Mayors

What Smart Mayors Can Learn from the Turnaround of Central Park

December 12, 2018 By Otis White

Of all the urban turnaround stories of the past 50 years, none is more impressive to me than the restoration of New York’s Central Park. When I got to know Central Park in 1973, it was sliding into urban wasteland. Vandals had wrecked its buildings and defaced its statues. Every surface was covered in graffiti, even its rocks. Trails were overgrown with invasive shrubs, and the park’s magnificent meadows had been trampled into dust bowls.

And, then, of course, there was crime. In 1981, police recorded 781 robberies in Central Park, but that was surely only a fraction of what took place there. Many victims did not bother to report crimes. Even the cops who patrolled the park did so only in the safety of two-officer cars.

If this is still your image of Central Park, then you owe it a visit. The 840-acre park, whose first section opened to the public in 1858, has been returned to its original beauty. People are using it in record numbers (there were 43 million visitors last year), but no longer abusing it. The trails are inviting and the grass is lush and green again. And as one who has walked across it recently, I can report it is as safe as any place in the city.

So how did this great turnaround happen? There were many factors, but the most important was that New York found a way of managing public spaces through shared responsibility. Founded in 1980, the Central Park Conservancy was the first nonprofit to take the lead in restoring and managing a major city-owned park. Since then, scores of similar organizations have sprung up around the country, from the Balboa Park Conservancy in San Diego to the Piedmont Park Conservancy in Atlanta.

If you’re thinking of starting a nonprofit like this in your city, I have good news. The founder of the Central Park Conservancy, Elizabeth Barlow Rogers, recently published a memoir, “Saving Central Park,” that will take you inside the Conservancy’s amazing success. You’ll learn Rogers’ “three Ps”: “patience, passion, persistence.” You’ll discover the value of a vision. In her case, it was a desire to return the park to its 19^th-century design. And you’ll learn why a detailed plan of restoration is important for guiding staff and raising money. (It gave the Conservancy, Rogers explains, “the equivalent of a donor shopping list.”)

These are valuable things to know if you’re starting such a group. But I’d like to turn things around and ask what local-government officials could learn from the Central Park experience. If a group of citizens wanted to form a group to restore a park in your city, what should a smart mayor do?

The first thing is to recognize what nonprofits are good at and where they are weak. Their strengths are their focus, inventiveness, and ability to raise money and muster volunteers.

And weaknesses? They’re not good at managing public perceptions. At one point or another, it seems, the Central Park Conservancy angered nearly every group claiming an interest in the park, from birdwatchers to tennis players. And when it did, it was vulnerable to the “who appointed you?” charge. Lesson: A smart mayor will coach nonprofits on politics and occasionally bail them out of controversies.

Not surprisingly, in the case of Central Park’s renaissance one group with a high level of suspicion was city parks employees. Had the Central Park Conservancy not started when it did, as the city was still on the edge of bankruptcy, it is hard to imagine that the parks department would have ever welcomed the nonprofit’s help. Lesson: A smart mayor will spend time counseling city employees on the value of strong outside partners, because all they will see at first are threats.

Finally, a smart mayor will be patient because strong nonprofits aren’t born that way. They become strong over time, as they accomplish things, learn from their mistakes, recruit a strong board and staff, and find their vision and voice.

So a smart mayor will give a fledgling conservancy some space to grow. The Central Park Conservancy worked for 17 years with nothing more than a handshake agreement with three mayors. Only in 1997 did the city feel confident enough to turn the keys of the park over to its staff. Today, every worker in Central Park, including city employees and Conservancy staff, reports to the Central Park administrator, who happens to be the president of the Conservancy. (Important to note: The Conservancy also supplies three-quarters of the park’s budget.)

That level of competence, public trust, and institutional strength isn’t built overnight. And a smart mayor doesn’t just give power away. But when she finds the right partners, she’ll trade power for results.

A version of this posting appeared on the Governing website.

Photo by gigi_nyc licensed under Creative Commons.

Seven Habits of Highly Successful Civic Projects

May 9, 2018 By Otis White

Incremental change is change by the inch, and it’s what wise leaders do over long periods. In his 12 years in office, Mayor Michael Bloomberg remade huge swaths of New York, rezoning 40 percent of the city, but he did it so quietly that few noticed at the time.

In his 31 years in office, Charleston, S.C. Mayor Joseph Riley had an even subtler impact on his city. Yes, there were big things he facilitated—the launching of the Spoleto arts festival, for one—but Riley’s true legacy is in the fabric of the city, the way streets were tended, buildings cared for, and parks placed. Under Riley’s long watch, Charleston became a national treasure.

Other longtime mayors have had that kind of impact on cities. Boston’s late mayor, Thomas Menino, once declared that “visionaries don’t get things done” and denied that he had a vision for his city. He preferred the term “urban mechanic.” But Menino’s steady tinkering with services and amenities made Boston gleam as never before.

So, yes, we need steady, incremental change. But, with apologies to Mayor Menino, sometimes we also need great leaps, the kind of visionary projects he disdained. This is especially so in cities that are depressed or dispirited, that need a change of direction or attitude.

So what is a great project? It can be anything that signals a new direction: a stylish convention center, a 21st century transit system, a signature downtown park, a beautiful riverwalk, an exciting arts center. One mayor described these things as “man on the moon” projects–efforts that are bold, visible, a clear break from the past, and undeniably successful.

I’ve studied great projects for years, tracing how they came to be, who supported them and at what point, the obstacles they faced and overcame, and why they ultimately succeeded. And I’ve noticed some common elements among these otherwise very different undertakings. Here are seven:

Most great projects start outside city hall. That is, they begin with a citizens group or nonprofit that brings its idea to city hall. Smart elected officials aren’t threatened by these outside ideas; they welcome them.
They depend on collaborations to succeed. This may be why so many successful projects start outside city hall. By the time the government is involved, partners are already in place.
There’s something in the project that resonates with the public, even if it isn’t apparent why. This is why elected officials should ask those advancing a big project to take their idea to the public before asking for city hall’s support. After all, who knew New York needed a linear park 30 feet above street level before the organizers of the High Line project created a demand for it?
The turning point is when a leader sees the way forward. This is where political leadership becomes crucial. A great project can grow organically but only to a point. For the project to succeed, someone in power has to figure out how to overcome its obstacles and structure the project for success. This can involve a small group, but in most cases it’s the work of a single experienced leader.
In the structure that emerges, the city’s role remains limited. Average leaders seize control of projects, but great ones are comfortable sharing the wheel. That’s because they know that, if you lose the collaboration, you lose the energy, creativity, and resources that partnerships bring.
As the project advances, other interests will support the project for reasons that are wholly unrelated to yours. This doesn’t mean the project has lost focus. It’s usually a result of the excitement the project is generating. So take this as a sign of success.
When the project is completed, a whole new set of challenges will present themselves, and smart leaders will anticipate them as well. Nothing is sadder than yesterday’s great project that has fallen on hard times (say, New York’s Central Park in the 1970s). The time to think about long-term support is before the project is finished. Here again, collaboration is the key. After all, mayors come and go, and their interest in parks may wax and wane, but the Central Park Conservancy remains focused—and is here to stay.

Can a leader be both an incrementalist and a visionary? Well, yes, but it may be the wrong question to ask. A better question is, what does your city need at this time—a great project or steady progress? If the wind is at your city’s back, incremental change may be all it needs. But if the wind shifts, you may need something big and bold. When that happens, keep an eye out for ideas from the outside that arrive with a few good habits.

A version of this posting appeared on the Governing website.

Photo by M.V. Jantzen licensed under Creative Commons.

Return to Sender

September 14, 2016 By Otis White

In February 1945, John Gunther sat at Fiorello La Guardia’s elbow for eight hours and 20 minutes and watched him work. Gunther was a famous journalist. La Guardia was New York’s mayor and was even more famous—a short, profane whirling dervish of energy and ideas.

La Guardia did not disappoint. As Gunther watched, the mayor made decisions in machine-gun fashion, riffling through letters and reports on his desk, barking at his three secretaries, interrogating subordinates. He even found time to hold a press conference while seated at his desk.

No item, it seemed, was too small for La Guardia’s attention. When the president of the New York Board of Education dropped by, he grilled her about lunchroom decorum, personnel transfers (he told her he would handle one of them personally), and pay raises. They argued a while about whether an administrator should get a $500-a-year raise . . . or a $1,000 raise. At La Guardia’s insistence, he got $500.

Gunther was stunned. As he wrote later, “Mr. La Guardia really runs the entire machinery of New York City, in all its dazzling complexity, singlehandedly.”

Some regard Fiorello La Guardia as America’s greatest mayor ever. Maybe, but he was a terrible manager. If you are a mayor, agency director, or someone managing a complex civic project, think carefully about La Guardia’s management style—and then run from it as fast and far as possible.

That’s because La Guardia was what we would call today a “micromanager,” and by inserting himself into so many decisions he undermined those who worked for him. In short, we don’t need mayors or top administrators to be involved in minutia. We need them to make strategic decisions that bring major results.

So consider this two-part test next time you’re handed an issue: Can this decision be made at a lower level by those who will be directly involved in its implementation? And if the decision is made at that level, is it likely to affect other interests? If the answer to the first question is yes and the answer to the second is no, then your response should be, “That’s for you to decide.” If the answer to the second question is yes, your response should be: “Pull together a group to make this decision and make sure these people are involved.” Have a nagging sense that something might go wrong? Then add: “And when you reach a decision, run it past me.”

Pushing decision making to the appropriate level is one of the most important things a manager can do for three reasons. First, all things being equal, it will result in better decisions. Believe it or not, teachers and cafeteria workers know more about lunchroom decorum than mayors. It makes sense, then, to have those closest to decisions—especially those who’ll implement them—involved in the solutions.

Second, it forces you to think about decision making as a process and not just an act. And the more you think about the process, the better you can teach it to others. As you push decisions down, remind your managers of how good decisions are reached: with the right information, the right people, the right decision-making processes. Show them how to keep discussions open and frank, to consult widely about possible solutions, and to consider testing solutions before fully implementing them.

Finally, pushing decisions down puts the emphasis where it should be, on hiring and training the right people. You cannot run a driver’s license bureau, a downtown redevelopment project, or the entire government of New York City by yourself. But you can, over time, staff it with good managers who’ll make good decisions because they learned how to do so . . . from you.

A version of this posting appeared on the Governing website.

Photo by Bill Smith licensed under Creative Commons.

How to Build an Army of Supporters

March 10, 2016 By Otis White

My favorite quote about change comes from that notorious 16th-century cynic Niccolo Machiavelli. “There is nothing more difficult and dangerous or more doubtful of success,” he wrote, “than an attempt to introduce a new order of things in any state. For the innovator has for enemies all those who derived advantages from the old order of things while those who expect to be benefited by the new institutions will be but lukewarm defenders.”

There are two parts to this quote. The first is that change is hard. The second is why change is hard. Those asked to give up something will fight it tooth and nail, while those who might benefit will be “lukewarm.” After all, how can they value something they don’t already have? But I take a third lesson from Machiavelli’s quote, which I think he would have agreed with: If you want to change something important, you’d better come with an overwhelming case and an army of supporters.

So how do you make a case for change and build an army out of “lukewarm defenders?” Over the years I’ve talked with scores of civic leaders who’ve created successful civic projects, many of which involved significant changes by their cities. They all did two things you can easily imagine: They found ideas or solutions that worked (these were the projects they championed) and built a set of relationships that created political and public support.

Many did a third thing that propelled their projects forward: They spotted a breakthrough, a change of circumstance that, for a moment at least, opened the door for change. (In an earlier posting, I called these things “the opportunity.”)

But there’s a fourth element, I’ve learned, that can also be critical to success, and that is articulating the “why” of change. This is the element that transforms lukewarm defenders into an army of supporters, and it does so by answering this question: Why do we need this change?

What, then, do we need to know about articulating the “why?” Here are three good starting points:

“Why” is not the same as “what.” That is to say, the project is not the motivation; the “why” is always more basic. The best way of illustrating this is with an example. Mayor Nancy Harris of Duluth, Georgia has been a longtime champion of the arts and urban design in her suburban Atlanta city. For most elected officials, the projects she has supported—from downtown renewal to performing-arts facilities—would need no further explanation. But Mayor Harris always ties the arts and urban design to a bigger goal: attracting talented young people, especially couples with small children, to live in her city.

“Why” builds trust by making connections. Anytime we take on something new we are, by definition, journeying into the unknown. The way to give heart to our fellow pilgrims is to connect it with something familiar. Again, Mayor Harris offers a good example. There are many people who don’t understand or appreciate the arts, she says, but nearly everyone in Duluth understands the need for young people . . . and the connection between young workers and economic development.

“Why” must be both critique and vision. It can’t be just about what could be; it also has to tell us why we can’t stand still. Mayor Harris often reminds citizens that, without more young people, Duluth will age rapidly—and, therefore, will be less appealing to businesses.

Will having a well-considered “why” ensure success for your project? Not by itself. You still need good solutions, strong relationships, and perhaps a breakthrough opportunity. But it can motivate your “lukewarm defenders.” And this, as Machiavelli might say, can make change less difficult and dangerous . . . and more likely to succeed.

A version of this posting appeared on the Governing website.

Photo by Bart Everson licensed under Creative Commons.

Units of Civic Progress

August 5, 2015 By Otis White

In March, Mayor Bob Buckhorn dedicated the latest section of Tampa’s Riverwalk, which now stretches nearly two miles down a river and along a channel leading to Tampa Bay. As he cut the ribbon, Buckhorn said something that must have puzzled some in the audience: “This is a day that we have waited for, for decades.”

For decades? Actually, yes. You see, the Tampa Riverwalk was proposed in 1975 by then-Mayor Bill Poe . . . as a Bicentennial project. The Bicentennial was in 1976. The Riverwalk has, well, taken longer than expected.

By all accounts, the Riverwalk is spectacular. It loops under a bridge and over the Hillsborough River, giving strollers the sensation of walking on water. It ties together several parks and museums, a performing arts center, and the city’s convention center. It offers downtown Tampa a gathering place it has long needed, and it has already sparked development of new restaurants and nightclubs.

But why did it take 40 years to complete? The simple answer is that it was more or less forgotten for 30 years before another mayor, Pam Iorio, revived it and drove it to completion.

But the more interesting story is this is how many great civic projects proceed, in fits and starts. That is, they are launched with a bang, only to lose momentum and fall into a deep sleep until a new leader comes along and figures out how to revive them. It’s a little like Prince Charming. But instead of a kiss, the new leader applies strategy, persuasion, persistence—and an occasional kick in the pants.

This is just one of the surprising patterns I’ve found in the last four years from interviewing leaders of successful civic projects. Here’s another: The leaders learn almost exclusively on the job.

This is puzzling considering how important these projects are. Civic projects are a basic unit of progress and, really, the only way cities make purposeful changes. Think about your own city and its milestones. They might include things like creating a modern transit system, building a new art museum, overhauling the government’s structure, bringing in professional sports . . . or building a riverwalk. Each of these things was a civic project, with a beginning, middle, and end—and clearly defined results.

And, yet, most mayors, city managers, chamber of commerce executives, nonprofit directors, and foundation leaders come to their jobs knowing little about creating these basic units of progress. Why? Because no one teaches it. There are no graduate schools of civic project management, no seminars, no books, not even a website you can visit. And this, I’ve learned, is why many great projects begin with a long hibernation. Once the idea is formed, nobody knows what to do with it.

It doesn’t have to be this way. Civic projects are complex undertakings operating in difficult environments. They require a set of talents and skills that must be assembled: people who can think strategically, apply a jeweler’s eye to tasks and details, and muster the political skills to steer projects around obstacles. Every community has these people. What they don’t have is a template for putting these efforts together.

Want to do your city a favor? Find an organization willing to create just such a template (or set of templates) by interviewing the leaders of successful civic projects. Then make the templates widely available, so the next mayor with a great idea doesn’t have to wait 40 years to watch his city walk on water.

A version of this posting appeared on the Governing website.

Photo by Matthew Paulson licensed under Creative Commons.

What Smart Mayors Can Learn from the Turnaround of Central Park

Seven Habits of Highly Successful Civic Projects

Return to Sender

How to Build an Army of Supporters

Units of Civic Progress

About Otis White

The Great Project

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