Robert Moses has an almost demonic status in the lore of American cities. As depicted by Robert Caro in his Pulitzer Prize-winning 1974 biography The Power Broker, Moses was a racist, antisemite, and bully who combined vast power over New York City's built environment with a paradoxical contempt for urban life. Favoring automobiles over mass transit and foot traffic, Moses presided over the destruction of whole neighborhoods to make room for highways. He even tried to demolish a Central Park playground so patrons of an expensive restaurant would have somewhere to leave their cars while dining. He paved over paradise and put up a parking lot.
Moses wasn't all bad, though. Despite his sins against democracy, sociology, and good taste, the master builder was driven by a vision of a living city that offered affordable comfort to a growing population. Though they weren't always pretty, the highways, bridges, and housing developments Moses planned met genuine needs. And while Moses implemented discriminatory policies that were standard in his day, claims of special animus against minorities (revived last month by Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg) are overblown.
If Moses looks better in retrospect than when Caro published his book, his critics now seem less appealing. Preservationists like the author Jane Jacobs are celebrated as heroes who saved historic buildings and walkable neighborhoods from Moses' obsession with modernization and automotive convenience (Caro reportedly cut an admiring chapter on Jacobs from The Power Broker). Their unintended legacy, though, is proliferating regulations that stifle development, raise prices for infrastructure, and constrain the housing supply.
The tensions between brutal dynamism and romantic preservationism were revived this week the New York State Office of Parks, Recreation, and Historic Preservation recommended that the complex including Penn Station, Madison Square Garden, and the 2 Penn Plaza office building should be added to the National Register of Historic Places. If successful, the designation would add another layer of uncertain approvals to plans to renovate or replace the structures. Ironically, the demolition of the original Penn Station beginning in 1963 was a turning point in the struggle against Moses. Although he was not personally responsible, the rapid and politically unaccountable destruction of a Beaux Arts landmark galvanized opposition to his domineering approach.
