What Do Cities Do About New Growth?
The impressions we have of different cities depend greatly on the boundaries set by the cities themselves. We should closely watch how they do that.
Pete Saunders | The Corner Side Yard
What if I told you that Chicago is a mid-sized, dense urban hub of 800,000 people, surrounded by more than 400 suburbs anchoring a large metro area of 9.5 million? Or that Indianapolis reached its peak population of 476,000 in 1960, and has slipped below 300,000 for the first time since 1930? Or that New York City reached its population peak of 3.4 million in 1950, lost nearly a million people to fall to 2.6 million by 1980, and once again crossed the 3 million person threshold just this past decade?
If each had kept their late 19th century boundaries, that would’ve been the case. Our views of each city would be quite different today. Chicago might be viewed as an urban core lending its name to a giant metro area, similar to Atlanta or D.C. Indianapolis would be less likely to be seen as a Midwestern success story, and more likely to be seen in the same vein as St. Louis. A New York City that didn’t include Brooklyn, Queens or Staten Island may have found itself fighting for supremacy (with Brooklyn) in the state, never mind the nation or the world as a global city, and never gained its full Big Apple allure.
I know it’s a stretch, even absurd to consider. But I raise this to say that impressions of cities depend greatly on the boundaries set by the cities themselves.
What If?
I often ask “what if” questions regarding cities. What if, for example, a city like St. Louis or Philadelphia had been able to spread beyond their current boundaries? Would the difference in population size lead to different thoughts of what each city had become? St. Louis and Philadelphia have had their current city boundaries for more than 140 years. The City of Philadelphia consolidated with Philadelphia County in 1854, and St. Louis city seceded from St. Louis County in 1877. They’ve both seen very urban-like suburbs develop at their edges; lands that could’ve been incorporated into their environs.
On the flip side, Chicago, via aggressive annexation 130 years ago, and Indianapolis, through city/county consolidation, sought to raise their profiles by capturing their suburbs. Chicago’s annexation was spurred by its attempts to become the U.S.’ largest city, surpassing New York (it almost did, but New York’s own consolidation that brought in three boroughs beyond Manhattan and the Bronx in 1898 put the title out of Chicago’s reach). Indianapolis was a relatively sleepy state capital of a mid-sized Midwestern state that saw consolidation as a way to improve its standing as a player among large cities – and solidify Republican control within local government. It was successful on both fronts.
Many of today’s biggest Sun Belt cities play the same game once played by far older cities. Surrounded by wide expanses of unincorporated land, cities in the South and West jump at the chance expand their physical footprint. In the case of annexation, it’s usually done to extend municipal services, like water, to places that lack them. The usual rationale for consolidation is to streamline and better coordinate municipal services for taxpayers. But let’s be real – annexations and consolidations are efforts by cities to redefine economic and media markets to improve their chances at appealing to business for relocations, Fortune 500 headquarters, expanded airports and sports teams.
Jacksonville, Oklahoma City, Houston and Phoenix each rank among the largest cities in the U.S. by land area, all over 600 square miles. It does not matter that each is larger than all of Wayne County, Michigan, which includes Detroit and numerous suburbs. Only Houston (2.3 million) has more than all of Wayne County (1.7 million), but annexation or consolidation gives each a chance to stake larger claims. However, this isn’t simply a tactic of urban hubs. I’m reminded of Aurora and Joliet, IL, two small manufacturing cities roughly 40 miles outside of Chicago who witnessed suburban sprawl heading in their direction. Both cities gobbled up as much land as they could through annexation to build new subdivisions and commercial centers, changing the perceptions, and tax base, of their respective cities.
Louisville is one of the more recent cities to go the consolidation route, having merged with Jefferson County, Kentucky in 2003. The pre-consolidation Louisville reached a population peak of 361,000 in 1970, and had fallen to 256,000 by 2000. But a governor’s signature on a piece of legislation gave the city a 133.1% boost in population.
Annexation & Perception
I suppose if you evaluate the two processes, annexation is a truer barometer of actual growth. It’s usually market-driven in the sense that home-builders are responding to demand and look to a willing municipal partner to serve the water and sewer, police and fire needs of subdivisions. Consolidations seem more artificial, even if their thrust is to create efficiencies; cities can report a new population figure without a single new person moving. The perception changes are just as strong.
To me, the cities most hurt by this are those that are unable to physically expand. By the end of World War II nearly all major cities west of the Mississippi were landlocked by small, independent suburbs, putting the narrative in place of rising suburbs and falling cities. Cities expanding via annexation or consolidation are always able to report gaudy growth numbers; cities with long static boundaries can’t say the same. Detroit nearly tripled its land area between 1915 and 1926, but became boxed in shortly afterward. Suburban municipal incorporations did them in. As the axiom goes, “if you’re not moving forward, you’re falling behind,” and all the attention went to the places that were clearly moving forward – either as Sun Belt boomtowns or as leafy suburbia.
It comes down to this: Americans value new things over old ones, and that applies to cities. Places adding more new things will always be in the urban growth spotlight. However, what’s also true is development is easy, but redevelopment is hard. If a home-builder buys a 300 acre farm and works on an annexation with a municipality, the two work on an agreement that sets the standards for new development. New homes are built. But if a redeveloper wants to turn a 10 acre vacant industrial site into a new residential development, the matter is quite complex. Zoning changes, addressing environmental concerns, development sign-off by adjacent neighbors, incentives negotiations – all slow the process down considerably, and the payoff for developers (usually) isn’t as big. That may cause some urbanists and policymakers to look longingly at city annexation or consolidation opportunities to compete with the upstarts that have plenty of room to spare.
It’s like comparing the physical growth potential of a 14-year-old boy with his 44-year-old father. The two are related but simply do not grow the same way. They are at different stages of growth.