This chapter traces the poignant decline of Robert Moses, once the unrivaled master builder of New York, as he faces the erosion of his power and relevance in his later years. It opens with Moses grappling with a profound sense of loss and restlessness after being stripped of real authority. Despite his undiminished energy and ambition, those close to him worried about how he would handle the sudden inactivity, especially during the long winter months when his usual outdoor distractions were no longer available.
As the narrative unfolds, we see Moses—who had once commanded the city’s public works—gradually pushed aside by William J. Ronan and Governor Nelson Rockefeller. They repeatedly stalled or dismissed his cherished projects, like the Sound Crossing, offering empty reassurances while quietly excluding him from meaningful work. His memos went unanswered, and former aides were told to keep their distance. The realization that his days of influence were over crept in slowly and painfully, leaving Moses visibly desperate as he tried, in vain, to reclaim some measure of relevance through the few allies who still respected his expertise.
With his power slipping away, Moses found himself reduced to pleading with union leaders and contractors, who recognized his desperation. While some in the industry worried about stagnation without his leadership and continued to support him, political leaders remained unmoved, leaving Moses sidelined and humiliated. The chapter highlights the stark contrast between his imposing physical presence and his fading authority, as well as his struggle to come to terms with aging and the loss of control.
Even as his hearing failed and the years caught up with him, Moses’s intellect and hunger for knowledge never waned. Surrounded by books, he turned his attention to literary criticism and continued to dream up ambitious urban planning schemes, such as a sweeping housing renewal plan that would relocate slum residents and create new developments like his proposed “Atlantic Village.” He mourned unfinished projects—the Fire Island highway, the Jamaica Bay Development—and grew frustrated that others couldn’t see the broader vision he had for parks and highways. His drive persisted, fueled by a sense of unfinished business and a deep belief in the transformative power of public works.
Haunted by memories of his past achievements and convinced that the city was declining under new leadership, Moses tried various ways to regain influence, but each effort was rebuffed. He avoided writing memoirs, hoping not to jeopardize any future opportunities, and found little comfort in leisure. Restlessness and obsession with lost power became his constant companions. Though he still received respect from loyal associates and the occasional public honor—like a monument at Fordham University—these gestures felt hollow, as no major public work in New York bore his name.
As criticism mounted and his reputation soured, Moses grew increasingly isolated. His brief foray into television fizzled, and as his circle of loyal aides dwindled, he was left alone, finding solace only in his grandson, whose sudden death devastated him. In the end, Moses’s accomplishments faded from public memory, leaving him bitter over what he saw as widespread ingratitude. The chapter closes with the image of a once-mighty figure now restless, isolated, and largely forgotten, his legacy overshadowed by the very city he helped to build.