The view from London

By MILTON RAKOVE

LONDON in December is gray, misty, drizzly and damp. We have been here nine times before, but this is the first time we have come in the winter. We do not know if we would come here again in the winter. Would we come again at any time of the year, in the summer, when the tourists fill the streets, or even in the spring or fall? Probably, although we are not sure of that either.

"When a man is tired of London he is tired of Hfe," according to Dr. Samuel Johnson, the famous 18th century scholar. "For there is in London all that life can afford." In the ninth decade of the 20th century, however, there is little that the average person in London can afford.

London is still a great city, along with New York, probably one of the two greatest cities of the world. There is wonderful theatre, three ballet companies, a wide choice of concerts and two opera companies. But the prices for these things are generally comparable to American standards now.

One can feel in London, also, something of the same sense of deterioration that one experiences in New York, Chicago, Los Angeles and most other great American cities. There is a change in the character of these cities now which pervades the life-style of the citizenry. It is hard to put your finger on the pulse of the difference, but there is unquestionably one major phenomenon which characterizes the tempo of the great cities — the breakdown of the quality of life in these communities. Good housing is prohibitively expensive for middle-class people, except for those who were fortunate enough to have bought or built at least a decade or so ago. Public schools are universally deteriorating in quality. Crime is increasing; the central areas at night are unsafe for those who were once drawn there for entertainment, and the streets and sidewalks have been turned over to people that the middle-class citizenry look askance at as they pass by. Public transportation, while not breaking down, provides worse service at higher prices, with surlier personnel and seedier looking riders. In a word, life in these cities is becoming uncomfortable, expensive, less safe, unenjoyable and difficult.

It is possible that the day of the great cities as the central focus of our societies is over and can never be restored again. A commission appointed by President Jimmy Carter has recommended that those hard core unemployed in the declining cities of the Northeast and Midwest should leave and go to the burgeoning communities of the sunbelt in the southwestern and western parts of the United States. But are Dallas, Houston, Los Angeles, Phoenix and Atlanta better places to live than Chicago, Philadelphia, St. Louis or Detroit? Not really, except for their climate. But in terms of public safety, quality of schools, public services, community ethos and political responsibilities, they are no better than their northern counterparts, or are showing the signs of the same problems those older cities have manifested. They may provide better economic opportunities, for the time being, a factor which is not be be overlooked, but that, too, may be transitory. And, in terms of the concepts of community and stability, they lag behind their older sister cities.

The central problem of our big cities is not so much their geographic locations, inhospitable climates or even economic problems. It is that they are not good places to live anymore in terms of convenience, life-style and serviceability for raising families, enjoying life and satisfying personal needs.

The alternatives, small cities and suburban communities, are much better in terms of providing an environment for those things. Life-style, not economic opportunities or cultural advantages, characterizes the dominant thrust of life for the average American family today. Most people would rather live more comfortably, on less, with restricted economic opportunities, than uncomfortably, even with more and better economic opportunities. Our big cities, these days, offer the second alternative, while small cities and suburban communities provide a lifestyle more conducive to the first choice.

It is true that there is a price to be paid for the decline of our great cities, and the growth of our suburban areas, in terms of the advancement of our civilization. Dr. Johnson was surely right that great cities like London provided the cultural artifacts "that life can afford." But they have become too expensive and so isolated in hostile environments as to make the game not worth the gamble any more for most people.

It is also true that the sense of neighborhood and community which existed in our great cities cannot be replicated in suburbia or smaller cities. Suburban life is conducive to living, not in a neighborhood, but in a house on a small stretch of a street, in relative isolation from the rest of the community, And smaller cities are too large tc be self-contained towns, and too small to encompass clearly identifiable neighborhoods drawn along ethnic, cultural and social lines. But, then, there are almost no neighborhoods left in our great cities any more, either.

What does all this mean for cities like Chicago, about which this column is supposed to report?

Essentially, that those who talk about making Chicago a great world city, and about reviving a glory and a role for the city that never really existed, have little grasp of the realities of late 20th century urban civilization and urban life. Chicago will still be here, but less important as a cultural center, reduced in size, less relevant to the lifestyle of the majority middle-class population of our society, and less influential in the national, state and county-wide political and governmental systems of which the city is a part. Sic transit gloria . . .

March 1981/Illinois Issues/38