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The Living City Meets Suburban Sprawl: Problems encountered in realizing Wright's Utopia

Rebecca Smit
ArtH 488
Winter 1989
March 6, 1989 

Frank Lloyd Wright's vision of the future is laid out in full in The Living City. It is both a description of the future as it will be and as it could be if its natural development were guided by intelligent humans -- more specifically, intelligent architect-artists of integrity.

Wright motivates his discussion by stating that, since "modern science makes all ancient, static defenses useless" (Wright, The Living City, p 23), humanity no longer needs to be clustered in cities to be safe (this actually happened with the introduction of artillery in the middle of the 15th century). In fact, the bombing of cities in WW2 caused parents to send their children to the countryside for safety -- safety found only in being inconspicuous and insignificant. With the manufacture of cheap automobiles after the war and inexpensive, plentiful gasoline, the flight from the cities is unsurprising. But to see this trend in the 1930's was something of a coup for Wright.

He envisioned the thousands who would own their own home and plot of land, although the one-acre-per-person formula was somewhat idealistic. He also saw these small plots under cultivation by family members. I am not certain this ever happened. I know today, flowers are grown more often than vegetables. Perhaps the vicotry gardens of the war led him to believe more in the industry of humanity than he ought. Perhaps he did not realize how unsuitable much land is for gardening.

He predicted the liberating effects of the automobile and the way it would influence scale. "Time-spacing" (p. 193), that is to say, how long it takes to get there, became the important consideration, rather than absolute distance. This is, in fact, the way many of us today indicate distance -- by travel-time in a car. And, as he predicted, areas of "production, distribution, self-improvement, enjoyment" may be found within "the radius of, say, ten to forty minutes of his own home" (p. 119). In Einbinder's words, this "dream of suburbia...became a reality...sprawling communities filled with one-family houses interspersed with shopping centers, offices, and light manufacturing plants" (Einbinder, p. 264). But zoning laws have, to an extent, prevented an effective intermixture of light industry and residential areas. Thus the long commute and rush hours which result have never been eliminated. Even planned communities, such as Greenbelt, Md., often fail to incorporate industries and thus an employment base (Roth, pp. 270-1).

Wright further envisioned the expansion of the highway system: "freeways broadened, spacious, well-landscaped highways, grade crossings eliminated by a kind of integrated...over- or under-passing" (Wright, The Living City, p. 116). He anticipated a household owning one, two or even three cars. But he failed to combine the two predictions adequately. "Only a short ride (in time scale) to work...to reach markets" (p. 121). Anyone who has driven north on I-5 to Alderwood (through Lynnwood, a true one-acre-per-household area) can tell you how often what should be a fifteen minute run drags out to forty or more, with most of the time lost on the curve between exits #177 and #178. During any hour of daylight, on any day of the year, traffic is apt to slow to half the speed limit for no readily apparent reason. There are simply too many cars on the road.

Details, details, Wright might say. If we had stuck to the acre-per-person formula and properly mixed manufacture and housing, we would not have this problem. The Living City is not a blueprint of the future; it is a blueprint for the future if guided correctly, intelligently, sensitively. What if we had so guided it?

If we had, the urban centers would be gone; the extensively built up suburbia we know would never have come into existence; most of us would have gardens to supply the roadside markets we'd all shop at; quite a few of us would get around in private plane or coptercab. Government would decentralize and be de-emphasized to a mere communications depot. The three forms of rent ("rent for land...rent for money...the unearned increment of the machine itself" (p. 33)) would be eliminated. That is, we'd own our own land, we'd no longer need to borrow money at interest and the means of production would be owned in common. "The benefits of the cheapneing process...of modern mass production" would be "operated on the worker's side" (p. 149). If a farmer, "a single tractor held in common could spread the tilth, power the disk and harrow the soil for many farms," (p. 163).

It does sound nice (if communistic), but I see a few problems (in addition to the documentable reluctance of government and big business to give up their power and privileges). We are already running up against the problem of expensive, no-longer-so plentiful and non-renewable energy resources. Wright anticipated the turn to atomic power as a source of energy. In his words, "atomic power really owned by the citizen will not only be able to compete but will abolish everything else as the source of heat, light and power" (p. 136). In theory, again, this is wonderful. Perhaps in a world without Three Mile Island and Chernobyl, in a world willing to sink enough money and research into really effective (and safe!) disposal of atomic waste, in a world that could build commercial atomic power plants without trying to rob the public blind (remember WPPSS?), perhaps such a world could utilize atomic power. We do not live in such a world.

I think it is a pity that Wright paid no attention to solar, wind, geothermal or tidal power. He devotes all of two lines to water power (p. 135), so effectively utilized in the Pacific Northwest as to generate a surplus most of the year which is sold to other parts of the country. In the past, wind power was extensively used in the prairie states so dear to Wright's heart, but he doesn't say a word about them. Are these structures pointing up to the sky too ugly to fit into his landscape? That wouldn't explain his ignoring solar power; he incorporated skylights into most of his buildings, domestic and industrial. It would seema short step to collector panels. If Broadacre City is to cover the nation, the potential for solar power use in California, Florida, Texas and Hawaii can hardly be forgotten. We have active volcanoes in this state and Hawaii; we have hot springs in Yellowstone among other places; yet the geothermal power which supplies the needs of Iceland is not so much as implied.

Yes, you might say, but these sources of power were not seriously considered until the 1970s. We must not forget that Wright lived in an era which had little but contempt for those things old and which perceived traditional energy sources as inefficient and insufficient for the needs of modern man. But if he erred on the possible sources of power, his distribution system was well-planned. "Power from all sources relayed underground to the consumer" (p. 136), thus making all poles and wires overhead a bad memory of ugliness and danger" (p. 136). Likewise telephone lines would be buried. A drive through parts of Innis Arden (another of those acre-lot areas) will demonstrate how pleasant this is. There is reason to believe they have fewer outages, as well.

Even as Frederick Law Olmsted depressed major crosstown streets through Central Park (Roth, p. 145) and the streets of Riverside, Illinois "so they did not intrude into the landscaped views" (Roth, p. 146), so Wright too, was concerned with the effect of major roadways on the beauty of the landscape. "No open ditches beside the roads...good planting of indigenous ground cover...sightly road protections...with designed drainage...evergreen masses by the mile...for sno wprotection...everywhere possible...would be broad sweeps of native trees" (p. 132-3). If this means no more scotch broom, more power to him! Page 98 further depicts a roadside market with "Texture block masses [to] indicate forest areas held in trust for future generations. Tree-crops to be shared by the community. Land thus reserved to go into cultivation as required by growth of population." This sounds similar to Riverside's requiring two trees per lot and modern conservations' emphasis on replanting of forests.

Wright may be thinking further ahead than many of his ge3neration, but where does one get wood when these areas are cleared? From the trees lining the roads? Wright does not include any reference to conservation of forests or replanting of forests or reforestation in any form. Yet when the laws were passed in the 1860-70's giving land to those who agreed to live on and cultivate it for five years, land was reserved in the form of tree claims in the hopes of turning large sections of the Midwest into forest like those which once covered Eastern states. William Penn attempted to require settlers to leave 1 in 6 acres uncleared. But Wright only seems to be concerned with retaining the land for later use. This is reminiscent of his assumption of unlimited natural energy resources. I don't think the need to replenish renewable resources occurred to him, any more than he saw the need to conserve non-renewable resources.

His maxim, one acre per person (minimum) if followed consistently, might well have prevented a lack of resources from ever becoming acute, particularly if atomic power had proved feasible. Eventually, however, one would expect the number of inhabitants to equal the number of acres available. Whether Broadacre City is the US, North America, the Americas or all the land on the globe, the limit will be reached (and Wright doesn't say one word about space travel or the colonization of other planets). What then? The freedom to reproduce would necessarily be curtailed -- or the right to an acre of land, a right he views fundamental to Democracy. This concept of limits to growth came on the scene in a big way with the publication of the Club of Rome's report in the early 1970's. Population projections made in 1958 and shown graphically in the report, suggest a population of 6 billion by the year 2000 (The Limits to Growth, p. 40). In 1970, we were already slightly ahead, and although China has cut its population growth (by some pretty gruesome methods), India's continues to grow exponentially -- today, we are still 3-5 years ahead of the prediction. Wright said "the new city is nowhere unless everywhere" (p. 215); the "population bomb" is therefore a justified concern.

If it seems I have entered the realm of science-fiction by introducing this concern, so be it. Wright has been accused of designing buildings that look extra-terrestrial; why shouldn't his utopia partake of science-fiction as well? Utopian literature is, after all, a member of the same genre, speculative fiction, to which science-fiction belongs.

Nowhere is the fantasy element of Wright more apparent than when he deals with one of our huge institutions -- banking. Banks, according to Wright, "should be seen as integrated units in strong social credit system" (p. 167) Money would have "no commodity value in itself whatsoever...no possible speculative value...Credits instead of hard cash would be all the bank would contain" (p. 167). In other words, money would have "no physical existence...nor can it be invested and gain interest" (Harrison, p. 184). Ironically, those are the words used to describe the sophisticated system of barter the inhabitants of the planet Chojecki have developed based on the wirr, or work-hour -- that is, science fiction. The amusing part, which I think Wright might have appreciated, is this : "When the aggregate wealth gets larger ... the amount that the wirr can be exchanged for also gets larger" (Harrison, p. 184-5). When the protagonist arrives, two hours of work every seven days would suffice to acquire shelter, food and clothes. One suspects, though, that the million- and billionaires of this world would not approve. How could they afford to hire help around the estate?

What does a Broadacre City bank look like? Having been reduced to mere "units in a strong social credit system...they need no longer put on airs of a temple of worship...would shrink to an open office" (p. 167). I can't help but wonder if this might have something to do with the fact that he was never commissioned to design a bank.

Wright deals with a second institution: education. He starts with what every reformer of the public school system has started with: "more excellent teachers ... smaller flocks" (p. 187), suggesting a class size of 25. He further specifies that "education should for a time [after high school] end there; a four year period of contact with experience now due" (p. 188). Schools would be in a park, "preferably by some flowing stream." Buildings would be well-designed as a whole and so that they may be subdivided. They would be fireproof, of "metals and glass or of other native material" that the children might "grow up in sunlight to cherish the ideals of freedom, love ground, love space and enjoy llight," suggesting Jefferson's notion of architecture as moulder of human nature. The students would spend time in flower and vegetable beds that "a callus on the palm would be a mark of honor", an amusing cross between Jeffersonian agronomy and Protestant work ethic. They would be taught to observe and draw, model or color what they saw; they would study "all abstraction of Nature-structure ... elemental architecture (p. 188-9). This meshes with his opinion that the man who couldn't read plans is worse than illiterate.

Some of these students would be chosen to attend various Design centers, to both learn and "make myriads of useful things." While working there, they would continue to spend "three or four hours a day of physical work on the soil" to no only "help insure the living of the workers...but...be stimulating to imagination" (p. 192). This is in addition to "seven to nine hours each day divided between design and work in shops." 1 This combination of education, physical labor and creative design was intended to make democracy "the highest known form of aristocracy" (p. 192) as described by Jefferson. Although engaged in "decadent manufacture" they also participate in the purer activity of agriculture. This combination appears at all levels of Wright's Broadacre City and, if nothing else, might put an end to the current low esteem in which farming is held.

1 Either he can't add, writes unclearly, or he is seriously suggesting a 10-13 hour workday. Yet he previously said Broadacre citizens would have equal work and leisure hours. When were the students supposed to sleep, pray tell?

But in all this discussion of schools, nowhere are books mentioned by derogatively (as bookology, p. 187; p. 185). No set of body of information is to be communicated (p. 186); the expert is considered a "special abnormality" (p. 185), who can only exist when education is inadequate. He even suggests university findings would be communicated via TV or radio (p. 185) -- try that with the Special Theory of Relativity. Even PBS' simplistic versions are downright abstruse. I find his emphasis on drawing, coloring, modeling in school is as dangerous a bias as the much-maligned verbal orientation of our schools today. Perhaps his view is more dangerous : a manuscript from hundreds of years ago can communicate ideas and factual information; no models last that long and TV and radio waves (to say nothing of computer chips) give new meaning to the word ephemeral. Whether this bias is the result of his own limited schooling is a subject that requires more evidence than I have. But I think this tendency to approve of what might be called "amateurism" is what prevented Wright from anticipating some of the problems to which Broadacre City would be subject. It may also be related to his contempt for traditional resources and methods that he does not seem to have truly understood.

Nevertheless, many of his unimplemented ideas may yet prove useful, on the lowest level, moving phone and power lines underground would indeed be safer and aesthetically more pleasing. In the long run, we will need to seriously rethink our educational and economic institutions. The city has gotten less healthy and more than ever, an economic trap. But LA seems to show that spreading out is not necessarily the solution. It seems that in our flight from the cities, we have chosen that size lot that is unsuitable for gardening but a pain to mow. And as we return to renting houses and apartments from a short 25-30 year period of expanding home-ownership, we find our standard of living decreasing. While I wouldn't recommend Broadacre City as a model, it isn't a bad place to start thinking seriously about replainning suburbia and perhaps our cities as well.

Works Cited

Einbinder, Harvey, An American Genius : Frank Lloyd Wright. New York : Philosophical Library, Inc., 1986.

Harrison, Harry, The Stainless Steel Rat Gets Drafted. New York : Bantam Books, 1987.

Meadows, Donella et al (The Club of Rome), The Limits to Growth. New York : The New American Library, Inc., 1972.

Roth, Leland M., A Concise History of American Architecture. New York : Harper and Row, 1979.

Wright, Frank Lloyd. The Living City. New York: Horizon Press, 1958.

Copyright Rebecca Allen.

30 August 2013: I don't know why I didn't point out the disastrous intersection of decentralization, atomic power and a preference for amateurs over experts. It's easily the worst idea in a book full of them. At the time I wrote this, I was unaware of 1920s marketing of rail-suburb lots; developers put together estimates of how much money the family would save by growing their own food and then selling the leftovers at the market. I suspect Wright was thinking of this. The money system described in the Harry Harrison novel and in Broadacre City had a lot of points in common, because both are working off of older work -- which, alas, I don't know enough about to describe here. Krugman uses a similar system when he talks about the unit of account in his babysitting cooperative, altho his is a lot more stripped down.

Wright, like a lot of Utopians, is looking back as much as he is forward. He really doesn't like industrialization/urbanization, and wants to go back to low-density, family as productive unit, mixed agriculture, but without giving up the Goodies of the modern world. And in that respect, his work in The Living City is as near-perfect a snapshot of Suburban Utopia as one will ever find.


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