or connect them to the larger suburban environmental movement. Rose’s work examines the path by which the Federal Aid Highway Act of 1956 was developed and passed. Though, only in the epilogue does Rose address the highway conflicts that later emerged. Additionally, Rose locates these fights in urban areas and not the suburbs. Bruce Seely’s work focuses primarily on the key role that engineers played in the development of America’s highway system.

7 Rome cited the important role that mass magazines and writers such as William Whyte played in sparking the initial suburban environmental movement, and Mohl argued that local newspaper support was usually critical to successful freeway revolts. See, Chapter 4: “Open Space: The First Protests Against the Bulldozed Landscape,” in Rome, The Bulldozer and the Countryside, 119-152; Mohl, “Stop the Road,” pp. 678-679.

8 Between 1930 and 1950 the Delaware County’s population rose from 280,264 to 414,234. Figures from, “Population Growth Trends in the Greater Philadelphia Market, 1930-1940-1950-1960,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 6, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. 279

For the statewide figure see, Gaeton Fonzi, “Delaware County: The Everlasting Hurrah,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, June 1963, Vol. 54 No. 6, 27.

9 Both Kenneth Jackson and E. Digby Baltzell discuss the growth and social characteristics of the Main Line communities and their residents in their works. Jackson includes Swarthmore as part of the Main Line, but Baltzell, a native Philadelphian whose study focuses almost entirely on the Main Line, does not. Kenneth Jackson, Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985) 91-105; E. Digby Baltzell, Philadelphia Gentlemen: The Making of a National Upper Class (Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1971).

10 National corporations like Westinghouse and Ford Motor Co. also had plants in Chester. For a topical and primarily photographic history of industry in the City of Chester and the communities surrounding it see, Chester Historical Preservation Committee, Images of America: Chester (Charleston: Arcadia Publishing, 2004). See also Gaeton J. Fonzi, “A Dirge For Dying Chester,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, April 1961, Vol. 52 No. 4, 18-23, 70-76.

11 Delaware County was itself controlled by a Republican machine for most of the 20th century, and most of its residents were registered Republicans. For background on this see, John Morrison McLarnon III, Ruling Suburbia: John J. McLure and the Republican Machine in Delaware County, Pennsylvania (Newark, DE: University of Delaware Press, 2003); Gaeton Fonzi, “Delaware County: The Everlasting Hurrah,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, June 1963, Vol. 54, No. 6, 24-27, 58-73.

12 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1950, 117.

13 “The Case for a Suburban Daily,” Philadelphia Magazine, July 1967, Vol. 58 No. 7, 97-103.

14 Fonzi, “Delaware County: The Everlasting Hurrah,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, June 1963, Vol. 54 No. 6, 27.

15 No single work focuses specifically on Delaware County’s postwar development. For topical coverage see: Steven Hopkins, “Spawner of Suburbs,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, April 1956, Vol. 44 No. 4, 20-21, 63-65; Fonzi, “A Dirge For Dying Chester,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, April 1961, Vol. 52 No. 4, 18-23, 70-76.

16 The idea originated in the late 1920s when county officials first began looking into solutions to the county’s traffic problems but was shelved as a result of the Great Depression and World War II. The Planning commission originally referred to this as the “Red” route or the “A” route. See Draft Proposal of the Delaware County Planning Commission and Montgomery County Planning Commission for a North-South Expressway in Delaware and Montgomery Counties, January 1955, Southeastern 280

Pennsylvania Regional Planning Commission Manuscript Collection, URB 33, Box 2, Folder II-16, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

17 Ibid.

18 Southeastern Pennsylvania Regional Planning Commission Memo, 1955, Southeastern Pennsylvania Regional Planning Commission Manuscript Collection, URB 33, Box 2, Folder II-16, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

19 Ibid.

20 Rose, Interstate, 69-94; Richard F. Weingroff, “Essential to the National Interest,” Public Roads, March/April 2006, Vol. 69 No. 5, retrieved from http://www.fhwa.dot.gov/publications/publicroads/06mar/07.cfm, last accessed 10 September 2011.

21 Smith initially found out about the highway plans from a friend working with the planning commission. He then set up the meeting with Cooke. Memorandum: Courtney Smith to Joseph Shane, 29 July 1955, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 13, Folder 150, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

22 Ibid.

23 Quotes from, “The Highway,” an excerpt from the Report of the President of Swarthmore College for the Year 1956-1957, 5-7, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 13, Folder 154, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

24 Citizens’ Creek Valley Association of Delaware County Membership Drive Flyer, Citizens Council of Delaware County Manuscript Collection, URB 15/29, Box 2, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

25 Adam Rome cited concerns over the quality of drinking water and the need for sewer lines, as opposed to septic tanks, as primary factors in the rise of suburban environmentalism during the 1950s. Rome, The Bulldozer in the Countryside, 87-118.

26 The Evening Bulletin reported in August 1956 on public Delaware County Planning Commission meetings in which the three approximate routes were discussed. “Mid- County Super Road Gains Favor – But Nobody Wants It in Their Town,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 24 August 1956, 20F.

27 The Yellow Route was an updated, but virtually identical, version of the “Red Route,” which the state had considered prior to releasing its three alternatives. The state never seriously considered the Green Route because research showed that it would not handle enough traffic on a daily basis. Kenneth W. Reynolds, “The Blue Route: Past, Present, 281

and Future,” Middle States Geographer, 1997, Vol. 30, 124-126; “Blue Route Blues,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, July 1964, Vol. 55 No. 7, 86-87.

28 Letter from Courtney C. Smith to Walter Steigleman, Editor, Chester Times, 28 January 1957 and Letter from Courtney C. Smith to Richard Slocum, Executive Vice President, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 25 January 1957, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 13, Folder 150, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

29 Letter from Courtney C. Smith to Governor George M. Leader, 18 February 1957, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 13, Folder 150, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

30 Ibid.

31 Letter from Courtney C. Smith to Swarthmore College Alumni, 19 February 1957, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 13, Folder 150, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

32 “800 Vote Down Blue Route Use at Wallingford,” Chester Times, 5 March 1957, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 207, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

33 Courtney Smith carbon copy of letter to Governor George M. Leader from Russell C. Jenkins, President, Board of Commissioners, Nether Providence Township, announcing the board’s and other organizations’ joint opposition to the Blue Route, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 13, Folder 151, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

34 “College’s Road Action is Opposed,” Chester Times, 22 February 1957, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 207, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

35 “College’s Road Action is Opposed,” Chester Times, 22 February 1957; “College Accused in Rd. Dispute,” Chester Times, 29 March 1957, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 207, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

36 “College Accused in Rd. Dispute,” Chester Times, 29 March 1957, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 207, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

37 Robert Barry, “Mid-County Expressway: Delaware County Issue,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 23 April 1957, C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 207, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

282

38 Letter from Courtney C. Smith to Walter Annenberg, 4 June 1957, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 16, Folder 198, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

39 Memo from Courtney C. Smith to Ed Cratsley, 18 June 1957, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 16, Folder 198, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

40 To qualify for federal funding, the State Department of Highways plans had to be approved by the U.S. Bureau of Public Roads.

41 Doris B. Wiley, “Selection Wipes Out Rutledge,” Chester Times, 11 July 1957, 1.

42 Ibid.

43 “Text of Yellow Route Resolution,” Chester Times, 15 August 1957, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 207, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

44 See “Text of Yellow Route Resolution,” Chester Times, 15 August 1957; “Six Communities Organize Fight Against Yellow Expressway Route,” Chester Times, 24 July 1957, 1; “Swarthmore Council Joins Opponents of Yellow Route; Decision Causes Split Vote,” 13 August 1957, 1; “Springfield Yellow Rte. Parley Set,” Chester Times, 4 September 1957; “Half of Springfield’s Voters Signed Petitions Protesting Expressway’s Yellow Route, Chester Times, 13 September 1957, 1. Note: all articles from Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 207, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

45 “Yellow Rt. Foes Rap Governor,” Chester Times, 7 September 1957, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 207, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

46 John G. McCullough, “U.S. Won’t OK Expressway Yellow Route,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 25 October 1957, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 207, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

47 “State to Study Midcounty Road Again,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 20 November 1957, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 207, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

48 Population Growth Trends in the Greater Philadelphia Market: 1930 – 1940 – 1950 – 1960, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 11, Folder 6, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

283

49 For more on Chester’s decline see: Gaeton Fonzi, “A Dirge for Dying Chester,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, April 1961, Vol. 52 No. 4, 19-23, 70-76.

50 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1959, 150.

51 “The Case For a Suburban Daily,” Philadelphia Magazine, July 1967, Vol. 58 No. 7, 97-103.

52 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1962, 222.

53 Buzz Burr, “New Expressway Plan Cuts Nether Providence,” Delaware County Daily Times, 24 June 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 208, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

54 Ibid.

55 Press Release, Delaware County Planning Commission, 28 June 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 13, Folder 153, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

56 “Two Protest Meetings Lash at Blue Route,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 28 June 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 208, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

57 “Let’s Make It Blue,” Delaware County Daily Times, 1 July 1960, 1.

58 “Blue Fury: Victims Sound Off on Artery,” Delaware County Daily Times, 2 July 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 208, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

59 Ibid.

60“Dr. Smith Explains Position of College,” Delaware County Daily Times, 1 July 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 208, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

61 “Township Looks Blue Every Way,” Delaware County Daily Times, 1 July 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 208, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

62 Ibid.

63 Letter from Courtney Smith to Park Martin, Secretary, PA Department of Highways, 11 July 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 16, Folder 197, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives. 284

64 Buzz Burr, “College Fears Expressway Effect,” Delaware County Daily Times, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 208, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

65 William Young, Letter to the Editor, Delaware County Daily Times, 13 July 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 208, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

66 Roberta G. Andrews, Letter to the Editor, Delaware County Daily Times, 14 July 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 208, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

67 “Blue Route Would Serve Best,” Delaware County Daily Times, 15 July 1960, 6.

68 Andrews, Letter to the Editor, Delaware County Daily Times, 14 July 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 208, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

69 C.L. Jordan, Letter to the Editor, Delaware County Daily Times, 11 July 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 208, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

70 Letter from W.C.H. Prentice, Dean, Swarthmore College to David Bowers, Editor, Delaware County Daily Times, 11 August 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 13, Folder 154, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

71 Letter from Robert B. Miller, Combined Civic Associations, Delaware and Montgomery Counties to Park H. Martin, Secretary of Highways, PA Department of Highways, 11 July 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 13, Folder 153, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

72 “Beatty Hills to Battle Blue Route,” Delaware County Daily Times, 19 July 1960, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 208, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives; “Expressway Vets Back in Fray,” Delaware County Daily Times, 24 August 1961, and “Civic Unit Formed in N. Providence,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 28 August 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 209, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

73 John J. Logue, Letter to the Editor, “Blue Route Plan is Unsound,” Delaware County Daily Times, 19 August 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 209, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

285

74 Beatty Hills Area Rallies in Protest,” Delaware County Daily Times, 15 August 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 209, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

75 “$40,000 Annual Loss Seen From Alternate Blue Route,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 15 September 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 209, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

76 Beatty Hills Area Rallies in Protest,” Delaware County Daily Times, 15 August 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 209, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

77 “Citizens Decry X-Way,” Delaware County Daily Times, 17 October 1961, C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 210, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

78 “9 Civic Groups Against Route,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 19 October 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 210, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

79 “Highway Course Clouded,” Delaware County Daily Times, 16 November 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 210, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

80 Don Murdaugh, “2 Expressway Routes Seen Possible Proposal: Secrecy Confuses Residents,” 17 November 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 210, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

81 “Act on Expressway Now,” Delaware County Daily Times, 20 November 1961, 6.

82 “X-Way Foes Unite,” Delaware County Daily Times, 21 November 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 210, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

83 The statements were printed in a column in the organization’s newsletter. “Highways and Open Space,” The Beacon, November 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 210, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

84 Citizens Against the Blue Route Advertisement, Delaware County Daily Times, 27 November 1961, 15.

85 “Williams Asks Mass Support of Blue Route: Demands Vigorous Stand,” Delaware County Daily Times, 28 November 1961, 1.

86 “The Expressway,” Delaware County Daily Times, 29 November 1961, 6. 286

87 See the editorials, “Confusion…Pressure,” Delaware County Daily Times, 30 November 1961, 6; “Hearing Must Be Orderly,” Delaware County Daily Times, 7 December 1961, 6.

88 Transcript of Ed Cratsley presentation at the 12/7/61 public hearing on the Blue Route, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 12, College Position and Exhibition Folder, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

89 Citizens Council of Delaware County Testimony at the Public Hearing on Interstate Highway 480, December 7, 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 16, Folder 201, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

90 Statement of James B. Summy, Chairman, Streets and Highway Committee of the Greater Philadelphia Chamber of Commerce at Mid-County Expressway public hearing, December 7, 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 14, Folder 160, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

91 A second hearing was held on December 8th in Montgomery County. Following the meetings, the Delaware County Daily Times printed the entire transcript of the hearing in sections in its daily editions. See, “Blue Route Opponents Outline Basis for Objections,” Delaware County Daily Times 11 December 1961; “3 Community Leaders Cite Advantages of Blue Route,” Delaware County Daily Times, 12 December 1961, “More Officials Express Opinions on Blue Route,” Delaware County Daily Times, 14 December 1961, “Delco Planning Director Explains Blue Route Position,” Delaware County Daily Times, 15 December 1961, all in Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 18, Folder 211, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives. For general coverage see: “Blue Route Hearing Ends at Dawn; Road’s Cost Now at $57 Million,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 8 December 1961, 1, 3.

92 “Swarthmore Swath,” Newsweek, 15 January 1962, 75, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 17, Folder 209, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives; “The Tyranny of the Roads,” New York Times, 1 January 1962, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 18, Folder 212, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives; “Philadelphia By-Pass Battle,” London Times, 20 December 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 13, Folder 158, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

93 Letter from Courtney C. Smith to All Swarthmore Alumni, 8 December 1961, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 14, Folder 168, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

94 Smith’s files contain hundreds of carbon-copied letters from those answering his call. For a sampling see: Letters from John W. Nason, Foreign Policy Association to Hon. Rex M. Whitton and Governor David Lawrence, 12 December 1961; Letter from Paul 287

Seabury, The Brookings Institution Center for Advanced Study to Governor David Lawrence, 12 December 1961; Letter from Ellen A. Peters, Associate Professor of Law, Yale University Law School to Rex. M. Whitton, 15 December 1961; Letter from Robert L. Patten, Department of English, Princeton University to Rex M. Whitton, 18 December 1961, in Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 15, Folder 180, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives. Letter from Joseph A. Bullen, Jr., President, Fountain Sand & Gravel Co., Pueblo Colorado to Governor David Lawrence, 19 December 1961, in Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 14, Folder 167, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

95 “Blue Route Spurs Record Mail to U.S. Agency,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 24 May 1962, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 18, Folder 212, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

96 Courtney Smith memo to Edward K. Cratsley, William C.H. Prentice, Joseph B. Shane, and Richard W. Pfaff, 3 January 1962; Letter from Courtney Smith to Thomas McCabe, President Scott Paper Company, 3 January 1962. Both documents in Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 13, Folder 159, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

97 Letter from Thomas B. McCabe to John E. Tompkins, 5 January 1962, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 13, Folder 159, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

98 Letters from Thomas B. McCabe to Walter H. Annenberg and Robert McLean, 5 January 1962, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 13, Folder 159, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

99 Letter from William H. Whyte to Governor David Lawrence, 2 April 1962, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 14, Folder 160, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

100 Special Citizens’ Council of Delaware County membership meeting minutes, 17 May 1962, Citizens’ Council of Delaware County Manuscript Collection, Box 2, URB 15/30, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

101 “Delco’s Memo to Governor,” Delaware County Daily Times, 10 May 1962, 6.

102 For a sampling of the Times editorials during this period see: “Jammed Roads,” Delaware County Daily Times, 18 July 1962; “Road Blocks,” Delaware County Daily Times, 24 July 1962; “At Long Last: ‘Yes’ or ‘No’,” Delaware County Daily Times, 27 November 1962; “We Challenge Blue Route Foes,” Delaware County Daily Times, 21 December 1962 in Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 18, Folder 213, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

288

103 “Blue Route Seen To Aid Safety,” Delaware County Daily Times, 25 July 1962; “Path of X-Way Affects Bridge,” Delaware County Daily Times, 1 November 1962; “Chamber OKs Bridge, Urges Blue Route Action,” Delaware County Daily Times, 7 November 1962 in Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 18, Folder 213, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

104 Don Murdaugh, “Ex-Delco Planner Appointed,” Delaware County Daily Times, 19 December 1962, 1.

105 “Blue Route Foes Try End Run,” Delaware County Daily Times, 17 December 1962, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 18, Folder 213, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

106 Don Murdaugh, “Course is Approved With Modifications,” Delaware County Daily Times, 7 May 1963, 1, 12.

107 “Blue Route (Finally),” Delaware County Daily Times, 8 May 1963, 6.

108 Ibid.

109 Press Release, U.S. Department of Commerce, Bureau of Public Roads, 12 June 1963, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 16, Folder 197, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

110 Statement, Courtney C. Smith, 22 June 1963, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 14, Folder 164, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

111 For “militant tactics” quote see: H. Sheriden Baketel, Jr., summary of meeting to form the “Anti-Blue Route Action Committee,” 6 August 1963. For “hard core” report, see: Anti-Blue Route Action Committee Meeting Report #2, 14 August 1963. Both in Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 14, Folder 164, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

112 “Blue Route Foes Angry,” Delaware County Daily Times, 23 September 1963, 1.

113 “Route’s Here to Stay,” Delaware County Daily Times, 30 September 1963, 1.

114 “Blue Route Blues,” Greater Philadelphia Magazine, July 1964, Vol. 55 #7, 29, 84- 92,94-95.

115 “Delay is Our Enemy,” Delaware County Daily Times, 4 May 1964, 6.

116 For quote, see: Letter from Courtney Smith to Governor William W. Scranton, 9 June 1965. See also, Letter from Courtney Smith to Henry D. Harral, Secretary, PA Department of Highways, 9 June 1965; Letter from Courtney Smith to Rex M. Whitton, 289

Federal Highway Administrator, Bureau of Public Roads, 9 July 1965. All in Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 14, Folder 165, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

117 Harold D. Ellis, “Route Reactions Mixed,” Delaware County Daily Times, 7 June 1965, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 19, Folder 218, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

118 Harold D. Ellis, Blue Route ‘Corridor’ Picked, Spares College Property,” Delaware County Daily Times, 5 June 1965, 1.

119 “Blue Route Revisited,” Delaware County Daily Times, 11 June 1965, 6.

120 C.L. Jordan, “‘Influence’ Deals Blow to Democracy,” Delaware County Daily Times, 7 June 1965, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 19, Folder 218, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

121 McCormick, “I’ll Never See the Blue Route,” Delaware County Daily Times, 9 June 1965, Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, RG6, Series 3, Box 19, Folder 218, Swarthmore, Swarthmore College Archives.

122 For early progress on the Blue Route see: Harold D. Ellis, “Blue Route Seen Coming Along Well,” Delaware County Daily Times, 15 September 1966, 20; “Blue Route Work Could Start in ’67,” Delaware County Daily Times, 16 November 1966, 18; Tom Schmidt, “After Years of Fighting, Blue Route Project Begins,” Delaware County Daily Times, 4 March 1967, 1, 4, 5. For Radnor’s opposition to the proposed interchange see: “Radnor Blasts Blue Route Interchange,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 23 November 1967; Richard L. Papiernik, “Radnor Still Battling on 100-Acre Interchange,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 17 December 1967; Richard L. Papiernik, “Radnor Wants Interchange Redesigned,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 21 December 1967; Joseph D. McCaffrey, “Radnor Seeking Better Plan for Blue Route Link,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 17 July 1968; Jim Myrtetus, “Radnor Sets Tax Rise, Adopts Land-Use Plan, Orders Blue Route Suit,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 25 November 1969, all in Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

123 “An $8-Million-Per-Mile Road,” Delaware County Daily Times, 12 November 1971, 1.

124 S.Q. Stranahan, “The Blue Route: A $72 Million Road to Nowhere,” Philadelphia Inquirer, A-1.

125 In comparison, the Evening Bulletin covered the interchange controversies much more thoroughly. For the Times coverage see: “Proposed Marple Shopping Areas Bring Criticism,” Delaware County Daily Times, 21 February 1968, 12; “Radnor Protests 290

Roadway,” Delaware County Daily Times, 26 February 1969, 24; “Interchange Plan in Radnor Killed,” Delaware County Daily Times, 2 October 1970, 1.

126 “Need is Immediate,” Delaware County Daily Times, 21 February 1966, 6; “Delays Costly,” Delaware County Daily Times, 13 July 1966, 6; “Don’t Stall,” Delaware County Daily Times, 28 July 1966, 6.

127 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1963, 218; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1971, 212.

128 Population Trends in Philadelphia Primary Market, 1970 versus 1960, 8, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 18, Folder 13, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

129 Population Trends in Philadelphia Primary Market, 1970 versus 1960, 10, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 18, Folder 13, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

130 For background on the specific acts, see: “The National Historic Preservation Program: Overview,” http://www.achp.gov/overview.html, last accessed, 8 September 2011; R. Dale Grider, Departmental Historian, The United States Department of Transportation, “The United States Department of Transportation: A Brief History,” http://ntl.bts.gov/historian/history.htm, last accessed 8 September 2011; Linda Luther, “The National Environmental Policy Act: Background and Implementation,” CRS Report for Congress, 16 November 2005, 1-35, http://www.fta.dot.gov/documents/Unit1_01CRSReport.pdf, last accessed 8 September 2011. For general coverage of the spate of environmental legislation passed during the 1960s and early 1970s, see: Hays, Beauty, Health, and Permanence, 54-62.

131 Letter from President I.B. Sinclair to CCDC Membership, 4 June 1973, Citizens’ Council of Delaware County Manuscript Collection, Box 2, URB 15/47, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

132 The suit was also designed to stop the highway from cutting through part of another local park (Black Rock) and from taking a corner of the grounds of the Thomas Leaper Estate, a national historic landmark. Citizens’ Council of Delaware County Newsletter, May 1974, Citizens’ Council of Delaware County Manuscript Collection, Box 2 URB 15/47, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. For general coverage of this part of the Blue Route saga, see: Robert Fowler, “Opponents Overruled By FHA,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 23 November 1972; “Group Protest Routing Road Through Parks,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 16 September 1973; Steve Twomey, “4 Groups Sue to Halt Work on Delco Blue Route,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 10 April 1974, in Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. Also Harold D. Ellis, “Blue Route Faces Delay Over Study,” Delaware County Daily Times, 12 December 1973, 1, 12. 291

133 Warren Froelich, untitled article, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 25 September 1974, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

134 Ida W. Surrency, Letter to the Editor, Delaware County Daily Times, 26 September 1974, 6.

135 “Blue Route Walk Draws 200,” Delaware County Daily Times, 14 October 1974, 8.

136 Ralph Frattura, “Environmental Impact Study Ordered for the Blue Route,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives; Harold D. Ellis, “Blue Route Faces Delay Over Study,” Delaware County Daily Times, 12 December 1973, 1, 12.

137 In Philadelphia, activists stopped the construction of the proposed Crosstown Expressway along South St. Lenora Berson, “The South Street Insurrection,” Philadelphia Magazine, November 1969, Vol. 60 No. 11, 87-92, 174-182. For a national perspective see: Mohl, “Stop the Road: Freeway Revolts in American Cities,” Journal of Urban History, July 2004, Vol. 30 No. 5, 674-706; Zachary M. Schrag, “The Freeway Fight in Washington D.C.: The Three Sisters Bridge in Three Administrations,” Journal of Urban History, July 2004, Vol. 30 No. 5, 648-673.

138 “U.S. Puts Blue Route Fate Up To State,” Delaware County Daily Times, 29 November 1974.

139 “Clogged Colonial Trails in Delco,” Delaware County Daily Times, 17 October 1974, 6.

140 Ibid.

141 “Rep Edgar Wants Feedback on Blue Route,” Delaware County Daily Times, 9 April 1975, 32.

142 Doug O’Boyle, “Majority Favors Blue Route,” Delaware County Daily Times, 24 May 1975, 1.

143 “Groups Unite on Blue Route,” Delaware County Daily Times, 7 December 1974, 3; “Blue Route Coalition to Seek Study Data,” Delaware County Daily Times, 18 April 1975, 15; “Freedom of Information Act Cited in Effort to get Blue Route Data,” Delaware County Daily Times, 5 July 1975, 8; “Mistakes Found in Draft on Blue Route,” Delaware County Daily Times, 18 July 1975, 8.

144 “Blue Route – Now? Never?” Delaware County Daily Times, 17 March 1976, 6.

292

145 “Blue Route Critics Prepare for Battle,” Delaware County Daily Times, 8 March 1976, 3.

146 For quotes see: Ibid. For general coverage of Blue Route – Now, see: “Blue Route – Now Group Set To Give Expressway a Boost,” Delaware County Daily Times, 24 February 1976, 10.

147 “Environmentalists Hindering Progress?” Delaware County Daily Times, 10 March 1976, 6.

148 “Foes of Blue Route Say Traffic Relief To Be Only Temporary,” Delaware County Daily Times, 15 March 1976, 3.

149 “Blue Route Foes Deny Job Claims; State Impact Report Released Today,” Delaware County Daily Times, 31 March 1976, 3.

150 “EIS Supports Blue Route Backers, Chambers Says,” Delaware County Daily Times, 6 April 1976, 7.

151 For a representative sample of this type of coverage see: “Audience Hears Panelists Voice Blue Route Blues,” Delaware County Daily Times, 7 April 1976, 3; “Blue Route Backers’ Battlecry – ‘More Jobs,’” Delaware County Daily Times, 13 April 1976, 3; “‘An Idea Whose Time Is Past,’” Delaware County Daily Times, 7 April 1976, 3; “Only 1 of 18 Speakers Supports the Blue Route,” Delaware County Daily Times, 21 April 1976, 3; “Marple Considers Court Action To Block Blue Route Construction,” Delaware County Daily Times, 6 May 1976, 1; “Edgar Backs Blue Route,” Delaware County Daily Times, 6 May 1976, 1.

152 “Audience Hears Panelists Voice Blue Route Blues,” Delaware County Daily Times, 7 April 1976, 3.

153 Ibid.

154 “RTA Vows ‘To Bring Out the Facts,’” Delaware County Daily Times, 29 March 1976, 3.

155 Carl Diorio, “Blue Route Backers’ Battlecry – ‘More Jobs,’” Delaware County Daily Times, 13 April 1976, 3.

156 Ibid.

157 For coverage of the public hearings see: Nancy J. Holt, “Blue Route Fight Set Once Again,” Delaware County Daily Times, 12 May 1976, 1, 3; Carl Diorio, “Teamster Chief In High Gear For Blue Route,” Delaware County Daily Times, 18 May 1976, 1; Carl Diorio, “Blue Route’s Future Now Up To U.S. Officials,” Delaware County Daily Times, 293

27 May 1976, 3. For testimony statistics see: Bonnie Baldwin, “Blue Route 50 Years Old: A Monument To Red Tape,” Delaware County Daily Times, 25 February 1977, 18.

158 “Stop Bickering – Build the Blue Route,” Delaware County Daily Times, 2 June 1976, 6.

159 “U.S. Hits Blue Route Proposal,” Delaware County Daily Times, 14 July 1976, 1.

160 For conspiracy quote see: Harry Maitland, “Interior Department’s Report Draws Criticism From Blue Route Group,” Delaware County Daily Times, 17 July 1976, 3. For editorial see: “Few Flaws in EPA Operation?” Delaware County Daily Times, 28 June 1976, 6. For general coverage of the reports see: “EPA Report Attacks ‘Shortcomings’ In Blue Route Planning,” Delaware County Daily Times, 24 June 1976, 3; “EPA Report on Blue Route Plans Questioned,” Delaware County Daily Times, 25 June 1976, 3; “U.S. Hits Blue Route Proposal,” Delaware County Daily Times, 14 July 1976, 1.

161 “Let’s Finish the Blue Route,” Delaware County Daily Times, 23 April 1977, 6.

162 “Become a Blue Rooter,” Delaware County Daily Times, 16 September 1977, 6.

163 “Review Blue Route Study Quickly,” Delaware County Daily Times, 6 February 1978, 6.

164 Suzanne Gordon, “Blue Route Meets U.S. Requirements, Future Up To PA,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 1 April 1981, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

165 Ibid.

166 The plaintiffs in the case at one time consisted of Swarthmore College, Swarthmore Borough, Marple Township, Radnor Township, Nether Providence Township, the Citizens to Preserve Radnor Township, the Ashwood Manor Civic Association, the Nether Providence-Swarthmore Alliance of Civic Associations, and the Chester-Ridley- Crum Watersheds Association. Suzanne Gordon, “Roadblocks, Blue Route Cleared Hurdles in ’84, But Road Still Faces Legal Obstacles,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 6 January 1985, 1.

167 “U.S. Demanding Blue Route Guarantee,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 18 March 1979; “Opponents Are Red Hot Over Blue Route Plan,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 7 August 1979; Gayle Becker, “‘Downscaled’ Blue Route Pushed,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 24 February 1980; David C. Hackney, “U.S. Approves Blue Route, But Plan Faces New Delays,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 6 August 1980; Suzanne Gordon, “Blue Route Meets U.S. Requirements; Future Up To PA,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 1 April 1981, all in Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. See also, Suzanne Gordon, 294

“Roadblocks, Blue Route Cleared Hurdles in ’84, But Road Still Faces Legal Obstacles,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 6 January 1985, 1; Howard Goodman and Suzanne Gordon, “A 56-Year-Old Idea, Blue Route Creeps Toward Reality, Philadelphia Inquirer, 9 December 1985, 1; Donna St. George, “Blue Route: Winding Road of Controversy,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 22 January 1987, D2; Suzanne Gordon, Marie McCullough, Michael L. Rozansky, “How the Blue Route Will Color the Region’s Future; A Long Chapter In Road’s History Ends This Week,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 15 December 1991, 1; Bob Warner, “Green Light For the Blue Route,” Philadelphia Daily News, 16 December 1991, 4.

CHAPTER 6 OMITTING THE NEWS: THE BURLINGTON COUNTY TIMES AND THE FIGHT FOR AFFORDABLE HOUSING IN MOUNT LAUREL, NEW JERSEY

On May 4, 1971, the Burlington County Times announced that lawyers from

Camden Regional Legal Services (CRLS) had filed a lawsuit in New Jersey Superior

Court against Mount Laurel Township, a rapidly-developing suburban community located twenty miles east of Philadelphia in Burlington County. The story listed the plaintiffs as the South Burlington and Camden branches of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), the Camden branch of the Congress for

Racial Equality (CORE), and nine “black or Puerto Rican,” individuals of “low or moderate income.”1 It explained that the suit charged the township’s officials with deliberately using exclusionary zoning ordinances to prevent the construction of affordable housing within the municipality and that the plaintiffs were seeking to block all new development in Mount Laurel until “minority group members” could participate in rewriting those laws.2

The article detailed the opening salvo in a legal fight that escalated into a nationally significant fifteen-year battle to determine whether low-cost housing should, could, and would be built in New Jersey’s suburbs. It also set the tone for much of the

Burlington County Times’ sporadic, slanted, and shallow coverage of those conflicts and the groundbreaking court decisions that followed. While appearing to be a straightforward, factually accurate account of the lawsuit, in reality, the story presented an inaccurate and incomplete portrait. The Times’ article omitted important contextual 296 information regarding the suit’s origins and the longstanding community debates about whether Mount Laurel’s zoning ordinances were, in fact, exclusionary and discriminatory. It also failed to inform readers that the civil rights organizations were contacted and the lawsuit initiated only after Mount Laurel officials had repeatedly, and unfairly, rebuffed a local community group’s requests that a thirty-two acre plot of land be rezoned so that homes for the municipality’s lower-income residents could be built.

By excluding this information, the Times’ article inaccurately framed the lawsuit as a primarily racial matter rather than the complex race- and class-based issue that it was and presented Mount Laurel’s officials and residents as sympathetic figures, unfairly charged by outsiders intent on forcing change on a community that had done nothing wrong. In this case, the information that the paper did not include in its article was as important as the information that it did.

By the time Southern Burlington County NAACP, et al. v. Township of Mount

Laurel was filed, the question of whether suburban communities had a responsibility to allow for the development of low-cost residences had become a hot topic in America.

Despite the massive growth of the nation’s suburbs during the preceding twenty-five years, only 5 percent of African Americans resided in suburban communities in 1970.3 A

Time magazine article, “Can the Suburbs be Opened?,” explained that this newer, more modern form of residential segregation was the result of the wholesale relocation of industry from city to suburb and suburban municipalities’ widespread use of restrictive zoning and land-use laws, which established and maintained their socio-economic, and thereby racial, exclusivity. The story argued that these twin impulses had created a

“white noose” around America’s cities.4 Unable to afford the exorbitant costs associated 297 with buying a single-family home on a large plot of land, and without access to affordable and expedient public transportation that would enable them to reach employment opportunities in the suburbs, many blacks were cut off from the jobs they needed and trapped within the decaying core of America’s once-mighty industrial centers. Despite President Richard Nixon’s and Vice President Spiro T Agnew’s overtures that suburban municipalities make a greater effort to open housing and employment opportunities to blacks and other minorities in the years following the passage of the 1968 Fair Housing Act, suburban communities were reluctant to alter their modus operandi, and thus, little changed.5

Across the nation, many suburban communities reacted harshly to any initiative that sought to curtail or restrict their capacity to enact and enforce their own zoning policies. In 1970, Warren, MI, residents cursed and hissed Secretary of Housing and

Urban Development (HUD), George Romney, as he attempted to explain the agency’s plans to help blacks working in the town’s automotive plants gain affordable residences there.6 America’s suburban communities, it appeared, were not going give up their zoning privileges without a fight.7

In A Consumer’s Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar

America, historian Lizabeth Cohen thoroughly demonstrated how suburban communities’ use of restrictive land-use and zoning laws “exacerbated inequality” and created new kinds of socio-economic “hierarchies” in America. Cohen argued that the suburban single-family home’s emergence as “a mass consumer commodity” that could be

“appraised and traded up like a car” made property values “the new mantra” in American suburbia during the 1950s.8 Suburban politicians and planners enacted zoning policies 298 designed to attract residents and industries that would increase tax revenues and require few expenditures, and which prohibited virtually all forms of affordable housing. By banning apartments, townhomes, trailer parks and other sorts of low-cost, multi-family dwellings, the zoning ordinances denied most working-class whites and most African-

Americans access to the nation’s newest and most lucrative suburban areas and, as Cohen convincingly reveals, contributed to the growth of more racially homogenous and economically “stratified” communities during the sixties, seventies, and eighties.9

The emergence of these new, more exclusive, suburban enclaves did not go unnoticed. Fair housing and civil rights activists challenged the restrictive zoning ordinances in numerous lawsuits, arguing that the laws were unconstitutionally economically discriminatory. The Mount Laurel lawsuit was the most prominent of these legal challenges. In their comprehensive case study of the Mount Laurel legal battles,

Our Town: Race, Housing, and the Soul of Suburbia, David L. Kirp, John P. Dwyer, and

Larry A. Rosenthal labeled the lawsuit “the Roe v. Wade of affordable housing,” and the

New Jersey Supreme Court rulings that decided it, the “most important zoning decisions” in America since the U.S. Supreme Court declared zoning constitutional in 1926.10 The authors accurately presented the conflict as a path-breaking fight for civil and economic rights that pitted Mount Laurel’s new middle- and upper-class citizens against its established poor, mostly minority, residents and characterized the suburbanites’ ongoing resistance to the Mount Laurel decisions as a backlash against the loss of local political autonomy that the rulings engendered.11 Drawing heavily on the Our Town authors’ work, Cohen also placed the lawsuit at the forefront of the push for fair housing in the 299 nation’s suburbs, calling it “the case that generated the most far-reaching condemnation of exclusionary zoning in postwar America.”12

However, while these scholars have convincingly detailed the evolution, impact, and importance of America’s exclusionary zoning battles and, specifically, the ins and outs of the Mount Laurel lawsuit, they have not examined the many ways in which local newspaper coverage framed the debates and influenced how suburbanites understood and reacted to the issues. In Mount Laurel, the Burlington County Times’ coverage continually, and uncritically, reflected and reinforced the attitudes and opinions of Mount

Laurel’s public officials and middle- and upper-class residents and rarely approached the topic objectively or from the perspective of those looking to secure low-cost residences for those who needed it. By running an almost continuous string of articles that focused on the sanctity of the township’s political autonomy and the threat that “judicial legislation” posed to it, the paper helped prevent any meaningful pro-fair housing discourse from emerging and facilitated the entrenchment of an enduring anti-poor, pro- home rule political culture in the township at a time when the issues were being contested and debated in the municipality, throughout the state, and across the nation.13 The paper’s coverage of the Mount Laurel land-use conflicts reveals the central role that suburban daily newspapers played in shaping the political culture of America’s suburbs and demonstrates that the stories that do not appear in the news are often as important as those that do.

As the 1960s dawned, the waves of suburban development that had washed over much of the nation during the preceding fifteen years finally reached Mount Laurel, New 300

Jersey. Incorporated in 1872, the township had changed little between its inception and the end of World War II. In 1950, Mount Laurel had no Main Street or post office and only 2,800 residents.14 However, the completion of the nearby New Jersey turnpike in

1952 and other local highways made the area much more accessible to industry and commutes to urban centers like Philadelphia, Camden, and Trenton much more manageable. As a result, the township’s population doubled during the fifties, rising to

5,249 by 1960.15

Mount Laurel’s location, less than ten miles due east of Cherry Hill’s office parks and retail outlets, and its more than twenty square miles of open land set it directly in the path of development, made it highly attractive to builders, and offered local farmers the opportunity to get rich by selling off their properties. The township’s development seemed inevitable, but questions still existed about what type of suburban community it would actually become. Township officials and residents needed to determine whether to allow developers to build subdivisions aimed at attracting a range of socio-economic classes, like Levittown, PA, or aim for a more affluent set, as those who planned and developed Cherry Hill had done. Any lingering doubt as to which way Mount Laurel’s officials would lean ended in early 1961, when Goodwin Housing, Inc., the developers who built Cherry Hill’s Kingston Estates, announced plans to construct a $40 million,

1,500-home “‘country club’ housing community” on 850 acres of land less than two miles from a $38 million office park and retail center.16 Goodwin’s plans for the

Ramblewood-on-the-Green subdivision included two eighteen-hole golf courses, a clubhouse, three swimming pools, and homes ranging in price from $18,000 to $30,000.

Set to open in the fall of 1961, Ramblewood-on-the-Green was the first Federal Housing 301

Administration (FHA) approved subdivision in the nation to feature golf courses and a country club as a central part of the development.17 With most homes costing above the

$20,000 plateau, the subdivision targeted the region’s middle and upper classes.

Mount Laurel officials’ attempts to attract higher income residents who could afford to live in a country club community were not arbitrary. They understood that any development within the township would necessitate an expansion in the municipal services that it provided, and that those costs could best be covered by attracting the kinds of development that produced large amounts of tax revenue and required the fewest outlays possible. The tax revenues that the township stood to collect from positive

“ratables” such as office parks, retail outlets, golf courses, and single-family homes on large plots of land promised to keep Mt. Laurel afloat as it made the transition from rural to suburban community.18 The Ramblewood golf courses were early examples of this kind of development. Built by a private developer, they encompassed large tracts of land that the owners had to pay property taxes on and provided a recreation spot to those in the area that could afford it, with little expense to the township. The courses also represented a type of development that preserved open space, albeit private, which helped the township maintain at least some semblance of the sprawling, rural character it was known for. They were near perfect ratables. The courses housed no one, attracted consumers, maintained open space, required few township outlays, and brought in tax revenues. As the township’s budget and expenditures increased during the sixties, the Mount Laurel officials’ attempts to attract development of this sort seemed justified, smart, and profitable.19 In 1962, they approved more than $1,800,000 in new construction, which brought the township an additional $125,000 in “cold cash” for that year alone.20 302

The flip side to Mt. Laurel’s quest for good ratables was that it virtually eliminated any incentive for the township to allow the types of development that did not generate a good enough cost to revenue ratio, which happened to include housing for the area’s poor and moderate-income families. Apartment buildings, mobile home parks, row homes, and even single-family dwellings on small plots of land threatened to drain the township of its revenues by establishing a high density of residents whose use of municipal services, particularly in the form of public education, would cost more than the taxes they paid in. This didn’t stop developers from attempting to put housing of this sort in Mount Laurel, but the township’s planning board refused to allow it. In June, 1963, the Mount Laurel planning commission rejected a developer’s proposal to construct 100 garden apartments on the grounds that they “would not be an attractive ratable.”21 James

Sine, the chairman of the commission, rationalized the decision, explaining that “the cost to the township would certainly be more than any ratable we would derive from them.”22

Another planning commission member, D. Earle Nelson, used starker terms to describe their position, stating, “we have done a good job in keeping out undesirable housing and industrial projects, and we classify apartments in that category.”23

A year later, Mount Laurel officials introduced and ratified a new zoning ordinance that codified the ban on apartments, row homes, and “trailer camps.” 24 The new law established three types of residential zoning districts, labeled R-1, R-2, and R-3, that made the construction of low-cost homes in the township virtually impossible. The new districts set the minimum lot sizes for single-family homes at 9,375 square feet,

11,000 square feet, and 20,000 square feet.25 Despite an abundance of open and available 303 land, and the presence of ready and willing developers, there seemed to be no room for fair housing in Mount Laurel.

Mount Laurel’s zoning ordinance was not out of the ordinary. In the wake of the

1948 Shelley v. Kraemer United States Supreme Court decision, which ruled restrictive housing covenants unconstitutional, suburban municipalities increasingly used their zoning powers to maintain the ethnic, racial, and economic exclusivity they had previously enjoyed. By setting in place land-use laws that banned inexpensive housing, suburban officials made creative use of their local political powers during the 1950s and developed new “class-based” mechanisms for keeping working-class-whites, African

Americans, and “other undesirables” out of their towns.26 By the time the Mount Laurel officials ratified the townships’ new policy in late 1964, the use of restrictive zoning ordinances was a well-developed and entrenched part of suburban development in

America. The policies were popular because they were effective. In 1970, Paul

Davidoff, a New York urbanologist working with the NAACP, argued that the laws had been used to “create a segregated society—one of de jure, not just de facto segregation.”27

In addition to keeping lower-income residents out of the developing community,

Mount Laurel’s zoning ordinances also made it difficult for the poor residents that had long called the municipality home to find adequate and affordable housing there. Most of

Mount Laurel’s poor lived in a small section of the township that consisted of a random collection of tarpaper shacks and converted chicken coups. Dubbed Springville, the area originally housed some of the region’s Russian-Jewish population who briefly migrated to the area after passing through Philadelphia’s cramped immigrant wards. The 304 mobilization for World War II brought armed forces personnel serving at nearby Fort Dix to Springville, but when the need for military housing waned following the war, the area emerged as Mount Laurel’s low-income enclave. As developers’ bulldozers wrought

Mount Laurel’s farmland asunder during the 1950s and 60s, area farmers had less and less need for the tenants that had traditionally resided on their properties. With nowhere else to go, Mount Laurel’s tenant farmers made their way to Springville, the only part of the township they could afford to live in.28

Springville was an integrated community, but many of its most prominent citizens were African Americans whose families had lived in the township for generations.29

Families like the Gaineses and the Stills, were descendants of slaves who had made their way to Mount Laurel via the Underground Railroad. Longtime members of the community like Ethel Lawrence recalled life in Mount Laurel and on its tenant farms fondly, noting: “Everyone knew everyone else, and if you were in trouble everybody helped. We all got along beautifully.”30 However, by the late 1950s, Springville’s shacks and converted chicken coups had largely fallen into a state of disrepair. Heat was a luxury, clean running water was scarce, and sewage disposal and sanitation were constant problems. The continuing influx of new arrivals from the area’s farms increased these issues and contributed to a growing perception among Mount Laurel’s officials and new residents that Springville was a slum.31

By the mid-sixties, half of Springville’s dwellings were considered “deteriorated or dilapidated,” according to the state building code.32 Township officials decided that the best way to clean up the area was by tearing down the shacks. However, New Jersey state law required that they either rehabilitate the area or secure other living arrangements 305 for displaced residents, two options that did not fit with Mount Laurel officials’ quest for good ratables. Both options cost money they thought could be put to better use elsewhere. Accordingly, the township officials took a hands-off approach to Springville, allowing it to fall further into disrepair until, slowly, many of its residents moved out.

Once vacated, the dwellings were condemned and torn down without finding new housing for the previous tenants. With no other inexpensive housing in the township, virtually all of the residents who vacated Springville also left Mount Laurel. Looking back on the township’s approach, former Mount Laurel zoning officer, councilman, and mayor, Jose Alvarez, claimed, “it may have resulted in eliminating a few homes, but then it was a good reflection on the town.”33

The Mount Laurel officials’ actions represented a clear attempt to force economically-disadvantaged residents out of their homes and the community. Yet, here again, the officials’ actions were not out of the ordinary. Federally-subsidized urban renewal programs that cleared areas identified as “blighted” or as “slums” to make room for new highways and modern office buildings catering to the nation’s middle- and upper-classes had been carried out in one form or another in most of America’s major cities by the mid-sixties. Frequently, these programs decimated African-American neighborhoods and, outside of geographically-segregated public housing projects, gave little thought to where the displaced residents would live.34 Similar processes also took place in the skid row sections of the nation’s urban areas. In those neighborhoods, authorities paved the way for slum clearance and urban renewal by enforcing building codes that prompted many lodging house owners to abandon their properties, rather than incur the costs of fixing them up, and by allowing neighborhoods to fall into disrepair by 306 not maintaining them.35 There too, little consideration was given to where the dislocated and downtrodden might find new housing.

Mount Laurel’s zoning ordinance had its intended effect, but a few residents, including Ethel Lawrence, who owned her home, stayed on to contest the township’s actions. In 1967, Lawrence joined the Springville Action Council (SAC), a new federal community action program. The Council helped establish a Head Start program in

Mount Laurel and, before long, began looking for ways to improve the living conditions in Springville and keep its residents in the township. In June, 1968, the group received a

$7,000, interest-free loan from the New Jersey Department of Community Affairs to use as seed money for an affordable housing initiative. Over the course of the next year,

SAC put a deposit down on “32 wooded acres” in Springville, hired architects and planners, lined up additional funding from the Federal Housing Administration, and submitted construction plans to the Mount Laurel planning board for approval.36 Yet, that approval did not come. Mt. Laurel planning officials rebuffed every plan SAC submitted, citing a litany of “silly and picky objections” and sending the group’s architect back to the drawing board four times.37 By November, 1969, the Council had reduced its plans from 200 apartments to three sixteen-unit apartment buildings to forty-eight townhomes.

Despite the changes, the Mount Laurel planning board rejected another SAC proposal that December.38 Less than a year later, in autumn, 1970, township commissioner Bill

Haines, a major force behind Mount Laurel’s development and a key player in the township’s Republican Party, addressed several residents and SAC members at

Springville’s Jacob’s Chapel following a Sunday service. Haines informed those who had gathered that the township commissioners had rejected the latest housing proposal 307 and explained in no short order that “If you people can’t afford to live in our town, then you’ll just have to leave.”39

The planning board’s intransigence dealt a severe blow to the Council’s attempts to get fair housing built in Springville, since the federal funds they anticipated receiving for construction costs were tied to gaining the township’s approval.40 Elaine Weiss, a

New York City housing consultant working with SAC, called the Mount Laurel planning board’s actions in the face of such need, “appalling.”41 However, many local residents found them perfectly legitimate. Kirp, Dwyer, and Rosenthal claimed that the municipality’s newer residents, which, by this point, outnumbered the old, dominated the hearings at which the proposals were debated. They explained that, regardless of the residents’ political affiliation, the overwhelming sentiment at the meetings was that

“Housing for the poor should not—at all costs must not—be built in Mount Laurel.”42 At an October, 1969, hearing in which one SAC proposal was discussed, a local resident argued, “If we put new affordable housing in Springville, people from the Philadelphia slums will move out here.”43 Another added to this sentiment, stating, “Our taxes are high enough now without supporting a whole lot of bums on relief.”44

The comments emanating from the meetings were representative of the larger community concerns that the construction of new low-cost housing in Springville would bring urban minorities and urban problems to Mount Laurel. Some of the prevailing attitudes on the issue stemmed from the interactions local politicians had with

Springville’s residents. One recalled that the living conditions in Springville turned his stomach and that each person whose vote he solicited asked for a favor in return.

William Shields, another local Republican politician and resident of Ramblewood, later 308 described SAC activists as people who expected a “million dollars and an El Dorado

Cadillac” for little in return.45 In addition, many of the residents’ larger fears were also likely fueled by the racial problems engulfing nearby Camden, which had emerged as one of America’s most impoverished cities during the 1960s. Between 1950 and 1970, as

Camden’s manufacturing sector withered, thousands of African Americans moved in looking for work. By 1970, African Americans made up 39 percent of Camden’s population.46 The increased minority presence in the city combined with the dwindling number of jobs heightened racial tensions in Camden, and, in 1969, violent race riots gripped the city. Camden’s rampant poverty and social upheaval assuredly stoked Mount

Laurel residents’ fears and made the requests for low-cost housing appear all the more threatening.47 Despite the fact that the Council had secured its own funding and was not asking the township to subsidize the proposed construction via land donations, tax abatements, or any other financial mechanism, by late 1970, it was clear that the answer would remain “No.”48

The housing debates that emerged in Mount Laurel were certainly newsworthy.

Yet, the Burlington County Times, the only daily newspaper primarily dedicated to reporting on the events taking place within Burlington County, devoted scant coverage to the emerging controversy. The paper did not cover the Council’s receipt of the $7,000 loan or its numerous proposals, nor did it effectively cover the Mount Laurel officials’ responses and reactions to those plans. In failing to report on an important local issue that also had implications for the larger county and region, the paper neglected its duties as a disseminator of local news and was guilty of a significant dereliction of journalistic duty. The paper’s silence denied SAC members a significant public outlet to make their 309 case to the larger community, and it essentially enabled Mount Laurel’s officials to continue on with their development plans without any significant public scrutiny.49

The Burlington County Times’ had little incentive to cover the plight of Mount

Laurel’s poor. Founded in 1958 by S.W. Calkins at the behest of William Levitt, the paper was originally named the Levittown Times and dedicated to serving the residents of

Levittown, New Jersey. 50 In 1961, Calkins changed the paper’s name to the Burlington

County Times so as to better reflect its broadening scope, which had grown to include coverage of the county seat in Mount Holly. Between 1960 and 1970, as Burlington

County’s population grew from 224,499 to 323,132, the Times’ circulation increased from 7,500 to 31,140.51 However, even by the late sixties, the majority of the Times’ readership was still located in the western part of the county, close to the Delaware River, and much of the paper’s coverage during the period focused on those areas. The happenings in small, almost remote communities like Mount Laurel, whose 11,221 residents made up less than 5 percent of the county total, were covered sparingly, regardless of their larger importance.52

Market forces provided additional incentives for the paper to ignore the zoning conflict. Calkins also owned the Courier-Times and Daily Intelligencer in Bucks County,

PA. When combined with the Burlington County Times, the three papers’ cumulative circulation exceeded 95,000 and gave Calkins a dominant presence across the northeastern section of the Philadelphia metro area.53 Calkins and his executives likely understood that Mount Laurel’s emergence as an affluent community filled with the types of upwardly-mobile middle- and upper-class residents advertisers coveted could help the paper, and the larger organization, continue to grow during the 1970s. Establishing a 310 devoted readership in Mount Laurel promised to help the paper increase its circulation in the eastern portion of Burlington County and lure more advertising from retailers located in the Cherry Hill and Moorestown Malls, both of which were located nearby. Since advertisers had the option of bundling their promotions and placing ads in all three of

Calkins’ papers at a discounted cost, developing a readership near the malls promised to increase ad revenues for the Courier-Times and Daily Intelligencer as well. In effect,

Calkins and the Times stood to gain from Mount Laurel’s exclusionary zoning policies.

There seemed to be little reason to cover or critique them. Mount Laurel’s poor did not constitute the type of demographic that the retailers who advertised in the Times were interested in reaching, and running articles critical of the township’s zoning policies risked offending the very readers the paper was trying to attract. It appears that since those who couldn’t afford housing had little capacity to consume, they didn’t matter to the paper’s advertisers, and therefore didn’t matter to the Times.

With their plans blocked, the Council’s hold on the plot of land lapsed. Yet, the group soldiered on. Shortly thereafter, Reverend Stuart Wood put SAC members in touch with the South Burlington County branch of the NAACP and Camden Regional

Legal Services, whose lawyers were already involved in a lawsuit against the City of

Camden to halt the destruction of low income housing being cleared for urban renewal.

In May, 1971, CRLS lawyers Carl Bisgaier and Peter O’Conner filed the Southern

Burlington County NAACP et al. v. Township of Mount Laurel lawsuit in New Jersey

Superior Court, thus beginning the 15-year legal campaign to get affordable housing built in Mount Laurel.54 311

From the outset, it was apparent that the Mount Laurel lawsuit was the start of a fight that could impact the zoning ordinances and development plans of virtually every suburban community in New Jersey and had the potential to influence similar conflicts in other parts of the nation. The scope of the case was such that the mere threat of its filing prompted the Burlington County Times’ first significant coverage of the controversy. It even prompted an editorial on the subject. In a headline story, Times reporter Claire Huff explained that the suit was “expected to be a major test case,” since it was the first to ask a court to “order a suburban community to develop a plan for the construction of low and moderate income housing.”55 Selectively quoting from the suit, Huff informed residents that it requested that the court block developers from applying for and receiving final approval for building permits on the grounds that the township’s attempts to lure

“persons of middle and upper income,” had “by design and effect” limited its “population explosion” to “certain specific segments of the citizenry” and not permitted “persons who are black or Puerto Rican” to participate in its growth and development.56

However, the reporter only told part of the story. Huff did not explain the lawsuit’s pretext, nor did she mention the Council’s attempts to secure outside funding and township approval for the initiative or the Mount Laurel officials’ obduracy on the matter. Instead, the reporter presented the case as a racial matter in which CRLS lawyers and the civil rights organizations they represented were attempting to open Mt. Laurel and the rest of New Jersey’s suburbs to African Americans and Latinos. Undoubtedly, this was a part of the plaintiffs’ argument. Nevertheless, by framing the lawsuit solely as fight for civil rights, Huff failed to inform the paper’s readers that the suit was really a broad fight against a type of class-based economic discrimination impacting all segments 312 of the region’s lower-income population, which included many whites. In doing so, Huff inaccurately reduced a complex issue to an easily digestible and well established, narrative that played on suburban fears and racial stereotypes. Other Times articles on the subject utilized the same narrative structure and included the same inherent biases.57

The Times’ initial editorial commentary on the topic also suffered from similar shortcomings. The paper’s first editorial, which ran the day before the Mount Laurel lawsuit was filed, struck a moderate tone, stating that “each municipality has a responsibility to provide the climate and code” to encourage affordable housing construction.58 However, the paper’s editors stepped back from openly challenging

Mount Laurel’s exclusionary zoning policies or those who created them, and instead questioned the civil rights organizations’ methods. They labeled the civil rights groups’ actions “misdirected” and argued, “If the aim is to address a need rather than exploit emotion, it is futile to launch attacks at the local level.”59 A second editorial, “Zoning is

Critical,” critiqued a plan floated by New Jersey Governor Brendan Byrne that would have forced all state municipalities to reserve 10 percent of their developable land for affordable housing. It linked the governor’s idea to the Mount Laurel lawsuit and warned, “we must be very careful that in allocating 10 percent of available land for low- cost housing we are not merely transplanting ghettoes into the suburbs.”60 The editorial then concluded that neither the people who “made the suburbs” nor “the people from the ghettoes,” deserved to see their “dreams of a promised land dissolve into cesspools of segregation.”61

The editorials revealed the Times’ implicit bias in favor of Mount Laurel’s officials and the exclusionary zoning ordinances, and they did little to clarify the suit’s 313 larger issues. In only supporting the basic premise that the construction of more affordable housing in the region was necessary, the paper’s editors assumed a fence- straddling position, stated the obvious, and presented a disingenuously moderate stance.

Their penchant for critiquing those actors attempting to find a solution to the housing problem rather than the people and mechanisms that created the issue in the first place reversed the argument and shifted the debate away from the exclusionary zoning policies being contested. By failing to include important, and widely available, contextual information, and by framing the lawsuit as a misdirected attempt to bring less-expensive housing to Mount Laurel, the editors delegitimized the suit and positioned the plaintiffs as outsiders unfamiliar with the area’s political structures, something they most certainly were not. In addition, the open association, in the second editorial, of the construction of housing for lower income groups in the suburbs with the relocation of ghettoes from neighboring cities reinforced the paper’s emerging narrative that the suit was, at its heart, a larger attempt to open Mount Laurel and the rest of New Jersey’s suburbs to urban minorities. The editorial page was a place where the Burlington County Times’ editors could have added context to the story, explained the lawsuit’s nuances and implications, and rallied support for the fight against the use of exclusionary zoning ordinances in

Mount Laurel, the region, and the state. However, the editors’ unwillingness to discuss the lawsuit’s origins and the larger socio-economic issues at play, along with their reluctance to challenge the use of exclusionary zoning policies in Mount Laurel ensured that this did not happen and that the paper’s readers received a simplified, myopic analysis of the lawsuit and its implications. 314

The Times initial coverage of the Mount Laurel lawsuit was only slightly more comprehensive and objective than when it had ignored the issue altogether. Yet, this was not the result of insufficient information. More detailed assessments of the lawsuit existed and were published. Philadelphia’s dailies each ran stories that dwarfed those printed in the Times. Two days after the Mount Laurel suit was filed, the Inquirer published a story that presented a very different portrait of the case. The article, “Should

Mt. Laurel Provide Low-Rent Housing?” highlighted the suit’s local origins and explained that “Mount Laurel residents” and “three other groups” had brought the suit in an attempt to secure more reasonably priced housing for the township’s poor.62 The story highlighted Ethel Lawrence’s role in pushing the issue forward, emphasized Springville’s substandard living conditions, and made a point of explaining that the case was not simply a racial matter. The author, Thomas L. Hine, pointed out that Springville’s “low- cost housing squeeze” was “hardly an exclusively black problem,” and that many poor whites lived in the area with their families and were also victimized by Mount Laurel officials’ unwillingness to aid in improving it.63 Four days later, an Evening Bulletin article discussed the suit in a similar manner. The story recounted SAC’s attempts to get low-cost residences built in Mount Laurel and the various methods used to thwart them.

Like the Inquirer article that preceded it, the story contextualized the suit and the larger controversy in much more detail and framed both more accurately than the Burlington

County Times.64

The Inquirer and Evening Bulletin articles made the Burlington County Times’ coverage of the Mount Laurel suit that much more problematic. The articles demonstrate that the full context and background of the lawsuit were available when the Times was 315 running its incomplete and biased articles and editorials on the subject. Clearly, the editors and journalists at the Times were aware of this information, understood how it complicated their narrative, and simply chose not to use it. By willingly omitting any discussion of the lawsuit’s origins or the actions of those involved in the initial Mount

Laurel fights, the paper purposefully framed the controversy in a way that reflected and reinforced the anti-affordable housing attitudes that prevailed in the township, perpetuated the existent racial stereotypes attached to low-cost housing, and thereby significantly reduced the likelihood that a fair and informed public debate would take place on the matter.

Following the initial uproar over the Mount Laurel suit’s filing, the issue receded from the headlines until the case came before New Jersey Superior Court Judge Edward

V. Martino in March, 1972. During the trial’s initial phase, CRLS lawyers Peter

O’Conner and Carl Bisgaier accused Mount Laurel officials of establishing zoning policies that “by design,” segregated the local poor and prevented financially- disadvantaged families living in other areas from moving into the township. The lawyers also argued that Mount Laurel had an obligation to provide suitable housing for low- and moderate-income individuals employed in the township and their families. The defense lawyers admitted that Mount Laurel’s rapid growth had polarized those with high and low incomes, but they vehemently denied that the township’s zoning laws were part of an

“overt and conscious exclusion” of low-income housing.65 They argued that the municipality’s zoning ordinances were within reason, conformed to the provision’s set forth by the State of New Jersey’s enabling law, and that the officials had done nothing wrong.66 316

The trial pushed the Mount Laurel controversy to the forefront of local news once again. Joseph M. Donadieu’s reporting on the four-day trial, in some ways, represented an improvement over the Times’ earlier coverage. Donadieu’s two primary articles recounted the proceedings, quoted the lawyers and witnesses from both sides, and highlighted the main points of their arguments. However, his coverage also fit comfortably within the paper’s established narrative that the case was primarily a civil rights fight initiated by outside organizations. The reporter’s opening article on the trial,

“Minorities file suit for low cost homes,” alerted readers that “a massive attack against alleged discriminatory zoning in Mount Laurel Township” had been “marshaled” by

“attorneys for Camden area civil rights groups.”67 Though the statement was, in some ways, technically accurate, it took the case out of context and built on the growing sentiment that Mount Laurel was under siege. Donadieu’s articles made little mention of the suit’s local origins or the fact that the plaintiffs were really targeting economic discrimination, and thus, did not deviate from the narrative established in the paper’s earlier articles and editorials.68

The Times resumed covering the Mount Laurel lawsuit a month and a half later, when it reported that Judge Martino had sided with the plaintiffs and declared Mount

Laurel’s zoning laws invalid. In handing down his twenty-four-page decision, Martino ruled that township officials had practiced unconstitutional “economic discrimination,” when they used federal, state, county, and local funds solely for the benefit of Mount

Laurel’s middle- and upper-class homeowners without regard for the needs of its lower- income residents. Martino ordered township officials to develop and submit a plan for identifying and meeting Mount Laurel’s low-cost housing needs on an annual basis 317 within ninety days.69 The judge also put some teeth into his decision when he ruled that, should Mount Laurel officials fail to meet these dictates, a court appointed master would assume control of the township’s zoning powers and work with the plaintiffs to ensure the construction took place. The ruling was groundbreaking, and “pushed far beyond the limits of precedent.”70 It marked the first time that a court had ordered a suburban municipality to develop an “affirmative action plan” for meeting its housing needs.71

CRLS lawyer Peter Bisgaier called the decision, “a breakthrough of national importance.”72

The decision stunned Mt. Laurel’s officials and proved a worthy topic for the

Times to cover. As with its earlier coverage, the paper’s interpretation of the decision favored Mount Laurel officials’ position on the issue. On May 3, 1972, the day after

Martino issued his ruling, the Times’ headline read, “Mount Laurel eyes appeal of zoning ruling.” David Marziale’s accompanying article focused not on the decision’s implications for the residents of Springville, who, it seemed, might finally get the housing they needed and desired, but on the Mount Laurel officials’ reactions to the precedent- breaking verdict. Marziale noted Mayor Herbert Anderson’s surprise at the decision and focused on the officials’ unanimous sentiment that an appeal to the State Supreme Court would be “inevitable.”73 Two follow up articles later detailed the formal announcement of the appeal and the officials’ argument that economic and civil rights were “separate and distinct.”74 The Times did cover the CRLS lawyers’ jubilant response to the verdict in a buried page-eight article titled “Zoning ruling seen boon to the poor.” However, in highlighting a CRLS spokesman’s comment that, were it to withstand the appeals, the 318 decision promised “to provide a legal basis to free the poor from urban ghettoes,” the article’s content proved as ambiguous as its title.75

The Times’ unwillingness to cover the decision and the preceding trial in a fair, balanced, and comprehensive manner impacted the ways in which many residents of the still-developing municipality understood the issues and, as a result, had significant consequences for the on-going fight against exclusionary zoning in the region. Rather than explaining that the ruling aided a local groups’ quest to provide homes for the townships’ needy or that low-cost residences benefitted a much wider demographic than just African Americans and Latinos, the paper’s coverage played on racial stereotypes that equated affordable housing tracts with poverty-stricken public housing projects. In doing so, the Burlington County Times’ coverage reinforced many residents’ attitudes on the subject. In later years, as the legal battle carried on, Mount Laurel residents would fight even harder to keep low-cost housing out of the municipality.

Little changed in Mount Laurel as the township’s appeal was processed and pushed through the state’s legal system. The appeal put all of Judge Martino’s orders on hold and left Mount Laurel’s exclusionary zoning policies in place. Between 1972 and

1975, when the New Jersey Supreme Court issued its decision on the case, not one affordable housing unit was built in Mount Laurel. By that time, only eighty poor families remained in Springville.76 In the meantime, township officials continued their quest for high ratables. In December, 1972, they introduced an amendment to Mount

Laurel’s zoning ordinance to allow for the construction of a $28 million sports and entertainment complex on a sixty-eight-acre site. The complex was to include a performing arts center, an exhibition hall, and a 20,000-seat sports arena, which was 319 expected to attract a professional basketball or ice hockey team.77 Fair housing, this was not.

In January, 1974, the New Jersey State Supreme Court heard arguments in the

Mount Laurel case. Fourteen months later, the justices returned a unanimous decision that ruled in favor of the plaintiffs but also stepped back from codifying all of Judge

Martino’s edicts. In writing what has become widely known as the Mount Laurel I opinion, Justice Frederick Hall announced that all developing municipalities in the state had to ensure that their land use laws and zoning ordinances allowed for an “appropriate variety and choice of housing” and did not “foreclose” the opportunity for people of low and moderate means to find reasonably-priced homes within their boundaries.78 Hall also announced that each municipality had to do this to the extent that they met their “fair share,” of their region’s low-cost housing need.79 The court’s decision meant that Ethel

Lawrence and the other plaintiffs had earned the victory they were seeking. Mount

Laurel officials would have to revise the township’s zoning ordinances. However, in not determining how much affordable housing actually constituted a municipality’s fair share or what exactly constituted a region, the justices opened a large gray area that many suburban communities later exploited. The justices argued that the state’s municipalities, all 567 of them, had to be granted the opportunity to address the housing issue under the new requirements before the court would move into making policy, something that they felt was better reserved for New Jersey’s legislators. The decision ordered New Jersey’s suburban municipalities to facilitate and allow for the construction of moderately-priced housing but stopped short of telling them how to do it.80 320

The decision generated interest beyond Mount Laurel’s borders. The

Philadelphia Evening Bulletin covered the story, as did the New York Times. Time also ran a short piece on it. Most of this commentary was overtly positive. The Evening

Bulletin ran several articles on the decision and its potential impact. One, “The Lady on

Elbow Lane, Mt. Laurel, Has New Hope,” profiled Ethel Lawrence’s role in the case. In another, “Housing Bias Ruling Is Hailed,” Dr. John W. Robinson, President of the

Camden County NAACP, argued “until now suburban areas had a license to be unfair, unequal, and parasitic, but that’s all over now.”81 The paper even ran an unusually pointed editorial that described restrictive zoning ordinances as a foundation for “de facto racial segregation” and reasoned that “a municipality seeking to attract industry … can hardly justify zoning that makes it impossible for workers to house their families.”82 The

New York Times’ coverage had much the same tenor and placed the decision in a larger context. In one Times’ article, Paul Davidoff, the executive director of Suburban Action

Institute, an organization seeking to open suburbs in the metropolitan New York area to fair housing, called the ruling “the decision we have been waiting for.”83 A follow-up article featured the Springville residents’ joy at the decision. Time explained that the decision would likely influence zoning cases being contested in other states.84

Despite the favorable coverage granted by the out-of-town presses, the Supreme

Court ruling did not sit well with many in Mount Laurel. Township officials viewed the ruling as an unfair infringement upon their rights to manage the township’s land and development. Mount Laurel Councilman Herbert H. Anderson summed up the council’s feelings when he called the decision “a complete usurpation of home rule.”85 Solicitor

Trimble argued that it violated “the federal constitutional rights of Mount Laurel.”86 321

Mayor Jose Alvarez described it as “unsubstantiated by law.”87 Within twelve hours of receiving the opinion, the council announced that they would appeal the decision to the

United States Supreme Court. Alvarez, later explained that the “overwhelming majority” of Mount Laurel residents supported the appeal and believed that the township officials had “done no wrong.”88

Several outspoken Mount Laurel residents openly voiced their disdain for the decision. In a letter to the editor published in the Burlington County Times, Anne

Balikov, the President of the Ramblewood Civic Association (RCA), argued, “economic integration has nothing to do with social justice,” and asked “Where is the justice in discriminating against one segment of society, the middle class, in order to expand the lifestyle of another segment, the so-called poor?”89 In an interview with Bulletin reporter

Jan Schaffer, Balikov elaborated on her position, explaining, “I worked hard to live in a good neighborhood with good schools. I should not have my neighborhood deteriorated or the quality of education deteriorated by other people who are subsidized.”90 Tina

Gilrod, a fellow Mount Laurel resident agreed and wondered “on what logical basis should neighborhood housing be shared with the poor, if one can afford affluent housing, unless food, clothing, and general lifestyle equality is also insisted upon by the state?”91

Mrs. James McGrath, a resident of the Laurel Knoll subdivision, concurred, arguing “we worked hard for what we have here. No way do I feel I should subsidize a $50,000 home for them. Nobody’s doing it for me.”92 McGrath also made a point of distinguishing the

Springville residents from the rest of Mount Laurel’s population, adding “They have the option of moving out of Mount Laurel if they don’t like their housing there. Springville 322 is a pigsty, but they wouldn’t live any differently if they moved to Laurel Knoll. You are what you are.”93 It was a position that most in the community supported.

The Burlington County Times covered the fallout over the Mount Laurel I decision, but in an ironic twist, did not openly side with the township’s officials. Two uncharacteristically harsh editorials announced the paper’s support for the Supreme Court ruling. The first editorial, “Exclusionary zoning has no place here,” termed the ruling

“just” and “fair,” and described any appeal as a “waste of taxpayers’ money.”94 It explained that the justices had been gracious in stepping back from the Martino decision and allowing Mount Laurel officials the leeway to address the township’s housing issue without any form of court appointed oversight, and it emphasized that the court had not asked Mount Laurel to do “anything other than open its doors.”95 The following day’s editorial continued urging Mount Laurel’s cooperation and called on the township to

“demonstrate a good faith commitment to ending discriminatory zoning.”96

The Times’ editorials seem to point to a more enlightened approach toward the housing/zoning controversy, but they also indicate that the paper’s editors understood that the Superior Court and Supreme Court rulings had transformed the debates connected to the lawsuit from those centered on whether Mount Laurel should allow for the construction of low-cost residences to ones centering on whether the courts had the right to order the township to do so. The shift was nuanced but significant, and the editorials reveal an underlying assumption on the part of the Times’ editors that Mount Laurel, and the rest of the state’s suburban communities, had dodged a bullet with the decision. The editorials imply that what made Martino’s original decision so groundbreaking was not the fact that he struck down Mount Laurel’s zoning ordinance, but that he ordered the 323 township to develop an acceptable plan for providing affordable housing and threatened to usurp its zoning powers if it didn’t. The editors realized that, in doing so, Martino put the court in a position to make policy, not rule on it, and that the Supreme Court ruling was a step back from this. While many in Mount Laurel saw the Supreme Court decision as a similar example of judicial overstretch and a clear affront to the township’s political autonomy, the editors knew the justices had used restraint and that appealing the decision risked greater judicial involvement on the matter. The paper’s editorial position was not so much a ringing endorsement for the construction of affordable housing in Mount

Laurel as it was a subtle warning to the township’s officials and residents that continuing the fight risked opening a Pandora’s Box of judicial involvement.

Mount Laurel’s appeal delayed the implementation of the decision until October,

1975, when the United States Supreme Court declined to hear the case because it dealt solely with the New Jersey State Constitution and not the Federal Constitution.97 With the opinion upheld, the township’s officials finally had to revise their zoning ordinances.

In early 1976, they begrudgingly announced a plan to create three new zoning districts in order to comply with the court’s orders. The three districts, labeled R-5, R-6, and R-7, reserved twenty-three of the township’s more than 14,000 available acres for low-cost housing, an amount that constituted less than one tenth of one percent of Mount Laurel’s developable land. The new zones allowed for the construction of a limited number of townhouses and garden apartments (R-5), single family homes on small, 6,000 square foot lots (R-6), and “multi-family units,” (R-7).98 However, they also came with built in obstacles that minimized the chances that any developer would build affordable housing in the municipality. Each new zone was comprised of privately owned land that was not 324 likely to be sold or developed. One was located on wetlands behind the Moorestown

Mall. A profitable nursery sat on another lot, and the third zone was located near an upscale development on land not likely to be used for inexpensive homes. Further, new regulations set forth exclusively for the zones required a litany of traffic, safety, and environmental studies, thereby driving up costs and dissuading developers. Jose Alvarez later admitted, “We were going to do the absolute minimum we could get by with.”99

Despite the fact that the new zones represented a marginal and half-hearted attempt to open Mount Laurel’s doors to low-cost housing, township officials and residents continued to vehemently and vociferously oppose them. Mount Laurel officials announced their displeasure with the new ordinances as they released them to the public.

Jose Alvarez explained that the new measures were only approved because of the “legal compulsion of the state,” and Councilman Paul Ansaldo informed residents that the council was “just responding to ‘judicial legislation’.”100 Edwin McCoy, an African-

American lawyer serving as the chairman of the Ramblewood Civic Association’s

Community Rights Committee ominously noted, “We won’t take this lying down.”101 He was right. Shortly after Mount Laurel’s officials approved the new ordinances, RCA members set out on a petition drive to gather enough signatures to bring the issue before the township’s voters in a referendum. Within a week they acquired the signatures of more than half of Mount Laurel’s registered voters, double the amount needed.102

As the drive to overturn the new zoning law picked up speed so too did the rhetoric surrounding the controversy. Mount Laurel residents and officials directed their vitriol at the state judiciary and frequently claimed that the court’s mandate had

“disenfranchised” them.103 Speaking out on the issue, Edwin McCoy argued, “the 325 balance of power has to even itself out,” and that “the Courts have flexed their muscles just a bit too much. It doesn’t take any mental giant to realize its [sic] gotten out of hand and that there’s going to have to be a confrontation.”104 Mount Laurel’s elected officials endorsed the activists’ push for a referendum and added fuel to their fire by issuing a resolution stating “the council agrees with the spirit of the referendum that the legitimate power of the people lies in its elected representatives and should not be frustrated by the arbitrary decisions of the judiciary.”105 Councilman Ansaldo added a personal note when he commented, “I’m glad this is taking place… I want to see the people knock it [the ordinance] the heck out.”106

The Burlington County Times covered the referendum push with more detail and frequency than it had granted other phases of the controversy to that point. Numerous articles traced the RCA activists’ steps and the township officials’ reactions and explained the referendum process for readers.107 However, more coverage did not mean better coverage. The Times’ articles kept readers up to date on the referendum drive, but they also uncritically gave Mount Laurel’s residents and officials a platform to shift the debates away from the needs of the poor and toward the threat that so-called judicial legislation posed to their political autonomy and home-rule powers. When Edwin

McCoy laid out the RCA’s position with his claims that “We are not bigots. We are not necessarily opposed to affordable housing in this township…But we are definitely and unalterably opposed to some court telling us how we must zone our land.” the paper uncritically took him at his word and included no counterpoint.108

The Times’ reliance on provocative and inflammatory comments made sense because they made for good copy. However, neglecting to contextualize or analyze those 326 same comments continued to leave the paper’s coverage blatantly biased. The Burlington

County Times did not run a single critical article examining Mount Laurel’s new zoning regulations. Journalists and editors at the paper did not explain that the ordinances constituted a minimal attempt to meet the Supreme Court’s order. Nor did they inform readers of the obstacles that the township’s planning officials quietly put in place to ensure that Mount Laurel remained free of low-cost homes. More importantly, the paper ran no articles that actually attempted to determine whether the Mount Laurel decision did, in fact, constitute “judicial legislation.” Even though a Times editorial did warn that the referendum would only generate further judicial intervention in the matter, that criticism did not serve the same function that debunking or critically analyzing the arguments emanating from Mount Laurel’s residents and officials could have served.109

In November, 1976, Mount Laurel’s voters shot down the new housing ordinance,

4,420 – 885.110 In what was becoming typical fashion, the Times coverage of the vote positioned it as stand against the Mount Laurel I ruling, not against affordable housing.

The paper’s primary article on the vote cited Mayor Joseph Massari’s assessment that the results were caused by the “‘court-ordered’ aspect of the rezoning rather than a dislike of low-cost housing” and highlighted his comment that “We don’t believe in someone from the outside coming in and telling us how to zone our town.”111 Unfortunately for those who voted, New Jersey state law exempted zoning ordinances from being recalled via referenda. Despite the vote, the new ordinances remained in place.

The referendum drive marked the point in the housing controversy when the public debates began focusing more on Mount Laurel’s battle with the courts than its legal fight with local activists and CRLS lawyers. The paper’s uncritical and one-sided 327 coverage facilitated this shift. It allowed the township’s officials and residents the space to define themselves as patriotic defenders of suburban political autonomy standing in the face of an off-the-rails judiciary willing to dispense with legal precedent in order invoke its vision of what the state’s suburbs should look like. With no other perspective emanating from the paper, it was only natural that these ideas would continue and spread and grow more entrenched in the ensuing years.

Lost in the hullabaloo surrounding the new zoning ordinances and the referendum drive was the announcement in May, 1976 that Carl Bisgaier and Peter O’Conner had filed an amended complaint to the original Mount Laurel suit on behalf of Ethel

Lawrence and the other plaintiffs.112 The complaint charged that Mount Laurel’s officials had substantially underestimated the number of housing units needed to meet the township’s fair share and that the new zoning ordinance did not meet the court’s requirements. The Times did cover the announcement, but Laurel Reid’s page twelve article merely summarized the plaintiffs’ claims, rehashed Mount Laurel’s new zoning policy, and noted that the legal fight was likely to continue. The paper ran no follow-up articles on the subject, and it did not investigate the claims made in the complaint or even comment on their legitimacy. The Times’ lack of interest here contrasted greatly with its coverage of the referendum drive. Whereas Mount Laurel’s residents and officials were continually granted the space to espouse their positions and rally residents to their cause, the plaintiffs, and the lawyers that represented them were, once again, denied the opportunity to explain their position, raise awareness, and most importantly, counter the vitriolic rhetoric permeating the public discourse. By omitting any detailed coverage of the story and not linking it to the township’s continuing intransigence on the matter, the 328 paper once again quieted any and all voices critical of Mount Laurel’s zoning policies and facilitated the township officials’ push to shift the debates away from the needs of the poor.113

The amended complaint forced the Mount Laurel lawsuit back into the courts. In

May, 1977, the case was reopened in Superior Court in front of Judge Alexander Wood

III. Complicating matters, Judge Wood combined the case with a lawsuit that Roger J.

Davis, a local developer, had filed against Mount Laurel Township in the wake of the

Supreme Court decision. Davis’ suit charged that township officials violated the court’s orders when they denied him permission to erect a mobile home park in Mount Laurel.

All of the parties approached the trial as a potential turning point in the case and prepared for a lengthy fight. Bisgaier, O’Conner, and the plaintiffs saw the complaint as an opportunity to get the court to take another forward step on the issue. They argued that

Mount Laurel’s new zones did not constitute a genuine attempt to spur low-cost housing construction and that the court needed to do more to ensure that municipalities met their obligations. The lawyers pushed for the establishment of a court-imposed criterion for determining each municipality’s fair share allotment. Mount Laurel officials, and their attorneys, saw the trial as an opportunity to get the court to narrow the earlier decision and move out of the zoning arena altogether. By the time the defense rested in the case, the trial had encompassed more than two months, and included 150 pieces of evidence and thirty days of testimony from eighteen witnesses.114

Burlington County Times reporters covered the hearings on a daily basis, but the paper ran no editorial commentary on it. Like its earlier coverage, the Times’ articles were topical and worked within the narrative that set Mount Laurel as a township 329 besieged by crusading outside forces. Provocatively titled stories like “Witness hikes Mt.

Laurel’s ‘fair share’ to 5,000” and “NAACP hits Mt. Laurel house plan” ran during the first half of the trial. The reports generally focused on Carl Bisgaier’s arguments and the increasingly high amounts of low-cost housing called for by the plaintiffs’ expert witnesses.115 One highlighted a New York planning director’s assessment that Mount

Laurel’s plan to provide 515 low-cost dwellings by the year 2000 was “unsuitable” and severely underestimated the need, which she projected at upwards of 5,856 units.116 It was a figure that surely struck terror in the hearts of Mount Laurel’s residents.

In contrast, articles such as “Mobile homes ‘not cheap’, expert says,” and

“Planner defends housing zones,” focused on the arguments and testimony made in defense of the Mount Laurel officials’ actions and policies.117 These articles did not focus on the Mount Laurel officials’ methodical and deliberate attempts to rid the township of its poor or their open disregard for meeting the spirit of the Mount Laurel decision. Instead, they highlighted the defense’s newfound-claims that market forces were responsible for dissuading developers from building what they termed “least-cost housing” in the township.118 Mount Laurel Solicitor, John Trimble explained the new stance in his opening arguments, remarking, “There is no home built new that these people can afford. The market in South Jersey and in Mount Laurel is for more expensive homes. We have no control over that. So we should not be criticized for having no low- and moderate-income housing in Mount Laurel.”119 The Times ran no accompanying commentary that determined whether or not Trimble’s comments had any basis in reality or whether they were just part of the defense’s crafty legal maneuvering.120 330

When the trial concluded, Judge Wood estimated that it would take a few months before he levied his decision. Considering the amount of evidence and testimony that he had to wade through, it is unlikely that many were surprised when it took a year for him to issue his ruling. On July 7, 1978, Wood ruled in the defense’s favor in a fifty-six - page decision. The judge argued that the “plethora of figures and formulae produced and propounded by the witnesses” prevented the court from determining what Mount Laurel’s fair share obligations were and that the function was, ultimately, a legislative, not a judicial one.121 He determined that Mount Laurel’s officials had acted in “good faith,” when they amended their zoning ordinance and that the township had met the requirements set forth in the Supreme Court decision.122 The news was not all bad for the plaintiffs, however. Wood’s decision struck down Mount Laurel’s ordinance requiring developers to conduct extensive surveys and studies before submitting their affordable housing plans as well as its ban on mobile home parks, which he termed “arbitrary, capricious, and unreasonable,”123

The Times covered the decision as though it were the ultimate validation of suburban political autonomy. Beginning with the headline article that announced “Mt.

Laurel wins housing decision,” the paper’s coverage gave township officials and their lawyers free reign to express their happiness, comment on the decision, and assert the righteousness of their political and economic ideas. In one article, Mount Laurel Mayor

Paul Ansaldo called the decision “a major victory for municipal home rule and a constitutional vindication of the doctrine of separation of powers.”124 Michael Traino, a township council member called the decision “part of an overall swing back to reality,” and John Patton, one of the township’s lawyers, called it a “complete repudiation” of the 331 plaintiffs’ case.125 Another story featured several township officials’ recitations that market-based factors were to blame. Township solicitor Trimble remarked that

“absolutely no one has shown any interest,” in putting affordable housing in Mount

Laurel because of the high cost of land and building supplies.126 Mayor Ansaldo elaborated on Trimble’s point, explaining that with average building costs ranging between $30,000 and $40,000, locating residents in homes constructed for less than

$20,000 would be akin to “sticking families in a motel room.”127

The Times’ coverage of Judge Wood’s decision also pushed the plaintiffs’ response to the back burner and rendered it secondary. The article, “Winners, losers assess decision,” did not actually examine the “losers” assessment of the ruling.128

Instead, it merely noted that the plaintiffs were disappointed and considering an appeal.

A triumphant piece of investigative reporting it was not. One article examined the

Springville residents’ disappointment at the decision and Ethel Lawrence’s critique of the township’s “take this and if you don’t like it – move,” approach to affordable housing.129

However, when counted amidst the din of commentary emanating from Mount Laurel’s officials, Lawrence’s comments amounted to one oppositional voice straining to be heard above the chorus of cheers. The article that they ran in was little more than a token gesture aimed at providing balanced coverage.

Equally problematic was the fact that the Times did not fully analyze Wood’s ruling or critique the officials’ market-based theories. Had the paper done so, it might have highlighted some of the ways in which the judge and Mount Laurel officials contradicted themselves and presented flawed arguments. Times reporters did not explain that Roger Davis’ desires to put a mobile home park replete with inexpensive models in 332

Mount Laurel rendered the township officials’ claims that no developers had expressed a desire to construct low-cost homes in the area baseless. It also did not note that the township officials’ systematic attempts to prevent Davis from erecting the mobile home park undercut their claims that the market’s invisible hand, and not their own, was responsible for the absence of affordable housing in the area. While the paper did explain

Judge Wood’s determination that the provision in the township’s zoning ordinance requiring developers to conduct extra studies for affordable housing plans was “illegally and constitutionally discriminatory,” of “highly questionable utility,” and a “violation of the letter and the spirit of the Supreme Court mandate,” it did not reveal how that classification was inconsistent with his assessment that local officials had made a good faith effort to meet that very same mandate.130

The Times’ failure to examine these points ensured that its readers only got half the story and contributed to the increasing entrenchment of an anti-affordable housing, pro-home rule political culture in Mount Laurel. The paper’s unwillingness to critique the defense’s market-based arguments legitimized those claims and further positioned

Mount Laurel’s politicians and planners as rational actors working to balance the court’s orders with the realities of the real estate market. This, in turn, distanced Mount Laurel’s politicians and planners from the economic discrimination taking place, further delegitimized the Mount Laurel lawsuit, and contributed to the larger perception that the judiciary posed a threat to the township’s political autonomy.

Judge Wood’s decision swung the pendulum back in favor of Mount Laurel, but it resolved little. Within a week, Bisgaier announced the plaintiffs’ intent to appeal the decision to the New Jersey Supreme Court. The Mount Laurel officials were also not 333 fully appeased by the decision and continued fighting to prevent the construction of

Davis’ mobile home park. In December, Judge Wood denied their request that he stay the decision. Undaunted, they simply developed new methods for obstructing the developer.131

By the time the Mount Laurel lawsuit finally reached the state Supreme Court again, in October, 1980, the legal battle had encompassed more than nine years and cost the township hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees. During that period, Mount

Laurel’s population climbed to 17,173 and its per capita income grew to $6,484.132 Both were almost double the township’s 1970 figures. Also doubling was the number of homes located in Mount Laurel, which leapt from 2,930 in 1970 to 5,681 in 1980.133 The

Times grew during this period as well. By 1980, the paper’s 41,583 readers made it the fourth largest suburban daily in the Philadelphia metro area.134 Despite the widespread growth, there were still no new affordable housing tracts in Mount Laurel.

The New Jersey Supreme Court Justices that heard the second round of the Mount

Laurel lawsuit did so in an unorthodox manner. In an attempt to deal with the housing question once and for, the justices combined the Mount Laurel suit with five other cases.

All told, the trial consisted of fifty parties, thirty lawyers, and six separate cases. To keep the hearing from turning into a marathon of lawyerly pontificating and expert witness testimony, the justices altered the court’s normal procedure. They conducted the trial in a manner that resembled a seminar more than a court of law. Instead of hearing testimony from each individual party, the justices peppered the litigants with questions related to the state’s housing problems and how to best enforce compliance of the initial Supreme 334

Court decision. As a result, the trial was short, lasting only three days and consisting of eighteen hours of testimony.135

The Burlington County Times relied on short Associated Press (AP) reports for its daily coverage of the Supreme Court hearings. The reports provided some background context that had been missing from the paper’s earlier coverage, but were brief, topical, and not very informative. The Times’ only significant commentary on the proceedings came in an editorial that harshly criticized the plaintiffs and revealed where its sympathies lay. The editorial defended the township’s actions and supported the market- based arguments popularized by Mount Laurel’s officials. It argued that municipalities could not force builders to construct inexpensive homes just by changing their zoning laws and asserted that the prevailing economic conditions placed, low- and moderate- cost housing “more in the realm of fantasy than reality.”136 The editors also offered a final stinging rebuke of the “so-called Fair Share housing suit,” calling it “another needless thorn in the side of municipalities,” “caught between the idealistic rulings of

Supreme Court justices and the realistic limitations of local government.”137 Here again, the paper’s commentary reflected and reinforced the prevailing public sentiment.

It took New Jersey’s Supreme Court Justices more than two years to levy the

Mount Laurel II decision, an unusually long period of time. As word leaked of the impending decision in late January, 1983, Mount Laurel officials exuded confidence that the justices would uphold the Superior Court ruling. In an interview with the Times, solicitor Trimble expressed confidence that the decision was more likely to provide a clarification of Mount Laurel I than a far-reaching condemnation of Mount Laurel’s zoning practices.138 He was wrong. Released on January 20, 1983, the unanimous Mount 335

Laurel II decision condemned the township’s zoning ordinances. The Our Town authors’ described the judgment as carrying the “whip and sting of the schoolmaster’s birch,” and argued, “no other leading judicial opinion of modern times speaks so harshly and so personally about the public officials whose conduct the justices are reviewing.”139 Chief

Justice Robert Wilentz commented in the opinion that the municipality remained

“afflicted with a blatantly exclusionary ordinance,” that was “papered over with statistics,” “rationalized by hired experts,” and “true to nothing but Mount Laurel’s determination to exclude the poor.”140

The justices used the decision to establish an extensive series of mechanisms for ensuring that each municipality, Mount Laurel included, provided “a realistic opportunity for the construction of its fair share of low and moderate income housing.”141 They determined that municipalities needed to actively encourage developers to build affordable housing units by providing them with incentives for doing so. The court stipulated that municipalities had to set aside one of every five housing units for families of low or moderate means. To prevent suburban municipalities like Mount Laurel from continually blocking developers’ attempts to build low-income homes, the justices divided New Jersey into three regions, and assigned special courts and judges dedicated to hearing zoning disputes to each. The justices also established a “builder’s remedy,” which gave developers the capacity to sue a municipality in the special courts for denying construction applications that included low-cost residences. If developers could prove that the townships were actively attempting to block their efforts, the court would then step in, assume control over the municipality’s zoning and land-use policies, and grant the go-ahead. The decision also incentivized municipal adherence. It granted a court 336 appointed master to help those townships willing to properly rewrite their zoning ordinances and guaranteed them a six-year grace period, during which they could not be sued for affordable housing related zoning issues.142 The Mount Laurel II ruling did nothing less than mandate low-cost housing construction in all of New Jersey’s suburban municipalities.

In the days following the decision, the Burlington County Times ran several lengthy articles that retraced the lawsuit’s history, explained what the decision meant for

Mount Laurel and Burlington County residents, and gauged the township officials’ response. It even ran a detailed profile of Ethel Lawrence and the other Springville community activists who, it seemed, had finally emerged victorious. The articles generally struck a more balanced tone than the paper’s previous coverage, and when taken together, they represented the type of broad reporting that the Times should have provided its readers all along.143

However, while the Times coverage was vastly improved, it still did not openly endorse the construction of affordable housing in Mount Laurel. Nor did it challenge the prevailing notions that the court had overstepped its bounds or that the market was to blame. Not one of the articles run in the aftermath of the Mount Laurel II decision attempted to dispel any of the popular misconceptions that the paper had lent credence to in previous years. Further, none of the Times’ articles criticized Mount Laurel’s officials who, despite losing the case and being sternly reprimanded in the opinion, refused to admit that they had done anything wrong. Instead, the paper, once again, freely allowed the officials to explain their interpretation of the ruling and the township’s previous actions. In one article, “The ball is in Mt. Laurel’s court,” Mayor A. Richard August 337 argued that township officials “never tried to keep the poor out of town” and commented

“I’ve never seen any prejudices in the township government.”144 Mount Laurel’s former mayor, Joseph Massari reiterated this sentiment when he noted that the township did nothing to zone against “so-called low-income housing.”145 The officials’ continued belief that the market was to blame, however feigned, inevitably led them to frame the

Mount Laurel II decision as an unfair verdict brought down upon them by a detached judiciary. Mayor August noted that the justices, “seem out of touch with the real world.”

Massari again echoed the mayor’s claims, describing the ruling as “pie-in-the-sky thinking,” made by “people who don’t live in the real world.”146 In typical fashion, the

Times’ journalists and editors declined to critique the officials’ comments and took them at their word.

The Times’ lone editorial on the subject also failed to provide strong support for the Mount Laurel II decision. Though the editors took a more tactful position than Mayor

August and did make the point that the justices had acted largely because the New Jersey legislature had continually failed to address the issue, they also expressed their discomfort at seeing the courts become “molders and implementers of policy,” and at

“government by court decree.”147 In the end, the editors decided that though the question of whether “the ideal of low-cost housing for everyone” could be realized remained

“unanswered,” the court and “fairness” required that it be pursued.148 The editorial, like the rest of the paper’s post-Mount Laurel II coverage, represented some forward progress on the matter but did little to dissuade the larger popular fears pervading the township’s political culture. 338

The Mount Laurel II ruling had an immediate impact. The special “Mount

Laurel” courts were up and running within a matter of weeks. They became popular among developers, who previously had little recourse when dealing with municipalities like Mount Laurel. Within two years, developers brought more than 120 suits against suburban municipalities. The Our Town authors argued that this “flurry of development- inspired legal activity” proved that exclusionary zoning laws were not a “benchmark of the marketplace,” but an “impediment to the market.”149 In one of its first rulings, the court handling cases for the Burlington County region ordered the Mount Laurel

Municipal Utilities Authority to stop granting and accepting applications from developers for new construction until it adequately dealt with Roger Davis’ applications for his proposed mobile home park. The order threatened to bring development in Mount Laurel to a halt, and as a result, negotiations between Davis and the township resumed. In autumn, 1984, Davis’ Tricia Meadows mobile home park opened, making it the first community in South Jersey to take form as a result of the Mount Laurel II decision. Of its 450 units, ninety were subsidized and set aside for low- and moderate-income families.150

Less than a year after Tricia Meadows’ opening, Mount Laurel officials finally reached a compromise agreement with Ethel Lawrence and the other plaintiffs. Fourteen years after the fight began, they agreed to increase the township’s allowable housing density from 2.2 units per acre to five and to allow for the construction of 950 affordable housing units (a number they negotiated down from 1,445). In return, Mount Laurel received a six-year moratorium on housing lawsuits and the assurance that developers, not taxpayers, would subsidize the new dwellings.151 339

Despite its initial impact, or perhaps because of it, the Mount Laurel II decision did not end the controversy. In fact, it only exacerbated it. Suburban communities from around the state echoed the complaints emanating from Mount Laurel and pushed for the return of their full political autonomy. State legislators immediately began working to develop a housing bill that would eliminate the judiciary’s role in zoning decisions. New

Jersey Governor Thomas Kean picked up on the prevailing public sentiment and took a strong public stance against Mount Laurel II, going so far as to call it “communistic” at one point.152 In his 1985 State of the State speech, the Governor addressed the issue and took up positions similar to those that Mount Laurel officials and the Burlington County

Times had long espoused. Kean called for a “moratorium on the imposition of ‘builders remedies’” and argued “Judges should not be in the position of determining how much housing is needed, where it shall go, and whether a given municipality should be required to provide it.”153 He then urged the state’s lawmakers to “take the issue out of the courts and put it where it belongs – in the hands of elected officials.”154 Polls taken at the time showed that 70 percent of New Jersey’s residents agreed with him.155

Buoyed by Kean’s call to arms and the support of most of New Jersey’s residents, state legislators passed the Fair Housing Act of 1985 (FHA) in July. The legislation dramatically reduced the chances that significant affordable housing construction would take place in New Jersey’s suburbs, and it was far from fair. The FHA established a

Council on Affordable Housing (COAH) to determine each region’s total low-cost housing needs, each municipality’s fair share of that number, and to resolve disputes. By making the COAH the organization responsible for resolving affordable housing conflicts, the legislature circumvented the Mount Laurel courts and negated their reason 340 for being. The legislation also permitted suburban municipalities to enter into Regional

Contribution Agreements (RCA), which enabled townships like Mount Laurel to reduce their affordable housing number by 50 percent by agreeing to fund the same amount of fair housing in nearby municipalities. The RCA’s gave affluent municipalities like Cherry

Hill and Mount Laurel the chance to keep affordable housing out by paying poorer areas, like Camden, to take on their assigned responsibilities. The FHA also allowed New

Jersey’s municipalities to devote up to 50 percent of their housing requirement to homes for the elderly. Combined, the two provisions ensured that very few low-cost dwellings would be constructed in New Jersey’s suburbs.156

Following the FHA’s passage, housing activists challenged its constitutionality in the state’s courts. These challenges were shot down in February, 1986, when the New

Jersey Supreme Court upheld the FHA’s constitutionality and ordered the transfer of the pending affordable housing cases to the COAH. The decision, popularly referred to as

Mount Laurel III, shut down the “Mount Laurel” regional courts and marked the Supreme

Court’s withdrawal from the affordable housing/zoning issue, thus putting it back in the hands of New Jersey’s legislators and their constituents.157

New Jersey’s Fair Housing Act stands as a testament to the depths that the anti- affordable housing, pro-home rule sentiments ran in suburban New Jersey. These feelings did not simply fade away as the Mount Laurel case and the FHA receded from the headlines. Instead, they lingered on, reappearing whenever the housing issue reemerged. In Mount Laurel, the resolution of the lawsuit did not lessen the popular disdain for low-cost housing. In 1989, township officials sued Peter O’Conner to prevent his nonprofit, and aptly titled, Fair Share Housing Development Organization from 341 putting 255 low-cost apartments on a 122-acre tract of land that he had cobbled together.

The suit initiated another six years of legal fighting.158 In 1997, O’Conner finally got the township’s approval to build 140 apartments on the land. During the planning board hearing at which O’Conner’s project was approved, Steve Gershman, an attorney and

Mount Laurel resident, stood up and argued, “middle- and upper-income people are being compelled to support this low-income housing project, and it is being rammed down the township’s throat.”159 Apparently, old feelings died hard.

The Burlington County Times did not create the anti-affordable housing, pro- home rule sentiments that emerged and took root in Mount Laurel during the 1960s, 70s, and 80s. But it did legitimize and reinforce those positions through its coverage during the years in which the larger issues were very much up for debate. The paper continually omitted key facts and pieces of contextual information from its coverage and denied affordable housing advocates access to a key outlet for raising awareness and support for their cause. In the process, the Times rendered those activists virtually voiceless in the local media. By covering the most important affordable housing/exclusionary zoning lawsuit in New Jersey’s, and possibly America’s, history in an incomplete, inaccurate, and one-sided manner, the paper facilitated and legitimized the entrenchment of an enduring anti-affordable housing, pro-home rule mindset in Mount Laurel. The

Burlington County Times’ coverage of Mount Laurel’s affordable housing saga demonstrates that suburban daily newspapers could and did impact the political culture of

America’s suburban communities in the postwar era and reveals that the information that does not make the news is often as important as that which does. 342

Endnotes

1 The suit also initially named several local developers, but they were dropped when the case came to trial in 1972. Claire Huff, “Suit Asks Minority Group Role in Mt. Laurel Zoning,” Burlington County Times, 4 May 1971, 1.

2 Ibid.

3 Figure derived from U.S. Census Bureau. “Environment: Can the Suburbs Be Opened?” Time, April 6, 1970, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,943969,00.html, accessed September 18, 2011.

4 Ibid.

5 The Fair Housing Act is officially listed as Title VIII of the Civil Rights Act of 1968. “Housing: More Help for the Poor,” Time, June 15, 1970, http://www.time.com/time/printout/0,8816,909418,000.html, accessed September 18, 2011. See also, U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, “Fair Housing Laws and Presidential Executive Orders,” http://portal.hud.gov/hudportal/HUD?src=/program_offices/fair_housing_equal_opp/FHL aws, accessed September 18, 2011.

6 “The Law: Color Zoning White,” Time, September 7, 1970, http://www.time.com/time/printout/0,8816,902727,00.html, accessed September 18, 2011.

7 Ibid.

8 Lizabeth Cohen, A Consumer’s Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America (New York: Vintage Books, 2004), 202.

9 For quote, Ibid. For general coverage, Cohen, “Residence: Inequality in Mass Suburbia,” in A Consumer’s Republic, 194-256.

10 David L. Kirp, John P. Dwyer, Larry A. Rosenthal, Our Town: Race Housing, and the Soul of Suburbia (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1997), 3, 9.

11 Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town. For another, more legalistic, interpretation of the Mount Laurel decisions, see: Charles M. Haar, Suburbs Under Siege: Race, Space, and Audacious Judges (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996).

12 Cohen, A Consumer’s Republic, 236.

343

13 Laurel Reid, “Citizens knocking on doors for zoning vote,” Burlington County Times, 3 May 1976, 3.

14 Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 37.

15 Ibid, 38.

16 Oscar B. Teller, “Rural N.J. Township Set for $78 Million Construction Boom,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 19 February 1961, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

17 Daniel F. O’Leary, “Community in Burlington County Centered Around Country Club,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 16 July 1961, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

18 “Apartment Ban To Be Retained By Mt. Laurel,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 9 June 1963, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

19 For figures on Mount Laurel’s ever expanding budget, see: “Budget Rises At Mt. Laurel, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 21 December 1961; “Mt. Laurel Budget Rises $35,035,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 2 February 1965; “Budget, Taxes To Increase In Mt. Laurel, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 8 February 1966; Harriet Thompson, “Mt. Laurel OKs Budget With 4 Ct. Tax Rise,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 4 February 1969, all in Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

20 “Apartment Ban To Be Retained By Mt. Laurel,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 9 June 1963, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

21 Ibid.

22 Ibid.

23 Ibid. For general coverage of Mount Laurel’s development plans see, Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 35-40.

24 “Zoning Code Is Introduced At Mt. Laurel,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 8 December 1964, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

25 Ibid.

344

26 Cohen, A Consumer’s Republic, 216.

27 For quote: “Environment: Can the Suburbs Be Opened?” Time, April 6, 1970, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,943969,00.html, accessed 18 September 2011. For general coverage: Cohen, A Consumer’s Republic, 200-240; Joe T. Darden, “Black Residential Segregation Since the 1948 Shelley v. Kraemer Decision,” Journal of Black Studies 25 (1995): 680-691.

28 For coverage of Springville’s evolution, Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 40-44. James L. Walker, “Planners’ OK Sought By Mt. Laurel Group to Renew ‘Slum’ Area,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 6 October 1969; Thomas C. Hine, “Should Mt. Laurel Provide Decent Low-Rent Housing,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 6 May 1971, in Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

29 An Evening Bulletin article described Springville’s population as 60% white and 40% black. James L. Walker, “Planners’ OK Sought By Mt. Laurel Group to Renew ‘Slum’ Area,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 6 October 1969, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

30 Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 41.

31 Ibid, 40-44.

32 Ibid, 43.

33 For quote, Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 44. For general coverage see, Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 40-44; James L. Walker, “Suit Seeks a Place in the Suburbs For Families of Modest Means,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 10 May 1971; Thomas L. Hine. “Should Mt. Laurel Provide Decent Low-Rent Housing?” Philadelphia Inquirer, 6 May 1971, both in Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

34 There is an expansive historiography devoted to the study of urban renewal programs in postwar America. Some of the most significant and most recent works include: Thomas Sugrue, The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996); Arnold Hirsch, Making the Second Ghetto: Race and Housing in Chicago, 1940-1960 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998); John C. Teaford, The Rough Road to Renaissance: Urban Revitalization in America 1940-1985 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1990); David Schuyler, A City Transformed: Redevelopment, Race, and Suburbanization in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, 1940-1980 (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2002); Raymond A. Mohl, “Making the Second Ghetto in Metropolitan Miami,” Journal of Urban History 21 (1995): 395-427; Eric Avila and Mark H. Rose, “Race, Culture, Politics, and Urban Renewal: An Introduction,” Journal of Urban History 35 345

(2009): 335-347; Guian A. McKee, “I’ve Never Dealt With a Government Agency Before”: Philadelphia’s Somerset Knitting Mills Project, the Local State, and the Missed Opportunities of Urban Renewal,” Journal of Urban History 35 (2009): 387-409.

35 Kenneth L. Kusmer, Down and Out, On the Road: The Homeless in American History (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 235-236.

36 “Mt. Laurel Group Gets State Loan,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 21 June 1968; James L. Walker, “Planners’ OK Sought By Mt. Laurel Group to Renew ‘Slum’ Area,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 6 October 1969, in Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

37 James L. Walker, “Planners’ OK Sought By Mt. Laurel Group to Renew ‘Slum’ Area,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 6 October 1969, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

38 Ibid.

39 Both Lizabeth Cohen and the Our Town authors reference this event and this specific quote. Cohen attributes it to Haines, Kirp, Dwyer, and Rosenthal do not. Cohen, A Consumer’s Republic, 236. Kirp, Dwyer, and Rosenthal, Our Town, 1-2.

40 Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 45-54.

41 James L. Walker, “Planners’ OK Sought By Mt. Laurel Group to Renew ‘Slum’ Area,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 6 October 1969, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

42 Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 47.

43 Walker, “Planners’ OK Sought By Mt. Laurel Group to Renew ‘Slum’ Area,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 6 October 1969, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

44 Ibid.

45 Ibid, 51-52.

46 Between 1950 and 1980, the number of jobs in Camden dropped from 43,267 to 13,500, a 75 percent decline. Latino’s only comprised 6 percent of Camden’s population in 1970, though that figure would increase to 20 percent in 1980. Jeffrey M. Dorwart, Camden County, New Jersey: The Making of a Metropolitan Community, 1626-2000 (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2001), 151-154.

346

47 For general coverage of Camden’s postwar decline, see: Ibid, 140-157; Howard Gillete, Jr., Camden After the Fall: Decline and Renewal in a Post-Industrial City (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006); Daniel Sidorick, Condensed Capitalism: Campbell Soup and the Pursuit of Cheap Production in the Twentieth Century (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2009).

48 Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 47-54.

49 Based on author’s survey of Burlington County Times daily editions for months in 1967, 1968, and 1969, during which the key early events in the affordable housing saga took place.

50 For basic coverage of the Burlington County Times’ founding, see the Calkins media home page, http://www.formrouter.net/circulation@BUCKS/company/calkins.htm, accessed September 13, 2011. Residents voted to reinstate the town’s original name, Willingboro, in 1963. See also, “Name is Changed, Twin Offer Made,” Editor & Publisher, August 19, 1961, 57; David Sachsman and Warren Sloat, The Press and the Suburbs: The Daily Newspapers of New Jersey (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Center for Urban Policy Research, 1985), 124-127.

51 For circulation statistics, Editor & Publisher International Yearbook 1960, 166; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook 1970, 184. For Burlington County population statistics, see: Population Trends In Philadelphia Primary Market: 1970 versus 1960, 15, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 18, Folder 11, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

52 Population Trends In Philadelphia Primary Market: 1970 versus 1960, 16, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 18, Folder 11, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

53 The combined circulation of Calkins three papers rivaled the Courier-Post’s circulation in South Jersey, which reached 115,825 in 1970. Calculation based on author’s analysis of each paper’s circulation stats for 1970. Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1970, 184, 239-243.

54 Kirp, Dwyer, and Rosenthal, Our Town, 54-57.

55 Claire Huff, “Suit Asks Minority Group Role in Mt. Laurel Zoning,” Burlington County Times, 4 May 1971, 1.

56 Ibid.

57 For reference: Jean West, “Zoning in 3 Towns Challenged as Discriminatory,” Burlington County Times, 27 April 1971, 1; Jean West, “3 Mayors Deny Towns Exclude Low-Cost Housing,” Burlington County Times, 28 April 1971. 347

58 “Need Larger Arena,” Burlington County Times, 3 May 1971, 6.

59 Ibid.

60 “Zoning Is Critical,” Burlington County Times, 13 May 1971, 6.

61 Ibid.

62 Thomas L. Hine. “Should Mt. Laurel Provide Decent Low-Rent Housing?” Philadelphia Inquirer, 6 May 1971, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

63 Many of these residents were servicemen who worked at the nearby Fort Dix and McGuire Air Force bases. Ibid.

64 James L. Walker, “Suit Seeks a Place in the Suburbs For Families of Modest Means,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 10 May 1971, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

65 Joseph M. Donadieu, “Judge deliberates zone suit,” Burlington County Times, 17 March 1972, 3.

66 For general coverage of the trial, Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 72-77; “Ct. Told Mt. Laurel Has Restrictive Zoning,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 14 March 1972; William P. Naulty, “Trial Concludes in Suit on Mt. Laurel Zoning,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 17 March 1972, both in Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

67 Joseph M. Donadieu, “Minorities file suit for low cost homes,” Burlington County Times, 14 March 1972, 1.

68 Joseph M. Donadieu, “Minorities file suit for low cost homes,” Burlington County Times, 14 March 1972, 1, 5; Joseph M. Donadieu, “Judge deliberates zone suit,” Burlington County Times, 17 March 1972, 3.

69 Quote is excerpted from Judge Martino’s decision and can been found in both: Joseph M. Donadieu, “Mt. Laurel zoning law is declared invalid,” Burlington County Times, 2 May 1972, 1; Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 75.

70 Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 74.

71 Ibid, 75.

348

72 “Appeal Likely In Mt. Laurel Zoning Code,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 3 May 1972, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

73 David Marziale, “Mount Laurel eyes appeal of zoning ruling,” Burlington County Times, 3 May 1972, 1.

74 For quote, “Council set to appeal ruling on zoning law,” Burlington County Times, 16 May 1972, 3. See also: David Marziale, “Mt. Laurel to appeal ruling on zoning law, mayor says,” Burlington County Times, 15 May 1972, 3.

75 David Marziale, “Zoning ruling seen boon to poor,” Burlington County Times, 4 May 1972, 8.

76 Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 85.

77 Jay N. Fromkin, “Mount Laurel moving in direction of Expo,” Burlington County Times, 5 December 1972, 1, 10; “Zoning Code Change Set For Planned Expo Center,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 5 December 1972, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

78 Southern Burlington County NAACP v. Township of Mount Laurel, 67 N.J. 151, 336 A.2d 724 (1975).

79 Ibid.

80 Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 77-84; Haar, Suburbs Under Siege, 19-29; Cohen, A Consumer’s Republic, 236-238.

81 “Housing Bias Ruling Is Hailed,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 25 March 1975, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

82 “A Call to Stop Running,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 1 April 1975, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

83 Ronald Sullivan, “Jersey’s Zoning Laws Are Upset,” New York Times, 25 March 1975, 69.

84 Donald, Janson, “Mt. Laurel’s Poor Hail Zoning Ruling,” New York Times, 29 March 1975, 50; “Environment: Opening the Suburbs,” Time, April 7, 1975, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,017264,00.html, accessed September 18, 2011.

349

85 Dan Eisenhuth, “Appeal planned on landmark case,” Burlington County Times, 25 March 1975, 4. 86 Jan Schaffer, “The Fight to Remain Exclusive,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 4 June 1975, 1, 3, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

87 Dan Eisenhuth, “Mt. Laurel to carry fight to ‘highest court in land,” Burlington County Times, 26 March 1975, 1.

88 Janson, “Mt. Laurel’s Poor Hail Zoning Ruling,” New York Times, 29 March 1975, 50.

89 For quote see, Anne W. Balikov, Letter to the Editor, Burlington County Times, 30 March 1975, B-2. For general coverage of the township’s response see, Dan Eisenhuth, “Appeal planned on landmark case,” Burlington County Times, 25 March 1975, 1, 4; Eisenhuth, “Mt. Laurel to carry fight to ‘highest court in land,’” Burlington County Times, 26 March 1975, 1; Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 85-87.

90 Schaffer, “The Fight to Remain Exclusive,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 4 June 1975, 1,3, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

91 Tina Gilrod, Letter to the Editor, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 1 April 1975, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

92 Janson, “Mt. Laurel’s Poor Hail Zoning Ruling,” New York Times, 29 March 1975, 50.

93 Ibid.

94 “Exclusionary zoning has no place here,” Burlington County Times, 25 March 1975, 6.

95 Ibid.

96 “Why delay what’s just?” Burlington County Times, 26 March 1975, 6.

97 The CRLS lawyers purposefully filed the suit in state court so as to reduce the possibility that the U.S. Supreme Court, which had taken a more conservative stance by the early 1970s, would weigh in on the debate. Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 86.

98 Bob Broderick, “Town seeks 3 new zones,” Burlington County Times, 14 February 1976, 1; William P. Naulty, “Mt. Laurel Creates New Zoning,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 14 February 1976, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

350

99 For quote and general coverage of Mount Laurel’s affordable housing zones, Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 87.

100 Laurel Reid, “Mt. Laurel ‘fair share’ plan on way to panel,” Burlington County Times, 17 February 1976, 3.

101 Reid, “Citizens knocking on doors for zoning vote,” Burlington County Times, 3 May 1976, 3.

102 Laurel Reid, “Mount Laurel referendum inching toward showdown,” Burlington County Times, 18 May 1976, 1.

103 Laurel Reid, “Mt. Laurel zoning recall picks up new steam,” Burlington County Times, 8 June 1976, 3.

104 Laurel Reid, “New decision on zoning assessed,” Burlington County Times, 23 June 1976, 1.

105 Laurel Reid, “Petitioners gain victory in quest for zoning ballot,” Burlington County Times, 29 June 1976, 1.

106 Ibid.

107 For a representative sampling of the many articles the paper ran on the referendum see, Laurel Reid, “Mount Laurel implements ‘fair share’ over protests,” Burlington County Times, 20 April 1976, 1; Reid, “Citizens knocking on doors for zoning vote,” Burlington County Times, 3 May 1976, 3; Laurel Reid, “Petition to alter zoning decision on way to clerk,” 10 May 1976, 3; Reid, “Mount Laurel referendum inching toward showdown,” Burlington County Times, 18 May 1976, 1; Reid, “Mount Laurel zoning recall picks up new steam,” Burlington County Times, 8 June 1976; Reid, New decision on zoning assessed,” Burlington County Times, 23 June 1976, 1; Laurel Reid, “Mount Laurel council eyes action on zoning,” Burlington County Times, 28 June 1976; Laurel Reid, “Petitioners gain victory in quest for zoning ballot,” Burlington County Times, 29 June 1976, 1; Laurel Reid, “Candidates smile and wait,” Burlington County Times, 2 November 1976, 1; Laurel Reid, “Mount Laurel voters kill ‘fair share’ referendum by resounding 5-1 margin,” Burlington County Times, 3 November 1976, 1.

108 Laurel Reid, “Citizens knocking on doors for zoning vote,” Burlington County Times, 3 May 1976, 3

109 Assessment based on author’s survey of daily Burlington County Times editions dating from April – November, 1976.

110 Reid, “Mount Laurel voters kill ‘fair share’ referendum by resounding 5-1 margin,” Burlington County Times, 3 November 1976, 1. 351

111 Ibid. The article did briefly note that some of the “no” votes might have come from residents who didn’t think the new ordinances went far enough, though this was not its main focus.

112 Both lawyers by that point had left Camden Regional Legal Services. Bisgaier was working for the State’s Public Advocate’s Office.

113 Laurel Reid, “Mount Laurel battle is likely to continue,” Burlington County Times, 8 May 1976, 12. Absence of coverage assessment based on author’s survey of daily Burlington County Times editions ranging from May – November, 1976.

114 Joan Budd, “Mt. Laurel hearing ends; decision to take time,” Burlington County Times, 9 July 1977, 1.

115 Ralph Shrom, “Mt. Laurel plan is ‘inadequate,’” Burlington County Times , 18 May 1977, 3; Ralph Shrom, “Witness hikes Mt. Laurel’s ‘fair share’ to 5,000,” Burlington County Times, 20 May 1977, 3; Ralph Shrom, “NAACP hits Mt. Laurel house plan,” Burlington County Times, 24 May 1977, 3; “Mount Laurel ‘starves poor areas,’” Burlington County Times, 14 June 1977, 1. See also, Joan Budd, “Expert hits subdivision laws,” Burlington County Times, 3 June 1977, 1; Joan Budd, “Mount Laurel residents testify on scarce housing,” Burlington County Times, 15 June 1977, 5.

116 Shrom, “Witness hikes Mt. Laurel’s ‘fair share’ to 5,000,” Burlington County Times, 20 May 1977, 3.

117 Joan Budd, “Mobile homes ‘not cheap’, expert says,” Burlington County Times, 16 June 1977, 3; Ralph Shrom, “Low-cost housing sites identified,” Burlington County Times, 24 June 1977, 3; Joan Budd, “Planner defends housing zones,” Burlington County Times, 30 June 1977, 11.

118 Laurel Reid, “Fire stoked in Mt. Laurel case,” Burlington County Times, 10 May 1977, 2.

119 Ibid.

120 Several defense witnesses made use of the market-based argument during the trial. For reference, see: “Planner defends PUDs,” Burlington County Times, 29 June 1977, 10; Budd, “Planner defends housing zones,” Burlington County Times, 30 June 1977, 11.

121 Ralph Shrom, “Mt. Laurel wins housing decision,” Burlington County Times, 7 July 1978, 1.

122 Ibid.

352

123 Bob Clements, “Mobile homes: a victor in Mt. Laurel,” Burlington County Times, 8 July 1978, 1.

124 Bob Clements, “Winners, losers asses decision,” Burlington County Times, 8 July 1978, 1.

125 Ibid.

126 Bob Clements and Joan Budd, “Mt. Laurel blacks ‘blue’,” Burlington County Times, 9 July 1978, A-1.

127 Ibid.

128 Clements, “Winners, losers asses decision,” Burlington County Times, 8 July 1978, 1, 2.

129 Clements and Budd, “Mt. Laurel blacks ‘blue’,” Burlington County Times, 9 July 1978, A-1.

130 Ibid.

131 “Mobile homes upheld,” Burlington County Times, 2 December 1978, 3.

132 Statistics derived from Burlington County Planning Board. Printed in, Mark S. Guralnick, “Mount Laurel decision remains an enigma,” Burlington County Times, 26 October 1980, 1.

133 Ibid.

134 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1980, 180.

135 For an excellent summary of the 3-day trial, see: Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 94-100. See also, Associated Press, “‘Fair share’ zoning laws re-examined,” Burlington County Times, 21 October 1980, 1, 4; Associated Press, “‘Fair Share’: Court blames legislature,” Burlington County Times, 22 October 1980, 3; Associated Press, “Court weighs housing action,” Burlington County Times, 23 October 1980, 5.

136 “Housing suit: Towns are hauled back into court,” Burlington County Times, 23 October 1980, 6.

137 Ibid.

138 “Land-use decision expected,” Burlington County Times, 20 January 1983, 1, 5.

139 Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 100. 353

140 Tim Weiner and Mark Jaffe, “Zoning For Poor Ordered – N.J. Court Rules In Mt. Laurel Case,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 21 January 1983, B1. “Papered over with statistics” quote also cited in, Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 100.

141 Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 100.

142 The most detailed and comprehensive summary of the Mount Laurel II decision can be found in Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 100-103. See also, Haar, Suburbs Under Siege, 41-54.

143 “‘Mount Laurel II’ ruling issued,” Burlington County Times, 20 January 1983, 1, 4; Steve Wujcik, “Mt. Laurel II: Court says town still excludes housing for poor,” Burlington County Times, 21 January 1983, 1, 2; Lysbeth Bledsoe, “Ruling by court was answer to woman’s prayer,” Burlington County Times, 23 January 1983, A1, A4; Steve Wujcik, “Court carves historic niche for Mt. Laurel,” Burlington County Times, 23 January 1983, A1, A4; Steve Wujcik, “The ball is in Mt. Laurel’s court,” Burlington County Times, 24 January 1983, 1, 5.

144 Wujcik, “The ball is in Mt. Laurel’s court,” Burlington County Times, 24 January 1983, 1, 5.

145 Ibid.

146 Ibid.

147 “Fair share: Court intends to make it happen,” Burlington County Times, 25 January 1986, 6.

148 Ibid.

149 Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 104.

150 Jan Hefler, “Judge begins to enforce Mt. Laurel ruling,” Burlington County Times, 5 February 1983; Paul Horvitz, “After 12 Years, N.J. Suit Brings Low-Cost Homes,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 1 February 1984, B1; Doreen Carvajal, “In Mount Laurel, A Prelude To First Subsidized Housing,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 23 September 1984, C5.

151 Chris W. Biddle, “Mt. Laurel to allow homes for poor,” Burlington County Times, 31 July 1985, 1, 11; Chris W. Biddle, “Housing agreement took 14 years,” Burlington County Times, 4 August 1985, A-1, A-6; Doreen Carvajal and Susan Caba, “After 14 Years, Mt. Laurel Agrees To Allow Building of Homes For Poor,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 31 July 1985, B1; Marian Courtney, “Mount Laurel Housing Issue Finally Resolved,” New York Times, 4 August 1985, 1.

354

152 Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 121.

153 “Kean calls for a moratorium on Mt. Laurel housing rulings,” Burlington County Times, 9 January 1985, 3.

154 Ibid.

155 For statistic, Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 123. The author’s do not include a discussion of the racial and economic break down of the poll results. For a comprehensive discussion of the popular backlash against the Mount Laurel II decision, Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 112-134.

156 Associated Press, “Governor Signs bill to aid Mt. Laurel II compliance,” Burlington County Times, 5 July 1985, 3. Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 124-135.

157 Kathleen Bird (AP), “Court shifts Mt. Laurel suits to council,” Burlington County Times, 20 February 1986, 2; “GOP: Ruling is victory for local governments,” Burlington County Times, 21 February 1986, 1, 2; Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 137-144.

158 For coverage of O’Conner’s fight to get the Ethel Lawrence Homes built see, Kirp, Dwyer, Rosenthal, Our Town, 190-192.

159 Josh Getlin, “Low-income housing wins a beachhead in the ‘burbs,” Los Angeles Times, 14 November 2004, http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/nationworld/2002090397_housing14.html, accessed 13 September 2011.

CHAPTER 7 “DINOSAURS DON’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE”: SUBURBAN DAILIES, CORPORATE NEWSPAPERS, AND THE DEMISE OF THE PHILADELPHIA EVENING BULLETIN

On the morning of April 10, 1980, the Philadelphia Bulletin’s newsroom fell ominously quiet. Reporters and editors normally hard at work turning out the paper’s daily edition gathered in “hushed little knots” around the city room’s “ubiquitous glowing video terminals.”1 In the paper’s large first-floor circulation room, Bulletin reporters

Steve Stecklow, Janet Novack, and representatives from Philadelphia’s other media outlets waited for the paper’s editor and publisher, William (Bill) McLean III, to start the scheduled 10 a.m. press conference. They all had gathered to find out first hand what the future held for Philadelphia’s legendary newspaper.

After making the long walk from his fourth floor office, McLean addressed the members of the press and the television cameras assembled before him. In a brief and somewhat garbled statement, he announced that the “difficulties” of profitably operating

“an independently owned family enterprise” in “today’s metropolitan marketplace” had convinced him to sell the paper to the newly formed Charter Media Company for an undisclosed amount.2 Karl Eller, Charter Media’s co-owner, spoke after McLean. He attempted to assuage some of the uncertainty pervading the room and reassure the

Bulletin’s longtime readers of the company’s commitment to turning the paper around.

In a relaxed tone, Eller explained that Charter was going to “try like mad” to return the

Bulletin to its former glory.3 356

Try like mad, was what Bill McLean, Robert Taylor, and numerous other Bulletin executives had done during the previous twenty years, while attempting to keep the paper’s circulation and advertising revenues high. During the late 1950s and 1960s, they had tried to ensure the paper’s long-term stability by conquering the Philadelphia region’s rapidly growing suburbs and capturing the attention of the residents and businesses flocking there. However, trying was not doing, and the paper’s zoned editions proved a scant alternative to the suburban dailies that emerged in the region during the early postwar decades. By 1970, twelve suburban dailies, all of them afternoon papers, dominated Philadelphia’s suburbs. The suburban press’ growth correlated directly with declining circulation figures and revenues at the Bulletin. The parallels were hard to miss. As the suburban papers grew in readership and influence, the Bulletin shrank in the same ways.

The Bulletin’s inability to gain a foothold in the region’s suburbs during the fifties and sixties left the paper vulnerable to the larger rumblings that shook the national newspaper industry during the 1970s. In metropolitan areas across the nation, suburban dailies ringed the urban cores and denied their big-city competitors entry into America’s fastest growing and most lucrative markets. Trapped inside their cities’ boundaries with little room to expand and grow, urban dailies were forced to compete for the circulation and advertising revenues that remained in the urban centers. In most of these markets, the remnants of the once vital urban shopping and residential districts were not enough to sustain multiple large circulation newspapers, and as a result, numerous big city dailies merged with their cross-town rivals, sold out to corporate newspaper chains or simply shut down. 357

Despite the important role that suburban newspapers played in the reshaping of

America’s newspaper industry during the 1970s, little scholarly attention has been paid to them. Authors such as Edwin Emery, David R. Davies, James Brian McPherson, and

Peter Benjaminson have all noted the suburban papers’ rapid growth during the postwar years. But rather than listing competition from suburban dailies as one of the primary problems facing urban newspapers, these scholars categorize it as a distinctly secondary issue. Instead, they discuss labor problems, increased production costs, competition from television and radio, and the growth of corporate newspaper chains, among other things, as the central reasons for large metropolitan dailies’ dwindling profits and declining fortunes during this period. Yet, suburban newspapers exerted an enormous influence on

America’s metropolitan newspaper markets and its urban dailies during the 1970s. In few places was this more apparent than in the Philadelphia metropolitan area.4

By the late 1960s, the growth of suburban dailies around Philadelphia had turned the region into one of the nation’s most competitive newspaper markets. By siphoning readers and advertising from the Bulletin and establishing themselves as dominant forces within their immediate locales, suburban dailies like the Camden Courier-Post and the

Bucks County Courier-Times effectively prevented the paper from expanding outward and ensured that it would have to win a battle with the Philadelphia Inquirer and Daily

News for readers and advertising within the city to survive. Prior to 1969, this would have been less of a problem. However, Knight Newspapers’ purchase of the Inquirer and

Daily News served notice that the competition would be much more heated during the

1970s. Shortly after its purchase, Knight executives initiated numerous editorial and administrative changes and wholly revamped the paper’s approach to covering and 358 presenting the news. Knight’s editors filled the Inquirer with a mix of investigative journalism and lifestyle features designed to appeal to urban and suburban readers alike.

By providing the types of news stories that readers could not get in the suburban dailies or the Bulletin and which better fit the era’s changing lifestyles, Knight successfully transformed the Inquirer into a nationally recognized paper capable of competing for supremacy within Philadelphia.

The growth of the area’s suburban papers combined with Knight’s changes at the

Inquirer put Bulletin executives in a difficult position. They needed to modernize the paper, so as to fend off the Inquirer and give suburban residents more reasons to read it, but they also had to be cognizant of the hundreds of thousands of loyal subscribers who still lived in the city and seemingly liked the Bulletin just the way it was. The executives, in effect, needed to significantly improve the paper without changing it too much.

Bulletin executives Robert Taylor and William Dickinson attempted to meet these challenges by initiating a “youth movement” at the Bulletin.5 In 1969, they promoted

George Packard to managing editor and tasked him with improving the paper. During the first half of the 1970s, Packard attempted to reinvigorate the Bulletin by improving its appearance, expanding its features sections, and by moving the paper away from its staid, inoffensive, approach to reporting. However, Packard’s initiatives proved too much for many Bulletin executives, reporters, and staffers, who thought the paper needed a general shakeup and an expansion of its coverage but not a significant change to its reportorial tradition. In the ensuing year, many of Packard’s initiatives were hindered, limited, or altogether aborted by those who thought he was moving the Bulletin too far from its 359 roots. In 1975, following a lengthy internal fight for control of the newsroom and the support of its staff, Packard resigned.

Packard’s resignation ended the Bulletin’s dalliance with significant change and left the paper ill-equipped to compete with the Knight-backed Inquirer in the city market.

In the late seventies, as the suburban papers’ circulation and advertising revenues continued to climb and the Inquirer’s revenues stabilized and began to grow, the

Bulletin’s economic woes worsened. During the late 1970s, Bulletin executives flirted with idea of merging with the Inquirer and Daily News under a Joint Operating

Agreement. However, the McLeans were unwilling to absorb the massive costs associated with the prolonged application and approval process, and decided against moving forward with the merger. It proved a fateful decision. By 1980, the paper was hemorrhaging money, and Bill McLean had no choice but to sell it. The newly formed

Charter Media Company bought the Bulletin, but, by that point, it was too little, too late.

Despite a valiant effort, Charter Media was unable to pull the paper out of the financial hole that it had fallen into. The company closed the Bulletin’s doors for good in early

1982.

In Death in the Afternoon: America’s Newspaper Giants Struggle for Survival,

Peter Benjaminson argued that Knight’s entrance into the Philadelphia market amounted to a “death warrant” for the Bulletin and that the paper’s editors had “no idea” what lay in store for them.6 However, while Knight’s backing turned the Inquirer around and did add to the Bulletin’s problems during the seventies, it was not the primary reason that that the paper failed. Rather, it was the paper’s inability to capture the region’s suburban markets that played the largest role in its demise. The paper’s failure to capture 360

Philadelphia’s suburban markets coupled with the concomitant emergence of a string of vibrant and profitable suburban dailies in the region cut deeply into the Bulletin’s revenues, left it ill-prepared to compete with the resurgent Inquirer in the seventies, and eventually led directly to its death in 1982.

As the 1970s opened, America’s infatuation with the suburbs showed no signs of slowing down. The statistics were nothing short of staggering. Between 1950 and 1970, the number of Americans residing in the suburbs more than doubled, climbing from 36 to

74 million people.7 In his seminal work, Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States, Kenneth T. Jackson noted that, “for the first time in the history of the world, a nation-state counted more suburbanites than city dwellers or farmers.”8 Jackson described the nation’s transformation as the result of an “almost self-generating” cycle in which the ever-increasing presence of more and more affluent citizens in the suburbs lured jobs, and in turn, “attracted more families, more roads, and more industries.”9

Whatever the cause, there could be little debating that America had become a suburban nation.

The massive growth that Jackson highlighted overwhelmingly benefitted the suburban newspaper industry, which also grew exponentially. Between 1960 and 1970, the number of suburban newspapers (dailies, weeklies, and semi-weeklies) operating in

America climbed by more than 100 percent, and the combined circulation of all suburban papers climbed by 75 percent.10 By 1970, suburban newspapers represented the “fastest growing most prosperous segment of the newspaper industry.”11 Their rapid ascent 361 prompted one commentator to label suburban dailies, “one of the most spectacular phenomena in American newspapering since World War II.”12

The suburban newspaper industry’s expansion enabled organizations representing suburban newspapers to grow as well. In 1970, the Suburban Press Foundation, which had started as a small collection of papers outside of Chicago, represented more than 300 suburban newspapers from across the United States and Canada whose combined circulation was 4 million. Organizations such as Accredited Home Newspapers of

America and the suburban branch of the National Newspaper Association grew during this period too. In an attempt to help standardize the industry and make it easier for advertisers to place ads in multiple markets, the three organizations formed Suburban

Newspapers of America (SNA) in 1971 and established a headquarters in the National

Press Building in Washington D.C. A year later, SNA established a research and development arm named United States Suburban Press Incorporated (USSPI) in Chicago.

USSPI provided advertisers with access to more than 800 newspapers located in some of the nation’s largest and fastest growing metropolitan areas, including Atlanta, Chicago,

Dallas, Denver, Los Angeles, Miami, New Orleans, New York, Philadelphia, San

Francisco, and Washington D.C. The organization encouraged advertisers to “speak to the suburb through the voice of the suburbs,” and maintained that doing so would enable them to “zero in on the high potential areas” in multiple major markets with “one order, one rate, one bill,” and “one contract.”13 Through USSPI, advertisers were able to easily circumvent the more expensive big city dailies and simultaneously place their advertising in strings of suburban papers in numerous metropolitan areas. 362

The suburban papers’ continued growth bolstered the national newspaper industry as it entered the new decade. In 1970, the emergence of twenty-eight new suburban dailies helped offset the closing of eleven urban papers. That same year, despite declining circulation figures in many cities, America’s total daily newspaper circulation exceeded sixty-two million, an all-time high. Buoyed by the increasing number of suburban presses operating throughout the country, the newspaper industry stood as the nation’s fifth largest employer in 1971. The figures led journalist Willard Randall to label newspapers “a booming growth industry.”14

The suburban papers provided the national newspaper industry with a much- needed lift and proved popular with suburbanites and advertisers alike, but they also created myriad problems for their urban counterparts. In 1970, statistics revealed that the total daily newspaper circulation in the United States had fallen below the number of households for the first time. Experts argued that this was not the result of a larger declining popular interest in newspapers, as more than 80 percent of adults continued to read at least one paper a day, but rather a diminishing need to read multiple dailies.15

Scholar Leo Bogart reiterated this point in a 1974 Columbia Journalism Review article, writing that “the habit of reading newspapers continues strong, but for more and more people, it is the habit of reading a paper.”16 With readers and advertisers flocking to the suburban papers and urban newspapers’ circulation figures and revenues declining, it seemed readily apparent that the root of the problem lay in the fact that suburbanites were finding fewer and fewer reasons to read the big-city dailies.

The increasing frequency with which suburbanites chose to read only suburban papers in the early 1970s significantly shrank the already marginal presence that many 363 urban dailies clung to in the suburbs. In 1972, the USSPI estimated that the 800 suburban papers it represented averaged a 70 percent penetration rate in the communities that they served. 17 It was a rate that the urban dailies simply could not match, as even the most successful metropolitan papers struggled to reach the 50 percent plateau in the suburbs.18

The suburban papers’ dominance of the suburban markets dramatically altered the shape of America’s national newspaper market. By denying the nation’s big city newspapers a significant presence in the lucrative suburban markets, the suburban papers relegated the urban dailies to the cities and left them to fight it out for the circulation and advertising revenues that remained there. However, with urban circulation declining and advertising revenues stagnating, few American cities had the capacity to support more than one independently owned, large-circulation newspaper. As a result, numerous urban newspapers folded, entered into Joint Operating Agreements (JOA) with their cross-town rivals, or sold out to newspaper chains like Knight Newspapers and Gannett. Between

1961 and 1976, the number of American cities with independently owned competing daily newspapers dropped from sixty-one to thirty-nine.19 John Knight, whose company took advantage of the changing market and benefitted from it, called the transition a

“long-overdue shakeout,” and noted that the larger industry was “much stronger for it.”20

Nowhere were these changes more apparent than in the Philadelphia metro area, where the number of people residing in the suburbs increased by 530,432 (23 percent) during the sixties, and exceeded 2,870,000 in 1970. Making up a large portion of this influx were more than 187,000 of Philadelphia’s white middle- and working-class residents, whose exodus ensured that the city’s white flight continued.21 Perhaps more importantly, the region’s suburban residents consumed in excess of their numbers. 364

Whereas suburbanites made up 60 percent of the Philadelphia region’s total population by the early seventies, they also accounted for 66 percent of the metro area’s total retail sales. This figure marked a more than 6 percent increase from 1967 alone.22 As a result, the number of retail establishments located in Philadelphia’s seven immediate suburban counties increased by 17 percent (3,417) between 1967 and 1972 while the number of those operating in the city dropped by 13 percent (2,468).23 Indeed, Philadelphia’s percentage of the larger metro area’s total retail sales and total retail establishments declined in each of the ten major categories measured, including food stores, automotive dealerships, eating and drinking places, apparel and accessory stores, and general merchandise stores.24

The demographic and retail shifts helped make the Philadelphia metro area one of the most competitive newspaper markets in the country. By 1973, the larger fourteen- county area had become home to more than 157 suburban dailies, weeklies, and semi- weeklies that employed more than 1,000 editors, reporters, and staffers and had a total combined circulation of more than 1.6 million.25 From this group, twelve evening dailies dominated Philadelphia’s seven neighboring counties. In addition to the Bucks County

Courier-Times, Delaware County Daily Times, Camden Courier-Post, and Burlington

County Times, the Doylestown Intelligencer, Quakertown Free Press, Norristown Times-

Herald, North Penn Reporter, Phoenixville Republican, Coatesville Record, West

Chester Local News, and Woodbury (NJ) Times all experienced significant circulation growth during the postwar era. Between 1960 and 1972, these papers’ cumulative circulation rose from 234,208 to 393,115 while the Bulletin’s dropped by more than 365

80,000 readers.26 Combined, the suburban dailies trailed the Inquirer by little more than

60,000 readers and were on pace to catch the Bulletin by the end of the decade.27

The growth of Philadelphia’s suburban communities and suburban dailies provided the Bulletin with more competition than it had had in decades. In 1950, the paper reached more than 55 percent of the households in the metro area, including almost

35 percent of those located outside Philadelphia. However, as the suburbs and suburban papers grew, the Bulletin’s share of that market dropped. By 1970, the paper reached only 25 percent of the region’s suburban homes.28 It was a figure that fell substantially below the 70 percent mark claimed by the USSPI papers and made it hard for the Bulletin to keep and lure advertisers looking to reach suburban consumers. Further, as a large portion of Philadelphia’s white middle- and working-class residents fled to the suburbs and that portion of the city’s population declined, the percentage of city homes reached by the Bulletin declined too.29

The suburban papers’ dominance of Philadelphia’s peripheral areas shrank the regional newspaper market and turned the fight for supremacy within the city market into a zero-sum game. The Bulletin’s inability to compete with the suburban dailies left it without the broad circulation and advertising base it needed to cover its ever-increasing payroll and operating expenses. This, in turn, made the maintenance of the Bulletin’s daily circulation and advertising lead within the city paramount, as the paper’s executives had to win the city market to keep the paper afloat.30 They simply had no margin for error.

Prior to Knight Newspaper’s purchase of the Inquirer and Daily News in 1969, this would not have posed much of a problem. Under Walter Annenberg, both papers 366 were widely viewed as rags, kept afloat by the Sunday Inquirer’s circulation and advertising revenues, while the Bulletin was generally considered the city’s only reliable paper. Knight’s entrance into the Philadelphia market made things much more difficult for the Bulletin’s executives, however, since it meant that they would have to fight to retain their position atop the city market. Even though the Bulletin had the loyalty of a larger portion of Philadelphia’s newspaper reading public and held a sizeable advantage when it came to daily circulation and advertising revenues, Knight was not without advantages. The corporation had deep pockets, broad resources, and what amounted to a blank slate to work with. Whereas the Evening Bulletin’s executives would have to balance the paper’s need to improve and change with the needs, wants, and expectations of its established readership in the ensuing years, Knight did not have to worry about offending the Inquirer’s readers’ sensibilities or trampling on decades of journalistic tradition. After Annenberg, the paper’s quality could only go up.

Knight had its work cut out for it at the Inquirer. The paper’s circulation had been sliding at an even more precipitous rate than the Bulletin’s. During the sixties, the

Inquirer lost 113,000 subscribers, more than 20 percent of its readership. The Sunday

Inquirer fared little better, losing another 100,000 readers.31 The paper, along with the

Daily News, was in such a state of editorial and financial disarray that John Knight allegedly had to be convinced to buy them. Philadelphia Magazine later noted that

Knight’s first orders of business were to “shake up” the Inquirer and “persuade

Philadelphians to stop laughing at it.”32

Knight did much more than shake things up. During the 1970s, the newspaper chain turned the Inquirer into something Philadelphians had never had before, a sleek, 367 modern, award-winning newspaper with a national scope whose approach reflected the times and helped readers understand the changing world around them. In the process, the paper made a play for control of the city’s daily newspaper market and put tremendous pressure on the Bulletin’s executives to keep pace.

Knight made numerous immediate changes at the Inquirer. The company’s corporate heads envisioned a bigger, better version of their Miami Herald, which was respected for its quality editorial content and ranked second in the nation in retail advertising among daily newspapers despite operating in America’s 26th largest market.

They transferred the Herald’s executive editor, John McMullen, to Philadelphia, gave him the same post at the Inquirer, and granted him the authority to make the changes needed to turn the paper around. The formula was simple. As the Inquirer’s executive editor, McMullen had complete autonomy so long as the paper made money.33

McMullen immediately began working to distance the Inquirer from its “ruthless and reckless” reputation and to establish it as a much more independent paper.34 He replaced most of the Inquirer’s executives with people from the Knight organization and limited the decision making power that holdovers such as managing editor John Gillen and city editor Robert Greenberg, both longtime Annenberg men, had. McMullen also cleaned house at the Inquirer’s City Hall bureau, replacing established reporters with younger, more aggressive journalists. Among the many replaced was longtime City Hall correspondent, Joe Miller, who apparently had been there “almost as long as the statue of

William Penn.”35 Even the paper’s editorial page got a makeover, as McMullen shifted its tenor from Annenbergian conservatism to a more moderate/liberal stance.36 368

As a result of McMullen’s changes, the Inquirer adopted a more confrontational stance toward many of Philadelphia’s notoriously corrupt institutions and well- entrenched politicians and public figures. Foremost among these targets was the city’s police department and its commissioner, Frank Rizzo. In March, 1970, the paper followed up on an earlier incident in which Philadelphia police shot two African-

American teenagers following a stolen car chase, killing one. Under a headline reading

“Boy Dies of Police Bullets: Two Versions,” Inquirer reporters presented multiple eyewitness accounts confirming that Philadelphia police officers had “viciously and needlessly” beaten both young men, including one after he had been fatally shot.37 The story’s accounts likely surprised few Philadelphians, as the city’s police department had a well-earned reputation for being “tough on crime.” What was more surprising was the fact that one of the city’s papers actually ran the story. Under Annenberg, who had routinely patrolled the city’s streets with Rizzo and was an outspoken supporter of the commissioner, it would not have seen the light of day. But McMullan was different.

After hearing word of the impending story, Rizzo phoned Annenberg in London, who, in turn, called the Inquirer and attempted to have it squashed. When managing editor Gillen reported Annenberg’s wishes to McMullan, he retorted “Walter Who?” The story ran, and the Inquirer served notice that the times were changing.38

McMullan ensured that the Inquirer’s critical approach continued by establishing an investigative reporting unit at the paper. In 1971, journalists Donald L. Barlett and

James B. Steele joined the Inquirer. In the ensuing years, the two produced numerous investigative reports and won multiple Pulitzer Prizes for the paper. That year, the duo revealed widespread fraud in a Federal Housing Authority (FHA) subsidy program for 369 the renovation and sale of dilapidated homes to the poor. In February, 1973, the duo compiled a series of articles revealing wide-ranging discrimination, corruption, and abuse in Philadelphia’s criminal court system. In 1974, they won the Inquirer its first Pulitzer

Prize for their investigation of Internal Revenue Service auditing and enforcement policies that favored wealthy Americans and allowed billions of tax dollars to go uncollected every year.39 Later, the paper brought journalists Kent Pollock, Mary

Watson, Jim Mann, Richard Ben Cramer and Wendell Rawls, Jr. in to further strengthen its investigative coverage.40

McMullan relied heavily on Knight’s corporate resources in his attempts to improve the paper and give it a national voice. The editor established a dedicated correspondent to cover the Pennsylvania state capitol in Harrisburg and replaced the

Inquirer’s original two-man Washington Bureau with Knight’s twelve-person operation.

With the added resources, the Inquirer’s editorial content continued to broaden and improve. Though the New York Times and Washington Post garnered the lion’s share of acclaim for running portions of the Pentagon Papers in 1971, the Inquirer also went out on a limb and ran sections of them. The Inquirer was also one of the papers to break the story regarding 1972 Vice-Presidential candidate Thomas Eagleton’s history of depression, which eventually led Presidential nominee George McGovern to replace him on the Democratic ticket.41 Knight’s resources fueled improvements in the Inquirer’s other sections as well. McMullan added many of Knight’s syndicated features, thereby expanding and improving the paper’s op ed and daily comics sections.

Knight also invested heavily in revamping the Inquirer’s production facilities and home delivery operations. The corporation transferred General Manager John Prescott up 370 from Miami to manage and oversee the implementation of millions of dollars in upgrades to the paper’s presses and engraving and composing equipment. Prescott also oversaw the restructuring of the Inquirer’s circulation and home delivery operations, which lagged far behind the Bulletin in size, scope, and sophistication.42

Knight’s improvements at the Inquirer generated rave reviews. A year after its purchase, the Columbia Journalism Review and Philadelphia Magazine ran complimentary articles praising the company for the paper’s editorial turnaround. In the

Philadelphia article, Bernard McCormick concluded, “In short, there really isn’t anything about the paper that isn’t quite a bit better than it used to be.”43 However, the editorial improvements and capital investments did not translate into immediate profits. Between

1970 and 1971, the paper lost more than a million dollars in advertising revenue. While the rest of Knight’s properties were earning the company $16 million in profits that year, the Inquirer, which accounted for almost 25 percent of the corporation’s total revenues, lost money.44

Losing money was one thing that a publicly held corporation could not tolerate.

With the paper’s finances still below par in October, 1972, McMullan was “promoted” to

Knight’s corporate headquarters in Miami and replaced by Eugene Roberts. Described as a “drawling, shy, freckle-bellied Southern boy with a mind like a steel trap” by a former colleague, Roberts was a significant upgrade from McMullan, whose top-down dictatorial style had alienated him from much of his own staff.45 Roberts was one of the fastest rising stars in American journalism when Knight pried him away from the New York

Times, where he had served as the paper’s national editor between 1969 and 1972 and made a name for himself covering the Civil Rights Movement and the Vietnam War. 371

Roberts had worked for Knight at the Detroit Free Press before joining the Times, and shortly after his hiring explained that the freedom he enjoyed while working for the company and the appeal of “seeing how much we can do and how far we can go” with the Inquirer lured him to Philadelphia.46

Roberts’ hiring marked the start of the second stage of Knight’s rebuilding project at the Inquirer. Upon his arrival, Roberts hired Newsday’s Gene Forman to serve as the paper’s managing editor and the Wall Street Journal’s Steve Lovelady to fill the assistant managing editor position. Roberts favored building larger, well-researched, in-depth articles, and once remarked that “many major stories do not break; they trickle, seep, and ooze.”47 Roberts also believed that filling the Inquirer with broad stories that impacted and interested a wide array of the Philadelphia region’s readers would improve the paper’s editorial quality and reputation. As a result, one of Lovelady’s primary responsibilities was teaching the Inquirer’s young journalists the “trend” method of reporting, which Wall Street Journal editors had developed and used effectively while transforming that paper from a small circulation business daily into a highly respected paper with a national readership.48

Roberts and Lovelady made trend reporting the primary focus of the Inquirer’s features and lifestyles reporters. McMullan had started the process of improving these sections earlier, hiring more than eighty new journalists, including specialists in religion, consumer affairs, and transportation reporting. Among the new hires was the paper’s new women’s editor, Carroll Stoner, who was instructed to go beyond the “fatuous fluff” that had long exemplified the Inquirer’s woman’s section and find ways to relate to the changing sensibilities of the region’s working women.49 But whereas, McMullan saw the 372 lifestyle articles as of secondary importance and buried them behind the paper’s investigative reports and crime stories, Roberts and Lovelady saw trend reporting as a way to make the paper a more integral part of its readers’ lives. Accordingly, they made the features sections a much more prominent part of the paper. Lovelady explained that the larger goal was to cover the Philadelphia region in the same way that the Wall Street

Journal covered the nation and noted that trend reporting gave the paper a mechanism to tell readers “something about the currents that make up a changing society.”50 He explained that by simply doing a few extra days worth of research, a well-trained journalist would often discover that a spot news story impacting a small percentage of readers was actually emblematic of a larger trend impacting residents in different parts of the region. Lovelady further explained that trend reporting enabled the paper’s reporters to go beyond “telling readers what the people in the halls of power are up to” and “tell them how their own lives are changing.”51

Roberts and Lovelady openly trumpeted the editorial benefits that the Inquirer’s readers derived from the paper’s new methodologies and improved quality, but the changes were not entirely holistic. There were also strategic, market-based factors fueling the new approach. Both men understood that the suburban dailies and the

Bulletin had the market on local news thoroughly covered and that there was little point in trying to compete with those papers at what they did best. Establishing the Inquirer as an independent muckraking journal that also helped readers understand the changing world around them provided Roberts and Lovelady with a way to set the paper apart and carve a new niche for it in Philadelphia’s hyper-competitive newspaper market. Filling the Inquirer with investigative articles and trend stories provided Philadelphia area 373 readers with informed, in-depth regional, state, national, and international news stories that they could not get from the Bulletin, the suburban dailies, or the local broadcast news outlets. Lovelady explained the rationale behind the switch in an interview with Editor &

Publisher, noting that since their competitors were “already covering the trees,” he and

Roberts decided to “cover the forest” instead.52 Trend reporting also carried with it another benefit. It enabled Roberts and Lovelady to cover region’s diverse and rapidly growing suburbs in a more cost effective way. Whereas the Bulletin devoted several teams of reporters and a significant portion of its resources to covering individual suburban school board and township council meetings with little to show for it, utilizing the trend method allowed Roberts and Lovelady to use a small staff comprised of two editors, ten reporters, and a handful of “researcher-reporters” to track events across the

Philadelphia metro area’s suburbs and develop broad-based stories that were of interest to a large cross-section of the region’s suburbanites.53

The changes that Roberts and Lovelady initiated stabilized the paper and laid the foundation for its long-term growth. In 1974, the Inquirer posted a $1 million profit and its first circulation gains in more than a decade.54 That same year, one journalist called the paper’s editorial turnaround “one of the wonders of the modern world.”55

The Inquirer’s emergence as a high-quality newspaper during the early seventies compounded the Bulletin’s problems in myriad ways. The new Inquirer’s wide-ranging, in-depth stories and critical tone ended the Bulletin’s long and undisputed reign as the city’s best daily and made it appear outdated and out of touch. The relative free pass that national and regional media critics had long given the Bulletin expired, too. For the next decade, the paper would operate under a much more critical eye. More importantly, the 374 new and improved Inquirer stood as a potential threat to the Bulletin’s daily circulation and advertising lead and signaled that the paper’s executives were going to have keep pace if they wanted to maintain the paper’s position at the top of the city market.

Robert Taylor and the Bulletin’s other executives had a full understanding of the region’s shifting newspaper landscape and knew that the paper was not in good shape at the outset of the seventies. Reports compiled by the paper’s own research department gave the executives a clear picture of which suburban municipalities and counties were growing the fastest and which were seeing the largest increases in retail spending. The reports revealed all too clearly that the demographic and retail shifts that started in the fifties and carried through the sixties showed no signs of stopping and that the paper’s core city demographic was shrinking rapidly.56 The Bulletin’s dramatic circulation freefall combined with the suburban dailies’ continued growth provided a less-than-subtle indication that the paper’s continuing attempts to establish a presence in the suburbs via daily suburban zoned editions were failing. Further, Robert Taylor’s own calculations estimated that the Bulletin’s total expenses were increasing at a rate of $3.25 million per year and threatening to push the paper into the red.57 Taylor and his executive team were aware that the paper was not attracting new readers, that its primary readership was slowly dwindling, and that the changes implemented at the Inquirer were, at least in part, designed to lure readers away from the Bulletin. In his memoir, Taylor remembered hearing word that Knight’s executives planned to “knock out the Bulletin in 5 years.”58

The executives knew the Bulletin needed major upgrades, but the larger, and harder, questions were where and how to make them. 375

Bulletin executives attempted to meet these challenges by initiating a “youth movement” at the paper. In 1969, they appointed 37-year-old George Packard managing editor and charged him with the gargantuan task of modernizing the Bulletin. Packard, who had Main Line roots and was widely considered management’s “fair-haired boy,” had no newspaper management experience prior to his appointment and was recognized as much for his good looks and tan as his ability. One local publication informed its readers that Packard resembled “George Hamilton, just off the beach in Where the Boys

Are.”59 Yet, Packard’s age and brief time of service with the Bulletin (he had been hired in 1967 to work at the paper’s Washington Bureau) were taken as proof that Taylor and executive editor William B. Dickinson were committed to making the hard choices and changes necessary to turn the paper around. In comparison, Dickinson, who held the managing editor post prior to Packard and helped mentor him for the position, climbed the Bulletin’s corporate ladder and was not promoted to the role until he was 51.

Taylor thought that Packard’s enthusiasm, determination, and youthful perspective would be a catalyst for change at the paper. In a memo to Robert McLean, he explained his hope that the Packard-led youth movement would prompt a “general shakeup” among the news staff, which he admitted had grown frustrated with the paper’s declining circulation figures and the newsroom’s arcane politics and hierarchies.60 After taking control of the newsroom, Packard attempted to do just that. In no short order, he worked to boost morale and improve communications between departments and between reporters and management. In contrast to his predecessor, who was described as a “shy, withdrawn man, who rarely went out of his way to pat people on the back,” Packard took on the role of company cheerleader and made a point of publicly applauding jobs well 376 done.61 He initiated a daily conference for the paper’s editors and frequently held open staff meetings, so as to keep everyone on the same page and end the rumor mongering that had long been a staple of newsroom conversations. To help encourage greater initiative and staff involvement, Packard established a seven-person executive committee to review and follow-up on employee suggestions. The changes went over well with many of the paper’s younger reporters, who took them as a sign that Packard was moving the paper in the right direction.62

Packard also attempted to improve the Bulletin’s look and editorial quality. He immediately made the paper “less stodgy looking,” by moving it away from its traditional

Wall Street Journal-esque layout and by incorporating more color, more images, bolder headlines, and a more horizontal format.63 In the process, Packard replaced anachronistic features from the front page, such as the “lost and found” column, with more newsworthy material. Packard oversaw the restructuring of the editorial staff and promoted many of the paper’s younger employees to newer positions, giving them more say and responsibility. City Editor Sam Boyle, who had been with the Bulletin for more than two decades, was promoted and replaced with Don Harrison (41), who had only worked for the paper for six years. Joe Daughen (34) was named the paper’s national correspondent, and Peter Binzen (34), one of the paper’s most promising young reporters, was named urban affairs editor and given his own staff. Packard also worked to broaden the

Bulletin’s appeal by featuring the work of popular columnists such as Rose DeWolf,

Claude Lewis, and Sandy Grady on page three and moving the hard news stories that had traditionally filled that space farther back in the paper. 377

Packard even attempted to take the monumental step of incorporating more analysis and interpretation into the Bulletin’s news coverage. He gave the page three columnists the freedom to take a much stronger and more critical tone in their work, and he encouraged reporters and staffers to engage in “enterprise reporting,” so as to give readers something that they could not get elsewhere. Packard defined the ideal enterprise reporter as someone that could take “an idea or subject or recent event that people are already talking about in homes, shops, and offices,” and deal with it in “a fresh way.”64

He further explained that a strong enterprise story “probes more deeply than a hard news story,” and “illuminates,” “defines,” and “tells you why in a way you won’t forget.”65 It appeared that substantial change had finally come to the Bulletin.

Packard’s initiatives represented a major step forward for the Bulletin and raised more than one eyebrow in Philadelphia. With the “boy editor” handling the newsroom, the paper seemed to be lurching in the right direction. In 1973, following William

Dickinson’s retirement, Packard was promoted to executive editor, whereupon he continued his attempts to transform the Bulletin into a more aggressive and more modern paper.66 He filled the vacant managing editor position with Phil Evans, another young, relative newcomer to the Bulletin. Like John McMullan had done at the Inquirer a few years earlier, Packard filled the Bulletin’s City Hall bureau with younger, more aggressive, reporters and moved some of the paper’s old guard to less influential posts.67

Packard’s moves made the Bulletin a better paper, but they did not generate the radical transformation that Roberts’ changes produced at the Inquirer. Part of the problem was rooted in the Bulletin’s financial woes. The paper’s increasing expenses and declining revenues left it treading water financially during the early 1970s.68 Robert 378

Taylor tried to get the paper back on track by initiating a “cost cutting crusade.”69 In

June, 1971, Taylor began a program designed to lower payroll expenses by reducing the

Bulletin’s employee population from 2,600 to 2,340. Two years later, with the number of employees still above that number, Taylor ordered an across the board hiring freeze and instructed his department heads to help cut the paper’s expenses by 10 to 20 percent by

“paying fewer people more money for productive effort.”70 In a memo to William

McLean III, then the chairman of the paper’s budget committee, Taylor explained,

“unless we get back to a 4% per year increase figure for expense and payroll, the security of every Bulletin employee is in jeopardy.”71 Despite his earnest attempts, Taylor was unable to force enough to cuts to keep the Bulletin in the black. In 1973, the paper lost

$1,160,000.72

Without the circulation and advertising revenues that would have come from a strong suburban presence and kept the paper profitable, and without Knight’s corporate resources, Packard had to make his changes work on a shoestring budget. Unlike

McMullan and Roberts, who had the resources to fund the Inquirer’s expansion and had the capacity to bring promising journalists to Philadelphia by promoting them from some of Knight’s smaller market papers, every broad improvement that Packard sought to make had to be funded by the Bulletin’s coffers, which at that point were virtually bare.

As a result, many of Packard’s plans were limited or fell by the wayside. Whereas

Knight’s large newspaper network and twelve-person Washington bureau allowed

McMullan and Roberts to improve the Inquirer’s national coverage without any added expense, Packard simply didn’t have the resources to make the same sort of changes.

Packard’s original promotion of reporter Joe Daughen to national correspondent was 379 intended to be the first step in an expansion of the paper’s national reporting efforts.

However, with funds lacking, that expansion did not happen. Packard’s plans for an international bureau were similarly cut short. Had the Bulletin gained a foothold in the region’s suburbs, and thus not suffered the massive circulation losses and stagnating revenues that it did, Packard would have been in a much stronger position to expand the paper’s coverage and keep up with the changes being made at the Inquirer.73

Finances were not the only obstacles that Packard encountered during his tenure at the Bulletin. Internal politics and disputes with the Bulletin’s old guard executives, reporters, and staffers also hindered his attempts to revitalize and revamp the paper. Part of the problem laid in Packard’s “naïve, almost ingenious idealism,” and his assumption that Taylor and Dickinson had bestowed upon him the power to make the Bulletin over in a way that was comparable to what McMullan and Roberts were doing at the Inquirer.74

In making this assumption, Packard underestimated the amount of entrenched resistance to change that existed at the Bulletin, misjudged his mandate, and erred significantly.

The core sticking point centered on the Bulletin’s traditional, don’t-rock-the-boat approach to journalism, or what one local journalist termed “its aloof, conservative tradition.”75 Packard believed that part of his mandate to remake the paper included moving it away from this tradition and making it more aggressive, more independent, and less amenable to the region’s powerbrokers. Robert Taylor, William Dickinson, and many others at the Evening Bulletin did not feel this way, did not think a complete methodological overhaul was needed, and did not want to stray too far from the paper’s established reportorial approach. Taylor above all believed that the paper needed more features and expanded coverage, particularly in the suburbs, but not a new approach. He 380 saw the suburban dailies’ rapid growth and continuing prosperity as proof positive that fact-based local news had not gone out of style and could still be profitable. In a 1969 memo, Taylor argued that “a newspaper catering to the entire cross-section must be local,” that “it must stress hard news or expect to lose readers,” that it must provide “a complete variety of news for the cross section of readers,” and that “it must never change too abruptly.”76 Rather than altering the Bulletin’s approach, Taylor really just wanted to expand it.

Taylor’s intransigence toward Packard’s push to make the Bulletin more independent and aggressive was most evident on the paper’s editorial page. Famous for their consistently bland and blasé content, the Bulletin’s editorials were, perhaps, the most overt manifestations of Robert McLean’s conservative journalistic approach.

Traditionally the purview of the paper’s publisher, the editorials were famous for their fence-straddling positions and were a relative source of amusement for many

Philadelphians. One well-known Philadelphia urban legend held that when an aide informed mayoral candidate Richardson Dilworth that the Bulletin had announced its support of his campaign in an editorial, the candidate replied, “How can you tell?”77 Yet, the editorial page was also long a source of contention among the paper’s few aggressive journalists and editors, who considered it a “disaster.”78 Writing in Philadelphia

Magazine, journalist Ron Javers later argued that even “the most gifted editorial writer” would have had a hard time eliminating “the vague, self-important posturing and flummery” that often masqueraded as “rational argument and opinion in Bulletin editorials.”79 This did not change under Packard. Despite the other nascent transitions taking place at the paper, Taylor ensured that the editorial page remained virtually 381 unaltered, and thus, it did not improve. In a 1974 comparison of the changes made at both papers, journalist and media critic Dan Rottenberg explained that, while the

Inquirer’s editorial staff had developed a “provocative, pointed, and insightful” section, the Bulletin’s editors were “still plagued by a dogged determination to come down firmly on both sides of every issue and to rush into print with editorials even when they have nothing to say.”80

Regardless of the larger public criticisms, many Bulletin employees shared

Taylor’s belief that the paper could be turned around simply by adding news and features to its already successful formula. As a result, Packard ran into stiff resistance while attempting to transform the paper’s other sections well. Taylor and Dickinson did not give Packard the freedom to clean house at the Bulletin the way the Knight Corporation empowered McMullan and Roberts. Despite Taylor’s attempts to trim the paper’s payroll during this period, Packard did not fire anyone after taking the managing editor position.

Rather than getting a new deck of cards, he was forced to reshuffle the same old ones.

Among these were assistant managing editor for plans, Sam Boyle, assistant managing editor for news Malcolm (Mal) Deans, and deputy city editor, Len Murphy. All were company men who had put in many years of service at the paper and who believed wholeheartedly in the Bulletin’s traditional reporting style and focus on local news.

Each disliked Packard from the start and worked to undermine his authority and his initiatives. Part of this was likely due to Packard’s rapid promotion to managing editor ahead of them, regardless of his dearth of experience. Packard’s emphasis on change irked the trio as well, particularly Boyle, who was referred to as the “embodiment of the paper’s tradition of never screaming at the reader.”81 The three openly, and frequently, 382 subverted Packard. Murphy often cancelled assignments doled out by city editor Don

Harrison, a Packard man, and Boyle and Deans frequently reworked the Bulletin’s layout after Packard had set it and left for the day, replacing stories by Packard’s young guns with those more in tune with the Bulletin’s traditional tone and approach. When subversion did not work, Deans, Boyle, and Murphy simply went over Packard’s head to

Dickinson and Taylor, who had grown disenchanted with the young editor’s initiatives. 82

Together, Deans, Boyle, and Murphy led an anti-Packard coalition of old-guard

Bulletin employees that had the implicit support of Dickinson and Taylor and which further impeded Packard’s attempts to revitalize the paper. Packard was not without his supporters, however. Many of the Bulletin’s younger reporters and journalists relished

Packard’s approach and the newfound freedom and input that it afforded them. As a result, the Bulletin’s newsroom divided into a pair of increasingly polarized camps, one pushing for an expansion of Packard’s new style and one pushing for a full return the paper’s established modus operandi.

The simmering conflict boiled over in late 1974 when Packard attempted to merge the Bulletin’s city and suburban staffs into one large metropolitan unit. The move appears to have been an attempt to make better use of the Bulletin’s staff and resources and to match the broad regional approach that the Inquirer had taken under Eugene

Roberts. However, it did not go over well with either faction. Termed the “Friday Night

Massacre,” because Packard announced it in a memo posted in the Bulletin newsroom on the evening of November 1, 1974, the plan required upwards of sixty of the paper’s editors and reporters to change shifts and/or assignments, some of which they had held for years. Members of the paper’s old guard saw the move as a power play, an attempt to 383 silence them or force them out by switching their positions.83 Many of the paper’s younger reporters felt as though Packard was playing games with their careers and livelihoods and resented being used as “pawns” in his larger fight.84 The result was a near mutiny and the start of a push to unionize the Bulletin’s newsroom under the

Newspaper Guild.

Packard attempted to ease tensions in the following months by holding a series of open staff meetings to discuss the reasons behind the changes. However, when he was forced to unceremoniously fire a veteran reporter without warning in February, 1975, as part of a staff cut-back, the unionization push picked up steam. By April, it appeared as though the Guild had the votes to turn the Bulletin newsroom into a union shop. Robert

Taylor, who, by that point had, succeeded Robert McLean as Bulletin Co. chairman, took pride in the fact that the paper had maintained the only union-free news staff in the city and had little more than disdain for the Newspaper Guild. He remembered all to well what it had done to J. David Stern’s Philadelphia Record. With the paper’s financial status uncertain, the last thing he and new Bulletin publisher William McLean III wanted was to negotiate another labor contract and pay union scale wages, which they considered exorbitant. Packard was ordered to get a grip on the news staff and resolve the situation in a way that kept the union out of the paper’s newsroom. But it was too late. Packard had lost control of the news staff, and many were blaming him for the union drive. On

April 13, 1975, following a dispute with Bill McLean over how to handle staff complaints and the union issue, Packard resigned.85

The dispute, which became very public, reinforced the lingering popular perception of the paper that Packard had worked so hard to change. Writing in 384

Philadelphia Magazine, journalist Bill Mandell argued that Packard’s departure represented a “retreat” from the “very modest swipes the paper had been making at becoming a modern, lively, and journalistically sound newspaper.”86 He concluded that the McLeans had “turned their faces to the past” and determined that Philadelphia was a

“backward town” best served by a “backward, old-fashioned newspaper.”87 Looking back on his time at the Bulletin, Packard took a simpler position, explaining, “I guess he

[Dickinson] wanted the youth but not the movement.”88

Packard’s ouster brought the Bulletin’s dalliance with change to an abrupt halt and signaled the resurgence of the paper’s old guard. McLean replaced Packard with B.

Dale Davis, another longtime company man, and later that year, the Guild drive came up a few votes short. The Bulletin newsroom remained union-free, and the paper largely returned to its staid approach.89 However, the conflict proved costly. The bitter infighting left the Bulletin marginally improved and ill prepared to compete with the

Inquirer and the suburban dailies in the ensuing years. Whereas Roberts had been able to revamp the Inquirer and actually show some modest profits and circulation gains,

Packard had not been able to stop the Bulletin’s downward slide. Between 1970 and the end of 1975, the Bulletin lost another 87,409 readers, almost 14,000 more than the

Inquirer.90 The paper also continued losing money. Between 1966 and 1975, the

Bulletin’s expenses increased at a rate of 6.8 percent a year while its revenues only averaged a 4.9 percent increase. The result was an average “profit/loss slippage” of more than $1 million a year for the period.91

The Bulletin’s problems grew exponentially in 1975. Shortly after Packard left the paper, Knight Newspapers formally merged with Ridder Publications, Inc. a separate, 385 but equally large newspaper conglomerate. The result was Knight-Ridder Inc., the nation’s largest circulation newspaper chain. The merger transformed Knight from a 16- paper, $340 million corporation whose holdings all lay east of the Mississippi River into a 34-paper, $500 million entity with a national reach.92 The Inquirer benefitted enormously from the merger. Prior to it, the Inquirer had returned little of the $25 million that Knight had invested in the paper since its purchase in 1969. Since the

Inquirer accounted for such a large percentage of Knight’s corporate revenues, the pressure had been mounting for Roberts to produce a financial turnaround that matched the editorial improvements he had made. The merger eased this pressure. The addition of the Ridder newspapers lessened the need to see an immediate financial improvement at the Inquirer and provided additional resources to fuel the paper’s continuing editorial transformation. The merger made the Inquirer a part of a larger advertising network that reached 3,725,000 readers and accounted for 6.1 percent of the nation’s total daily newspaper circulation by 1977.93 As a result, the paper’s advertising increased significantly during the late seventies. In 1975, the Inquirer essentially split the total advertising lineage placed in Philadelphia’s three dailies evenly with the Bulletin. The

Evening and Sunday Bulletin accounted for 44.9 percent of that total and the Inquirer and

Sunday Inquirer 44.1 percent. By 1977, the Inquirer’s percentage had grown to 47.3 percent, and in 1979 it hit 51.7 percent, an all-time high in the Philadelphia market.94

During the period, the Inquirer deployed its reporters all over the world and grew into one of America’s premier newspapers. Between 1975 and 1980, the paper won six consecutive Pulitzer Prizes, each in a different category.95 386

The Knight-Ridder merger also enabled the Inquirer to target the Bulletin’s resources and readership. During the early seventies, Knight’s attempts to pressure the

Bulletin primarily consisted of holding the Inquirer’s advertising and sales rates down, so as to prevent its afternoon competitor from easing its financial problems through rate hikes. Aware of Philadelphians’ enduring affinity for the Bulletin and the Inquirer’s reputation for covering “Karachi better than Kensington,” Knight-Ridder took a much more aggressive approach during the late seventies.96 The corporation attempted to steal many of the Bulletin’s syndicated features, and Eugene Roberts openly attempted to lure some of its most popular and prominent columnists, including Claude Lewis, to the

Inquirer by offering pay raises and travel opportunities that its rival simply could not match.97 Knight-Ridder also attempted to boost the Inquirer’s circulation by running promotional campaigns that its cash-strapped competitor could not afford. Between 1975 and 1976, the Inquirer undercut the Bulletin by frequently selling subscriptions at half price. The promotion worked, between 1976 and 1977, the Bulletin lost more than

10,000 readers and the Inquirer gained more than 10,000 new subscribers.98

Compounding the Bulletin’s problems was the continued growth of the twelve suburban dailies ringing Philadelphia. By 1977, Philadelphia’s suburbs housed almost 70 percent of the metropolitan area’s residents, contained more than 60 percent of its total retail establishments, and accounted for more than 70 percent of the region’s total retail sales.99 The twelve suburban dailies’ continued to grow as well. In 1977, their cumulative circulation hit 408,921.100 In the face of this growth, the Bulletin’s share of the suburban markets dwindled further. In 1977, the Bulletin only reached 19.8 percent

(27,021) of Bucks County homes and 17 percent (16,291) of Burlington County homes. 387

The figures fell far below their suburban competitors, the Bucks County Courier-Times and Burlington County Times, which reached 43 percent and 41.1 percent of the homes in their respective service areas.101 The paper also fared poorly in Camden, Chester, and

Gloucester Counties.102 Making matters worse, the Inquirer’s editorial improvements, aggressive promotions, and status as the region’s only significant morning daily enabled it to draw close to the Bulletin and, in some cases, even surpass it in the suburbs. By

1979, the Inquirer trailed the Bulletin by less than 4,000 readers in Bucks County and led it in Camden and Burlington Counties.103

Together, the suburban dailies and the Inquirer were sucking the life out of the

Bulletin. Despite the fact that the Bulletin still maintained the highest circulation in the city and the metro area, the paper had largely become irrelevant to advertisers. With the

Inquirer reaching an approximate number of suburban homes in the morning and the suburban dailies reaching an overwhelming majority of the region’s most important consumers, it made little sense to advertise in the Bulletin. In an article published in The

Journal of Marketing, Jonathan Kramer, an Assistant Account Executive at the New

York advertising firm Doyle Dane Bernbach, Inc., explained that advertisers would get more bang for their buck by reducing the amount of advertising placed in urban dailies and increasing the amount placed in suburban dailies. Kramer used Philadelphia as case study to reveal that advertisers who only placed ads in the three city dailies would reach

59 percent of those residing in the suburbs, but that one who utilized the suburban dailies heavily could reach near 100 percent of suburbanites. Kramer argued that making greater use of the suburban papers enabled advertisers to “pinpoint desired demographics much 388 more efficiently than their core city counterparts,” and afforded them the opportunity to buy “center city coverage more in line with its retail volume contribution.”104

This type of analysis did not favor the Bulletin. With the paper competing head- to-head in the afternoon with the suburban dailies and the Inquirer now a viable alternative, it was inevitable that advertisers looking to cut back on the amount of advertising placed in the urban dailies would do so by placing fewer ads in the Bulletin.

The suburban papers offered retailers the opportunity maximize their advertising dollars by reaching a significantly higher percentage of the region’s middle- and upper-class consumers at rates that remained below those offered by the Bulletin. The Inquirer’s status as a the region’s only major morning newspaper combined with its newfound prestige, growing circulation figures, and membership within Knight-Ridder’s massive advertising network also helped make it more attractive to advertisers than the Bulletin.

Even though the Bulletin remained the region’s largest daily, its financial problems, declining circulation figures, and primarily working-class readership rendered it far less attractive to advertisers than either the suburban dailies or the Inquirer. Most advertisers, it appears, did not completely cut ties with the Bulletin, but simply reduced the amount of advertising they place in the paper. Between 1974 and 1979, while its competitor’s ad revenues were increasing, the Bulletin lost 10,000,000 lines of advertising, and its share of that run in Philadelphia’s dailies dropped almost 12 percent. All told, the paper lost nearly $20 million in advertising revenue during the late seventies.105 Desperate times were at hand.

The problems besetting the Bulletin impacted urban dailies in metropolitan areas across the country. Kramer noted that, while variances could be found, suburban papers 389 near Pittsburgh, Atlanta, and many other “top metro markets” offered similar benefits.

This was likely because the number of suburban papers operating in America grew by 10 percent to 3,442 between 1971 and 1975 and their cumulative circulation jumped another

21 percent. By the end of 1975, the total suburban newspaper circulation in America hit

37,752,000.106 Further, by 1976, the top ten newspaper chains controlled 35 percent of the nation’s total daily circulation.107 As a result of these continuing market shifts, only

2.5 percent of the 1,550 American cities with daily newspapers supported two competing papers in 1977.108 In metro areas across the nation, suburban papers were shrinking the audience and advertising available to urban dailies, and large newspaper chains, with their economies of scale, were taking much of what remained. Family owned newspapers, it seemed, had become an endangered species.

Following the Knight-Ridder merger, it became increasingly apparent that the

Bulletin had all but lost its niche. The paper’s failure to capture the attention of suburban readers in any way combined with its inability to make the upgrades and changes that would have enabled it to compete with the Inquirer, left the Bulletin vulnerable to the larger shifts transforming the national newspaper industry. This problem was exacerbated by the fact that the paper was competing with twelve established and profitable suburban dailies, not just one or two small town presses, and by the fact that the nation’s largest and fourth largest circulation newspaper chains (Knight-Ridder and

Gannet) each had a strong presence in the region.109

The McLeans understood this fully. In late 1975, the “principle figures in the

Bulletin Co.” established Independent Publications Inc. (IPI), a new holding company, and named Robert Taylor its chairman.110 Previously, the Bulletin Co. had held all of the 390

McLean family’s media properties, including the Bulletin, newspapers in Santa Barbara,

Ca. and New Hampshire, and several muzak franchises. Under IPI, the Bulletin Co. only held the Bulletin, and was simply the largest of several media properties that the family owned. While little noted at the time, the move seems to be an attempt to protect the rest of the family’s holdings from the Bulletin’s problems, and it serves as an indication that the McLean family understood the paper would likely need to be merged, sold, or closed in the near future. Making the Bulletin Co. one of many properties instead of the parent corporation ensured that any potential mergers, partnerships, or sales involving the

Bulletin did not involve IPI’s other holdings.111

Within a year of IPI’s creation, Bulletin executives entered into talks with Knight-

Ridder about the possibility of merging the Inquirer, Daily News, and Bulletin under a

Joint Operating Agreement (JOA). JOA’s were legalized by the Newspaper Preservation

Act in 1970 and enabled newspapers competing in the same cities to cut costs by using the same advertising, production, and distribution departments and facilities so long as they kept their editorial departments separate.112 Entering into such an agreement would have established one path by which the Bulletin could have regained some of the ground that it had lost in the preceding years. The paper’s executives understood this well. In a memo to Robert and William McLean, Taylor argued, “Philadelphia will not be a really profitable newspaper city again until there is one newspaper with morning, evening, and

Sunday editions and one ownership.”113 However, gaining government approval for a

JOA was a lengthy, circuitous, and unguaranteed process, which newspapers with declining revenues, like the Bulletin, often could not afford to go through. Talks between representatives from the Bulletin and Knight-Ridder carried on sporadically through 391

1977, but eventually broke down. Robert Taylor later explained that the discussions failed because the McLeans were unwilling settle for anything less than a 50-50 revenue split with Knight-Ridder and were unwilling to absorb the estimated $20 million in costs they thought the paper would incur while waiting for government approval of a possible

Inquirer-Daily News-Bulletin JOA.114

Taylor later implied that Knight-Ridder had asked for too much in the negotiations and intoned that the corporation’s hard negotiating tactics were part of a larger “predatory effort to eliminate rather than compete with the Bulletin.”115 However, what Taylor saw as predatory actions were, in reality, smart business tactics. By the late seventies, it was clear that Knight-Ridder held all of the cards and had all of the leverage in any negotiations with the Bulletin. The paper was in a circulation and advertising freefall and desperate for help, and Knight had the resources to outlast it. More importantly, the Inquirer and Daily News stood to gain immensely from a Bulletin shut down, as it promised them a choice selection of the paper’s editors, journalists, and staffers and would have left them the only large urban dailies remaining in the region.

The corporation had little incentive to accept anything other than a sweetheart deal.116

With the JOA talks going nowhere and the paper’s circulation and advertising dropping rapidly, the Bulletin’s executives grew desperate. In 1978, Bill McLean, initiated one last push to revive the paper’s sagging fortunes. In an attempt to compete with the Inquirer, McLean dropped “Evening” from the paper’s masthead, launched a new morning edition, and transformed the Bulletin into an all-day paper. One of the

Bulletin’s editors explained that the move was prompted by the belief that “the longer we’re on the stands, the better our chance to sell the paper.”117 McLean also took one last 392 shot at expanding the paper’s suburban readership and advertising revenues. In March,

1979, the Bulletin began publishing six full suburban editions on a daily basis. The editions, which covered Bucks County, Montgomery County, Delaware County and parts

Chester County, The Main Line, Northeast Philadelphia, and New Jersey, switched

Philadelphia news with coverage from each given suburban region and constituted an attempt to match the suburban dailies’ content story for story.118 Unfortunately, the changes came at least a decade too late.

Both of McLean’s initiatives failed miserably. By the time McLean rolled them out, the suburban dailies’ and Inquirer’s dominance within their respective portions of the regional newspaper market was entrenched and unlikely to change. The Bulletin’s circulation and advertising revenues continued dropping. In 1979, the paper’s circulation dropped below the 500,000 mark for the first time since the Great Depression.119 In addition, the initiatives drained the Bulletin of precious financial resources. The suburban editions significantly increased the paper’s production costs, as they required more reporters, more staff, more drivers, more equipment, more newsprint, and more supplies. Indeed, the paper’s executives were so hard up for money that they began taking on outside printing jobs to bring in additional revenues. Yet, this maneuver did little to slow the paper’s economic slide. In 1979, the Bulletin lost $7.5 million.120

Some in Philadelphia saw McLean’s moves as an attempt to spruce the Bulletin up to make it appear more attractive to potential buyers. Bulletin officials continuously denied reports that the paper was “on the block.”121 Regardless of what they said publicly, sale rumors proliferated. One rumor held that the Times-Mirror Company, owner of the Los Angeles Times, had inquired about a possible sale, but that was quickly 393 shot down when the company publicly claimed it had no interest in the Bulletin. Another rumor involved Gannett, but Al Nueharth, the company’s chairman put an end to that rumor as well. When asked about Gannett’s interest in the Bulletin, Nueharth affirmed that the corporation “might well acquire a paper in turnaround situation,” but then rhetorically asked the reporter, “what makes you think the Bulletin’s situation can be turned around?”122 Predictably, a deal never materialized. In the end, no major newspaper or media corporations were willing to take a risk on the Bulletin. There could not have been a much larger symbol of the how far the paper had fallen.

McLean finally found a buyer for the paper in early 1980, when Karl Eller and

Raymond K. Mason, co-owners of the newly formed Charter Media Company, stepped in and made an offer. Eller had made a fortune by building his company, Combined

Communications, into a media empire that included thirteen television stations, six radio stations, and two newspapers and then selling it all to Gannett for $370 million in corporate stock. After selling his Gannett stock, Eller teamed with Mason, who had made his fortune in oil and was interested in acquiring media properties. The two created

Charter Media, a subsidiary of Mason’s Charter Company, a week before meeting with

McLean to discuss the Bulletin’s possible sale. It was not long afterward that McLean and Eller found themselves standing in front of a room full of employees, reporters, and television cameras announcing that the Bulletin had been sold.123

Deciding to sell the city’s beloved paper to two out-of-town businessmen who had no ties to the area and comparably little newspaper experience was not easy. It was evident to many attending the press conference that the decision had exacted a physical and mental toll on Bill McLean. Journalist Ron Javers noted that McLean wore “the 394 expression of a man who has just signed his life away.”124 McLean had not, in fact, signed his life away, but he had come close. In selling the Bulletin, he relinquished control of the paper that his family had slowly and carefully built into a Philadelphia institution. It was akin to hocking a family heirloom. Yet, McLean and virtually everyone else present that day knew that selling the Bulletin represented the last best chance the paper had to survive.

Following the purchase, Eller immediately set about trying to stabilize the

Bulletin’s finances. He hired N.S. “Buddy” Hayden, formerly of the Courier-Post, as the paper’s new publisher and instructed him to cut costs and increase revenues. In essence,

Hayden’s task was to do what Robert Taylor and William McLean had attempted earlier without success. Hayden immediately cut 125 nonunion jobs and, in August, launched a new advertising campaign, titled “We’re Going to do Great Things,” to lure back readers and advertisers. Hayden worked hard to portray the Bulletin as a paper on the rebound.

That December, he hosted a dinner party for several hundred prominent Philadelphia officials and advertisers at the city’s posh Franklin Plaza Hotel. In a late November communiqué with Bulletin employees, the publisher called the paper’s progress since the sale “virtually incredible.”125 Yet, the only incredible thing about the Bulletin at the end of 1980 was how much farther into the abyss it had fallen. In August, the Inquirer finally surpassed the paper in daily circulation. It marked the first time in seventy-five years that the Bulletin could not claim to be Philadelphia’s most widely read newspaper. Despite the cost cutting efforts and the promotional campaigns, the paper lost more than $13 million in 1980.126 395

Hayden continued trying to revive the Bulletin throughout the first half of 1981, but his efforts were to no avail. The paper lost another $10 million by the end of June.127

A month later, having lost more than $23 million in less than a year and a half, Hayden addressed the Bulletin’s employees and informed them that the paper would close its doors for good following the publication of the Sunday, August 16 edition unless its labor unions agreed to almost $5 million in wage cuts and new five-year contracts. Columnist

Rose DeWolf later claimed that the announcement quieted the normally noisy newsroom to the point that “you could hear a mosquito buzz.”128 Hayden explained that Charter had agreed to invest another $30 million in the paper over the next four years should the unions agree to negotiate. Over the next two weeks Bulletin executives and union representatives hashed out a deal that eliminated 113 union and seventy-three nonunion jobs, and cut employee wages and benefits. Don Salvucci, chief negotiator for the paper’s Pressmen’s Union, explained that the unions had little choice but to cooperate and noted that it was a question of “letting the ship sink or putting some people in a lifeboat.”129 Hayden estimated that the savings garnered from the new contracts and the infusion of cash from Charter would enable the Bulletin to make the changes necessary to turn a profit in 1984.130

That Fall, Hayden launched another new promotional campaign titled, “Nearly

Everybody’s Reading the Bulletin … Again!” Designed to take advantage of the holiday retail advertising rush, the campaign included placing more than 1,000 new vending machines throughout the city, hiring fifty people to sell the paper on street corners, and adding seventy new trucks to the Bulletin fleet to expedite its home delivery.131 However, this effort, like those that preceded it, did not generate the anticipated circulation and 396 advertising increases. As a result, the paper’s revenues continued declining. In

September, the Bulletin’s circulation dropped below 400,000 for the first time in sixty- four years. By the end of November, the paper trailed the Inquirer in circulation by almost 28,000 readers and ran little more than 25 percent of the advertising placed in the city’s dailies.132 The Bulletin’s 404,829 remaining readers were also fewer than the

421,334 residents who picked up one of the region’s twelve suburban papers on a daily basis.

The paper’s poor performance and mounting debt, prompted Charter Co. to cut its losses and sell the Bulletin. Hayden announced the decision to Bulletin employees first on January 6, 1982. As word of the decision spread, Philadelphians responded by launching a “SAVE OUR BULLETIN” campaign. On January 18th, more than 300 devoted readers gathered and held a candlelight vigil outside the paper’s offices. Many of them donned homemade S.O.B. buttons. Philadelphia’s Mayor, William Green, tried to help by offering tax breaks and low interest-loans to any potential buyer. But in the end, the Bulletin’s losses were simply too great. All told, the Bulletin lost almost $35 million in the twenty-one months that Charter Media owned it. When asked, publishing analyst John Morton summed the situation up by exclaiming, “Anyone trying to sell a paper in that condition would need a mask and a gun.”133

On Wednesday, January 27, 1982, Buddy Hayden informed Bulletin employees that Charter Media had decided to shut the paper down. Two days later, in the last employee newsletter printed on Bulletin letterhead, Hayden expressed his remorse that the paper’s 134-year run had come to an end and passed his gratitude on to the thousands of employees who had sacrificed in an attempt to keep the paper going. Hayden 397 explained that the Bulletin had become “a dinosaur in an age of sleek jaguars and leaping gazelles,” and finally concluded that, unfortunately, “Dinosaurs don’t live here anymore.”134 On January 29, 1982, the Bulletin published its farewell edition. Hayden changed the slogan adorning the top of the Bulletin’s front page so that it read “Nearly

Everybody Read the Bulletin,” and the paper’s final headline conveyed a simple message: “IT’S OVER. AND THERE’S VERY LITTLE TO SAY, EXCEPT

GOODBYE.”135

In his final letter to employees, Hayden explained that there was “no single thing that ‘happened’” to the Bulletin and that the paper’s demise stemmed from “myriad reasons which reach[ed] back many, many years.”136 It may have been one of the most prescient statements the publisher ever made. There were indeed many factors that contributed to the Bulletin’s prolonged decline and ultimate death. However, the paper’s inability to establish a strong presence in the Philadelphia region’s suburbs during the

1950s and 1960s looms as the single greatest reason that the paper was unable to maintain its status as one of the most widely read newspapers in America and ultimately failed. Had the Bulletin’s executives been able to carve a niche for the paper in the suburbs in the early post-World War II decades, the paper likely would not have suffered the devastating circulation and advertising losses that crippled it during the 1970s. The revenues garnered from a strong suburban operation would have left the paper in much better financial position to compete with the Knight-backed Inquirer. Having a solid base in the suburbs would also have enabled the paper to continue with its traditional emphasis on local news and lessened the need to experiment with new approaches and 398 methodologies geared to transform the Bulletin into something it had never been, a far- reaching, muckraking, interpretive journal. Instead, while the Philadelphia region’s twelve suburban dailies grew in readership and influence, the Bulletin shrank in the same ways until it could soldier on no more.

Numerous other large circulation urban dailies experienced similar difficulties during the postwar years. In August, 1981, as Bulletin executives were trying to wring concessions out of the paper’s labor unions, the Washington Star, Washington D.C.’s afternoon daily, stopped publishing. Urban newspapers in Cleveland, Chicago, Seattle,

Boston, Los Angeles, New York City, and Baltimore were also pushed to brink of failure during the early eighties. Some, such as the Cleveland Press closed. Others, like the

Boston Herald American, were bought up at the last moment by emerging media moguls

(Rupert Murdoch), transformed, and returned to profitability. Still others, like the Seattle

Post-Intelligencer, found salvation in Joint Operating Agreements. The connections cannot be dismissed. Each of these metropolitan region’s experienced massive suburban growth and became home to several prosperous suburban newspapers, which gradually drained the big-city dailies of readers and advertisers.137 The same pattern played out in metro areas across America during the seventies and eighties. As the nation became more and more suburban, so to did its newspaper industry.138 399

Endnotes

1 Ron Javers, “Bailing Out the Bulletin,” Philadelphia Magazine, 122, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 36, Folder 4, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

2 “Bulletin, Charter Media Reach Sale Agreement,” Philadelphia Bulletin, April 10, 1980, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

3 Ibid, 124.

4 David R. Davies, The Postwar Decline of American Newspapers, 1945-1965 (Westport, Ct.: Praeger, 2006); Peter Benjaminson, Death in the Afternoon: America’s Newspaper Giants Struggle for Survival (New York: Andrews, McMeel, and Parker, 1984); Hal Lister, The Suburban Press: A Separate Journalism (Columbia, Mo.: Lucas Brothers Publishers, 1975); James Brian McPherson, Journalism at the End of the American Century (Westport, Ct.: Praeger, 2006); Edwin Emery and Michael Emery, The Press and America: An Interpretive History of the Mass Media, 4th ed. (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1978), 393-480.

5 Term used in memo from Robert Taylor to Robert McLean, reprinted in: Robert E. L. Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin and a Look at Our Free Press in 1987, (Bryn Mawr: Dorrance and Company, Inc., 1988), 116.

6 Benjaminson, Death in the Afternoon, 58.

7 Kenneth T. Jackson, Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985), 283.

8 Ibid, 283-284.

9 Ibid, 284.

10 The urban dailies’ combined circulation grew by only five percent during the 1960s. Jonathan M. Kramer, “Benefits in the Use of Suburban Press for Large Metropolitan Buys,” The Journal of Marketing 41 (January 1977): 69.

11 Ibid.

12 Willard Randall, “The Daily Crabgrass,” Philadelphia Magazine, September 1971, 97.

13 For quotes see: Lister, The Suburban Press, 125. For general coverage: Ibid, 123-126.

14 Randall, “The Daily Crabgrass,” 101. 400

15 For 80 percent figure: Ibid. For general commentary: Leo Bogart, “Urban Papers Under Pressure,” Columbia Journalism Review 13 (September/October 1974): 36-43.

16 Leo Bogart, “Urban Papers Under Pressure,” 37.

17 Lister, The Suburban Press, 125.

18 Kramer, “Benefits in the Use of Suburban Press for Large Metropolitan Buys,” 69.

19 Emery and Emery, The Press and America, 436.

20 Randall, “The Daily Crabgrass,” 98.

21 All statistics derived from: Population Trends in Philadelphia Primary Market, 1970 versus 1960, 27, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 18, Folder 13, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

22 Figures based on data from 1967 and 1972 Censuses of Retail Trade published in: “Retail Sales In the Philadelphia Market” (Philadelphia: Philadelphia Inquirer & Daily News Research and Marketing Department, 1980), 14.

23 Retail Trade Trends, 1967-1972, 1, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 18, Folder 13, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

24 Other categories included, service stations, miscellaneous retail stores, furniture and home furnishings stores, building materials stores, and drug and proprietary stores. “Retail Sales In the Philadelphia Market,” 45.

25 Lister, The Suburban Press, 64.

26 Figures are author’s calculations based on statistics found in: Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1960, 165-168, 226-237; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1972,158-162, 214-226.

27 Ibid.

28 Taylor, Robert McLean’s, 286.

29 Ibid.

30 For a discussion of the Bulletin’s developing financial problems: Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 131-136.

401

31 Author’s calculations based on statistics in: Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1960, 234-235; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1969, 224.

32 Dan Rottenberg, “Knight to King 2,” Philadelphia Magazine, November 1972, 128.

33 For general coverage of Knight’s approach: Rottenberg, “Knight to King 2,” 128, 234- 238; Eugene L. Meyer, “The Knights Invade Philadelphia,” Columbia Journalism Review 10 (May/June 1971): 44-49.

34 Meyer, “The Knights Invade Philadelphia,” 45.

35 Bernard McCormick, “365 Days of Knight,” Philadelphia Magazine, January 1971, 88.

36 For general coverage of McMullen’s changes at the Inquirer, see: Meyer, “The Knights Invade Philadelphia,” 44-49; McCormick, “365 Days of Knight,” 87-89, 116- 122; Rottenberg, “Knight to King 2,” 234-238.

37 Requoted in Meyer, “The Knights Invade Philadelphia,” 44.

38 Meyer, “The Knights Invade Philadelphia,” 44-45. For more on Rizzo’s somewhat contentious relationship with the Philadelphia Press: Robert Sam Anson, “Rizzo and the Press: Kafkaesque Days in Philadelphia,” Columbia Journalism Review 12 (May/June 1973): 44-49.

39 In their early years with the Inquirer, Barlett and Steele also wrote investigative articles on the 1973 Oil Crisis and the actual destination of American foreign aid to countries in Southeast Asia and South America. For coverage of their methodologies and early career, see: Leonard Downie, Jr. The New Muckrakers (Washington D.C.: The New Republic Book Company, Inc., 1976), 93-111.

40 Dan Rottenberg, “Stop the Presses. Hemlines are Rising in the Malagasy Republic,” Philadelphia Magazine, November 1974, 114-117.

41 Rottenberg, “Knight to King 2,” 237.

42 McCormick, “365 Days of Knight,” 87-89, 116-122.

43 Rottenberg, “Knight to King 2,” 237.

44 Ibid, 236-237.

45 Quote attributed to Knight V.P. Derick Daniels. Rottenberg, “Stop the Presses. Hemlines are Rising in the Malagasy Republic,” 116.

46 Rottenberg, “Knight to King 2,” 237. 402

47 Rottenberg, “Stop the Presses. Hemlines are Rising in the Malagasy Republic,” 114.

48 For coverage of the Wall Street Journal’s postwar growth, see: Jerry M. Rosenberg, Inside the Wall Street Journal: The History and the Power of Dow Jones and Company and America’s Most Influential Newspaper (New York: MacMillan Publishing Co., 1982).

49 McCormick, “365 Days of Knight,” 89.

50 Lister, The Suburban Press, 66.

51 Ibid, 68.

52 Ibid, 65.

53 For quote: Ibid, 65. For general coverage: Ibid, 63-69.

54 Rottenberg, “Stop the Presses. Hemlines are Rising in the Malagasy Republic,” 117.

55 Ibid, 115.

56 Population Trends in Philadelphia Primary Market, 1970 Versus 1960 and Retail Trade Trends, 1967-1972, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 18, Folder 13, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

57 Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 131.

58 Quote was attributed to a high-ranking Inquirer official and relayed to Taylor by an unnamed Philadelphia civic leader. Ibid, 212.

59 Dan Rottenberg, “The Bulletin Cranks Up For Battle,” Philadelphia Magazine, August 1973, 87.

60 April, 1969 memo from Robert Taylor to Robert McLean, reprinted in: Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 116-117.

61 Bernard McCormick, “Getting the Old Lady Off Her Duff,” Philadelphia Magazine, October 1969, 181.

62 For detailed coverage of Packard’s changes at the Bulletin, see: McCormick, “Getting the Old Lady Off Her Duff,” 86-87, 174-181; Rottenberg, “The Bulletin Cranks Up For Battle,” 86-89, 154-162; Bill Mandell, “Action in the Afternoon,” 77-86; Meyer, “The Knights Invade Philadelphia,” 44-49; Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 116-122.

403

63 Meyer, “The Knights Invade Philadelphia,” 49.

64 Quotes drawn from “Enterprise Reporting” section in early 1970s Evening Bulletin handbook. The Evening Bulletin Newsroom Handbook, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series III, Box 17, File 1, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

65 Ibid. See also: Mandell, “Action in the Afternoon,” 77-86.

66 McCormick, “Getting the Old Lady Off Her Duff,” 181.

67 Rottenberg, “The Bulletin Cranks Up for Battle,” 154-162.

68 Taylor attributes these increasing expenses primarily to rising newsprint costs and mandatory union pay raises. Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 131-151.

69 Ibid, 131.

70 Ibid.

71 Ibid, 132.

72 For statistic: Ibid, 151. For general coverage of the Bulletin’s early 1970s financial problems: Ibid, 131-160.

73 Mandell, “Action in the Afternoon,” 77-86.

74 Ibid, 77.

75 McCormick, “Getting the Old Lady Off Her Duff,” 86.

76 Excerpted from April, 1969 Robert Taylor memo to Robert McLean, reprinted in: Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 118-119.

77 The story had often been told in discussions of the Evening Bulletin’s editorials. For reference: Javers, “Bailing Out the Bulletin,” Philadelphia Magazine, 192, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 36, Folder 4.

78 Ibid.

79 Ibid.

80 Rottenberg, “Stop the Presses. Hemlines are Rising in the Malagasy Republic,” 115. For brief coverage of the internal discussions regarding the Bulletin’s editorials: Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 163-165. 404

81 McCormick, “Getting the Old Lady Off Her Duff,” 177.

82 For thorough coverage of the Evening Bulletin’s politics and internal divisions, see: McCormick, “Getting the Old Lady Off Her Duff,” 86-87, 174-181; Rottenberg, “The Bulletin Cranks Up For Battle,” 86-89, 154-162; Mandell, “Action In the Afternoon,” 77- 86; Meyer, “The Knights Invade Philadelphia,” 44-49.

83 The event has been widely referred to in accounts of the Evening Bulletin’s demise. Accounts vary as to how many people were affected by the move. In an article for Philadelphia Magazine, Bill Mandell set the number at 42. Robert Taylor put it at 60 in his memoir. For coverage of the event and Packard’s ouster, see: Mandell, “Action in the Afternoon,” 77-86; Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 116, 161.

84 Mandell, “Action in the Afternoon,” 78.

85 Ibid, 77-86.

86 Ibid, 77.

87 Ibid, 86.

88 Ibid, 77.

89 The union drive ultimately came down to four disputed votes, which were later determined to be against the Guild. Mike Mallow, “Welcome to Hard Times,” Philadelphia Magazine, April 1977, 130-135, 176-188.

90 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1970, 246; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1975, 225.

91 Quote and statistics from Robert Taylor memo to William McLean III titled “Bulletin Revenue and Expense Increases, 1975 versus 1966,” reprinted in: Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 136.

92 Rottenberg, “Stop the Presses. Hemlines are Rising in the Malagasy Republic,” 117.

93 Emery, The Press and America, 440.

94 The Daily News placed a distant third each year. 1979 calculation based on author’s analysis of statistics provided in: Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 292.

95 William A. Henry III, Marilyn Alva, et. al, “Press: The Ten Best U.S. Dailies,” Time, April 30, 1984, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,951064,00.html, accessed June 30, 2011. 405

96 Rottenberg, “Stop the Presses. Hemlines are Rising in the Malagasy Republic,” 114.

97 Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 149-150; Claude Lewis, “I Battled Frank Rizzo Through My Column,” in Peter Binzen, ed. Nearly Everybody Read It: Snapshots of the Philadelphia Bulletin (Philadelphia: Camino Books, Inc. 1998), 161-162.

98 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1976, 218; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1977, 207. For general coverage, Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 149-150, 177, 209-214.

99 For population figure: Turner, Crabgrass Frontier, 284. For retail statistics: “Retail Sales in the Philadelphia Market,” (Philadelphia: Philadelphia Inquirer & Daily News Marketing and Research Department,) 14, 21-20.

100 Calculation based on author’s analysis of statistics provided in: Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1977, 144-148, 200-213.

101 Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 176.

102 By 1979, the Bulletin reached only 22 percent of Chester County homes, 13.2 percent of Camden County homes, and 17.7 percent of Gloucester County homes. Circulation ’78 –’79: 8-County Circulation Coverage Chart, reprinted in: Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 287.

103 Ibid.

104 Kramer, “Benefits in the Use of Suburban Press for Large Metropolitan Buys,” 68, 70.

105 Figures cited in Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 218.

106 Figures include daily, weekly, and semi-weekly papers. Lister, The Suburban Press, 173.

107 Emery, The Press and America, 440

108 Ibid, 436-437.

109 Ibid.

110 Javers, “Bailing Out the Bulletin,” Philadelphia Magazine, 1980, 188, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 36, Folder 4, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

406

111 Bill Strasburg, who the company had attempted to establish a suburban network with during the 1960s, owned the suburban newspaper chains, Montgomery Publishing Co. and Sunbeam Publishing, which also became part of IPI’s holdings. It is unclear what the relationship between the Bulletin Co. and Strasburg’s companies were prior to that. Ibid.

112 For background on the Newspaper Preservation Act of 1970 and Joint Operating Agreements: Ben H. Bagdikian, The New Media Monopoly (Boston: Beacon Press, 2004), 205-216; John C. Busterna and Robert G. Picard, Joint Operating Agreements: The Newspaper Preservation Act and its Application (Westport, CT: Praeger, 1993).

113 Taylor, Robert McLean’s Bulletin, 185

114 Ibid, 173-174.

115 Ibid, 213-214.

116 Ibid, 173-186.

117 Alfred Klimcke, “Bulletin: Nearly Everybody Read It,” Camden Courier-Post, 28 September 1978, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

118 Javers, “Bailing Out the Bulletin,” Philadelphia Magazine, 1980, 182, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 36, Folder 4, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

119 Editor and Publisher International Yearbook, 1980, 253.

120 For statistic, see transcript of N.S. Hayden remarks to Philadelphia Bulletin employees, 3 August 1981, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 34, File 11, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

121 Javers, “Bailing Out the Bulletin,” Philadelphia Magazine, 1980, 125, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 36, Folder 4, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

122 Ibid, 188.

123 For general coverage of Eller and Mason’s backgrounds and the events leading up to the Bulletin’s sale, see: Javers, “Bailing Out the Bulletin,” Philadelphia Magazine, 1980, 120-125, 182-192, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 36, Folder 4, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. See also: “Bulletin, Charter Co. Discuss Sale of Paper,” Philadelphia Bulletin, 4 April 1980; “McLean, Charter Media Reach Sale Agreement,” Philadelphia Bulletin, 10 April 407

1980; “New Owner Pledges to Continue ‘Voice’ of The Bulletin,” Philadelphia Bulletin, 11 April 1980, all in Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives. Benjaminson, Death in the Afternoon, 55- 84.

124 Ibid, 123.

125 N.S. Buddy Hayden, “A Letter From the Publisher,” internal Bulletin newsletter to employees, 11 November 1980, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 36, File 8, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

126 The actual amount was $13,414,832. Transcript of N.S. Hayden Remarks to employees of the Bulletin, 3 August 1981, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 34, File 11, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

127 The Bulletin’s January to June losses in 1981 totaled $10,288,398. Ibid.

128 “Press: Grim Bulletin,” Time, August 17, 1981, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,949337,00.html, accessed 23 January 2008.

129 “Press: Survival Story,” Time, August 31, 1981, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,954966,00.html, accessed 23 January 2008.

130 Transcript of N.S. Hayden remarks to Philadelphia Bulletin employees, 3 August 1981, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 34, File 11, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

131 N.S. Hayden, “A Letter From the Publisher,” internal Bulletin newsletter, 11 September 1981, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 36, File 8, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

132 N.S. Hayden, “A Letter From the Publisher,” internal Bulletin newsletter, 16 December 1981, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 36, File 8, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

133 Quote, statistics, and general coverage from, Janice Castro, “Press: Last Rites for a Proud Paper,” Time, February 8, 1982, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,953344,00.html, accessed 23 January 2008.

408

134 N.S. Hayden, “A Letter From the Publisher,” internal Bulletin newsletter, 29 January 1982, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 36, File 8, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

135 Philadelphia Bulletin, 29 January 1982, 1.

136 N.S. Hayden, “A Letter From the Publisher,” internal Bulletin newsletter, 29 January 1982, Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Acc. 875, Series VII, Box 36, File 8, Philadelphia, Temple University Libraries, Urban Archives.

137 In each of these regions, save New York City, suburbanites made up more than 60 percent of the total metro area population. Jackson, Crabgrass Frontier, 284.

138 Benjaminson, Death in the Afternoon. See also, Janice C. Simpson, “”Press: Singing the Big-City Blues,” Time, January 25, 1982, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,925244,00.html, accessed 5 August 2011; B.J. Phillips, Janice C. Simpson, “Press: For Tonight, No More Tomorrows,” Time, August 24, 1981, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,949379,00.html, accessed 5 August 2011; Thomas Griffith, “Newswatch: The Danger of Being in Second Place,” Time, September 14, 1981, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,924873,00.html, accessed 5 August 2011; Janice Castro, David S. Jackson, “Press: Washington Loses a Newspaper,” Time, August 3, 1981, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,949290,00.html, accessed 5 August 2011.

EPILOGUE

On January 29, 1982, Eugene Roberts strode to the center of the Inquirer’s newsroom and convened a rare staff meeting. Roberts understood the moment’s significance. The farewell editions of the Bulletin were hitting the newsstands, and

Knight-Ridder was on the precipice of assuming monopoly control of Philadelphia’s newspaper industry. Roberts wanted to make sure that his staff viewed the day not as the final victory in a hard fought newspaper war, but as the beginning of the next stage in the paper’s transformation. The managing editor believed that the Inquirer had a short window of time to convince Philadelphians, and media critics, that it could continue its strong national and international coverage and simultaneously serve as the city’s paper of record. After commencing the meeting, Roberts announced that he had hired seventeen

Bulletin reporters and that the paper would be doubling the number of national and international bureaus it operated in the near future. Resting on past accomplishments and achievements was clearly not part of the agenda.1

Just as they had in the seventies, Roberts’ tactics worked. In the ensuing months, he hired an additional eighty-five journalists to fill the new posts and round out the

Inquirer’s staff. By the end of the year, the Inquirer was running 20 percent more news than it had before the Bulletin closed.2 With the Bulletin out of the picture and the paper expanding its coverage, the Inquirer’s circulation climbed from 423,000 in 1982 to

561,000 in 1983.3 The paper continued gaining critical praise as well. In 1984, Time counted the Inquirer as one of the nation’s ten best dailies, placing it in the company of 410 the New York Times, Washington Post, and Los Angeles Times.4 Inquirer journalists continued winning Pulitzer Prizes as well. By 1990, the paper had garnered seventeen

Pulitzers in eighteen years, a remarkable achievement for any paper. More importantly, the Inquirer was turning a significant profit. Gone were the days of high investment and little return. By the mid-eighties the paper was generating profits that consistently reached or exceeded $100 million.5 There could be little doubt that the Inquirer was in the midst of its “Golden Age.”6

Unfortunately, the Inquirer’s halcyon days were short lived. Roberts retired in

1990, and in the ensuing two decades, the Inquirer suffered steadily declining circulation and advertising revenues. In 2006, at the behest of several prominent shareholders,

Knight-Ridder sold the Inquirer and Daily News to Brian Tierney, a flamboyant former advertising and public relations executive, and a group of investors for $360 million.7

However, despite Tierney’s best, and sometimes unscrupulous, attempts, he was not able to return either paper to profitability. Within three years of the purchase, Tierney had entered the Inquirer and Daily News’ parent company, Philadelphia Newspapers Inc.,

(PNI) into bankruptcy.8

Ironically, the path by which the Inquirer fell from the ranks of the nation’s elite newspapers and into financial disarray paralleled the Bulletin’s collapse in one critical way: it was largely precipitated by several ill-fated attempts to attract more suburban readers and compete with the region’s twelve suburban dailies. As Robert McLean and

Robert Taylor had done decades earlier, the Inquirer’s editors and managers experimented with a variety of suburban editions during the late eighties and nineties. As had happened at the Bulletin, the Inquirer’s suburban initiatives drained the paper’s 411 coffers and resources and failed to achieve their goal. Indeed, it seems as though those running the Inquirer learned little from the Bulletin’s slow, prolonged decline.

The decision to try to expand the Inquirer’s suburban readership was not arrived at without forethought. Shortly after the Bulletin’s closing, Eugene Roberts and Sam

McKeel, PNI’s president, came to the belief that the Inquirer’s newfound position as the region’s predominant daily was accompanied by a responsibility to cover all parts of the metro area thoroughly. Whereas the Bulletin’s presence had previously enabled Roberts to be selective about which local stories he wanted his reporters to cover, with the afternoon daily out of the picture, the editor felt the need to fill the void. Roberts called it, “the awesome responsibility … of the survivor.”9 Given Roberts’ track record at the

Inquirer, it is likely that many people took him at his word, however the decision to try to accomplish what the Bulletin had failed to do was also deeply rooted in the quest for more profits. With the Inquirer’s dominance within Philadelphia secured, Roberts assuredly understood that the only way to generate continually increasing circulation and advertising revenues was to expand outward into the suburbs and attract more suburban readers.

Roberts factored the continued growth of the region’s suburban papers into his decision as well. By 1984, it was readily apparent that each of the suburban dailies operating in the Philadelphia metro area had also benefitted from the Bulletin’s demise.

For its part, the Camden Courier Post gained more than 7,500 new readers in 1982. That same year, S.W. Calkins’ papers, the Bucks County Courier-Times and the Burlington

County Times, each increased their circulation by more than 2,500 subscribers. Buoyed by the arrival of almost 12,000 new readers in 1983, the Delaware County Daily Times’ 412 circulation climbed above 58,000 for the first time. In Bucks County, the Doylestown

Daily Intelligencer gained more than 13,000 readers in two years. In 1984, the paper’s readership exceeded 41,000.10 Roberts alluded to the suburban papers’ growth and justified his desire to counter it, explaining that the “urban-suburban problem that peels us down to two newspapers can peel us down to no newspapers.”11

Roberts attempted to lure suburban readers by giving them multiple reasons to pick up the Inquirer. In addition to expanding the Inquirer’s national and international coverage, the editor “beefed up” the paper’s Sunday magazine, doubled its arts coverage, and added twice-weekly tabloid inserts dedicated to providing suburban news. The inserts, which were titled “Neighbors,” each served one of the paper’s four suburban zones. Roberts’ aim was to “construct a paper that work[ed] on an awful lot of fronts.”12

However, the suburban initiative did little to attract new readers. Despite its national reputation and the continued influx of prestigious journalism awards, the Inquirer’s circulation figures began declining during the late eighties. In 1990, the paper’s circulation dropped to near 505,000, more than 55,000 readers less than its 1983 figure.

It was a sign of things to come.

The Inquirer’s late-eighties circulation dip coincided with a larger shake-up at

Knight-Ridder. In 1986, Tony Ridder, publisher of the San Jose Mercury News, was named head of Knight-Ridder’s newspaper division. Ridder brought a different approach to the position. In contrast to John Knight, and his “lieutenants,” who, by and large, believed that newspapers could meet lofty “journalistic aspirations” and still turn a hefty profit, Ridder focused much more on providing local news and keeping expenses down.13

In 1987, Ridder visited the Inquirer and, in a not so subtle way, served notice that the 413 company’s approach was changing. After quickly congratulating the paper’s editors and managers for winning three more Pulitzer Prizes, Ridder explained that he wanted the

Inquirer to “win a Pulitzer for cost-cutting.”14

Ridder’s approach made it difficult for Roberts to get the support he needed to maintain the Inquirer’s large staff and far-flung network of bureaus. In the ensuing years, Roberts fought the good fight, trudging to Miami to push for more money and more support at the corporation’s monthly budget meetings. However, within a short period of time, it was clear that he had “fallen out of favor” with Ridder and those running the chain.15 In 1989, Ridder was named company president. A year later,

Roberts retired from the Inquirer. Looking back, the former editor explained, “I tried,” but “in the end, I wasn’t going to change anything … there were forces bigger than me that were propelling the paper.”16

Roberts’ retirement marked the end of the Inquirer’s “golden age.” During the

1990s, at Ridder’s behest, Inquirer executives reversed course, dramatically cut the extensive national and international reporting that had fueled the paper’s reemergence, and focused on covering the region’s suburbs. Following the experiment with biweekly inserts, Max King, the Inquirer’s new managing editor, switched to using zoned editions as a means for getting suburbanites their local news. However, the zoned editions lacked consistency. Inquirer executives initially broke the Philadelphia region into four zones.

Later, they shifted course, expanding the number of zones to five on weekdays and eight on Sundays. When that failed to work, or proved too expensive, they shrank the region back down to three zones. The tenor of the zoned editions shifted frequently too. A later

Columbia Journalism Review article revealed that the Inquirer’s suburban staffs often felt 414 as though they were “riding a pendulum.”17 On any given week, it seemed as though their focus shifted between “trying to offer the most localized coverage” and “running broad pieces that attempted to capture the zeitgeist of the region.”18 Regardless of the number of zoned editions the paper printed or the type of coverage included in them, ultimately, they did not work. Between 1990 and 1995, the paper lost almost 26,000 readers.19

By the late nineties, more than two thirds of the Inquirer’s readers lived in the suburbs. Perhaps more importantly, two thirds of the paper’s advertising came from the suburbs as well. As a result, and in spite of the zoned editions’ ineffectiveness, Inquirer executives continued their attempts to attract more suburban readers. They dedicated more resources to the Quixotic quest, granting 40 percent of the total newsroom budget to covering the suburbs and allotting only 10 percent (cumulatively) to national and international news.20 Despite the financial investment, the paper’s approach to the suburbs continued to lurch in varying directions. In 1999, the paper rolled out a daily section dedicated exclusively to covering Chester County news. The section was part of the new “paper within a paper” strategy, and it was designed to help the Inquirer compete directly with the suburban presses that dominated the county. Inquirer executives believed that, if the Chester County edition was successful, they could replicate it with similar editions dedicated to each of the other six suburban counties in the region. If all were successful, the thinking went, the Inquirer would squeeze out the suburban papers and emerge as the dominant newspaper in the region. Here again, this did not happen.

Despite devoting eighteen full-time reporters to it, the Chester County edition failed to increase the paper’s readership or advertising revenues. In fact, just the opposite 415 happened. In 1999, an Audit Bureau of Circulations report revealed that the Inquirer was losing readers faster than any other large urban daily in the country.21 By the turn of the century, the Inquirer’s circulation had dropped to 399,339, its lowest figure of the postwar era.22

While the Inquirer’s circulation was entering into a Bulletin-esque freefall during the 1990s, many of the region’s suburban papers continued to grow. The Courier-Times circulation grew by more than 2,000 during the decade. The Intelligencer’s readership grew by 4,000, and with 55,000 new readers, the Camden Courier-Post posted the biggest circulation increases in the region. All told, Philadelphia’s suburban papers cumulative circulation stood at 400,741 in 2000, surpassing the Inquirer.23

The Inquirer’s poor performance during the nineties sent the paper into a tailspin that it has yet to recover from. In 2000, Inquirer executives began offering buyouts to long-tenured employees, and, in 2001, the “paper within a paper” initiative was dropped.

The moves were intended to cut costs. However, the suburban papers’ steady growth ensured that attracting suburban readers remained a priority at the Inquirer. In 2002, the paper’s managing editor, Walker Lundy, attempted to revitalize its zoned editions.

Lundy hired forty new reporters and assigned them, along with an additional twenty-three city-side reporters, to the suburbs. Yet, as with the earlier attempts, Lundy’s plans fell flat. The paper’s circulation continued to decline, and by 2005, the Inquirer’s profits, along with the Daily News’, were dropping. Knight-Ridder executives attempted to make up for the Inquirer’s sagging profits by initiating another round of buyouts and layoffs that eventually cut the paper’s editorial staff by 15 percent.24 Unfortunately, the cuts did little to improve the Inquirer’s finances. In 2006, with the paper’s profits expected to 416 decline significantly again, Knight-Ridder’s largest shareholder, Steve Sherman, began pushing for the Inquirer and Daily News’ sale. Later that year, Knight-Ridder sold the papers to Brian Tierney, who put up $10 million of his own money and cobbled together another $350 million from investors.25

Tierney brought a renewed sense of vigor to the Inquirer. At his first press conference following the sale, Tierney brashly announced, “The Next Great Era in

Philadelphia Journalism begins today.”26 The publisher shifted away from the suburban focus that had characterized the final two decades of Knight’ ownership and tried to return the paper to its former glory. He hired Bill Marimow to fill Eugene Roberts’ old editorial position. Marimow had won two Pulitzer Prizes while working as a journalist under Roberts, and Tierney thought the hire would simultaneously upgrade the paper’s quality and renew interest in it. It did not. Tierney also hired several new columnists, including local radio personality Michael Smerconish and former U.S. Senator Rick

Santorum, though these did little to make the paper more appealing. Tierney embraced the Internet-based part of the paper as well. The publisher understood that Americans were increasingly using Internet web sites as a source for news. He authorized the development of a new and improved Inquirer/Daily News website (philly.com) and, reportedly, urged the papers’ journalists to embrace the Internet. However, this too did not have the desired effect, as Tierney and the papers other executives were unable to figure out how to generate a profit by providing the news for free online.

For all of his bravado and hubris, Tierney could not turn the Inquirer around. The paper’s circulation and advertising profits continued to decline. In early 2008, to help offset some of the losses, Tierney began trying to wring concessions out of PNI’s labor 417 unions. The move recalled Charter Media’s desperate attempts to keep the Bulletin alive in the early eighties. Tierney also attempted to cut costs by eliminating more than 400 jobs at the Inquirer and Daily News between 2006 and 2009. These moves assuredly helped in the short run, but they did little to stem the larger flood of debt that the papers were accruing. They also did little to improve the Inquirer’s quality. By early 2009, PNI had racked up $318 million in debt, and the Inquirer’s circulation had dropped to near

300,000.27 Bankruptcy was the only way out.

The Inquirer and Daily News emerged from bankruptcy in October, 2010, when

Philadelphia Media Network, Inc., headed by former Newsweek publisher Gregory

Osberg, purchased them at auction. However, the new ownership did not ensure future security and profitability. By the time the sale was finalized, the Inquirer and Daily

News’ combined circulation had dropped by 5 percent from the previous year, from

361,481 to 342,361.28 On November 15, 2011, with circulation and revenues still flagging, the papers’ new ownership announced plans to merge the Inquirer’s and Daily

News’ newsrooms and relocate them to new offices along Market Street in 2012, thus vacating the papers’ famed home at the corner of Broad and Spring Garden.29 The announcement was but one more indication of how far the paper had fallen.

The Inquirer was far from the only paper to suffer financially during the twenty- first century’s opening decade. In 2008, the Tribune Co., owner of the Chicago Tribune,

Los Angeles Times, Baltimore Sun, Hartford Courant (CT), and six other daily newspapers, filed for bankruptcy. It had accumulated $13 billion in debt.30 By March,

2009, the Minneapolis Star Tribune had also entered bankruptcy, Denver’s Rocky 418

Mountain News had folded, and Seattle’s Post-Intelligencer had shifted to a web-only operation with a drastically reduced staff.31 That month, Time included the Detroit News,

Miami Herald, Boston Globe, San Francisco Chronicle, Chicago Sun-Times, Cleveland

Plain Dealer, and New York Daily News on a list of America’s “10 Most Endangered

Newspapers.”32 Time asserted that America’s newspapers had entered “a new period of decline.” In some ways, it had. The 2008 financial crisis hit many newspapers, including the Inquirer, as they were attempting to shift their operations to make better use of the

Internet. With little time, and no clear-cut way to generate new revenues, some of the nation’s oldest and most venerable papers found themselves on the brink of insolvency.

The economy’s anemic growth between 2008 and 2010 made matters worse and further hindered publishers’ attempts to revive their papers.

Yet, in Philadelphia, a more complex scenario played out. The Inquirer’s decline started well before the emergence of Internet news sites and the economic downturn. As such, it cannot be blamed on them. During the late eighties and early nineties, the paper attempted, in myriad ways, to bolster its circulation and advertising revenues by attracting suburban readers. These initiatives backfired, however. By replacing the extensive national and international news stories that had brought the paper wide acclaim and profits with wire service articles and suburban zoned editions, Knight-Ridder executives and the Inquirer’s editors and managers actually gave suburbanites fewer reasons to subscribe. As a result, the Inquirer’s circulation fell dramatically during the nineties while that of the region’s suburban dailies increased. By the turn of the century, the suburban dailies’ cumulative circulation was greater than the Inquirer’s. Ten years later, as many media commentators lament the decline of America’s newspaper industry, 419

Philadelphia’s suburban dailies appear profitable and stable. Had the Inquirer’s executives been able to lure suburban readers away from the suburban dailies, as had been their intent, the added readership would likely have bolstered the paper and enabled it to better navigate the changing market after the turn of the century. But, it did not, and as a result, the paper remains a shell of its former self and continues to face an uncertain future. 420

Endnotes

1 Michael Shapiro, “Looking for Light: The Philadelphia Inquirer and the Fate of American Newspapers,” Columbia Journalism Review 44 (March/April 2006): 25-37.

2 Philip Weiss, “Covering for the Bulletin,” Columbia Journalism Review 21 (March/April 1983): 47.

3 The exact figures were 423,746 in 1982 and 561,018 in 1983. Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1982, 239; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1983, 279.

4 William A. Henry III, Marilyn Alva, et. al, “Press: The Ten Best U.S. Dailies,” Time, April 30, 1984, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,951064,00.html, accessed June 30, 2011.

5 Shapiro, “Looking for Light.”

6 Ibid, 30.

7 Joseph Plambeck, “Judge Says 3 Can Bid At Newspaper Auction,” New York Times, April 26, 2010.

8 For general coverage of Tierney’s ownership of the Inquirer and Daily News, see: Steve Volk, “1978 Called. It Wants Its Newspaper Back,” Philadelphia Magazine, January 2009, http://www.phillymag.com/articles/philadelphia_inquirer_1978_called_it_wants_its_new spaper_back/, last accessed June 30, 2011.

9 Philip Weiss, “Covering for the Bulletin,” Columbia Journalism Review 21 (March/April 1983): 47.

10 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1982, 166-171, 231-246; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1983, 195-202, 269-279; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1984, 206-211, 282-292.

11 Weiss, “Covering for the Bulletin,” 48.

12 Ibid.

13 Shapiro, “Looking for Light,” 31.

14 Ibid, 33.

15 Ibid, 32. 421

16 Ibid.

17 Ibid, 28.

18 Ibid.

19 The paper’s actual circulation was 478,999 in 1995, down 25,904 readers. Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1990, 280; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1995, 354.

20 Shapiro, “Looking for Light,” 29.

21 Frank Lewis, “Sinking Ship,” Philadelphia City Paper, October 21-28, 1999.

22 Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 2000, 388. For general coverag of the “paper within a paper” initiative, see: Shapiro, “Looking for Light,” 28-30.

23 The Delaware County Daily Times was the only suburban paper to lose a significant portion of its circulation during the 1990s. Statistics based on author’s analysis of each paper’s annual circulation figures for 1990 and 2000. Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 1990, 198-202, 270-280; Editor & Publisher International Yearbook, 2000, 276-281, 377-391.

24 Shapiro, “Looking for Light,” 25-26.

25 Volk. “1978 Called. It Wants Its Newspaper Back,”

26 Ibid.

27 David Carr, “Defending the Papers He Fought,” New York Times, 11 April 2010, Volk, “1978 Called. It Wants Its Newspaper Back.”

28 The two paper’s circulation figures were merged in 2009. Linda Lloyd, “Circulation drops at U.S. newspapers,” philly.com, 26 October 2010, http://articles.philly.com/2010- 10-26/business/24953033_1_average-daily-circulation-circulation-drop-audit-bureau, accessed November 10, 2011.

29 Daniel Denvir, “Announced merger of Inquirer and Daily News newsrooms sparks newsroom confusion and concern,” Naked City Blog, Philadelphia City Paper, 15 November 2011, http://www.citypaper.net/blogs/nakedcity/Announced-merger-of- Inquirer-and-Daily-News-newsrooms-sparks-newsroom-confusion-and-concern.html.

30 Associated Press Report, “Tribune Co. files for bankruptcy protection,” msnbc.com, 8 December 2008, http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28101775/?GT1=43001. 422

31 Jack Shafer, “Hello and Goodbye to the P-I,” Slate.com, 16 March 2009, http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/press_box/2009/03/hello_and_goodbye _to_the_pi.html.

32 “The Ten Most Endangered Newspapers in America,” Time, March 9, 2010, http://www.time.com/time/business/article/0,8599,1883785,00.html. BIBLIOGRAPHY

Archives:

Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Clippings Collection, Temple University, Philadelphia, PA Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Manuscript Collection, Temple University, Philadelphia, PA Delaware Valley Regional Planning Commission Collection, Temple University, Philadelphia, PA Citizens Commission of Delaware County Collection, Temple University, Philadelphia, PA Levittown Collection, Levittown Public Library, Levittown, PA Cherry Hill Collection, Cherry Hill Public Library, Cherry Hill, NJ Courtney C. Smith Presidential Papers, Swarthmore College, Swarthmore, PA

Newspapers:

Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Philadelphia Sunday Bulletin Philadelphia Inquirer Philadelphia Sunday Inquirer Philadelphia Daily News Philadelphia Public Ledger Philadelphia Record Philadelphia City Paper Levittown Times (PA) Bristol Daily Courier (PA) Camden Courier-Post (NJ) Burlington County Times (NJ) Chester Times/Delaware County Daily Times (PA) New York Times New York Herald Tribune The Advance of Bucks County (PA) Wall Street Journal London Times Los Angeles Times

Periodicals:

Time Newsweek Greater Philadelphia Magazine Philadelphia Magazine Editor & Publisher Editor and Publisher International Yearbook Poor Richard’s Almanac 424

Architectural Forum Pennsylvania Heritage Popular Science Bucks County Traveler U.S. News & World Reports Life Look Saturday Evening Post The Jersey Publisher Columbia Journalism Review Public Roads

Internet Resources: philly.com msnbc.com slate.com time.com

425

Books and Articles:

Adams, Carolyn, et al. Philadelphia: Neighborhoods, Division, and Conflict in a Postindustrial City. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1991.

Altschuler, Glenn and David Grossvogel. Changing Channels: America in TV Guide. Champaign, IL: University of Illinois Press, 1992.

Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, rev. ed. New York: Versa Books, 1991.

Aucoin, James L. “The Investigative Tradition in American Journalism.” American Journalism 14, no. 3–4 (1997): 317–29.

—. “The Re-Emergence of American Investigative Journalism, 1960-1975,” Journalism History 21, no. 1 (Spring 1995), Communication and Mass Media Complete, EBSCOhost.

Avila, Eric and Rose, Mark H. “Race, Culture, Politics, and Urban Renewal: An Introduction,” Journal of Urban History 35 (2009): 335-347.

Bagdikian, Ben H. The New Media Monopoly. 6th ed. Boston: Beacon Press, 2004.

Bailey, Beth and David Farber, ed. America in the Seventies. Lawrence: University of Kansas Press, 2004.

Baltzell, E. Digby. Philadelphia Gentlemen: The Making of a National Upper Class. Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1971.

Barnouw, Erik. Tube of Plenty: The Evolution of American Television. 2nd rev. ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 1990.

Baughman, James L. The Republic of Mass Culture: Journalism, Filmmaking, and Broadcasting in America Since 1941. 3rd ed. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2006.

Benjaminson, Peter. Death in the Afternoon: America’s Newspaper Giants Struggle for Survival. New York: Andrews, McMeel & Parker, 1984.

Binzen, Peter. Whitetown, U.S.A. New York: Random House, 1970.

Binzen, Peter. “Nearly Everybody Read It.” In Nearly Everybody Read It: Snapshots of the Philadelphia Bulletin. edited by Peter Binzen, 1-16. Philadelphia: Camino Books, 1998.

Bogart, Leo. Preserving the Press: How Daily Newspapers Mobilized to Keep Their 426

Readers. New York: Columbia University Press, 1991.

Boyer, Paul. By Bombs Early Light: American Thought and Culture at the Dawn of the Atomic Age. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1994.

Brandt, J. Donald. A History of Gannett, 1906-1993. Arlington, VA: Gannett Co., Inc., 1993.

Busterna, John C. and Robert G. Picard. Joint Operating Agreements: The Newspaper Preservation Act and its Application. Westport, CT: Praeger, 1993.

Byerly, Kenneth R. “Metropolitan and Community Daily Newspapers: A Comparison of the Number, Circulation, and Trends for 1950, 1960, and 1968 in the Nation’s 21 Most Populous Metropolitan Areas.” School of Journalism: University of North Carolina, 1968.

Cammarota, Ann Marie. Pavements in the Garden: The Suburbanization of Southern New Jersey, Adjacent to the City of Philadelphia, 1769 to the Present. Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2001.

Carey, James W. Communication and Culture: Essays on Media and Society. New York: Routledge, 1992.

Chester Historical Preservation Committee. Images of America: Chester. Charleston, SC: Arcadia Publishing, 2004.

Cohen, Lizabeth. A Consumer’s Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America. New York: Vintage, 2004.

Commissioners of Chester County. History and Progress of Chester County. Chester, PA, 1968.

Compaine, Benjamin M. The Newspaper Industry in the 1980s: An Assessment of Economics and Technology. White Plains, NY: Knowledge Industry Publications, Inc. 1980.

Cooney, John. The Annenbergs: The Salvation of a Tainted Dynasty. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1982.

Crawford, Margaret. “The World in a Shopping Mall.” In Variations on a Theme Park: The New American City and the End of Public Space. edited by Michael Sorkin, 3-30. New York: Hill and Wang, 1992.

Cutler, William W. and Howard Gillette, Jr. ed. The Divided Metropolis: The Social and Spatial Dimensions of Philadelphia, 1800-1975. Westport: Greenwood Press, 1980. 427

Darden, Joe T. “Black Residential Segregation Since the 1948 Shelley v. Kraemer Decision,” Journal of Black Studies 25 (1995): 680-691.

Davies, David R. The Postwar Decline of American Newspapers, 1945-1965. Westport: Praeger, 2006.

Davis, Mike. City of Quartz: Excavating the Future in Los Angeles. New York: Verso, 1990.

Dorwart, Jeffrey M. Camden County, New Jersey: The Making of a Metropolitan Community, 1626-2000. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2001.

Downie, Jr., Leonard. The New Muckrakers. Washington D.C.: The New Republic Book Company, Inc., 1976.

Dyer, Stephanie. “Designing ‘Community’ in the Cherry Hill Mall: The Social Production of a Consumer Space.” Perspectives in Vernacular Architecture 9 (2003): 263-275.

Emery, Edwin and Michael Emery. The Press and America: An Interpretive History of the Mass Media. 4th ed. New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1978.

Farrell, James J. One Nation Under Goods: Malls and the Seductions of American Shopping. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Books, 2003.

Farrell, Mike and Mary Carmen Cupito. Newspapers: A Complete Guide to the Industry. New York: Peter Lang, 2010.

Fishman, Robert. Bourgeois Utopias: The Rise and Fall of Suburbia. New York: Basic Books, 1987.

Fonzi, Gaeton. Annenberg: A Biography of Power. New York: Weybright and Talley, 1970.

Gainsborough, Juliet F. Fenced Off: The Suburbanization of American Politics. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 2001.

Gans, Herbert J. The Levittowners: Ways of Life and Politics in a New Suburban Community. New York: Pantheon Books, 1967.

Gillete, Jr., Howard. Camden After the Fall: Decline and Renewal in a Post-Industrial City. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006.

Gitlin, Todd. The Whole World is Watching: Mass Media in the Making and Unmaking of the New Left. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003. 428

Haar, Charles M. Suburbs Under Siege: Race, Space, and Audacious Judges. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996.

Halberstam, David. The Powers That Be. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1979.

Haralovich, Mary Beth. “Sitcoms and Suburbs: Positioning the 1950s Homemaker,” In Private Screenings: Television and the Female Consumer. edited by Lynn Spigel and Denise Mann, 111-142. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992.

Hardwick, M. Jeffrey. Mall Maker: Victor Gruen, Architect of an American Dream. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004.

Hays, Samuel P. Beauty, Health, and Permanence: Environmental Politics in the United States, 1955-1985. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1987.

Hirsch, Arnold R. Making the Second Ghetto: Race and Housing in Chicago, 1940- 1960. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998.

—. “Less Than Plessy: The Inner City, Suburbs, and State-Sanctioned Residential Segregation in the Age of Brown.” In The New Suburban History, edited by Kevin M. Kruse and Thomas J. Sugrue, 33-56. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006.

Hodgeson, Godfrey. America in Our Time: From World War II to Nixon, What Happened and Why. New York: Vintage Books, 1976.

Jackson, Kenneth T. Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States. New York: Oxford University Press, 1985.

Kennedy, David M. Freedom From Fear: The American People in Depression and War, 1929-1945. New York: Oxford University Press, 1999.

Kirp, David L., John P. Dwyer, and Larry A. Rosenthal. Our Town: Race, Housing, and the Soul of Suburbia. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1997.

Kowinski, William Severini. The Malling of America: An Inside Look at the Great Consumer Paradise. New York: William Morrow and Co., Inc., 1985.

Kramer, Jonathan M. “Benefits in the Use of Suburban Press for Large Metropolitan Buys.” The Journal of Marketing 41 (January 1977): 68-70.

Kruse, Kevin M. White Flight: Atlanta and the Making of Modern Conservatism. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005.

Kushner, David. Levittown: Two Families, One Tycoon, and the Fight for Civil Rights 429

in America’s Legendary Suburb. New York: Walker & Company, 2009.

Kusmer, Kenneth L. Down and Out, On the Road: The Homeless in American History. New York: Oxford University Press, 2002.

Lassiter, Mathew. The Silent Majority: Suburban Politics in the Sunbelt South. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2006.

Lewis, Claude. “I Battled Frank Rizzo Through My Column.” In Nearly Everybody Read It: Snapshots of the Philadelphia Bulletin. edited by Peter Binzen, 153- 163. Philadelphia: Camino Books, Inc. 1998.

Lief, Alfred. Family Business: A Century in the Life and Times of Strawbridge and Clothier. New York: McGraw Hill, 1968.

Lindstrom, Carl E. The Fading American Newspaper. Garden City, NJ: Doubleday, 1960.

Lipsitz, George. “The Meaning of Memory: Family, Class, and Ethnicity in Early Network Television Programs.” In Private Screenings: Television and the Female Consumer. edited by Lynn Spigel and Denise Mann, 71-110. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992.

Lister, Hal. The Suburban Press: A Separate Journalism. Los Angeles: Lucas Brothers Publishing, 1975.

Longstreth, Richard. The American Department Store Transformed, 1920-1960. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010.

Ludwig, Ed, Brooks McNamara and Betty Strecker. Images of America: Doylestown. Charleston, SC: Arcadia Publishing, 2004.

MacIver Neiva, Elizabeth. “Chain Building: The Consolidation of the American Newspaper Industry, 1953-1980.” The Business History Review 70 (Spring 1996): 1-42.

Martindale, Carolyn. The White Press and Black America. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1986.

May, Elaine Tyler. Homeward Bound: American Families in the Cold War Era. New York: Basic Books, 1988.

McChesney, Robert W. and William Solomon, ed. Ruthless Criticism: New Perspectives in U.S. Communication History. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993.

430

McChesney, Robert W. Rich Media, Poor Democracy: Communication Politics in Dubious Times. New York: The New Press, 2000.

McGirr, Lisa. Suburban Warriors: The Origins of the New American Right. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001.

McKee, Guian A. “I’ve Never Dealt With a Government Agency Before”: Philadelphia’s Somerset Knitting Mills Project, the Local State, and the Missed Opportunities of Urban Renewal.” Journal of Urban History 35 (2009): 387-409.

McLarnon III, John Morrison. Ruling Suburbia: John J. McLure and the Republican Machine in Delaware County, Pennsylvania. Newark, DE: University of Delaware Press, 2003.

McPherson, James Brian. Journalism at the End of the American Century, 1965-Present. Westport, Ct.: Praeger, 2006.

Merrit, Davis. Knightfall: Knight Ridder and How the Erosion of Newspaper Journalism is Putting Democracy at Risk. New York: American Management Association, 2005.

Mohl, Raymond A. “Making the Second Ghetto in Metropolitan Miami.” Journal of Urban History 21 (1995): 395-427.

—. “Stop the Road: Freeway Revolts in American Cities,” Journal of Urban History Vol. 30 No. 5 (2004): 674-706.

Mowday, Bruce. Images of America: Coatesville. Charleston, SC: Arcadia Publishing, 2003.

Newman, Jerrie. “Newspaper Labor Relations Breakdown: Closing of the Philadelphia Record (1947).” Master’s Thesis, Temple University, 1972.

Nicolaides, Becky M. My Blue Heaven: Life and Politics in the Working-Class Suburbs of Los Angeles, 1920-1965. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002.

—. “How Hell Moved From the City to the Suburbs: Urban Scholars and Changing Perceptions of Authentic Community.” In The New Suburban History. edited by Kevin M. Kruse and Thomas J. Sugrue, 80-98. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006.

Ogden, Christopher. Legacy: A Biography of Moses and Walter Annenberg. New York: Little, Brown and Company, 1999.

Oliver, Eric J. Democracy in Suburbia. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001.

431

Patterson, James T. Grand Expectations: The United States, 1945-1971. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997.

—. Restless Giant: The United States from Watergate to Bush v. Gore. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005.

Perkiss, Abigail. “Racing the City: Intentional Integration and the Pursuit of Racial Justice in Post-WWII America.” PhD Dissertation, Temple University, 2010.

Pilgrim, Tim A. "Newspapers as Natural Monopolies: Some Historical Considerations." Journalism History 18 (1992): 3-10.

Pratte, Paul A. Gods Within the Machine: A History of the American Society of Newspaper Editors. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1995.

Profy, Vince. Images of America: Yardley. Charleston, SC: Arcadia Publishing, 1999.

Report of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders. New York Times ed. New York: E.P. Dutton & Co. Inc., 1968.

Reynolds, Kenneth W. “The Blue Route: Past, Present, and Future.” Middle States Geographer Vol. 30 (1997): 124-134.

Rome, Adam. The Bulldozer in the Countryside: Suburban Sprawl and the Rise of American Environmentalism. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001.

Rose, Mark H. Interstate: Express Highway Politics, 1939-1989. rev. ed. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1990.

Rosenberg, Jerry M. Inside the Wall Street Journal: The History and the Power of Dow Jones and Company and America’s Most Influential Newspaper. New York: MacMillan Publishing Co., 1982.

Rosse, James N. "The Decline of Direct Newspaper Competition." Journal of Communication 30:2 (Spring 1980): 65-71.

Sachsman, David and Sloat, Warren. The Press and the Suburbs: The Daily Newspapers of New Jersey. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Center for Urban Policy Research, 1985.

Schudson, Michael. Discovering the News: A Social History of American Newspapers. New York: Basic Books 1978.

Schrag, Zachary M. “The Freeway Fight in Washington D.C.: The Three Sisters Bridge in Three Administrations.” Journal of Urban History Vol. 30 No. 5 (July 2004): 648-673. 432

Schulman, Bruce J. The Seventies: The Great Shift in American Culture, Society, and Politics. New York: The Free Press, 2001.

Schuyler, David. A City Transformed: Redevelopment, Race, and Suburbanization in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, 1940-1980. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2002.

Seely, Bruce E. Building the American Highway System: Engineers as Policy Makers. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1987.

Self, Robert O. American Babylon: Race and the Struggle for Postwar Oakland. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2003.

Shapiro, Bruce, ed. Shaking the Foundations: 200 Years of Investigative Journalism in America. New York: Nation Books, 2003.

Sidorick, Daniel. Condensed Capitalism: Campbell Soup and the Pursuit of Cheap Production in the Twentieth Century. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2009.

Sim, John Cameron. The Grass Roots Press: America’s Community Newspapers. Ames: The Iowa State University Press, 1969.

Simpson, Hazel B. ed. Under Four Flags: Old Gloucester County, New Jersey, 1686- 1964. Woodbury, NJ: Board of Chosen Freeholders, 1965.

Southern Burlington County NAACP v. Township of Mount Laurel, 67 N.J. 151, 336 A.2d 724 (1975).

Spigel, Lynn. Make Room for TV: Television and the Family Ideal in Postwar America. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1992.

Starr, Paul. The Creation of the Media: Political Origins of Modern Communications. New York: Basic Books, 2004.

Stern, J. David. Memoirs of a Maverick Publisher. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1962.

Sugrue, Thomas J. The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar- Detroit. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996.

—. Sweet Land of Liberty: The Forgotten Struggle for Civil Rights in the North. New York: Random House, 2008.

Taylor, Robert E.L. Robert McLean’s Bulletin and a Look at Our Free Press in 1987. Bryn Mawr, PA: Dorrance & Company, Inc., 1988. 433

Teaford, John C. The Rough Road to Renaissance: Urban Revitalization in America 1940-1985. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1990.

—. Post-Suburbia: Government and Politics in the Edge Cities. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1997.

Teel, Leonard Ray. The Public Press, 1900-1945: The History of American Journalism. Westport, CT: Praeger, 2006.

Troy, Gil. Morning in America: How Ronald Reagan Invented the 1980s. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005.

Wallace, Aurora. Newspapers and the Making of Modern America: A History. Westport, Ct.: Praeger, 2005.

Warren, Kenneth. Big Steel: The First Century of the United States Steel Corporation, 1901-2001. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2001.

Warner, Sam Bass. The Private City: Philadelphia in Three Periods of Its Growth. 2nd ed. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1987.

Weiss, Andrew. “‘The House I Lived In:’ Race, Class, and African American Suburban Dreams in the Postwar United States.” In The New Suburban History. edited by Kevin Kruse and Thomas J. Sugrue, 99-119. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006.

Wiebe, Robert H. The Search For Order, 1877-1920. New York: Hill and Wang, 1967.

Williams, Oliver P., et al. Suburban Differences and Metropolitan Policies. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1965.

Wolseley, Roland E. The Black Press, U.S.A. 2nd ed. Ames: Iowa State University Press, 1990.