New L.A. Light Rail Built along Old Streetcar Route

Last month, I heard a great NPR piece on Los Angeles and the history of its streetcar system. Seems that the automobile-choked L.A. has finally built one leg of a light-rail system – and not surprisingly, it follows an old streetcar route. Sound familiar? It’s just like St. Louis’s MetroLink, which follows transit routes that were established more than 100 years ago.

Reporter Mandalit del Barco interviews Zev Yaroslavsky, county supervisor for Los Angeles. Yaroslavsky fondly recalls the red streetcar line that went from downtown L.A. to the beach. “You know, when you look at the map of the old red car,” says Yaroslavsky, “it brings tears to your eyes because we had a great system. It could have been modernized and improved upon, but it would have been a lot cheaper to modernize and improve it than to dismantle it and then recreate it.”

“By the roaring 1920’s,” reports del Barco, “more than 1,000 miles of electric trolley lines and trains rails ran through the ever-expanding Los Angeles. The Pacific Electric’s red and yellow streetcar lines led to L.A.’s early real estate boom.”

But by 1963, says Del Barco, “L.A. replaced the last of its streetcars with a web of freeways and bus lines.” That, she says, “led to conspiracy theories that the streetcars were dismantled by private companies who stood to profit: General Motors, Standard Oil and tire companies.”

But Art Leahy of the Metropolitan Transportation Authority says that L.A. “was truly the city in love with automobiles. They were unlimited. They were cheap. They were convenient.” Leahy, whose parents were both streetcar operators, says that no one much cared when the “Red Cars” stopped and buses became the new vehicles for public transit. As he says, “Nobody anticipated that this freeway system would get choked down like it is today.”

This same story could be told about St. Louis – and about countless cities around the country that dismantled their streetcar systems in favor of the automobile. What we wouldn’t give now to have the streetcars back!

Aerial View of Pruitt-Igoe

For those interested in St. Louis history and/or the fate of the American city in the 20^th century, the new Chad Freidrichs documentary, The Pruitt-Igoe Myth, is a must-see. I was very fortunate to attend the first St. Louis screening of the 83-minute film April 9 at the Missouri History Museum. The screening was sold out, so a big shout-out to my mom for scoring tickets in time!

The Pruitt-Igoe housing development – 33 eleven-story buildings – opened in the City of St. Louis in 1954. Twenty years later, it was demolished and has stood since that time as a symbol of the failure of public housing and public assistance programs.

“At the film’s historical center,” read the film’s website, “is an analysis of the massive impact of the national urban renewal program of the 1950s and 1960s, which prompted the process of mass suburbanization and emptied American cities of their residents, businesses, and industries.  Those left behind in the city faced a destitute, rapidly de-industrializing St. Louis, parceled out to downtown interests and increasingly segregated by class and race.”

Implosion of Pruitt-Igoe

But was Pruitt-Igoe a complete failure? The Pruitt-Igoe Myth suggests that it was not.

One former resident featured in the film says she felt like her Pruitt-Igoe apartment was a “poor man’s penthouse.” Other former residents speak to the feeling they had as children when they moved into the housing project just before Christmas. One woman recalls all of the Christmas lights; for her, the experience was magical. Another memory shared is the feeling of grooving to Martha and the Vandellas’ “Dancing in the Streets.” These former residents seem to indicate that Pruitt-Igoe – known mostly to us now through the images of its implosion – was, in fact, not a complete failure.

“The Pruitt-Igoe Myth attempts to reassess the complex history of Pruitt-Igoe within the larger post-War context of segregation, poverty, and urban population decline,” says a press release about the film. “It gives special emphasis to the stories of the residents who managed to adapt to, and survive, the downward spiral of vacancy, vandalism and crime that made Pruitt-Igoe infamous. By examining the interests involved in Pruitt-Igoe’s creation and re-evaluating the rumors and the stigma associated with it, the film reveals a much more nuanced vision of Pruitt-Igoe that implodes the well-worn stereotypes and myths.”

To view the trailer, click the video I’ve embedded at the end of this post. To learn more about the film, go to http://www.pruittigoe.com, or visit www.facebook.com/#!/thepruittigoemyth. The website is a treasure-trove of information about the housing project and about the film. If you’re interested in Pruitt-Igoe but can’t get to a screening, you’ll learn a lot just by visiting key sections of the site: film summaries; a blog; a series of informative press releases; and a great page titled “Urban History.” Read Robert Koehler’s review in Variety, and listen to KWMU’s St. Louis on the Air interview with the filmmaker (click here for a partial transcript).

So far, there are no other St. Louis screenings scheduled – but I’ll let Wellston Loop readers know as soon as I hear anything about future showings.

Well, it’s been quite a month of memories!

My mother (Bonnie Landsbury Burrows, Wellston High ‘57) and my aunt (Louise Landsbury Overbey, Wellston High ‘65) kicked us off with their memories of their growing-up days in Wellston. Three readers –Nan Sweet, Janice Clark, and Wayne Brasler – added their own recollections. Janice won a copy of Streets and Streetcars of St. Louis. Congratulations, Janice, and thanks for all the memories! They will really help me as I write the 1950s section of Hodiamont: A Novel of St. Louis.

Rather than compiling a full list of entries here, I refer you back to the original post – where you can see all the entries from Nan, Janice, and Wayne. Just click here to trip even further down memory lane.

On Friday, April 22, my friend Hazel Dickens – legendary bluegrass pioneer and champion of workers and their rights – died in Washington, D.C., from complications of pneumonia. She was 75.

I spent much of Friday searching the Internet for articles on Hazel and remembering her on Facebook with other friends. I also shared the articles with my mother, Bonnie Landsbury Burrows (Wellston High ’57), and she suggested that I feature one of the articles on The Wellston Loop.

On this blog, we’ve been tripping down memory lane, and I’m grateful to all the readers who have been posting their memories. (Remember that the deadline to post a memory is Saturday, April 30 – that is, if you want to be entered into the contest to win a free copy of Andrew Young’s marvelous book, Streets and Streetcars of St. Louis.)

In my search for all-things-Hazel, I came across an article by my friend Kate Long of the Charleston Gazette. She interviewed Hazel and collected a lot of Hazel’s memories about growing up in the coalfields of West Virginia. My mom thought Hazel’s reminiscing fit the spirit of our collective storytelling on this blog – and I agree. You can read Hazel’s memories at the West Virginia Music Hall of Fame. It’s like sitting on the porch, listening to Hazel spin yarns of her childhood.

If you’re curious about what Hazel went on to do with her music and her life – and how she used her voice to fight for workers’ rights – read any of the following: an entry I wrote for the Encyclopedia of Appalachia and another I wrote for West Virginia Encyclopedia; NPR coverage; The Bay Citizen tribute; a heartfelt statement from Mountain Stage; an appreciation at The Bluegrass Blog (including news of a forthcoming solo album and a tribute album in the making); and obituaries from The Washington Post, The New York Times, and The Charleston Gazette (also by my friend Kate Long).

Two great documentaries – one short, one long – are also available. I’ve included the short one – A Profile of Hazel Dickens, Part 1 – at the top of this post. (Note that there’s also a part 2 – go to You Tube to find it.) This profile was created by my friend Cecelia Mason, of West Virginia Public Broadcasting.At the end of this post, I’ve included an 8-minute excerpt from the hour-long Appalshop documentary, It’s Hard to Tell the Singer from the Song. It was created by award-winning filmmaker Mimi Pickering. I was honored to be interviewed for the documentary. (Of course, you can also see/hear Hazel in the films Matewan, Songcatcher, and Harlan County, U.S.A.)

If you still haven’t had enough Hazel (and who can ever have enough Hazel?!), don’t forget to go to You Tube and search for Hazel Dickens. You’ll find all kinds of footage and songs there!

So many of Hazel’s songs are going through my mind as I mourn her passing: “Pretty Bird,” “Won’t You Come and Sing for Me?” and my favorite Hazel song, “West Virginia, My Home” (“Let me live, love, let me cry, but when I go just let me die among the friends who’ll remember when I’m gone”).

I feel so fortunate to have known Hazel. I sat with her on the stage when she received her honorary doctorate from Shepherd College (where I was a Professor of English). I got to share in the excitement when she, Ginny Hawker, and Carol Elizabeth-Jones released their trio album, Heart of a Singer. And I was there in the audience at numerous concerts, always inspired by her words, her music, and her fighting spirit.

Fly away, little pretty bird.

Rest in peace, dear Hazel.

A couple of weeks ago, I shared with you news of Andrew D. Young’s marvelous 2002 book, Streets and Streetcars of St. Louis: A Sentimental Journey. I described all the great things you’ll find in the book – but thought you might also like to learn about the history of the streetcars Young shares in the book. And remember: if you’re interested in owning a personal copy of the book, you can enter my current contest. Simply go to the “Do You Remember?” post (April 4), submit a comment, and your name will be entered into the drawing. The contest ends Saturday, April 30 – and the winner will be announced on Monday, May 2.

In the introduction to Streets and Streetcars of St. Louis, Young describes “streetcar suburbs.” “From the 1870s to the 1930s,” he writes, “streetcars were the catalyst in building and then sustaining thousands of urban neighborhoods across North America and every city had streetcar suburbs.”

Young goes on to define a streetcar suburb:

Streetcar suburbs typically are high-density mixed-use areas with single-family homes, duplexes, small and medium-sized apartment blocks and neighborhood services, focused around a rail transit line, terminal loop, stop or junction.

Young says that, although downtown St. Louis was “still the 800 pound gorilla, the magnet,” the streetcar suburbs held a special sway. Looking at the photographs of these suburbs in the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s, the viewer sees that “their sheer liveliness is astonishing.” Young says,

Built on a scale that neither dwarfed nor crushed the human spirit, these were functional and thriving places, despite their shabby veneer. All boasted well-used local retail centers, based on corner shops, mom and pop markets, hardware, drug and package liquor stores, movie theater, the occasional Kresge’s, Woolworth’s or other generic thrift store, soda fountains, unpretentious sit-down restaurants, service stations and tire repair places. At the same time, most also had neighborhood churches, libraries, doctors, dentists, taverns, local “flea-pit” movie theater (some were better than that), parks, pool halls, schools, maybe a firehouse or police station, perhaps even an industrial area providing local employment. These social and community hubs were part of the essential urban fabric, the infrastructure around which living communities clustered, grew and thrived.

After describing the physical, community, social, and ethical space that defined the streetcar suburbs, Young then moves to a description of what has taken their place: “low-density single-family houses in the outer suburbs,” places like Chesterfield, St. Charles, and St. Peters. To help the reader understand the transition from the heyday of the streetcars to the rise of the automobile culture, Young details the rise of the St. Louis bus system into the far-flung suburbs and “the streetcar’s imminent demise.”

By 1946/1947, eight of the original streetcar lines had been removed, leaving “just over half the original streetcar system . . . operational.” By the 1950s, “a major chunk of St. Louis County once served by streetcar had no meaningful public transit of any kind.” Adding to the demise of the streetcars and the public transportation system in general, says Young, was the increasing interest in television and alternative forms of transportation: “transport-a-lift from a friend, a cab, or worst of all, their own automobile.”

From late June 1951, says Young, “the only streetcar routes left were the Hodiamont and Wellston, the Olive lines to Big Bend, Clayton (Walinca) and Delmar loops, plus the cross-town Broadway, Jefferson and Grand lines” – far fewer routes than had existed in previous decades. Those who grew up in Wellston and took the Hodiamont and Wellston lines were therefore fortunate in getting to experience the streetcars far longer than did residents in other parts of the metro area.

Though Wellstonians in the 1950s enjoyed streetcar ridership, the entire metro area suffered a “free-fall” in mass transit ridership, a decline from which it never really recovered. Despite the construction of MetroLink, St. Louisans still depend primarily on their cars – and suburbs push further and further out from the city center.

If you want to explore this fantastic book more fully on your own, consider entering the “Do You Remember?” contest. Simply go to the April 4 post, leave a comment, and you’ll be entered into the drawing for a free copy of Streets and Streetcars of St. Louis. The contest ends April 30, and I’ll be posting the collected “Do You Remember?” memories May 2.

I’m delighted to welcome two new guest bloggers – my mother (Bonnie Landsbury Burrows, Wellston High ‘57) and my aunt (Louise Landsbury Overbey, Wellston High ‘65). They offer some tantalizing memories of their growing-up days in Wellston. Readers: Post your own memory as a comment and be entered in a drawing for a free copy of the wonderful book, Streets and Streetcars of St. Louis. Post your comment by Saturday, April 30; the winner will be announced Monday, May 2 – and all the entries will be posted on May 2 as an updated “Do You Remember?” list.

Do You Remember . . . ?
by Bonnie Landsbury Burrows and Louise Landsbury Overbey

Do you remember . . .

Vess Grape Soda?

Hand-dipped  ice cream cones and delicious penny candy at Floyds Confectionary (located at Chatham and Delaware)? Fudge at Floyds (chocolate and vanilla) and Mrs. Floyd breaking the pieces apart?

The sound of the White Bakery truck and its whistle and the lemon and cherry rolls?

The statue of George Washington in front of the confectionery on Ogden?

Pumpkin seeds at The Nut House at the Loop?

Busy Bee Department Store?

The March of Dimes collection – putting dimes on a wooden tray and the exhibit of an iron lung?

Walking through Central Hardware before we headed home on a hot summer’s day? It was the “coolest” place around, first place we knew of that had air conditioning. Also, the smell in Central Hardware?

The atmosphere on the first day of school? Also the atmosphere on school-picnic day?

The way the librarian hand-stamped our books? We loved it.

Waxed paper wrapping a ham sandwich? Ham bought for Dad’s lunch was the best!

Charging groceries and treats to Dad’s bill at Licavoli’s Grocery Store?

The smell as you walked by Bungey’s Dry Cleaners on the way to Licavoli’s store? Also the back-door entrance at Licavoli’s and the mixing of smells from the tavern and Sam’s butcher shop?

The “sound of music” coming from the open windows of Lindy Hall while we walked home from church?

Saffren’s Department Store with wide wooden floors going to the second floor? The first-floor canister that fit into a tube where people could pay their bills?

Wellston Loop reader (and dear friend) Bryan Bowen (owner of Bryan Bowen Architects) sent me a link to a Grist article that I highly recommend.

“Trust in the Rust Belt: This Is Flint, Michigan, in All Its Pain and All Its Glory” is an evocative thought piece on the fading “Vehicle City.” Author Wes Janz, a professor of architecture at Ball State University, leads students on tours of Flint and other Rust Belt cities, East St. Louis among them.

Janz opens the article with a series of provocative questions:

“How many abandoned buildings should I photograph and take others to photograph before we get the picture? How many houses do you have to see being torn from a city’s fabric before the tearing of one life from another no longer registers? When should you stop, or start, caring?”

The rest of the article mourns the passing of the old Flint, highlighting two student projects that reflect on the automotive city’s decline – the Flint that “was.” Ultimately, however, the article moves to a focus on three current Flint residents – Keith, Adam, and Wendy – and considers the Flint that “is.”

I’m tempted to quote the entire article (it’s that good), but instead I’ll simply recommend that Wellston Loop readers take a look at it too.

For more from Janz and his students, see the Midwess Distress Tour – a gallery of powerful photographs documenting the Rust Belt’s demise.