Back when I was a member of Indianapolis’ city administration, local government was supplemented and assisted by a couple of semi-official organizations composed of local power brokers.
The Greater Indianapolis Progress Committee (GIPC), formed by Mayor John Barton in 1964, was billed as an advisory group of leaders from the public and private sectors . It was charged with formulating a “program of progress that makes use of the city’s full potential.” Frank McKinney, a local bank president, was its first chairman. GIPC still exists, but wouldn’t be recognizable to its founders–its membership today is far broader and more representative (and arguably much less influential).
Another group, dubbed the City Committee, was formed–if my aging memory serves–under the aegis of the Lilly Endowment. The City Committee was a relatively informal collection of government “movers and shakers.” It was bipartisan and (unusual for that time) racially integrated, and included Indianapolis members of the state legislature and city government officials. It served as an important–albeit unofficial– venue for decisions involving the city.
The City Committee included Black men, but excluded women. I still recall the dismissive remark by the Lilly executive who served as the Committee’s convener (conveyed to me by my husband, who–as the then-Director of Metropolitan Development– was a member); when someone suggested including me–the city’s first female Corporation Counsel– and another female lawyer, he vetoed it, saying “Admitting women would destroy collegiality.”
Whatever its faults and drawbacks, the City Committee played an important role in the growth and governance of Indianapolis–vastly improving the administration’s ability to get things done– and I have often thought that the current absence of anything remotely resembling it has made progress more difficult.
A recent column by Thomas Edsall in the New York Times cited research supporting that concern. When we look at trends that are hurting cities, Edsall says we don’t talk enough about the “erosion of the local establishment and the loss of civic and corporate elites.”
Until the late 1970s, virtually every city in the United States had its own network of bankers, corporate executives, developers and political kingmakers who dominated their private associations, golf courses and exclusive downtown clubs.
The members were affluent white men who wielded power behind closed doors, without accountability to the citizenry. For all their multiple faults — and there were many — they had one thing in common: a shared economic interest in the health of their communities.
As cities like Indianapolis have lost corporate and banking headquarters to a handful of “star” cities, we’ve also lost leadership and sources of the “wherewithal, capital, know-how and prestige” needed to advance municipal and regional priorities.
Robert D. Atkinson, the president of the Information Technology and Innovation Foundation, described the long-term secular trends in an email to me: Big ‘anchor’ corporations played a key role in civic life in metro areas, not just in terms of corporate donations to nonprofits but also in bringing to bear leadership to revitalize cities. This used to happen all the time in Detroit, Cleveland, St. Louis, the Twin Cities, etc.”
These locally based companies, Atkinson continued, “played an important role of helping the various municipalities in a region work more closely together. Banks and utilities were especially critical to this, in large part because their sales base depended on a healthy regional economy.”
Edsall quotes Aaron Renn for the observation that “changes in cities over the course of the last 30 to 40 years have greatly undermined local leadership cultures.”
The banks in most cities were locally owned and were limited by law to their home markets. Their C.E.O.s were extremely powerful both in their companies and communities. And their personal professional incentives were aligned with those of their locality. The only way to grow their banks or electric utilities was to grow the community where they were based. Today, many C.E.O.s of once-local companies are branch managers of global firms. Their job is to sit on local boards and dabble in community relations, but they don’t really call the shots anymore.
Edsall’s column focused on what happened in Baltimore as that city’s “elite” dissipated; many other cities had similar experiences.
Edsall doesn’t gloss over the considerable negatives that accompanied the “mover and shaker” model, but his analysis also recognizes that when cities lack substitute civic mechanisms, the consequences are also negative.
The question for cities that have lost headquarters and other corporate assets is: what will replace mechanisms like the City Committee? Can we form “committees” capable of replicating the good they did and the role they played without also replicating their lack of democratic accountability and other exclusionary characteristics?
What should a 21st-Century “City Committee” look like?
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