This chapter paints a vivid, complex portrait of Robert Moses at the peak of his influence in New York City. It traces his journey from an idealistic reformer to a powerful, often ruthless figure whose relentless pursuit of authority and controversial methods left a permanent mark on the city’s landscape, politics, and communities. Through a series of detailed stories and case studies, the chapter explores the double-edged nature of Moses’ legacy: his sweeping accomplishments in urban development, and the steep social, environmental, and ethical costs that came with them.
The chapter begins by examining Moses’ psychological transformation as he climbed the ranks of power, especially after becoming president of the Long Island State Park Commission. Initially, Moses saw power as a means to achieve public good, but over time, he began to crave it for its own sake. He took pleasure in dominating and humiliating others, often targeting those who were defenseless. The story of Pearl Bernstein, whom Moses publicly berated, illustrates his tendency to pick on the vulnerable. His bullying wasn’t limited to outsiders; he was known to verbally and even physically abuse his own staff, revealing a pattern of cruelty and a disturbing enjoyment in exerting control.
Moses’ manipulative and aggressive tactics extended to his dealings with political opponents and critics. In one Board of Estimate meeting, he exaggerated federal funding figures to downplay the city’s costs, and when challenged by Stanley Isaacs, he responded with physical intimidation. He also tried to ruin the reputations of reformers like Exton and Weinberg with false accusations, and retaliated against critics such as Judge Cooper by cutting off crucial state advertising to Cooper’s newspaper, nearly driving it out of business. The Columbia Yacht Club incident stands out: despite the club’s long history of cooperation and public service, Moses abruptly evicted them, misrepresented the facts to the press, and painted the club as an elitist obstacle. When the club fought back in court, it was revealed that Moses had hidden their legitimate permit, exposing his willingness to deceive and punish those who crossed him. These episodes collectively reveal a man driven by spite, manipulation, and a need to dominate, often at the expense of fairness and honesty.
The chapter then shifts to Moses’ approach to urban development, using the Columbia Yacht Club eviction as a case in point. Even though the club had improved Riverside Park and was open to negotiation, Moses sidestepped legal and political barriers by physically isolating the clubhouse and cutting off its utilities. These actions, widely seen as unnecessary and vindictive, intimidated city officials and set a precedent for Moses’ ability to push through massive projects with little opposition. This atmosphere of fear and unilateral action allowed Moses to reshape New York in the 1930s, often without meaningful oversight.
Moses’ impact on the city was enormous. He oversaw the construction of highways, bridges, parks, and playgrounds on a scale never seen before, transforming the city’s landscape through ambitious infrastructure projects. Each new development was celebrated with grand public events, orchestrated by Moses to win public support and drown out dissent. The press and the public were dazzled by the sheer scale of his achievements—expanding green spaces, modernizing transportation, and creating iconic public works—often overlooking the negative consequences of his methods.
Yet, beneath the surface of these celebrated accomplishments, there were deep inequities and social costs. Moses’ playground-building campaign in the 1930s, for example, was widely praised, with 255 playgrounds built across the city. However, most of these were located in affluent neighborhoods, while poor and densely populated areas—especially those with large Black populations—were largely ignored. Harlem, home to many Black families, received only one playground, and other Black neighborhoods like South Jamaica got none at all. Children in these areas played in dangerous, unsanitary conditions, and community leaders’ repeated pleas for playgrounds went unanswered. This neglect bred frustration and anger, highlighting the social consequences of Moses’ selective approach to urban improvement.
City officials, including Moses, denied any neglect of Harlem and other Black neighborhoods, often using misleading statistics to defend themselves. Despite community resolutions and later studies exposing the lack of playgrounds in poorer areas, the press failed to investigate, instead echoing Moses’ narrative. Only years later did independent reports reveal the true extent of the problem, but during the 1930s, public perception was shaped by uncritical media coverage and official statements.
Moses’ approach to public spaces went beyond playgrounds. He oversaw the construction of ten innovative swimming-pool complexes and extensive parkway systems, personally overseeing pool designs and introducing features like anti-slip wooden bottoms and foot-cleansing troughs. These projects were widely praised for their ingenuity, but discriminatory practices persisted: only one pool was designated for Black and Puerto Rican residents, and tactics like unheated water and white-only staff were used to discourage their presence elsewhere. Randall’s Island Park, though impressive, was difficult for nearby slum residents to access. The new parkways Moses built quickly became congested, yet he continued to prioritize road construction over mass transit, reflecting both his personal influence and the era’s car-centric mindset.
The opening of the Triborough Bridge in 1936 was celebrated as an engineering marvel, promising to solve major traffic problems. Instead, it created new ones: traffic increased, jams worsened, and the bridge failed to ease congestion on other routes. Moses’ solution was always more infrastructure—new expressways and bridges—creating a cycle where each new road only intensified the city’s traffic woes.
Despite recommendations to include rapid transit on the Bronx-Whitestone Bridge, Moses ignored them, and the bridge was built without rail provisions. In its first year, it generated millions of new car trips but failed to relieve congestion elsewhere, instead creating new bottlenecks. This pattern of prioritizing cars over public transit would have lasting consequences for New York’s transportation system.
The Gowanus Parkway in Brooklyn offers a stark example of the social costs of Moses’ projects. Residents pleaded for the elevated highway to be built along an industrial corridor, but Moses insisted on running it through a vibrant working-class neighborhood. The result was the demolition of over a hundred stores, the displacement of 1,300 families, and the destruction of the community’s heart. Third Avenue, once lively and bustling, became a shadowy corridor dominated by traffic, leading to urban decay, crime, and poverty. The press ignored residents’ concerns, and the parkway, intended to serve motorists, ultimately devastated the neighborhood it cut through.
Moses’ ambitions also extended to Manhattan’s West Side, where he pursued the West Side Improvement—a project he had dreamed of since 1914. This massive undertaking included an elevated expressway, new parkland, and the Henry Hudson Bridge. Financial and political obstacles abounded, especially given the New York Central Railroad’s financial troubles during the Depression. Moses devised a creative financial plan, leveraging the railroad’s debt and securing additional funding through low-interest state loans. He also tapped into underused funds and negotiated favorable terms, demonstrating his encyclopedic knowledge of legislation and relentless drive to realize his vision.
The development of the Seventy-ninth Street boat basin and Riverside Park showcases Moses’ resourcefulness. He designed the boat basin as a multi-level structure with a marina, restaurant, promenade, and garage, cleverly qualifying it for federal funds by labeling it a “grade elimination structure.” By piecing together over $12 million from various sources, Moses pushed Riverside Park’s completion up to 192nd Street, though the northernmost section remained unfinished. However, he spent lavishly in wealthier areas while economizing on improvements in poorer neighborhoods, manipulating funding agencies and city officials to secure the money he needed.
Building a highway through northern Manhattan, near Fort Tryon and Inwood Hill parks, brought new challenges. Initial plans aimed to preserve the parks by routing the highway along their edges, but this would not qualify for federal labor aid and would require the city to pay for both labor and land. To cut costs, Moses decided to run the highway directly through the parks, using city-owned land and qualifying for federal support under the guise of “park access drives.” Even so, bankers were reluctant to buy the necessary bonds unless projected toll revenues far exceeded costs. After much negotiation and cost-cutting, a breakthrough came when engineer Jack Madigan proposed a cost-saving bridge redesign, finally making the project financially viable.
Throughout the chapter, Moses’ ability to marshal diverse funding sources and turn ambitious visions into reality is clear. But his projects increasingly faced opposition from civic reformers like Bill Exton and Bob Weinberg, who valued the natural wilderness of Inwood Hill Park and Spuyten Duyvil. They feared Moses’ plans would destroy Manhattan’s last untouched woodland and erase its unique ecological and historical value. Their concerns highlight the ongoing tension between urban development and preservation.
The threat to Spuyten Duyvil, a quiet Bronx community, further underscores the human and environmental costs of Moses’ plans. Residents worried that widening the parkway would destroy trees, divide the neighborhood, and bring heavy traffic. Exton and Weinberg proposed an alternative route that would spare both Spuyten Duyvil and Inwood Hill, eliminate a shanty town, and cost less. They also stressed the need to plan for future growth to preserve the area’s character, but Moses refused to consider alternatives or even share his plans. Their analysis revealed further environmental threats, including the destruction of Van Cortlandt Park’s marshlands, which Moses dismissed as mere “beautification.” The broader loss of natural assets, especially along the waterfront, loomed if Moses’ plan went unchecked.
The debate over the Henry Hudson Parkway’s route through Riverside Park brought these issues into sharp focus. Reformers argued that building the highway along the waterfront would destroy public access to the river and eliminate valuable recreational space. They suggested routing the road along existing train tracks to preserve the park. Their opposition reflected a shift in values—from parks designed for scenic drives by the wealthy to a modern emphasis on conservation and public access. City officials and engineers also criticized Moses’ plan for excluding buses, which would limit access for non-car owners and complicate future transit needs. Despite growing support for alternatives, Moses stuck to his original design and dismissed critics’ arguments.
As opposition grew, Moses moved quickly to outmaneuver his critics. He advanced construction before opposition could mobilize, used misleading cost estimates, and leveraged political support. He concealed his true motives for routing the bridge through Inwood Hill Park, fearing that public scrutiny would jeopardize the project’s complex financing. Although alternatives existed, Moses prioritized immediate accomplishment over public debate or environmental preservation. The bridge opened in December 1936 with little fanfare, symbolizing Moses’ relentless focus on results, even at the expense of transparency and public input.
The completion of the West Side Improvement in 1937 dramatically transformed Manhattan’s Riverside Park from a wasteland into a grand urban landscape. Inspired by European fortifications and Roman triumphal ways, Moses created a park and highway system featuring marble and granite battlements, lush terraces, and elegant marinas. The transformation beautified the city and improved access, replacing slow, unattractive routes with scenic parkways. Reporters and the public marveled at the new entrance to New York, which Moses believed rivaled even the Rhine River in grandeur.
However, the benefits of these projects were not shared equally. White neighborhoods enjoyed covered railroad tracks and expanded parks, while Black communities in Harlem were left with exposed tracks, noise, odors, and no park improvements. Moses’ neglect of Harlem was clear: he failed to remove commercial enterprises and beautify the park north of 125th Street, leaving the waterfront cluttered and failing to expand the park there. Recreational facilities in Harlem were minimal and hard to access, in stark contrast to the abundance found elsewhere. Even small details, like the monkey motifs on the Harlem playhouse, reflected a lack of sensitivity. Moses’ design choices prioritized highways over parkland, separating people from the river and diminishing the park’s potential as a true riverside retreat, especially for Harlem residents.
The consequences of Moses’ development along the Hudson River were profound. While he intended to provide both motorists and pedestrians access to the river’s beauty, in reality, only those in cars enjoyed fleeting views, while pedestrians lost meaningful access. The rapid success of the Henry Hudson Bridge led to expansions and further park improvements, but these changes prioritized cars over people, making parks less accessible and failing to solve traffic congestion. The chapter argues that Moses’ vision, though transformative, sacrificed the city’s waterfront for motorists and created persistent traffic problems, with the loss of public river access possibly irreversible.
The unintended consequences of the West Side Improvement were significant. Despite its high cost, the project merely shifted traffic jams rather than solving them, and the new roads quickly became as congested as the old ones. The improvement also led to environmental and community losses, including the destruction of natural areas like Inwood Hill Park and Van Cortlandt Park’s marsh, and the transformation of Riverdale into a dense, poorly planned neighborhood. The chapter questions whether the benefits of the West Side Improvement justified its financial and environmental costs, suggesting the city may have lost more than it gained.
Despite these controversies, Moses was widely admired in 1930s New York. Children and adults celebrated his achievements, schoolchildren presented him with tokens, and neighborhoods held parades in his honor. Civic groups and business leaders showered him with awards and praise, often overlooking his controversial methods. The media played a key role in shaping his public image, portraying him as tireless, incorruptible, and motivated solely by public service. Articles romanticized his achievements, ignored the negative consequences, and elevated him to folk-hero status. As his fame spread, so did accolades and honorary degrees, reinforcing his mythic reputation.
Moses’ influence reached far beyond New York. Planners and officials from across the country and Europe came to study his park and highway systems, and his methods were adopted nationwide. Some even suggested he run for president. The chapter also touches on the decline of Al Smith, a former governor who, feeling sidelined and surrounded by new, more conservative associates like Moses, grew embittered and ultimately opposed the New Deal. Smith’s fall, contrasted with Moses’ rise, highlights the shifting political landscape of the era.
Ultimately, the chapter offers a nuanced account of Robert Moses’ impact on New York City. His extraordinary achievements in urban development came with significant social, environmental, and ethical costs. Moses’ addiction to power, manipulative tactics, and disregard for public input and vulnerable communities left a legacy that was both transformative and deeply problematic. The chapter invites readers to weigh the true costs and benefits of Moses’ vision, and to reflect on the ongoing tensions between progress, equity, and preservation in shaping modern cities.