Last month, I attended a forum at Midtown Scholar Bookstore honoring the work of Paul Beers, the popular Patriot-News columnist who died recently.

The forum was held along with the release of a book compiling Beers’ columns called “City Contented, City Discontented: A History of Modern Harrisburg.”

Sitting there, listening to the panelists, I thought (and I’m sure I wasn’t alone) that, if Beers had continued to write, he would need to find another adjective to describe Harrisburg today.

City Frustrated? Angry? Exhausted? All would apply.

November was a particularly troubling month in a particularly troubling year for Harrisburg.

The state effectively denuded the city of its autonomy and now will force it to sell its most valuable assets to pay creditors complicit in the incinerator upgrade debacle and the resulting, crippling debt load.

The takeover came after more than a year of contentious meetings, as Harrisburg’s elected officials groped futilely for a solution, only to show a city so deeply at odds with the county, the state, itself.

A city discontented indeed.

The Beers’ book divides Harrisburg history into two large chunks: its glory days beginning with the City Beautiful movement at the turn of the 20th century and its post-war decline, the result of de-industrialization, white flight, race riots, the 1972 flood and inept attempts to deal with all the above.

Each time Harrisburg seemed to make a little progress, another blow would beat it back down.

Which leads us to today.

Harrisburg is about to enter a new period, a time it’s never before experienced. The state takeover is unlike the city’s previous downs. In this down, Harrisburg is almost completely at the mercy of outsiders who, most certainly, will not have the interests of the people who live here as a first priority.

The state receiver’s highest priority will be to see that the bills get paid, more than $310 million worth just from the incinerator disaster. The legislation that led to the state takeover is clear that creditors stand first in line.

So, anything that can be turned into cash probably will–starting with the parking garages but possibly extending to everything from City Island to municipally owned buildings. Protecting the interests of suburbanites, as made clear by both state Sen. Jeff Piccola and Rep. Glen Grell, is another priority.

For what it’s worth, I believe that bankruptcy is the best of bad choices for Harrisburg, offering it the greatest potential to protect its assets while allowing the pain to be shared with the state, the county, Wall Street and anyone else who deserves it.

That option, however, was taken off the table last month by U.S. Bankruptcy Judge Mary France, who ruled that the filing was made improperly, hurried through one night by City Council, contrary to state law and without the review and consent of the administration.

France’s decision was expected and, from a procedural standpoint, correct. Given existing rules, the rushed petition never stood a chance.

So, what will Harrisburg look like when it emerges from receivership?

Some bankruptcy advocates have painted a dire picture of the city once stripped of its parking garages, one with empty storefronts, empty houses and empty streets.

I doubt something so drastic will come to pass.

Over time, Harrisburg will heal. Apart from its dysfunctional political culture, the city has many strengths to build upon, from a relatively stable workforce to a dynamic small business community to emerging, vibrant districts for nightlife and the arts.

The issue then becomes how long it will take to heal.

The receiver must draft a recovery plan within 30 days of his confirmation, which would seem to put Harrisburg on a very rapid path to recovery. However, the receiver’s inevitable solution–a fire sale of city assets–is likely to have unintended consequences that will linger for years.

Well after the receiver has packed his bags, Harrisburg probably still will be socked with high debt levels, but will have few options for generating income, leaving it to struggle to deliver services, balance its budget and keep taxes reasonable. Like most Act 47 cities, it may remain stuck in the program for years, if not decades.

Moreover, the city’s nearly 50,000 residents will endure all the pain of the exhausting return to fiscal health. Tragically, those most dedicated to the city–people who live, work and own property here–will bear the greatest burden.

Progress will come, but it will come very slowly.

So perhaps we can call the next phase of Harrisburg’s history, “City Muddled, City Unmuddled.” It’s mostly a matter of how long it takes for us to muddle through.

Lawrance Binda is co-publisher/co-editor of TheBurg.