Wednesday, December 6, 2023

Living with Bikes

And Rethinking Our Streets

Spruce Street.

Bikes are here, and they're going to stay. What's it like living with them?

Depends on who you ask.

Opponents generally fall into a few overlapping groups: the car lovers, the bike haters, the anti-gentrifiers, and the people who dislike change in any form. Some people may actually belong to all these groups.

I sometimes say of these people that they all want things to get better, but they don't want anything to change. This may be unfair.

Fitler Square.


On the other side, the one arguing for change, there is an interesting coalition that has gathered around the concepts of Vision Zero (nobody should die in a traffic crash) and Complete Streets (streets should be safe, useful, and pleasant for everybody).

Not so many years ago, bike advocates were fighting a lonely battle for bike lanes. They were relatively isolated, and they were not united: Some cyclists continued to believe in vehicular cycling - the concept that bikes are vehicles (which, legally, they are) and that, rather than changing the design of existing roads, cyclists should always exercise their rights in the same space as all other vehicles. In other words, always ride in traffic with cars and trucks and buses, no matter how crowded the street, how fast the traffic, how erratic the drivers. (For more on vehicular cycling, click here and here and here.)

Logan Square, near the Franklin Institute.


Vehicular cycling, as a movement, basically stopped the development of bike lanes in this country for several decades. Vehicular cycling still seems to have a few adherents and sympathizers, but I think it's fair to say that the bicycling movement is now controlled by people who want bike lanes. They want bike lanes a lot.

But, until recently, they were an isolated group, and the opponents were extremely effective in preventing or diluting positive change. Then along came Vision Zero.

Vision Zero got its start in Sweden, where it was adopted by the parliament in 1997. It spread fairly quickly to the United States, and Philadelphia officially adopted the program in 2016 (it had already adopted Complete Streets in 2009).

18th Street, near Rittenhouse Square.


Vision Zero and Complete Streets have attracted a wide range of reformers - bicyclists, pedestrians, people who want better mass transit, people who want breathable air, people who want to stop global warming, people who want our streets to be attractively designed and even welcoming to passersby, people who don't want their child hit and killed by a speeding car. (There was a particularly gruesome crash on Roosevelt Boulevard in 2013. For stories, click here and here.)

And so the movement for bike lanes morphed into something much larger: the movement to reimagine our streets.

Many people, including important journalists, have completely missed or largely misunderstood what this new coalition, built around Vision Zero and Complete Streets, is trying to do. I think this is because they don't know the history and therefore do not have a good grasp on the context.

I have two favorite misconceptions: first, the idea that cars own the curb. Second, the stereotype that bicyclists are all skinny white guys in spandex.

Pine Street.


The idea that curbside parking is in the Ten Commandments is ahistorical. Curbside parking, as opposed to loading, was illegal until the arrival of cars in the early twentieth century, The laws changed, but the underlying reality has not. There are many better uses for the curb than the storage of automobiles. (For more, click here, here, here, here, and here.)

It can be disconcerting to open the pages of your favorite newspaper (or, more likely, scroll through on your phone) and find a respected journalist simply assuming that all street design must take place without affecting curbside parking (for one example, click here).

Grays Ferry Triangles, 23rd and South.


As for the spandex stereotype, have a look at the photographs in this story. Bicyclists are a large, very diverse group. 

I'll add one more error in the conventional wisdom surrounding bicycling. It's not just for recreation. (It never was, but that's another story.) People today commute by bike, they use a bike to take the kids to school, they go to the grocery store by bike. I could go on, but I'm going to stop before I get snarky. I do find it frustrating that people, not just the person in the street, but people who are paid to inform themselves before they write a story, are still stuck with these wrong ideas.

Pine Street.


Recently, though, I do find myself less frustrated than I was a few years ago. It's because I sense the beginning of a long-term shift in attitudes. Let me tell you a story.

When I was in my early teens, I thought it might be fun to join my school's track team. During spring vacation, it occurred to me that I should do a bit of training, to prepare for the upcoming season. We lived in Manhattan, and I decided I should go run some laps every morning around the Central Park reservoir. 

So one morning I got up early and put on some tennis shoes (this really was a long time ago, and my other option - penny loafers - struck me as a bad idea), and I walked over to Central Park. It never occurred to me to run on the sidewalk. I'd never seen anyone run on the sidewalk. Everybody always walked. When I got to the cinder track around the reservoir I did run and occasionally sprinted, and I enjoyed myself. It was a cool, overcast day. There was virtually nobody else on that cinder track, just as the sidewalks in the early morning had been very sparsely populated.

Fast forward forty years. I'm lying on a grass slope in Fort Wadsworth on Staten Island, waiting for the New York City Marathon to start. I'm on my back, with my eyes closed, feeling very comfortable. There are several groups of people near me. To my left, people are speaking quietly in German. Above my head they are speaking Italian, and to my right they are speaking French. 

And then it is time to get up and head to the start. The two Frenchmen who had been to my right shake hands, looking one another in the eye. One says "Bon voyage," and the other says "Bon voyage" right back. And so it was.

For its first six years (1970-1975), the New York City Marathon was confined entirely to Central Park, for fear of disturbances to automotive traffic. Then, in 1976, it was allowed to expand to all five boroughs of the city. I ran the New York City Marathon in 2003, 2006, and 2009, and I would count my life significantly poorer if I had not had those experiences.

Things can change. Acceptance takes time. When it comes to reimagining our streets, I think we're on that path. A few years ago, we had yet to find it.

Just as bike lanes are part of the Complete Streets project, so are open streets. Here's a de facto open street a few blocks from Liberty Place. I'd like to see a lot more of these.

Smedley Street.

See also Reimagining Our Streets: Bikes Will Lead, But They Will Not Be Alone; It's the Road Design, Stupid; What We Lost; Why Did It Crash? The Bicycle Boom of the 1890s.

Monday, November 20, 2023

Presidents Who Died in Office

You Don't Have to Be Old to Die

Harrison served in the War of 1812.


Eighteen percent of our presidents have died in office. We've had 45 presidents; eight of them died while serving. 8/45 = 18%. (Joe Biden is the 46th president, and I will include him in these calculations when he leaves office.)

Here's a list:

1 1841: William Henry Harrison. Died at 68.

2 1850: Zachary Taylor. Died at 65.

3 1865: Abraham Lincoln. Died at 56.

4 1881: James A. Garfield. Died at 49.

5 1901: William McKinley. Died at 58.

6 1923: Warren G. Harding. Died at 57.

7 1945: Franklin D. Roosevelt. Died at 63.

8 1963: John F. Kennedy. Died at 46.

(For more information on this group, click here.)

Kennedy was the youngest. Harrison was the oldest, but he also holds the record for the shortest time in office: 31 days. Average age at death for the group was 57.8.

Death in office is not a rare phenomenon. All of these presidents were succeeded by their vice presidents.

The United States has a very good succession process.

My conclusion is that we should elect the best candidate available, and not worry about when he or she is going to die.

See also Is Biden Our Konrad Adenauer?

Thursday, November 2, 2023

Civilizing the South Street Bridge

Let's Take a Victory Lap - and Then Do More


The South Street bridge is quite possibly the best piece of bike-ped infrastructure in the city of Philadelphia. It is also quite possibly the most heavily used: Combined pedestrians, bicycles, and scooters may match or exceed the traffic volume for motor vehicles.


I don't think the data assembled below prove my case conclusively, but I do think I've presented a very strong hypothesis. Let's take a look at some numbers.

Counting Noses

A little while ago I got the idea to take another close look at the South Street bridge. I'd written a number of stories about the bridge in previous years, but it had been quite a while since I had actually gone there and just lingered.

When I did go and look, I confess I was surprised by the volume of pedestrian and bicycle and scooter traffic that I was seeing. So, on Thursday, September 14 (stories like this do take me a while), I grabbed my last old reporter's notebook and a pen and walked over to the South Street bridge and counted bikes and scooters and pedestrians. Cars were excluded from the plan, because I knew from experience that the combined volumes would be too great to handle. (By the way, I plan to continue doing this work by hand. I'm just switching to artist's sketch books from Blick. I like the paper better.) 

I counted from 4:30 to 5:30 pm. Originally I had intended to count both eastbound and westbound traffic, but it soon became obvious that this was simply too much for one person to count, and I focused on eastbound traffic.  I also excluded the ramp that runs from the north side of the bridge down to the Schuylkill boardwalk. There's a bunch of traffic there, but I needed to focus on the main thing: eastbound bikes, scooters, and pedestrians.

I counted 311 bicycles, 47 scooters, and 453 pedestrians. For a total of 811.

Near the Roberts building.


Just so you know, rush hour was already well under way before I started counting, and it continued strongly after I stopped counting. I counted in 15 minute intervals. The biggest interval for bikes and scooters began at 5:00, and the biggest interval for pedestrians began at 5:15.

Some people may be interested to know that most of the traffic came in pods. I believe these are organized by the stoplights located at the west end of the bridge, near the access and exit ramps to the Schuylkill Expressway. The largest pod for bikes was 24, in the 5:00 segment. The largest pod for pedestrians was 35, in the 5:15 segment.

I worked at Penn in the late seventies and early eighties, and I often walked home across the South Street bridge. Other people also walked the bridge, but not in the numbers we're seeing now. I frankly don't remember bicyclists on the bridge - and there were no bike lanes, of course. And there were no e-scooters.

A big change.

Heading for the ramp.


What About the Cars?

My plan had not included counting cars, but with the bike-ped numbers I was looking at, I became curious how they would stack up against the motor-vehicle traffic. Back in 2017 I had counted eastbound cars for a story called No Turn on Red. I went back and had a look. 

On Thursday, August 24, 2017, I counted eastbound motor vehicles from 10:45 to 11:45 am; I counted a total of 617 motor vehicles. Later, between 4:50 and 5:50, I counted 671 motor vehicles. And on the morning of August 25, from 7:50 to 8:50 am, I counted 611 motor vehicles. The average of these three counts is 633.

So I put that up against the 811 for bikes, scooters, and pedestrians, and I decided that the motor vehicles were in the minority. 

(There are also Septa buses on the bridge. I haven't been able to figure out how to count the number of passengers on a bus that's driving past me, but I hope we can agree that a number for bus passengers would put the cars and trucks further in the minority. A counter-argument would be that some cars actually have more than one person in them. My sense is that the vast majority of the cars at rush hour have one person in them, but again I don't have a number.)

My argument would be stronger with 2023 motor-vehicle data. I'd also love to have westbound data, and traffic data for the ramp that leads down to the Schuylkill boardwalk. I won't be doing any of these counts anytime soon, so if you're interested, please feel free to go ahead. And please also publish your findings.

The city from the ramp.


What's Next for the Bridge?

I'm thinking that things are going pretty well on the bridge, but there are certainly improvement opportunities, and we should not be resting on our laurels.

One of my big concerns has been the garage entrance on the bridge, for people who are visiting the Roberts building of Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. This entrance, located on the south side of the bridge, not far from 27th street, is currently closed for construction - CHOP is building a new building on top of the garage. 

The history of this garage entrance is a sad story of incompetent community activists getting their way. It was a mistake to put this entrance here, and I hope it stays closed. 

The rather hairy intersection at the eastern foot of the bridge has, thank goodness, gotten a No Turn on Red sign, as I mentioned last month. 

I'm also very fond of another idea that dates back to 2017. Currently, at the eastern foot of the bridge, there is one motor-vehicle lane westbound, and there are two lanes eastbound. I'd like to see two lanes westbound and one lane eastbound, and the eastbound bike lane pushed to the curb. Currently this bike lane floats between the two eastbound lanes of motor-vehicle traffic. (For more details - it's a fairly complicated argument - see No Turn on Red.)

The city from the boardwalk.


A Place Rather than a Pipe

Beyond tweaks to improve traffic flow - and safety - I'd like us to start thinking about the bridge as a place rather than just a pipe. The bread and butter of any bridge is always going to be moving people and goods from one side of a river to the other. But, throughout history, there has almost always been a social side to bridges.  

This history often begins before there is a bridge. Usually there was a ford, or a ferry, and then a bridge might come along later. 

All of these crossing types have tended to cause people and wagons to pile up for a variety of reasons - waiting for the ferry to come back from the other side, for instance. Because there were travelers who weren't going anywhere, locals tended to find ways to offer hospitality - a tavern or an inn, perhaps a stable - and towns would grow up. That's why England has towns with names like Oxford and Cambridge. 

Commerce was not limited to the land at the feet of the bridge. London Bridge was lined with buildings that housed shops facing out onto the roadway. These buildings tended to become larger over the years. It's not clear that the bridge was originally designed to sustain so much weight, and that may be why we have the nursery rhyme "London Bridge Is Falling Down." (There are other explanations.) The Ponte Vecchio (Old Bridge) in Florence is similarly lined with shops. Years ago they were butcher shops;  current occupants include jewelers, art dealers, and of course souvenir sellers. The Karluv Most (Charles Bridge) in Prague is now a pedestrian bridge (as is the Ponte Vecchio). Artists and artisans bring their wares to the bridge and set up on the sidewalks near the parapet.

Nowadays, of course, our bridges are designed to move motor vehicles as rapidly as possible from one end to the other, and that is pretty much all they are designed for. (Getting the designers of the new South Street bridge to include proper bike lanes and other amenities was a long and arduous process.)

What might the South Street bridge look like if we took a broader view of its potential? I'm thinking that activating the bridge as a destination probably won't look at all like London Bridge, or the Ponte Vecchio, or the Karluv Most.

Frankly I have no idea what it will look like. But I do know that we have the views of the city from the bridge, we have the ramp down to the boardwalk, we have the plaza by the Roberts building, and there is a cafe inside the Roberts building, next to the plaza. (You can see the cafe through the building's glass walls. It's open to the public, and I've eaten there. The food is okay, and the surroundings are very pleasant. And there is a bike rack near the front door.) 

I'm saying, there are already some pretty nice pieces in place. Maybe somebody smarter than me can figure out how to get them to work together.

The eastern foot of the bridge still has issues.


And Ospreys

While I was doing my count, a pedestrian lady stopped and engaged me in conversation. She wanted to know what I was doing, and I told her, and we had a nice chat. She seemed to really like her walks home across the bridge. She told me that on a recent day an osprey had flown directly over her head. 

Ospreys are very large and, I think, beautiful birds, and it had never occurred to me that even one of them might be living in Philadelphia.

See also By the Market Street BridgeCome for the SightsWilloughby Avenue, Fort Greene, Brooklyn; The Mustangs of 23rd Street.

Monday, October 23, 2023

Is Biden Our Konrad Adenauer?

No. He's Better than Der Alte

Adenauer, right, with French President de Gaulle in 1963.


Der Alte means "the old guy" in German. 

Konrad Adenauer led the new West German state during its period of reconstruction after World War II, serving as its chancellor from 1949 to 1963, leaving office at the age of 87. He wasn't perfect, but during his time as chancellor he and the German people took a fragment of the old Germany, rebuilt its shattered economy and whole cities that had been reduced to rubble, and changed it from a defunct totalitarian dictatorship to a thriving, stable democracy. In all this, the people saw Der Alte as their anchor. 

Born in 1876, Adenauer flourished as a politician in the period after World War I, becoming a leader of the Catholic Centre Party and serving as mayor of Cologne from 1917 to 1933. When the Nazis came to power in 1933, they fired him from his job as mayor, and his life focused mainly on survival until the end of World War II. It was a record that made him a good candidate to help lead the emerging West German state. The Nazis had even done him the favor of arresting him several times, and this of course played well in the new political environment. 

Adenauer was already in his seventies when he became chancellor. I think his performance in that job is evidence that old people are not necessarily useless relics. 

I understand the desire among many people for generational transfer of power. Younger people are interested in moving up to more senior positions, and it can be frustrating to see the older generation cling to the jobs at the top. But I would argue that wholesale dismissal of an age cohort is probably a bad idea.

In addition, the Dems have had a pretty good record on generational transfer in recent years. Barack Obama was 47 when he entered the office of president. Not too shabby. And Nancy Pelosi (currently 83) has stepped aside in favor of Hakeem Jeffries (currently 53). 

Meanwhile the Republicans still have Mitch McConnell (81) and the Former Guy (77), but it's just possible that the most powerful person in the Republican party right now is Matt Gaetz (41). He brings the chaos, and that's what the base wants (until their Social Security checks stop coming). 

Maybe quality should trump chronology.

Matt Gaetz, at left.


I've also toyed with comparing Biden to Dwight Eisenhower, who left the presidency at the relatively youthful age of 70. But let me suggest that Eisenhower's developing infirmities made him old before his time. He was a chain smoker from an early age, and he had his first heart attack in 1955; it kept him in the hospital for six weeks. He also had a mild stroke in 1957. By the time of his death in 1969, he had suffered seven heart attacks. 

Eisenhower was also noted for giving long, involved, basically impenetrable answers to questions at press conferences, leaving journalists scratching their heads as they wondered what, if anything, he had meant to say. The answer is that Eisenhower was a wily old soldier, and if he didn't want to answer a question he would avoid conflict by laying down a smokescreen. This tactic is sometimes called "talk a lot, say as little as possible." 

Eisenhower was a very popular president, and historians now regularly rank him among the top ten of our chief executives. Biden's popularity ratings are lower than Eisenhower's, but I think historians are going to wind up ranking him in the top ten. 

At the beginning of this story, Adenauer is pictured with French President Charles de Gaulle in 1963. In 1958, de Gaulle came out of retirement to extricate France from the morass of the Algerian war. He retired again in 1969, and died a year later at the age of 79. 

See also A Lesson From the Berlin Wall, The Real Parallels Are With Weimar, Hans Fallada and the White-Collar Proletariat, Humboldt on Education, A Teacher's Dilemma.

Wednesday, October 11, 2023

Something Good Happened

Perhaps a While Ago


This is a picture of the intersection at the eastern foot of the South Street bridge, South and 27th, and, if you turn right hard enough, you're on Schuylkill Avenue. You'll notice a sign at the upper left, which says No Turn on Red.

For many years there was no such sign here. In August 2017 I wrote a story explaining why putting a No Turn on Red sign here would be a good idea. (See No Turn on Red: Vision Zero Meets the South Street Bridge.) The short version: There were lots and lots of near misses at this intersection.

And then things like Covid happened, and I stopped thinking about the eastern foot of the South Street bridge.

And then, a few weeks ago, I was walking around on the bridge (I'm now thinking of doing another story about the bridge, and these stories invariably involve a lot of walking around and standing and looking, and occasionally, when I get lucky, sitting and looking), and I noticed the sign.

I have no idea when the sign went up, and I have no idea if my article had any influence on the thinking of the Streets Department. But I do like to praise people when they do a good deed, even if the praise is belated. So, Philadelphia Streets Department, kudos and thank you!

See also Put Traffic Lights on the Schuylkill ExpresswayNo Turn on Red, Morning on Lombard StreetIs It a Curve or Is It a Turn? What a Nice Present!

Monday, October 2, 2023

Precious Cargo

Transporting Kids by Bike

Leaving the beach, Father's Day, Asbury Park, 2023.


One of my more distinct early childhood memories was standing on the sidewalk and watching coal being delivered to the apartment building where we lived. This was in Manhattan in the 1950s. 

Everything about the coal truck was black. A coal chute protruded from the back of the truck and extended to an opening in the sidewalk next to the building. The truck tipped its cargo box just like an ordinary dump truck, and there was a whooshing, rumbling sound as the coal tumbled into the coal bunker in the basement of the building.

And then, of course, the coal was burned to provide heat and hot water.

Arriving at Little League practice, Prospect Park, 
Brooklyn, 2023.


Today, we're unaccustomed to seeing fly ash in the air. I remember a freshly baked lemon meringue pie, sitting on the sill of the open kitchen window to cool. A piece of black fly ash from a furnace or an incinerator floated into the window space and settled gently on the white meringue. It was a bit bigger than a quarter.

Pickup from after-school program,
Philadelphia, 2023.


Catastrophe? No. Just another day. The well-practiced solution was a deft scoop with a small spoon, and the meringue was once again immaculate.

(Newspapers made particularly interesting fly ash when incinerated.)


Chestnut Street, West Philly, 2017.


My Grandpa Tom was a dairy farmer who lived on a dirt road and had a dirt driveway. Every once in a while he would bring a scuttle full of cinders up from the basement and scatter them on the driveway. 

Eventually he decided to go along with the modern world. He got an oil-fired furnace, and the cinders in the driveway were overlain with asphalt.

Boardwalk, Asbury Park, 2023.


But to come back to the sidewalk of the building where I grew up. I remember the grocery delivery bikes. These had a large aluminum box attached to the front to carry groceries. They were quite common in the 1950s, but shortly thereafter they seem to have vanished completely.  

Grays Ferry Triangles, 23rd and South, Philadelphia, 2023.


I don't have confidence in the historical information I found online, so I'm going to skip forward to the re-emergence of the cargo bike, this time as a way to transport small children. Here the Dutch were clearly the innovators, using something they called a bakfiets, or box-bike. This was an adaptation of a traditional Dutch cargo bike, and it became very popular in the years after 2000. (For more, see this story, which seems reasonably solid.)

Rittenhouse Square, 2023.


The Americans followed suit a bit later, but with typically American enthusiasm. Today, in Philadelphia's center city, I see them regularly as I walk around. In addition to transporting children, they're clearly good with groceries and other relatively small items. Other uses - bringing furniture home from Ikea, for instance - seem pretty rare, but one should never underestimate the ingenuity of a bicyclist. Here's a shot from Fort Greene Park, in Brooklyn, of a fellow on a regular bike, transporting what appears to be a truck tire.

Fort Greene Park, Brooklyn, 2023.


See also Jane Jacobs Was a Bicyclist; Looking and Not Seeing, Listening and Not Hearing; Forging Community - One Flat Tire at a Time.

Wednesday, September 20, 2023

Sea Hear Now 2023

Lots of People Came to Asbury Park by Bike

The median on 4th Avenue this year. Feels like 2018. 


And some of them had trouble parking on the weekend of September 16-17. My wife and I were last in Asbury Park for the Sea Hear Now music festival in 2018, and I still have fond memories. I particularly remember that the main parking corral for bikes included a lovely lawn occupying most of a city block, across 4th Avenue from the city's newest high-rise. In a word: bucolic, with a shiny new city in the background.

Parking in the main corral, 2023.


Unfortunately, this year, the space allotted to the bike corral, again just north of the high-rise, appears to have been dramatically reduced to make way for a pop-up food court (also a laudable amenity). 

The main corral.


And again unfortunately, it appears that this was a Wild West bike corral, with no supervision and lanes between the racks that proved to be too narrow to accommodate individuals' highly idiosyncratic approaches to parking. Many of the lanes between the racks were blocked, preventing new arrivals from being able to reach open spaces.

On the boardwalk.


But bicyclists are a resourceful lot. Many of them went to the boardwalk and locked up on the railing overlooking the beach. So many of them that late arrivals couldn't find spaces. Again, the bicyclists went hunting, this time further inland, and found spots to lock up all over the place. I wish they hadn't hooked up to trees (it's very bad for the trees), but I'm not going to yell at them. 

Entering the show. In the end, everybody is a pedestrian.


I think it's worth pointing out that people seemed, by and large, to be having a very good time. I know my wife and I did. We didn't have tickets, but we enjoyed listening to the the Beach Boys singing, among other things, "Little Deuce Coupe" as we walked along about two blocks from the stage that was located on the sand. My wife asked me what "Little Deuce Coupe" meant, and I had to confess that, beyond knowing it was a car, I no longer had any idea what the song was about.

8th Avenue at Webb.


It seems that the strategy of encouraging people to come to the festival by means other than cars continues to have success. Apparently many people took the suggestion to drive to train stations in other nearby towns and take the train to Asbury Park. And clearly a lot of people rode bikes.

Deal Lake Drive.


It seems this festival had several improvement opportunities. I've heard, for instance, that there were issues with the sound systems. On the other hand, Hurricane Lee decided not to visit, so we managed to avoid a situation where bike parking, or even sound system issues, definitely would not have made it onto the squawk list.

Overall, I think it was a very nice weekend in Asbury Park. I'll take it as a win.


There was also a watery parking lot where you could watch the show - kind of like being in an old drive-in movie theater, only afloat.

See also Bike Parking 9/29.

Monday, September 11, 2023

What Happened in Ferrara?

A Turning Point for Italian Fascism, 1920-1921

Mussolini as duce.


Apparently there is a growing nostalgia for Benito Mussolini in Italy. What's the harm, you ask. Why not turn Benito into a cuddly stuffed doll, something you picked up at an amusement park, after you recovered from the roller coaster ride? Put him on the shelf next to your teddy bear.

The desire to sand off the rough edges of history is understandable. We are all masters of self-justification, both as individuals and as nations. But there is a difference between history as it was, and history as you would have it be.

People can lose track of that distinction, saying things that attempt to normalize the abnormal.  "He made the trains run on time." "He drained the Pontine marshes." "He built the autostrade." "We didn't have to lock our doors at night." Nothing uncuddly there.

The same Mussolini seized power by violence and lies, erected the first state to call itself totalitarian, engaged in a reign of terror that lasted decades, and ruined his country in a war he never should have fought. Among other things. 

Paul Corner has written a whole book exploding the myths of Mussolini nostalgia: Mussolini in Myth and Memory (2022). Corner, currently professor emeritus at the University of Siena, has spent his career studying Mussolini and fascism. His doctoral dissertation at Oxford became a book in 1975. It's called Fascism in Ferrara 1915-1925; my son found it at one of his favorite used book stores and gave it to me as a holiday present. And from there I found his most recent tome. 

I'm not sure which of these books has affected me more, and it's probably a silly question to ask, because they both motivated me to write the story you're reading, which will try to make two main points.

First, the fascist rise to power was based on the lie that they cared about the people and were trying to help them. Lying, as we know, has an addictive quality. Once you start, it's very easy to just keep going, and the fascists of Italy certainly did that. 

Second, the lies have lived on and are dangerous to this day. Democracy around the world is under attack, with many people looking wistfully for what used to be called The Man on Horseback, wielding power decisively and thereby giving us a better life - because of course there is no downside to dictatorship.

Before we get to Ferrara, let's have a look at broader developments in Italy during the immediate aftermath of World War I (known to Italians as the dopoguerra, or after the war.)

A Look at the Dopoguerra

The time immediately after World War I was a very good time for socialists in Italy, particularly in the north. In fact, the two years 1919 and 1920 are often called the biennio rosso, or two red years.

World War I had been a disaster for Italy. The postwar period was marked by an economic slump, high inflation, and an increasing sense that the existing government was not up to the job. 

It's customary at this point to talk about frustration with the final territorial settlement at the peace conference in Paris, which gave the Italians a lot but not everything they wanted. This outcome was called the vittoria mutilata, or mutilated victory.  (For a clear and succinct discussion of the postwar situation, see Stanley G. Payne, A History of Fascism 1914-1945, 1995, pp. 87-89.)

I'd rather talk about the incompetence of the Italian officer corps, which had its signature moment in 1917 at the Battle of Caporetto, when Austrian and German troops pushed the Italian army back 150 kilometers, to the Piave River. 

Caporetto led 350,000 Italian soldiers to desert. I'd call this a pretty impressive vote of no confidence. To give you an idea of the magnitude of this vote, Italy's entire population at the time was about 37 million - a little more than ten percent of the current population of the United States. If a similar event were to occur in the United States, we would have more than 3 million deserters. 

The socialists initially focused their organizing on cities and industrial workers, using the strike as their primary tool. This effort reached its peak with the "occupation of the factories" in northern Italy in 1920, but the occupation fizzled out by the end of the year. (See Payne, pp. 93-94.) 

There are a number of theories as to why what looks like a general strike failed. I think a basic cause is that militant action by labor unions failed to inspire any significant action in the political sphere. 

In discussing an April 1920 action in Turin, Antonio Gramsci has this to say: "The elements of the party leadership always refused to take the initiative of a revolutionary action, unless there was established a plan of coordinated action, but they never did anything to prepare and develop this plan." (To see the complete article, click here.) 

Meanwhile, however, a significant innovation occurred in the rural areas of the Po valley: the socialists, whose organizing generally focused on factory workers, had great success in organizing farm workers. Let's see how this played out in Ferrara.

Spotlight on Ferrara

The socialists had actually been organizing in the countryside for a very long time. In Ferrara, a province located in the Po river valley near the Adriatic sea, socialist leagues of farm workers were first formed in 1901. For workers in rural areas, these leagues were often the only effective political and economic organizations available. (See Corner, Ferrara, pp. 9, 63.) Their time in the sun, however, did not come until after World War I. 

Shortly before the breakout of the war, the socialists finally discovered the key to their success - a monopoly on the hiring process. Their tool would be what we would call union hiring halls (they called them uffici di collocamento), and the goal was to require the landowners to hire through the hall. (Corner, Ferrara, p. 15.) 

In Ferrara, the socialists pursued economic and political power simultaneously, and their first landmark victory came in the political sphere, with the election of November 1919, in which they experienced a blowout victory. In Ferrara province, the socialists got 43,726 votes; all other parties got a total of 14,299 votes. As Corner notes, "Paramount in the political field, the socialists were soon to occupy the same position in the economic sphere." (Corner, Ferrara, pp. 74, 86.)

Much has been made of the fact that the socialists were perfectly willing to use violence to enforce their will. As someone who is personally dedicated to nonviolence, I have difficulty achieving the historian's desired objectivity here. But I do know that the socialists of Italy in 1920 were not Quakers, and that Gandhi was still in the early stages of his preeminent career in nonviolence.

The socialists used three primary tools to enforce their will - the strike, the fine, and the boycott. A non-compliant person - a strikebreaker for instance - would get a fine, and if the fine was not paid there would be a boycott. If the boycott didn't work, there would be property damage; haystacks would be burned, and animals maimed. If that didn't work, the person could be severely beaten and might die. Deaths were rare, but they did occur. (Corner, Ferrara, pp. 96-99.) 

On February 24, 1920, the agricultural workers went on strike, just at the time for planting of two major crops, hemp and sugar beets. On March 6, the landowners folded, acceding to all demands, including increased pay. Above all, they gave the socialists their long-sought monopoly on hiring. (Corner, Ferrara, pp. 88-89.) 

With a successful strike and a spectacular contract, it might be reasonable to assume that the level of violence in the province would decline. However, this did not happen. Why? It was a very turbulent time, and there were a lot of angry men accustomed to settling conflict by force. And there is the payback factor. As Corner puts it, "Many years of deprivation and exploitation were not readily forgotten, even in the year when conditions became better." (Corner, Ferrara, pp. 95-97.) 

Many people were convinced that Ferrara was in a pre-revolutionary situation (Corner, Ferrara, pp. 93-95), and I'm inclined to agree with them. It's also true that getting a contract and enforcing compliance are two separate things, and the increase in violence in the summer months centered on getting people to abandon their old ways and adopt the new. It wasn't pretty, and there were gun battles, with people wounded and some dying. (Corner, Ferrara, pp. 96-98.) 

As all this was going on, the leadership of the socialist party appeared effectively paralyzed, and the landowners were clearly getting their feet under them. All of this can be seen as a replay of what happened in the factories, with the strike in Turin being broken back in the spring, and the whole "occupation of the factories" movement petering out by the end of the year. There's an old army saying: Lead, follow, or get out of the way. The socialist leadership did none of these things. (See Corner, Ferrara, pp. 100-103.) 

However, "If the summer of 1920 had seen many socialists confused and demoralized, the autumn found them more determined." In the communal administrative elections of October 1920, the Ferrarese held their ground and even made gains. The socialists had never controlled the commune (or town) of Ferrara, which was the capital of Ferrara province. In this election the socialists won the town in a landslide - 13,000 votes for the socialists versus a total of 7,000 for the opposition. And, as Corner notes, "Provincial and all other communal administrations remained in socialist hands." (Corner, Ferrara, pp. 104, 107, 111. See also Lawrence Squeri, "The Italian Local Elections of 1920 and the Outbreak of Fascism," The Historian, 45:3, May1983, pp. 324-336. Available on JSTOR.) 

October 1920 can be seen as the peak of socialist power in the province of Ferrara.  

The Fascists Show Up

The long climb up was followed by a swift slide down. In the elections of May 1921, a little more than  six months after the communal elections in October 1920, it was the fascists who were on the winning side.

How did the fascists pull this off? It's hard to overestimate the importance of lying and violence.

Here are the mechanics of what they did. 

1. They stole mercilessly from the socialist playbook, most notably setting up labor exchanges to displace the ones maintained by the socialists.

2. They escalated the violence to levels just short of civil war. They were sadistic and blood-thirsty, displaying an almost orgiastic dedication to violence and humiliation.

3. They adopted a pro-worker program and then betrayed the workers in favor of the bosses, without ever admitting what they were doing. They just flat-out lied, posing as the friend and protector of the working man when they were actually doing the bosses' bidding.

One more word on the violence of fascism. Bloodlust has been with us forever, but in the early twentieth century it actually gained a certain intellectual respectability. Preeminent in this particular sphere of lunacy were the Frenchman Georges Sorel and two Italians: the futurist Filippo Marinetti and the poet-demagogue Gabriele D'Annunzio, "whose achievement," notes Payne, "is sometimes said to have been to make violence seem erotic." (See Payne, pp. 28, 62-64. For more on D'Annunzio, see Lucy Hughes-Hallett, Gabriele D'Annunzio: Poet, Seducer, and Preacher of War, 2013.) 

Fascism built on this base, as did others.

When we look back to the violence that the socialists deployed during the biennio rosso, I think it's fair to say the socialists were simply unprepared for the level of violence that the fascists brought to Ferrara. And the man who brought that violence was Italo Balbo. 

Italo Balbo and Benito Mussolini

How important was Italo Balbo? Let's have a brief look at how things had been going for the fascists.

Fascism did not come from nowhere; it came from socialism, by way of World War I. Benito Mussolini was himself a committed socialist who had spent time in jail for his organizing activities. He also worked as a journalist and rose to become the editor of the socialist newspaper Avanti

The Italian socialist party was opposed to World War I. Mussolini, however, found that he was strongly in favor of Italy joining the war on the side of the British and the French. The Italian socialist party expelled Mussolini, who joined the army and was injured in a training mishap.

Mussolini as bersagliere.


After the war Mussolini and a small group of others formed a new political party in Milan. The first meeting took place at the Piazza San Sepulcro on March 23, 1919. (Payne, p.  90.) The group included a number of veterans, including former members of the arditi, specialized assault troops typically drawn from the ranks of the elite bersaglieri and alpini. 

The arditi were the hard core of the fascist squadri, small groups formed for intimidation, enforcement, and street fighting. And there was scrapping in Milan. On April 15, 1919, a group mainly composed of arditi attacked a socialist demonstration and then went on to burn the offices of the socialist newspaper Avanti. Three people were killed. (Payne, pp. 91-92.) 

In the November 1919 election the fascists drew 4,657 votes in Milan from an electorate of 270,000. (Corner, Ferrara, p. 75.) Nationally, they ran 19 candidates and managed to elect one deputy, from Genoa. (Payne, p. 93.) 

It might be an exaggeration to say the fascists were basically dead in the water going into 2020. But then, maybe not. According to the records of the Milan central committee, at the end of 1919 the party had only 870 members scattered across Italy. (Corner, Ferrara, p. 69.) 

Meanwhile, in Ferrara, attempts to establish a local branch of the party sputtered and failed through 1919 and well into 1920. Then, in September and October of 1920, a hard-working and remarkably persistent young man named Olao Gaggioli finally succeeded in forming a successful fascio. (Corner, Ferrara, pp. 55-57, 65-68, 106.) 

(Fascio in Italian simply means a small group of people or bundle of things. There were quite a few fasci floating around Italian politics at this time - the futurists had one, for instance. Similarly, when Mussolini adopted the ancient Roman fasces in 1919, he was coopting an image that was well known in Italy as a symbol of unity and very soon acquired the useful meaning of "unity by means of authority," one of the basic messages of Italian fascism. For more on the fasces, see T. Corey Brennan, The Fasces: A History of Ancient Rome's Most Dangerous Political Symbol, 2023, chapter 11.) 

The previous state of inanition demonstrated by fascism in Ferrara was underlined when, in October 1920, the fascio in Ferrara asked the central committee in Milan to send along some membership cards. The central committee replied that it had no record of the formation of a fascio in Ferrara and therefore could not send along membership cards. (Corner, Ferrara, p. 106). Gaggioli managed to smooth over this bump in the road and get his membership cards. 

The October 1920 election was, as we have seen, a blowout victory for the socialists. "Paradoxically," as Corner notes, "the elections were a triumph for the fascio."  Although they had organized too late to have much effect on the outcome of the election, organize they did, handing out leaflets, talking to voters, setting up a public meeting, visiting polling places on election day, and - most saliently - organizing squadri. (Corner, Ferrara, pp. 111-112.) 

After the election, violence escalated (there does seem to be a theme in this story of elections and labor contracts not settling anything).  The peak of violence came on December 20, when fascists and socialists had it out in Ferrara's main square. Four people died on the scene, and a fifth died later in the hospital. (Corner, Ferrara, p. 117.) 

People noticed. The landowners liked what they saw, particularly because the other parties had just shown themselves utterly incapable of mastering the socialists. (Corner, Ferrara, p. 107.) They particularly liked the squadri. However, they saw improvement opportunities, and soon the fascio found itself casting about for a better leader. They found him in Italo Balbo.  

Balbo's critics argued that the landowners were responsible for Balbo's selection. "They wanted him to build the local fascio from an uncertain and unsavory gang of idealists and malcontents into a reliable instrument with which to destroy the socialist labor organizations." (Claudio Segre, Italo Balbo: A Fascist Life, 1987, p. 42.) 

In mid-February, at the direction of the central committee in Milan, the local fascio appointed Italo Balbo as their leader, or segretario politico. (Corner, Ferrara, p. 132.) 

During World War I, Balbo had served as a lieutenant in the alpini. Although technically not one of the arditi, who were formed into separate units, he did wind up commanding an assault platoon within an alpini battalion near the end of the war, and experienced some pretty intense combat. (Segre, pp. 22-27.) 

Balbo initially thought of his new job as a temporary position. I suspect he may have assumed that the timing would be similar to that of a normal political campaign, and that the end point would be the May elections. So, before he said yes, there was a brief period of negotiation in which he demanded a follow-on job in a bank, after his work with the fascio was done. (Corner, Ferrara, pp. 171- 173; see also Segre, pp. 41-43.) He clearly did not foresee the fascio as a career, but rather as a stepping stone. That view changed quickly, as he developed a clearer understanding of the opportunities available in a very fluid situation. (Corner, Ferrara, p. 175.) 

As leader of the fascio, Balbo essentially imposed a military rural pacification program on his own home. (He had been born in Quartesana, a suburb of the city of Ferrara, on June 5, 1896. Segre, p. 4.) The basic tactic in Ferrara was the punitive expedition. "Operating usually in fairly large numbers - often more than 100, sometimes as many as 500 - the fascists would descend on a rural centre at night, search out the most prominent socialists of the area and proceed to beat them up or kill them outright. In March, for example, three columns of more than 100 fascists each blocked all exits from Ro and systematically worked through the centre, beating up all those who offered resistance." (Corner, Ferrara, p. 139. Footnote omitted.) 

One estimate is that, during February, March, and April 1921, there were more than 130 of these spedizioni punitive in Ferrara. (Corner, Ferrara, p. 139.)

The preparatory work in the first part of the year explains the success that the fascists had in the May 1921 elections. Prime Minister Giolitti decided to invite the fascists to join an existing alliance of parties known as the blocco nazionale. In the province of Ferrara, the socialists drew 16,967 votes (down from 43,726 in 1919), and the blocco drew 49,122 votes (up from 6,939 in 1919). And Benito Mussolini was elected to the chamber of deputies (the lower house of the Italian parliament) for the first time - representing Ferrara. (See Corner, Ferrara, pp. 179-181.)

Nationally, "Giolitti's attempt to utilize the fascists in order to weaken his opponents was a total failure ... it served only to give prominence and a certain respectability to the fascists, who gained thirty-five seats in the new parliament." (Corner, Ferrara, p. 181.) 

Italo Balbo, still in his twenties, found that he was one the most prominent figures in the province of Ferrara. He controlled the fascist party, controlled the squadri, "and had become a figure of considerable importance in the eyes of the fascist Central Committee." (Corner, Ferrara, p. 183.) This made him the ras of Ferrara. And a brilliant future awaited him. 

(Ras, in fascist usage, means party boss. It derives from an Ethiopian term for a senior leader. Many Italians of this era were fascinated by the world south of the Mediterranean, perhaps as a result of Italy's many imperial adventures and misadventures in northern Africa, dating back to the nineteenth century.)

What happened in Ferrara was important. As Corner puts it, "it was in Ferrara in early 1921 that the potential of fascism was fully demonstrated." (Corner, Ferrara, p. 137.) "The example of Ferrara, previously considered one of the impregnable strongholds of socialism, served to convince many still confused or uncertain about the intentions of fascism. It was what the fascists had done in Ferrara rather than what had been said or written in Milan that removed doubts and demonstrated the potential of fascism to such people." (Corner, Ferrara, p. 121.)

And so Mussolini, who had been bobbing about like a cork near the top of all this ferment, finally found his feet with the elections of May 1921. Is it too much to say that those feet were provided by Italo Balbo? Perhaps. But Balbo wasn't done. In fact, he was just getting started.


Italo Balbo.

And Then ...

Again, after an election, we see the level of violence not decreasing, but increasing. Even before the election, Balbo had not confined his activities to the province of Ferrara, most notably appearing in Venice in April. (Segre, pp. 53-55.) Then, in June and July, the government noted the appearance of squads from Ferrara in Venice, once again, and in Ravenna. (Corner, Ferrara, p. 183.) 

Balbo was clearly building an army step by step. Starting with company and battalion size groups drawn from the one province of Ferrara, he was soon thinking on a much larger scale. In September he led a regiment of about 3,000, drawn from Ferrara and Bologna, back to Ravenna. (Segre, pp. 62, 65.) By January 1922, Balbo had been officially put in charge of the squads in provinces along the Adriatic coast, extending north beyond Veneto, south as far as Le Marche, and inland to Mantua. (Corner, Ferrara, p, 200.) 

In May1922 he held something of a reunion in the city of Ferrara, with 40,000 squadristi and farm workers attending. Its purpose was to intimidate local government officials, and it clearly succeeded. (Corner, Ferrara, pp. 215, 217, 218. Today a typical U.S. army corps, composed of several divisions, would be about the size of the force that Balbo deployed in Ferrara.) 

Ravenna did not submit easily to the fascist yoke, and so Balbo found himself back there in July of 1922. Before the battle was fully joined, the political parties in Rome agreed to a peace pact. Balbo said he would honor the pact, but doubted that it would hold. And it didn't. When a fascist was shot and killed while walking in a working-class neighborhood, Balbo and his squadristi responded by burning headquarters belonging to the socialists, the communists, and the anarchists. Italian troops in the town, including two armored cars and a detachment of cavalry, stood by. 

Balbo then decided to take his show on the road. He went to the police chief. "I announced that I would burn down and destroy the houses of all socialists in Ravenna if within half an hour he did not give me the means required for transporting the fascists elsewhere. It was a dramatic moment. I demanded a whole fleet of trucks. The police officers completely lost their heads, but after half an hour they told us where we could find trucks already filled with gasoline. Some of them actually belonged to the office of the chief of police." 

Over the next 24 hours, the fascists swept through the provinces of Ravenna and Forli, burning socialist and communist headquarters as they went. Balbo again: "Huge columns of fire and smoke marked our passage. The entire plain of the Romagna all the way up to the hills was subjected to the exasperated reprisal of the fascists, who had decided to end the red terror once and for all." (For the July 1922 expedition to Ravenna, and the subsequent Column of Fire, see Segre, pp. 86-87.) 

The Column of Fire was Balbo's finest concerto of suppression. But there was a much larger work coming in October 1922 - a symphony called The March on Rome. This was not a combat operation. It was a promenade militaire that made a show of intimidation and provided a plausible excuse for people to do what they already wanted to do. Which was to put Mussolini in the nation's driver's seat.

Balbo was one of the four men - the quadrumviri - who actually organized and commanded this operation. (See Segre, chapter 5.) The result was that the king appointed Mussolini prime minister; Mussolini used that post to establish a totalitarian dictatorship in Italy. (He continued to hold the title of prime minister until 1943, when the fascist regime collapsed.) 

Balbo went on to become head of the Italian air force and, later, governor-general of Libya. When Mussolini declared war on Britain and France on June 10, 1940, Balbo was in command of the Italian forces opposing the British in Libya. On June 28, 1940, he was killed in a friendly-fire incident while his plane was trying to land in Tobruk. He was 44 years old. (Segre, p. 3.) 

Demagogues Don't Deliver

A while ago, I wrote a story about demagogues, noting that things often don't end well for them, and that things often don't go well for their constituents, either. (To see the story, click here.)

Paul Corner, in his Mussolini in Myth and Memory, does an excellent job of cataloguing how things didn't go very well for many people in fascist Italy. "It is worth noting that, while Italian wage levels had risen continuously in the decade before the First World War, international comparisons show that Italy was the only European country with a consistently descending level of wages for the period 1920-1939." "By 1938 industrial workers were earning, in real terms, 20% less than they had earned at the beginning of 1923 - and they were working longer hours." As for farm workers, "Figures printed by the fascist union in Rovigo, for instance, show that, in 1931, labourers were earning only 60% of what they had been paid in 1921 (and this, given the source, was almost certainly an overestimation." (Corner, Mussolini, pp. 76-78. Rovigo is the province directly north of Ferrara.) 

With less money, people ate less well. According to the International Labour Organization, "the population as a whole, surveyed in the period 1928-34, ate much less meat, eggs, butter, and very much less sugar, than the population in any other western European country (Spain and Portugal were not included)." Another study found that "people were eating fewer wheat-based products at the end of the 1930s than at the beginning of the 1920s." (Corner, Mussolini, p. 78.) 

Pellagra is a disease of poverty and malnutrition. Between 1932 and 1939, the incidence of pellagra in Italy increased by a factor of ten. (Corner, Mussolini, p. 90.) 

Not surprisingly, there was a large increase in male suicides between 1925 and 1935. (Corner, Mussolini, p. 65.) 

So much for the thought that, under fascism, "we lived well."

Lessons for Us

If you look around the United States today, I don't think you'll have any trouble finding violence and lies. You might want to give some thought to how much of the violence is purposeful instead of a random result of our idiosyncrasies. However, the main thing I suggest you look at is the position of our elites relative to democracy. Are they for it or against it?

The basic problem in Italy was not the fascists, it was the elites. And I think the same is true in the United States today.

I'm not concerned about the military, so far. I am concerned about the judiciary, and I'm downright worried about the police. On the other hand, the federal bureaucracy is called the deep state because it believes in democracy.

As for the fifty states, they are split, with red states tilting toward theocratic fascism.

I'm not concerned about the pope right now, but I am concerned about his bishops. And I think the evangelicals want to go back to the days of the witch trials in Massachusetts.

I think business and the legal profession are split, and the same goes for organized labor. (Think police unions, among others.) As for the media, does Rupert Murdoch believe in democracy, or does he believe in oligarchy facilitated by fascism? Many rich Italians had hoped for this outcome, and I suspect quite a few American plutocrats feel the same way. 

Education? A mixed bag. John Dewey would not be impressed. Do we teach our children to think for themselves and work together for the common good? Or do we teach them that every human interaction is a battle, and to the winner go the spoils?

Fascism has many friends in high places, including Congress, but not, right now, in the White House.

Let us go then, you and I ...


Italo Balbo marching with Mussolini in 1923.

To the best of my knowledge, all of the photographs here are in the public domain.

I've had to leave a lot out in this story. The underlying history is extremely complex. There were, for example, fascists who believed in helping the people. Mussolini himself was, from time to time, one of them. And the 1921 fascist program for agrarian reform was, at least superficially, very attractive, although in the end it was simply a snare for the unwary. For a bit more on these points, see Corner, Ferrara, pp. 146-151, 167-168. 

See also Fascism, Jim Crow Was a Failed State, The Real Parallels Are With Weimar, On Demagogues, Greed Is Not Good, Narcissism and Dictatorship, How the Ship Sinks.