The Watts Riot in August 1965 convinced Johnson to turn to demonstration cities. On September 17 Reuther was in the Oval Office with a dramatic pitch, urging the President to dream and to lead. Johnson was much impressed and promised that he would name a task force.
By mid-October Califano had made most of the selections. Wood, of course, would be chairman and Haar was the only other academic. Reuther, Whitney Young of the Urban League, William Rafsky of the Old Philadelphia Development Corporation, and Edgar Kaiser of Kaiser Industries were also members. Budget Director Schultze worried that Reuther might bust the budget and insisted on adding Kermit Gordon, now at Brookings. The President brought in Ben Heineman of the Chicago & Northwestern Railroad and Senator Ribicoff of Connecticut. The task force received space in the Executive Office Building, a staff, and Harry McPherson as White House liaison. The President, obviously, took this group very seriously. The deadline was December 15, 1965, and Wood, as usual, was on time.
The main thrust of the report was to urge a massive demonstration cities program. Miserly Haar had suggested one city and big spender Reuther had proposed six. Ribicoff strongly urged many more and Johnson, speaking through his task force, made Haar and Reuther look like pikers. The total number was 66—6 with populations over 500,000, 10 between 250,000 and 500,000, and 50 with fewer than 250,000. This big number, Ribicoff stressed, was politically necessary in order to gain the votes of members of Congress who were getting something for their constituents. Thus, all U.S. cities would be invited to compete and a presidential commission would select the winners. Lyle Fitch, a task force staff member, had pointed out that in the space and giant electron accelerator programs the government had successfully stimulated competition with clearly defined objectives and big prizes for winners in the form of federal contracts.
“The objective,” the task force wrote, “is to completely eliminate blight in the designated area and to replace it with attractive economic shelter in a neighborhood with amenities essential to a full life.” They included schools, hospitals, parks, playgrounds, and community centers. The large cities would each provide 24,000 new or refurbished households to house 50,000 people, the medium-sized 7500 for 25,000, and the small 3000 units for 10,000 people. Each new neighborhood would be integrated by both income and race. While the federal government would provide standards and financing, “the demonstration should establish appropriate mechanisms to foster development of local leadership and widespread citizen participation.”
The task force estimated the cost of this program over five years at $2.3 billion. The federal contribution would be 80 percent, approximately $1.9 billion. Local funds would make up the remaining 20 percent. The President and Califano assured Wood that the federal funds, despite the Vietnam War, would be readily available. But this was 1965 when the government was lying to itself about the cost of Vietnam.
The President’s insistence on secrecy proved costly in several ways. Since the task force report did not arrive until December 15, 1965, and the President wanted to submit the bill to the new Congress in January 1966, it was written hastily. “Drafted in a week of intensive writing and rewriting,” Haar wrote, “the bill was a translation of task force prose into legislativese.” Weaver was not consulted until the very end and would not have known what the task force would propose except for a leak. Califano did discuss the report with Labor Secretary Wirtz, who did not think it would work. Wirtz considered it virtually impossible for local officials to be given authority to spend federal funds at their own discretion. Almost all appropriations had to be allocated as Congress specified. Even when administrators had a little discretion, they were under pressure to spend money as Congress intended and as the interest groups expected. But Congress was not consulted at all, leaving the administration open to the charge that it was stuffing something Congress had no hand in preparing down its throat.2
On January 26, 1966, the President sent a package of six bills to Congress dealing with urban problems of which demonstration cities was the centerpiece. The next day Wright Patman introduced the measures in the House and Paul Douglas and 15 co-sponsors did so in the Senate. The package was sent to the respective Banking and Currency committees. Demonstration cities was brief and hazy.
“The Congress,” it read, “hereby finds and declares that improving the quality of urban life is the most critical urban problem facing the United States.” A comprehensive city demonstration program to rebuild a blighted area would be eligible for federal assistance for both planning and reconstruction. The federal government would pay 90 percent of the former and 80 percent of the latter. In each city with a program a federal coordinator would bring all the federal programs together to assist the demonstration. Each plan must provide for relocation of families and businesses displaced. The bill authorized the appropriation of “such sums as may be necessary” to effectuate the program. The statute would terminate on June 30, 1971, that is, be operative for five years.
These were bare bones. In his testimony Weaver fleshed them out. While all cities would be eligible to compete, only 60 to 70 would be chosen. The federal government would provide $12 million for planning and about $2 billion for construction over five years.
Califano had a “great dispute” with Johnson over this bill because it was “so complicated.” He wanted to leak it two weeks in advance so that the reporters would have time to understand it, but the President refused because it would antagonize Congress. When Califano held the briefing, an unusually long one, the questions were “too complicated and bad.” When finished, he “felt terrible.” He had not gotten through. The wire service stories were “abominable.” As a result many in Congress and the public never understood what model cities was all about.
The House Subcommittee on Housing of the Banking and Currency Committee heard 75 witnesses between February 28 and March 25, 1966. There was immediate trouble. The New York Times reported that the real price tag was double the published estimate. The interest groups that traditionally supported housing were at best ambivalent. The mayors, who were for the bill, had important reservations, particularly over the inadequacy of the funding. Mayor Hugh Addonizio of Newark asked for $10 billion. Cavanaugh of Detroit opposed competition. Lindsay of New York said his five boroughs alone could sop up $2 billion. Daley of Chicago asked for a sharp increase in planning funds. Labor, minority, and consumer groups hardly voiced support. The President, deeply involved in Vietnam, was silent. The Republicans complained about not being consulted or even informed in advance. Weaver was left carrying the ball with no interference. The Democrats on the subcommittee split and the chairman, William A. Barrett of Philadelphia, had no control. On April 6 Weaver informed Larry O’Brien that prospects for enactment were dim. A month later the Times proclaimed the bill “dead.” The subcommittee, on the other hand, seemed to be moving toward evisceration, including a total appropriation of $12 million. The White House appeared to be on another planet.
By the end of May the subcommittee was hopelessly split and, since it was more liberal than its parent, the outlook was, indeed, bleak. Henry Wilson, who worked the Hill for the President, pointed to three fundamental problems: there was no “enthusiasm” among members or the lobbies; representatives were “deeply apprehensive” about racially integrated housing in a time of white backlash; and $2.3 billion was an awful lot of money during a war. Barrett was unenthusiastic and feared “tremendous problems on the House floor.” To avoid them, he was working on a deal with the Republicans to cut the appropriation to $12 million for planning alone. Weaver thought the representatives from states without big cities would be interested if the planning appropriation was boosted to $100 million to be split among 400 communities. In many minds demonstration cities was turning into pork barrel.
On June 6, while the President was at his ranch, Califano, O’Brien, Schultze, Weaver, Wood, Haar, Wilson and his assistants, Manatos and Semer, along with McPherson and White House aide Barefoot Sanders held a strategy session
. The Barrett idea was quickly rejected as an “emasculation of the bill.” “The Administration should fight for its original demonstration cities proposal. … Weaver and Wood, as well as O’Brien and his troops are directing their efforts toward getting … the bill out of subcommittee and perhaps out of the full committee.” The President heartily agreed.
This was followed by a massive lobbying campaign by the administration and a groundswell of support from industry, labor, civil rights, and religious groups. On June 23 an almost intact demonstration cities bill cleared the subcommittee 7 to 3 and the full Banking and Currency Committee on June 28, 1966, by a vote of 18 to 8. The President had gotten the Democrats to toe the line.
Now there was great concern about the House floor and the administration decided to move in the Senate. But there was a problem at the top. The nominal leader, Banking and Currency Chairman John Sparkman, would have nothing to do with demonstration cities. He was a moderate segregationist up for reelection in Alabama under attack from racists. No. 2, Paul Douglas, had the same problem. The Senate’s leading champion of civil rights, he was engaged in a desperate struggle for reelection while wearing Chicago’s bloodied shirt on his back from the struggle over housing. Douglas would lose. Edmund Muskie of Maine was now next in line and he was of two minds. Demonstration cities was certainly unpopular and his state had no big city. But, having performed brilliantly on pollution, his eye was now on the presidency and this might be a means of building his reputation in the big cities. He was impressed by the actions of the House committees and the President worked him over. He insisted on a number of changes in the bill to soften the language and to build a screen around the desegregation provision. Johnson ordered Califano and O’Brien to fly to Kennebunkport on July 6 to nail Muskie down. The weather was foul and they had to land at Pease Air Force Base in New Hampshire. The commander, expecting the worst, had ordered out the fire trucks and ambulances. But Jane Muskie cheered them up with a splendid lobster stew and they soon had the final language in order.
Now the subcommittee needed one more vote for a majority and a reluctant Thomas Mclntyre of New Hampshire was chosen to provide it. He, too, was up for reelection. His state would have few, if any, qualifying cities and Portsmouth Naval Base was scheduled for closing. Since his constituents were proud of their frugality, he wanted a smaller price tag as well as deferral of the closing until after the election. Califano suggested the price: $12 million for planning and $900 million for the first two years; the appropriation for the next three years was deferred. Mclntyre proposed the amendment to Muskie’s bill, which was adopted. He could now brag to his constituents that he had reduced the appropriation. The subcommittee reported the bill favorably 6 to 4. The full committee added $12 million for planning in the second year and accepted Muskie’s changes, approving the bill on August 10 by 8 to 6.
Weaver on August 9 sent the White House the Senate head count: 45 for the bill with 9 leaners and 41 against with 4 leaners. Muskie performed with his usual skill as floor leader; John Tower of Texas spoke for the Republicans. He did manage to add an amendment limiting any one state to 15 percent of the planning appropriation. Senator Fulbright made the most powerful speech. Arkansas, he noted, would derive little benefit from demonstration cities because Little Rock was the only town of any size. In the nation this was a summer “filled with strife and violence born of the despair and frustrations of those who seek a better life.” Fulbright argued that “something must be done to arrest the human and environmental decay that blights the cities of America.” At this time Congress was pouring $58 billion into araments and war and providing $5 billion to go to the moon, “one of the silliest undertakings any great nation ever undertook.” Yet there was great opposition to spending $924 million for the cities. The nation’s priorities were mixed up. No wonder, Fulbright said, “the people of Europe look upon the United States as the sick man of the world.”
On August 9 Tower moved to eliminate all funds from the bill except for $24 million for planning. His amendment was defeated 53 to 27. The Senate then passed the demonstration cities bill by a vote of 53 to 22. The supporters consisted of 39 Democrats and 14 Republicans, the opponents of 13 Republicans and 9 Democrats.
This was a handsome victory for the administration based on the fact that this was still the northern Democratic 89th Congress. The question now was whether the House could be persuaded to accept the Senate bill.
The House subcommittee did so quickly on August 25 by a 9 to 1 vote. The Banking and Currency Committee agreed on September 1 by an easy 23 to 8. The House itself was much tougher. The extreme right wing—Dan Smoot, Billy Hargiss, and Fulton Lewis—conducted a racist campaign against the bill. Smoot broadcast that it was called “Demonstration Cities” because it would pay for Negro demonstrations in the big cities. A head count on September 10 showed the vote, including leaners, ahead 221 to 204, an uncomfortably close margin. Johnson weighed in with a massive lobbying campaign, including telegrams from 22 big businessmen headed by Henry Ford II and David Rockefeller. In the voting on October 14, 1966, a Republican motion to recommit the bill was defeated 175 to 149. The House then adopted it 178 to 141. The majority consisted of 162 Democrats and 16 Republicans, the minority of 60 Democrats and 81 Republicans. The President in the dying 89th Congress was able to hold his northern Democratic majority. There were secondary conflicts that were quickly resolved in conference on October 17. The Senate accepted them the next day 38 to 22 and the House followed on October 20 by 142 to 126.
At the signing ceremony in the East Room on November 3, 1966, the President, despite its official name—Demonstration Cities and Metropolitan Development Act—said that he was signing the “Model Cities” Act. He ordered everyone in the administration thereafter to use that name. He then told Califano, the author of the demonstration cities title, “Don’t ever give such a stupid Goddamn name to a bill again.” They both smiled.3
The timing of model cities could hardly have been worse. It was an extremely complex system which under the best of circumstances would have demanded a lot of time for congressional and public understanding. “The program’s first two years,” Haar wrote, “centered on struggles to get under way.” Even worse, its political birth coincided with the arrival of the hostile 90th Congress and two years later it confronted the election of Richard Nixon, a President who detested model cities.
Weaver chose H. Ralph Taylor as Assistant Secretary for Demonstrations and Intergovernmental Relations on May 24, 1966, six months before the legislation was passed. Taylor had been executive director of the New Haven Redevelopment Agency, the pre-model cities model city, and had also worked for the Agency for International Development in Latin America. He picked Walter Farr, also an AID veteran, to head the Model Cities Administration within HUD. Both were dedicated to the program and got along very well.
Their first responsibility was to select the model cities and move them into the planning stage. Under the statute HUD was authorized to make a grant to a city demonstration agency to cover most of the cost of planning. The agency might be a city, a county, or a new organization created by the local government (usually City Hall) to administer the plan. “The application,” HUD announced, “must show in broad and general terms the nature and seriousness of the city’s problems and the outlines of what the city proposes to do.” If possible, it was to stress innovation.
The standards that the plan must meet were comprehensive and formidable. The program would cover the following: (1) renewal of entire slum neighborhoods both physically and socially; (2) a substantial increase in the supply of standard housing of low and moderate cost; (3) “marked progress” in reducing social and educational disadvantages, ill health, and underemployment; (4) the prospect of being effectuated “reasonably soon”; (5) utilization of private enterprise; (6) relocation of families displaced; (7) integration with existing local development plans; and (8) an input from the residents of the blighted area.
At the outset mos
t cities found it exceedingly difficult to meet these tests because they did not understand them, had no personnel available to devise the plan, or, if they hired consultants, discovered that they did little better. After screening by HUD, the proposals were reviewed by an interagency committee composed of representatives from HUD, Poverty, Labor, Justice, and Commerce. Their selections were then reviewed by Taylor, Weaver, and the White House (the President participated directly himself).
By May 1967 HUD had received 193 applications from cities of all sizes in 47 states, the District of Columbia, and Puerto Rico. In this first round 63 cities were chosen on November 16, 1967. In “round one and one-half” in March 1968 there were 12 more winners. In round two on September 6, 1968, Weaver added 33 others. Thus, almost two years were consumed in the preliminary step of city selection.
The process was heavily politicized. The lists of cities Weaver sent to the White House indicated the congressman who represented each town, his party, and whether or not he had voted for the bill. Texas did very well—Houston, San Antonio, Austin, and such other metropoli as Eagle Pass, Texarkana, and Laredo. In fact, Califano received weekly reports from HUD on the Austin application. Johnson wrote on the October 7, 1968, report: “Think moving much too slowly. Speed it up.” Senator Muskie’s sparsely settled Maine won grants for Portland and Lewiston. Senator Mansfield picked up Butte and Helena, Montana, and Carl Albert got Tulsa, Lawton, and McAlester, Oklahoma. Obscure members of House appropriation subcommittees received grants for such cities as Smithfield, Tennessee, and Pikesville, Kentucky. Mexican-Americans, concerned that blacks would squeeze them out, lobbied for communities with large Spanish-surnamed populations and won in at least Albuquerque and Eagle Pass.
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