The Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York

A more damaging scandal involved a restaurant in Central Park, Tavern on the Green. A smaller Moses project involved building a parking lot for the restaurant over a park, much to the dismay of the community of middle-class artists and liberals who lived in the area. A group of local mothers mounted a spirited defense of the “beautiful, tranquil” park. Moses ignored their pleas and sent in his bulldozers, and the women protested by disrupting the work. These protestors were “well educated and heeled” (987). Unlike the poor people who protested previously, these local mothers had connections, resources, and time to stand up to Moses. Their crusade was picked up by the press, and photographs of the women and their children trying to save the park brought many people to their cause.

For the first time, the press sided against Moses in what became known as “the Battle of Central Park” (991). Moses used many devious tricks to try to circumvent the protests, but the mothers would not give up. By refusing to hear the protestors, Moses lost “his most cherished asset: his reputation” (997). Moses was also in danger of revealing the corrupt way that he handled park contracts to concession facilities such as the restaurant. He won the court battle but agreed to compromise by building a playground alongside the parking lot. The damage done to his reputation by this “meaningless little thing” (1004), however, was permanent.

Moses’s reputation was damaged enough that reporters began to investigate his projects. Gene Gleason, a reporter, made many initial inquiries into the Moses Title I projects. Together with Fred J. Cook, he began to “paint a disturbing picture of the way New York City was being reshaped” (1006). Moses was given the chance to respond to these articles, but the fact that they were published at all revealed the cracks in his public image. Gleason and Clark continued to report on the lies at the heart of Moses’s urban renewal program. They wrote about the developers and slumlords making millions from people’s misery. The reporters, however, could not grasp how integral Moses was to the New York political machine or how this made him impervious to criticism.

During this time, Moses was working on Lincoln Center, a complex of theaters and performance spaces on the Upper West Side. Thousands of people were evicted from their homes to make way for the lavish buildings and accompanying luxury apartments. Moses refused to entertain any suggestions of corruption regarding his project, and any hint of a scandal dissipated. Gleason and Cook struggled to convince their editors to continue the investigation; they began to realize “that Moses still had too much power to be touched” (1016). The newspapers that spent so many years constructing the myth of Moses did not want to admit that they were wrong.

Gleason and Cook worked hard on the stories, often working closely with campaigners such as Hortense Gabel in defiance of the older editors and reporters who were reluctant to attack Moses. As Moses opened dams, issued more bonds, and announced more Title I projects, reports began to question him in the press. Eventually, the reporters succeeded in linking Moses to the Slum Clearance Committee, waking up the rest of the press in the process.

Joseph Papirofsky, commonly known as Papp, was a theater producer who ran Shakespeare in the Park, a series of free Shakespeare performances in Central Park. Moses, a lover of Shakespeare and literature in general, gave Papp permission to run the productions in 1957, and they proved very popular. Papp ran Shakespeare in the Park in tandem with his day job at CBS, where he was rehired after being accused of communist sympathies during the McCarthy era.

In 1959, Moses went on vacation, whereupon his trusted deputy Stuart Constable tried to cancel Papp’s production because Papp was “suspiciously liberal” (1029). When Moses returned, he found himself in a public relations battle. He had to choose between supporting his loyal employee or the popular theater group.

Moses, as ever, was fiercely loyal to his people and invented elaborate excuses as to why Shakespeare in the Park could not continue. Papp, an engaging personality with many media connections, refused to accept the decision. Moses was too stubborn to give up a fight that he never wanted to start. His public persona was diminished to such a point that the press began to actively question him, further infuriating him. When Mayor Wagner seemed to give in to Moses on the issue, the press framed the mayor as beholden to Moses. Papp won the battle, and Shakespeare in the Park was allowed to continue. This so-called Second Battle of Central Park “made Moses a villain not only to the public but to the press” (1039). Soon, even The New York Times was willing to launch an investigation into Moses and Title I.

For the first time, the press was able to get a look into the files of the Slum Clearance Committee in May 1959. Though the files had been meticulously scrubbed of anything incriminating, the reporters eventually came across a forgotten document that revealed that there was no competitive bidding for the urban renewal contracts. The document also had tenuous links to the criminal underworld, which the reporters played up in their stories, suggesting that Moses was “guilty of association with mysterious gangsters” (1045). As they investigated further, the reporters found more and more examples of corruption and dishonesty. Tammany Hall, Tom Shanahan, and many other spokes of the city’s corrupt institutions were linked together.

The stories picked up speed, drawing closer and closer to Moses. In response, Moses attacked the press. Unlike Mayor Wagner, he refused to be bullied at press conferences. Fighting the press was a “self-defeating” tactic, however, and the press soon had a vested interest in tearing down the public persona it once helped create. Still, however, Wagner could not fire Moses. He was just as implicated in the corruption, having also used Shanahan’s bank. The press misinterpreted the relationship between the mayor and Moses, still not able to grasp how much power Moses truly had. Wagner was publicly humiliated by the press, who still believed that he had the power to fire Moses.

Meanwhile, Moses was happy enough to resign from Title I and return to his building projects. For the first time, he was “willing to surrender some of his power” (1059). Moses believed that by taking a job running the World’s Fair—to be hosted in New York in 1964—he would have a graceful exit. He also needed money to pay medical bills for his wife and daughter. Facing many “financial problems” (1060), he was willing to give up the power that he craved, or at least exchange it for a different type of power. Moses resigned from Title I, departing to praise from “the crème de la crème of New York’s influentials” (1064) despite the press’s best efforts. Moses resigned from several government positions but left his people behind to run the projects.

The sixth governor under whom Moses served was Nelson Aldrich Rockefeller. The governor’s immense wealth and connections to the world’s most powerful bank made him unlike any previous governor in Moses’s experience. None of the threats that worked against the previous governors worked against Rockefeller, and with Moses’s tarnished public image, even his threat of resignation was hollow. Though Moses worked with the Rockefellers many times, he was wary of the governor’s power. One example was how the governor frequently delayed the mandatory annual extension Moses needed to work beyond the government-mandated retirement age. If the extension was not issued on time, Moses would be legally forced to retire. Rockefeller, keen to establish an orderly transition, delayed the extension each year.

When Moses threatened to resign all his posts in protest, his usual weapon misfired. Rockefeller accepted. Moses tried to backtrack but the mistake was made. Rockefeller organized a celebration of Moses’s work, and Moses lost five jobs, including his beloved parks. He remained in charge of the Triborough Authority. More importantly, very few people cared that he was gone. He was too proud to publicly reveal his disappointment, even after a string of parks was named after him.

The World’s Fair of 1964-65 was supposed to be Moses’s opportunity to rebuild his reputation and make money. It was also an opportunity to realize his dream of building a monumental park at “the geographic center of New York” (1083). Instead, however, the World’s Fair was a complete disaster. Moses launched an ambitious campaign to turn a garbage dump in Flushing Meadows into the site of a great event. To do this, he doled out lucrative contracts to many of his old contacts. However, he lacked the events experience needed to make the World’s Fair a success. His methods and demeanor alienated many of the foreign countries that would be expected to buy exhibition space at the Fair, and he was more interested in the park that would be built afterward on the site than the Fair itself.

The World’s Fair was a disorganized disaster because of Moses’s decisions. His association with the Fair made it controversial, even before people asked questions about the lucrative contracts given to favored unions. The press, having now turned on Moses, was not hesitant to criticize him. They uncovered his lies, obfuscations, mistakes, and many other issues. He could not help but counterattack, creating yet more controversy.

When the Fair opened, the visitor numbers were dramatically below estimates. Accounting tricks tried to hide the financial disaster, but despite a late rally of interest, the Fair lost money. Moses also lost his reputation, financial security, and legacy. Moses became an “object of derision” and ridicule. The Fair destroyed “what was left of the legend of Robert Moses” (1114). At the same time, his wife’s illness and alcohol addiction led to her death; her treatment and support were one of the key reasons that Moses sought the financial rewards promised by the Fair. One month after her death, Moses married another woman named Mary, nearly 20 years his junior.

John F. Lindsay became the mayor of New York City in 1965. During the election, none of the candidates sought Moses’s endorsement. Lindsay sought to oust Moses from his remaining positions of power. He wanted to use the Triborough Authority’s funds to pay for a Transit Authority project. Lindsay failed to comprehend the nature of Moses’s power, however; even though Moses had been publicly disgraced, he still retained a great deal of influence. As Lindsay sought a legislative solution to merging the two authorities (and removing Moses), the more experienced man easily outmaneuvered him. The bonds on which the Triborough Authority was funded meant that the only people who could remove Moses were the banks that issued the bonds or Moses himself. In a dramatic courtroom showdown, Moses rallied “a lineup of the most powerful forces in the state” (1125) to back him in a public repudiation of Lindsay, which greatly embarrassed the naïve mayor.

Governor Rockefeller decided that it was “time for Moses to go” (1132). He was uniquely placed to remove Moses through his family connections; many of the Triborough Authority’s bonds were held by the Chase Manhattan Bank, owned by the Rockefeller family. As such, Rockefeller was one of the few people who could legally orchestrate Moses’s removal.

Moses understood this and sought to work with the governor. He accepted the merger Mayor Lindsay wanted, believing that there would be a powerful place for him in the restructuring. Moses publicly supported Rockefeller’s referendum on transport, believing that he was promised a place on the board of the new Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA). The referendum passed, the MTA was created, and thanks to the governor’s involvement with Chase Manhattan Bank, the Triborough Authority bonds could be used.

After he won, Governor Rockefeller revealed the truth: Moses would be given only a small position with no authority. He would lose all his power. Moses had “no choice but to accept” (1143) and put on a brave face to hide his humiliation. His power was “gone at last” (1144).

Moses was forced into retirement. He still had as much energy as ever before, but he no longer had vast building projects to occupy his busy mind. He eventually lost touch with his former colleagues, who were told not to share information with him. He took meetings with foreign engineers to consult on their projects, as well as meetings with the author, Robert Caro. Moses waited around for the call to bring him back, but it never arrived, no matter how many favors he called in or how desperate the government became.

For Moses, the ultimate humiliation may have been that “people knew that he no longer had power” (1149). To fill his time, he wrote literary criticism and magazine columns, but these also eventually dried up. He devised a new public housing project, but no one would listen to his plans, leaving him filled with “a deep gnawing, terrible bitterness” (1154). Furthermore, his name became “a symbol of the bad” (1158). Lacking a public platform, an audience, and power, he struggled with retirement. He lived out his years in bitterness and rage, unable to comprehend why no one was “grateful” for his great works.