A few months back, a reporter asked to interview me for a story about Midtown Harrisburg.
It was a little strange—one journalist interviewing another journalist. But there I was, sitting at a table in Zeroday Brewing Co. on a cold winter morning, giving my impressions of the redevelopment of the neighborhood.
Maybe 10 minutes into the conversation, he said to me, “What about gentrification?”
Ah, so there it was. The real reason he wanted to talk to me. He planned to do a piece on gentrification.
Now, he hadn’t tipped me off to this beforehand, so the topic, coming with no warning, was a surprise. It turned out that he had received some criticism after a previous, positive piece he had done on development in Midtown, so was looking to balance the scales.
The people who complained, however, wouldn’t talk to him on the record. So, he chose to spring it on me.
I thought about my response for a few seconds.
“To me,” I said, “development comes down to two things. The first is, ‘what is a city?’ And the second is, ‘what do you want your city to be?’”
I’m not sure that this philosophical answer was what he was looking for, but it was my answer. So, then, what is a city?
To me, a city means density, diversity and complexity. It’s a population of people, typically from a variety of backgrounds, living in close proximity. This nearness may create friction, but it usually also produces great dynamism—in culture, in economy, in creativity.
The second question is more a matter of taste. Some people want their city to be large and imposing; others prefer small and quaint. Many people, when thinking of a city, have in mind the so-called golden age, a relatively brief period of time between the late 19th century and World War II, when the Industrial Age and immigration quickly transformed towns and small cities into imposing urban centers.
Harrisburg’s history reflects the American city experience, if on a smaller scale. Steel, railroads and other heavy industry brought in people, money and development, and Harrisburg became an important manufacturing and transportation center. It then suffered punch after punch—the Depression, de-industrialization, suburbanization, floods—so that, by the late 1970s, it was one of the poorest, most desolate cities in the country.
Over the last 20 years, Harrisburg has made progress redeveloping, but it’s hard to shake off decades of depopulation and disinvestment.
So, I ask again—what do you want your city to be?
Is your city supposed to be impoverished? Is it supposed to be a place where commuters flee after work? Is it supposed to be a place dominated by dilapidation, ruled by slumlords? Is it supposed to be a place with vast fields of nothing, where there once were people, businesses and activity? Is that the natural state of your city? Is it the natural state of any city?
When I arrived here, Harrisburg seemed out of whack. The economy was small and focused on a few blocks downtown. Once-grand historic buildings stood empty. The development that did occur was pathologically dependent on one man’s control and his dubious financial dealings. The city looked rundown, and too much of it felt bleak and menacing.
That is not healthy, nor is it sustainable.
Fortunately, things have improved. Harrisburg still has far too many empty fields, dilapidated properties and negligent property owners. However, the trend is a positive one. Over the past few years, historic buildings have been restored and repurposed; wonderful small businesses have opened; the Broad Street Market has revived. Even stodgy old downtown is finding new life as a residential and tech center.
Isn’t that what we want?
For many decades, Harrisburg skewed too far in the wrong direction: too few people, too much poverty, too much crime, too little development. Over the years, there have been many efforts to try to reverse this trend, but none were very successful. Finally, we may be reaching a tipping point.
In the end, it’s about balance. I doubt that Harrisburg will ever be a little San Francisco, where the median cost of a house exceeds $1 million. But it also shouldn’t be satisfied to be a little Detroit—broken and depopulated. The aim should be to be somewhere in the middle: vibrant and appealing, affordable and diverse.
To reach that goal, Harrisburg needs to be comfortable accepting redevelopment. It needs to be comfortable accepting new residents, businesses and visitors, which will lead to a larger, more diversified economy, more jobs, more tax revenue and a healthier municipal budget that can offer greater services to its people.
That’s the kind of city I’d like Harrisburg to be.
Lawrance Binda is editor-in-chief of TheBurg.
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