Reading Maps, Socially: Chicago, The Bomb, and the Automobile
Suburb
Patrick McHaffie
Department of Geography
DePaul University
On August 8, 1945 something happened in a large American city that would change forever the way it served as a place for people to live, work, and move about. It was on this day that the first representation of the hypothesized effects of an atomic bombing of Chicago was presented in map form to the residents of the city, creating a new genre of urban cartography – the “kill-zone” map, visualizing the effects of an attack that would occur in some unknowable future. Over the next decade these maps were to change in their horribly descriptive detail, consuming larger and larger bites of the city, until finally swallowing it nearly whole in several calibrated but nevertheless apocalyptic, imagined conflagrations. Less than two months after the end of WWII, congressman Leslie C. Arends (Republican-IL), (who had access to classified defense documents) stated that “at this very moment it is possible to drop or to propel atomic charges into our large cities so as conveniently to kill millions of inhabitants in one operation…” leading to the inevitable conclusion “that the most dangerous spots on earth are Washington D.C., New York City, Chicago, Philadelphia, Detroit, Los Angeles, and other large urban centers in this nation.” He went on to suggest that the only logical solution was to decentralize large cities and production centers. (Burd 1945).
Patrick McHaffie
Department of Geography
DePaul University
On August 8, 1945 something happened in a large American city that would change forever the way it served as a place for people to live, work, and move about. It was on this day that the first representation of the hypothesized effects of an atomic bombing of Chicago was presented in map form to the residents of the city, creating a new genre of urban cartography – the “kill-zone” map, visualizing the effects of an attack that would occur in some unknowable future. Over the next decade these maps were to change in their horribly descriptive detail, consuming larger and larger bites of the city, until finally swallowing it nearly whole in several calibrated but nevertheless apocalyptic, imagined conflagrations. Less than two months after the end of WWII, congressman Leslie C. Arends (Republican-IL), (who had access to classified defense documents) stated that “at this very moment it is possible to drop or to propel atomic charges into our large cities so as conveniently to kill millions of inhabitants in one operation…” leading to the inevitable conclusion “that the most dangerous spots on earth are Washington D.C., New York City, Chicago, Philadelphia, Detroit, Los Angeles, and other large urban centers in this nation.” He went on to suggest that the only logical solution was to decentralize large cities and production centers. (Burd 1945).
Over the next decade U.S. civil defense policies and
planning at local, state, and federal levels shifted from “duck and cover” and “stay
and fight” to “dig, flee, or die” in a public debate that was to influence
industrial location strategies, housing and public transportation policies, and
private decisions regarding residential choice, lifestyle, uncertainty, and
risk. At the public-policy root of these
processes was the U.S. Strategic Bombing Survey, conducted during and after
WWII in an attempt to understand the industrial structure of Germany and Japan through
a massive Operations Analysis (OA) program, in order to destroy their
capability of making war. Immediately
following the war the bombsite of this analysis was turned back on American
cities, thus revealing vulnerabilities to the weapons used during Allied air
campaigns, up to and including the atomic attacks in Japan (Galison 2001;
Collier and Lakoff 2008). These
analyses, conducted in urban-scale programs during the decade after WWII, drove
the U.S. to enter into an official policy of urban decentralization first
articulated in the Truman administration.
Although these policies served to “decenter” the
American city, other more general social forces and anxieties were at work in
the public psyche. These included the
initiation of the “cold war” between the U.S. and Soviet Union fraught with
danger and uncertainty for all mankind, the creation in the U.S. of a permanent
linkage between American scientists, Pentagon military strategists, and their
political sponsors, and the creation and maintenance of a social superstructure
of fear fed by propagandists, politicians, and demagogues. The terror bombings
of Hiroshima (6 August, 1945) and later Nagasaki (9 August, 1945) were to spawn
several chains of events through the postwar world. The “cartographic imaginaries” of this global
anxiety began for Chicago residents even before the “Fat Man” bound for
Nagasaki was loaded into the B-29 on Tinian Island.
The Postwar American
City
Perhaps the most striking spatial process working in
the U.S. during the years after WWII that permanently reshaped the structural
linkage between residential neighborhoods and commercial/industrial employment
districts was the explosive growth of automobile suburbs on the edges of large cities. Across the metropolitan triangle in the
northeastern U.S. (Boston – Washington – Chicago) and several other large cities
of the south and west, the expansion of residential suburbs into former “greenfield”
sites in the years immediately after the war reshaped the social geographies
that were in part the product of previous transportation and communication
technologies. The stereotypical new suburban
residents were middle-class white families, typically young and headed by a
father who remained employed in an urban office (in the CBD) or factory (in the
industrial frame) with a mother who served as the principal caregiver to a
young and growing brood. Within a short
generation in the typical American industrial city this process created
monocultures of conservative suburban communities, demographically distinct
from the cities that spawned them but similar to their adjacent neighbors on
the urban fringe. The term “white
flight” has become an accepted trope across the social disciplines describing
the process - labeling the identities while referring obliquely to the motives
of the participants in this short but massive migration.
In most textbook accounts this process was fueled by
some combination of demographic change (the “baby boom”), disinvestment and
modal shift in public transportation (in particular the sudden and stunning
demise of the surface lines between 1945-55), federally subsidized home
mortgages (FHA and GI Bill home mortgage programs), postwar prosperity and high
employment following a short postwar recession (the recession due to
demobilization and prosperity fueled partially by shift to permanent war
economy), the collapse of inner-city real estate markets vis-à-vis more
profitable suburban locales and the subsequent failure of urban property
taxation to support adequate infrastructural and social investment there, and
state and federal subsidization of automobile ownership through the funded construction
of expressways and superhighways.
Layered onto this is our received understanding of
the shift referred to above, racially-motivted residential relocation of white
middle-class urban residents to newly developed suburban bedroom communities on
the urban periphery. This was made more
catastrophic for the remaining urban residents by inner-city redlining, other forms
of housing discrimination within the city, and racially restrictive covenants
in many of the new suburban communities.
These combined factors, some “push” and some “pull” (and perhaps some
more closely analogical to barriers of various kinds), worked together to
create the sprawling postwar American city, differentiated along racial/ethnic
and class lines, sharply wrenched into an emerging infrastructural hegemony by
a new layer of automobile edge-development and wide swaths of urban renewal
condemnations.
Perhaps the “type location” of this
geographical-historical pattern was Chicagoland, the extended city first
referred to by Robert McCormick publisher of the Chicago Tribune in the 1920’s,
that today includes over 10 million residents and stretches to far-flung
communities such as DeKalb and Rockford, nearly 100 miles from the city
proper. It was in McCormick’s rabidly pro-business/anti-labor/ anti-communist Tribune,
two days after Hiroshima, that the first of many “kill-zone” maps of Chicago were
published. This was to be followed over
the next decade by numerous similar maps published in this and other newspapers;
maps that reflected the exponentially expanding power of newer and more
terrible weapons and delivery systems, calibrated through studies performed
around nuclear tests in the south Pacific and the American southwest. These maps were a cartographic subtext to the
terrifying urban rhetoric of early cold war civil defense, and graphical
evidence of “science writing” a growing genre of postwar journalism (Lewenstein
1995). The context of daily life in the
U.S. at this time included the massively organized cold war version of WWII
neighborhood air raid wardens - the Ground Observer Corps (GOC), a test of the
95 city sirens every Tuesday morning at 10 (still being occasionally performed
in 2011), and simulated annual nuclear attacks with massive and regimented
public participation and morbid post-attack estimates that in a real attack
500,000 or more would die instantly. In some ways these images define the
standoff of the early cold war – the U.S. targets the U.S.S.R. and the Soviets
target the U.S. – placing Chicago, with its north-central U.S. location
squarely on the frontline of polar first-strike scenarios. The culture of mass terror – it really can be
called nothing else – created in this period, lasted for decades, easing after
1989, only to be echoed after 9-11. It
must be said, however, that somehow in the standard explanations of the
transformation of the city during this period that detailed discussion of this
facet of urban historical geography is curiously missing.
This paper stitches together a narrative around the
intersections of public knowledge, science and weapons development, geopolitics
and war strategy, urban change, and media representations of these things
during the decade after the end of the war.
My goal here is not to replace the accepted dogma but to enrich it with
another, seemingly ignored, mechanism that helped drive this process – a
rational fear of nuclear apocalypse, paying particular attention to how
mass-consumed, newspaper cartography informed this terror.
Reading
Maps, Socially
Reading codified texts of any
kind is a complicated, human activity involving physical and intellectual
labor. One of the principal tasks for scholars
is to try to understand the possible ways that others have read texts, drawn
meaning from them and then acted on that knowledge. One must assume that this
reading wherever it occurs is contingent and individualized, producing meanings
for the readers that fall outside either standard prescriptions or assumptions the
makers of these texts may have had.
Geographers are often and perhaps most centrally concerned with a
particular and special type of text, the map, and many have written on the
various ontologies involved in their reading (Dodge, Kitchen, and Perkins
editors 2011; MacEachren 2004; Wood 1992, 2010 ).
A very
useful method for understanding the ways that texts of all kinds are read can
be found in the writings of Roland Barthes (1957, pp. 109-159; 1982, pp. 21-40). His approach, grounded in semiotic theory,
has been taken up across many disciplines – in geography perhaps most notably
by Wood (1992; 2010). Barthes’
understanding of language is best thought of as a two level structure that
produces two complete semiological systems,
the first producing formal language characterized by relatively direct
denotative meanings. The second layer takes the product of the
first (the sign, the mapped city – filled with denotative meaning, as
prescribed in the symbology and rules of cartography) and recycles it as the
starting point, the signifier of a second system. This layer, built on the relations of the
first, seen as a form of speech termed myth,
richer in context than the first and more personalized and written into the
biography of the reader – in short contextualized with connotative meanings not available in the first, literal
reading. When one considers in the
abstract their own process of encountering and engaging with a text, either
briefly or in depth; reading, digesting, and incorporating the decoded symbols
into one’s own life-world, the view presented by Barthes is a strong method for
understanding how we read.
Using this system as a way of
thinking about maps one can explore various approaches to understanding possible
readings of their social contents and contexts.
To suggest other mechanisms that drove the urban-suburban migration in
postwar America than those mentioned above there must be strong evidence to
support the claim. What will be seen is that
maps and diagrams, considered as socially active texts, grounded in calibrated
studies of nuclear tests and representations made about these by public narrators,
and presented through various media were important mechanisms motivating some
urban residents to flee the city. The
argument that these representations were particularly important is made
stronger when considered in the context of the ideologically-charged discourse
around nuclear weapons, their use, and urban civil defense at this time – most properly
labeled as mass hysteria. The effects of
these representations found their way into many political, social, and economic
processes and drove public policy at all levels of government, private decision
making, economic calculation by powerful actors, and strategic decisions that
were global in scope and scale.
By
sorting and considering the denotative (obvious, direct, intended) meanings of
maps first, a literal context is established for moving to the second level, now
contextualized by the reader and open to social and psychological
interpretation. In effect the map is
emptied of its obvious meanings and then refilled with the contextualized
meanings that can be associated with it when situated in a particular historical/geographical
setting. This allows us to use place, a somewhat magical analytical
object, as a site for revealing the traces of processes acting through time and
space that shape the actions of individuals to produce human-scale material
effects which linger in the landscape. Since
these representations/maps are (more or less) grounded in a scientific
discourse; knowledge produced in weapons labs, distant test sites, and
government agencies and then communicated in a language that is meant to be
understandable by “the public” then reflections regarding their authority and
credibility are necessary and appropriate.
Consider the map of Chicago
from August 8, 1945 (figure 2). The first
reading presents a signified (the city) and signifier (the map). It is at this level that the direct meaning
of the map (a graphic representation of the city) produces denotative
understanding of a city in time/space - a relatively unproblematic proposal. Obvious
and ordinary features (the lakeshore, city boundary, a familiar grid of
streets, and comforting annotation) orient the local – this is my city or a
city that I know. At its heart a black
mark, black as charred flesh, in a strangely Cartesian square, illustrates for
all to see the area consumed by the Hiroshima weapon were it transported to
Chicago. This first reading produces a language
object (a sign, the city mapped with thematic content) that then becomes
available to the second system (of meaning).
“The signifier of myth presents itself in an ambiguous way: it is at the
same time meaning, and form, full on one side, and empty on the other.”
(Barthes 1957, p. 117)
The second level of reading can
be rich in connotative meanings and all of the possible associations that a
mapped city or a city mapped can be filled with (e.g.
social/political/cultural/psychological).
These might include all of the possible thematic cartographies one could
recall or even imagine, in this instance, cartographies of the postwar city,
its rich demographies, sharp historically inscribed boundaries of difference in
class, race, language, gender, etc., and even imagined landscapes of terror,
horror, and apocalypse. The reader also
is invited to associate this map with other maps of the city they may have seen
or even with mental maps traced from their own personal biographies (Where is
my neighborhood? Would we survive? Are
we safe?). They may question the
location of the attack (Why there? Why not in the industrial zone of the south
side?). The sign of the first system
becomes the signifier of a multivalent signified – one that can be associated
with a set of possible connotations shaped by the imagination, intellect, and
ideological frame of the map reader. In
this sense then the social-spatial identity of the reader is everything and membership
in one class, race, gender or ethnicity and most importantly location in the
mosaic of city neighborhoods would predispose particular interpretations of the
map.
Just five years later, again in
McCormick’s Tribune, another map
appeared, also speculative, this time considering the possible effects of a
weapon not yet built – the hydrogen bomb (figure 3). Again the map presents
several familiar features in a larger regional context (lakeshore, city and
surrounding county boundaries, several surrounding railroad suburbs) to orient
the reader, then covers an immense area (over 300 times the size of the
Hiroshima square) with a badly smeared screen inscribing a circular area that would be incinerated were the imagined
weapon to be exploded here – this result confirmed by the blunt and horrific title. The footprint of the weapon has been moved
southwest of the 1945 “attack” to proximity of present-day Countryside, a leafy
first-tier, postwar suburb – apparently to maximize
the area of devastation on land while insuring that the city boundaries of
Chicago were completely within the devastated area, and spreading imagined devastation
into the farms of DuPage and Will Counties.
The caption hammers home the serious threat that this map illustrates in
the chance there was any doubt to the way all would die should an
attack occur.. A literal reading of this
map opens many possible paths to connotative interpretations by the reader
venturing past the obvious meanings. For
residents within Chicago proper the options are very limited – where can I find
safety? If/when the attack comes I want
my family outside the “Death Area”. Can
we afford to move from the city to the suburbs?
How far out do we need to be?
What if the attack comes during the day?
What if it comes at night? Those
residents in residential suburbs suddenly found themselves at risk of
incineration or perhaps worse lingering death due to radiation sickness. Is our community safe? Is it sensible to consider a home bomb
shelter? Perhaps we should move further
out. Will we be overwhelmed by fleeing
city residents? Can we trust the
military/ scientists to protect us?
The sign produced at this
level completes the second reading – what Barthes termed “myth”. And it is as
myth that these newspaper maps should be considered - not as artifacts per se
but as mass-consumed notions of an imagined city, a city brimming with
immigrants, a precious city made so by technoscience and our belief and
reliance on it, an industrial city - the arsenal of democracy, squarely in the
cross-hairs, represented and exposed, suddenly made vulnerable, compromised,
threatened, terrorized, and doomed.
Uncertainty,
Risk, and Public Science
Much of what urban residents
were experiencing at this time revolved around the categories of uncertainty,
risk, and public science. The sudden and
horrible reality of the early Cold War, following on the depredations of WWII,
left one with a sick feeling of endless conflict between superpowers. The technoscience that had dominated
strategic planning in the war culminating with the shocking denouement of the
Japanese bombings and the gradual realization of the hazards associated with
the new weapons (for example the postwar revelations related to fallout and
radiation sickness) enhanced feelings of uncertainty in the U.S. This was magnified by the initiation of an
aggressive and widely publicized nuclear testing program by the U.S. in the
South Pacific. International tension at
mid-century created a treacherous terrain for U.S. policy-makers working within
the framework of the newly established Truman Doctrine. The Soviet Union, a recent ally, was publicly
demonized in the U.S. (beginning before the end of the Pacific war)
establishing the terms of conflict that were to define geopolitics for the next
half century, and news of the Soviet bomb in 1949 fulfilled the expectations of
many in the U.S.
administration. This followed closely
the humiliation of Soviet politicians with the failure of the Berlin Blockade (1948-9),
the partition of Germany, and the Czechoslovak coup d'état of 1948. The outbreak of hostilities in Korea (June
1950) following the establishment of the People’s Republic of China in 1949 heightened
distrust of the USSR among the American public, and provided ample fodder for
demagoguery in the American media while the Hiss and Rosenburg show trials
fanned fears of “fifth-columnists” and Soviet espionage. Americans generally were in a dyspeptic mood
and a heightened state of uncertainty regarding the future. (Walker 1993)
Following the war many have
argued somewhat convincingly that there was a marked and permanent shift in the
ways science and society speak to one another, in effect arguing for a more
reflexive relation between the two (Nowotny et al 2001). Society, long viewed by historians as the
context in which science takes place, began to “speak back” more forcefully and
effectively to science (as a social activity) and the policy-makers who more
and more governed the production of scientific knowledge in the period
following the Second World War. Evidence
of this shift can be seen in the ways that public information regarding the
effects of possible nuclear attack on U.S. cities presented in the mass media shifted
from relatively coarse representations of “death zones” or “zones of
devastation” to graduated systems for assessing relative risk in proximity to a
bomb detonation, a risk assessment that would be more useful to city residents. The calibrations of methodologies for
producing accurate body counts in bombed cities was taken to a morbid extreme
in the “isomorbic” contours of casualty levels used in “Civil Defense Urban
Analysis”, a Civil Defense training manual published in 1953 intended for local
jurisdiction CD use (Federal Civil Defense Administration 1953). Early
mappings of fission bombs’ effects on the city in 1945 (see above figure 2) were
refined by 1947 into a zonal map with varying levels of destruction: total
destruction, partial destruction, and radiation (figure 4). This map was derived from comments made by
Major General Henry Aurand at a luncheon meeting of the Union League club in
Chicago (Chicago Daily Tribune 1947).
Aurand, a key supporter of the creation of the NSF and government
support for basic science during the postwar years argued that civilian science
should be seen as a dispassionate ally of the military – a position supported
by the influential Chicago club. A
similar shift can be seen in the way that information regarding the hydrogen
bomb and its expected effects (first communicated widely in 1950, see above)
was moved into the realm of risk management with similar (but much more devastating)
zonal mappings (figure 5). This quick
shift from uncertainty to graduated and calculable risk communicated by the “mechanically
objective” discourse of cartography provided more useful information regarding
relative safety, degrees of risk, and possible strategies for those of means who
were able to relocate to what were perceived as safer suburban locales.
Urban
Civil Defense I: “Our Cities Must Fight”
At the outset of the Cold War
the initiation of civil defense (CD) activities and practices were made more
easily acceptable after the recent experience of urban residents during WWII. These included blackouts and civilian plane
spotters mobilized in large numbers, anti-sabotage campaigns, and many other
activities meant to boost morale organized through national, state, and local
organizations. These activities were all
supported and publicized through print, broadcast, and motion picture media
channels keeping the sense of urgency front and center for all. In Chicago CD activities were directed from
several overlapping authorities. The
city government had an office of civil defense in city hall spending a
considerable budget on these activities by the early 1950’s. The Cook County civil defense office was in
the county highway department and they actively coordinated with the Chicago
organization and surrounding counties on questions such as possible evacuation
and shelter of city residents, rail traffic control and routing, siren and
warning tests, and large-scale simulated attack drills. The state CD office operated out of the
capitol in Springfield. Over all these
were the evolving Federal agencies responsible for CD.
Drills began around 1950 and
after starting as “paper” exercises they quickly became quite elaborate with
substantial acting out of particular roles meant to fit specified scenarios (Davis
2007). These simulations were normally
coordinated with or mandated by state and federal officials and different parts
of each exercise were intended to simulate the conditions expected during a
nuclear attack – presumed to be delivered by strategic bombers, normally in the
middle of the day. Eventually hundreds
of thousands participated in some way – school children, firefighters, police,
government officials, military personnel, industries, etc. By 1954 these exercises were organized on a
national basis (termed “Operation Alert”) and normally were conducted as simultaneous
attacks on numerous U.S. cities widely publicized in the print and broadcast
media. The stated intent was to test
public response to calibrated emergencies (typically presented as daylight
surprise attacks – the memory of Pearl Harbor lingered) and to look for
problems that might occur in the event of real attacks. In many cities
(although never Chicago) massive actual evacuations were attempted,
particularly beginning in 1953.
During the Truman administration official
federal policy recommended against evacuation of civilians from large American
cities in the event of nuclear attack. This
policy was publicized through such productions as the propaganda film “Our
Cities Must Fight” (figure 6; Federal Civil Defense Administration 1951) where
fleeing atomic attack was equated with treason – those fleeing the city were
labeled the “take to the hills gang”. Urban residents were urged to stay and
continue to operate and rebuild industries needed in the war effort. This was released at about the same time as a
short partially-animated film starring a folksy animated turtle aimed at the
children of office and factory workers recommending they “Duck and Cover” when
the flash of a nuclear blast occurs close by (Federal Civil Defense
Administration 1951).
This Civil Defense dictum to
stay and fight contradicted the postwar policy of urban industrial dispersion
championed at an early stage in the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists (Marshak,
Teller, and Klein 1946). The National
Security Resources Board (NSRB) was created by the National Security Act of
1947 that created the National Security Council, a brainchild of visionary WWII
planner Ferdinand Eberstadt (Cuff 1985).
This group created a policy on industrial dispersion, approved by Truman
in 1947. NSRB immediately recognized and
began recommending the dispersal of industry (and “naturally” with that
population) to make cities less inviting targets. Seattle was a case study used
as a template for how a city could disperse its vulnerable industry (of particular
concern was Boeing, a major defense contractor, and its coastal location). In 1951 an NSRB dispersion policy statement
included these components:
- Designed
to disperse new industry, not move established industry
- No
region to be built up at the expense of another
- Industrial
dispersion to be confined to local marketing areas
- Encouragement
of dispersion to take place at all levels of government
Although the NSRB has been
seen by many largely as a failure, it was supplanted by the Office of Defense
Mobilization (ODM) in 1950 which in the context of the Korean and Cold Wars
became extremely powerful in reshaping defense procurement, incorporating the
dispersal policies almost without change, policies which have had profound
spatial consequences and which remain largely in place (Cuff 1985). At the same time there was no effective way
to enforce the 2nd and 3rd components of the dispersal
policy above, and the long term result shifted defense industries from the
West, Midwest and Northeast to the South and Southeast (Markusen et al 1991)
perhaps more secure and certainly less friendly climes for organized labor. This resulted in opposition of the policies
in the late 1950’s by John Dingell, (Democrat-MI), a Detroit congressman (New
York Times 1958).
The cluster of physicists
based at the University of Chicago who were intimately involved with the
Manhattan Project were early supporters of industrial dispersion as a defense
policy aimed at making American cities less vulnerable to nuclear attack. The first articulation of this position in
the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, co-authored by Edward Teller and two
others in 1946, proposed nothing less than the reconfiguration of the American
urban system:
“The ideal situation would be
to have our population dispersed evenly over the 3 million square miles of our inhabitable area. In this case, each of our 40 million or so
dwelling units (including some shops) would be placed in a separate square of 3 million square miles / 40
million = 1/13 square
mile approximately; there would be a distance of about ¼ mile between any two
neighbors. Such complete dispersal is,
however, not feasible.” (Marshak, Teller
and Klein 1946; p. 13)
The authors went on to
recommend linear cities (harder to eliminate with bombs producing circular
“death zones”) along ribbons spaced approximately 25 miles apart, with 15,000
persons spaced on each 25 mile stretch between intersections. The entire program (to be completed by 1955)
was estimated to cost around $130 billion (more than $1.4 trillion, 2010
dollars), hard to imagine when federal outlays were just over $55 billion in
1946. This fascination with and advocacy of urban dispersal
among the nuclear science community went on for nearly ten years with the
publication of numerous articles contributed by notable urban planners and
political figures in the Bulletin of the
Atomic Scientists through at least 1954.
Urban
Civil Defense II: “Run, Dig, or Die”
In 1953 the change in presidential
administrations ushered in a new federal philosophy in civil defense planning
as regards large American cities. Under
Truman the general directive was for civilians to stay put and “hunker down”,
however this changed with the inauguration of Eisenhower. One of his first appointments was Val Peterson,
former governor of Nebraska, to head the newly created Federal Civil Defense
Administration (FCDA). Peterson brought
a new philosophy to his job – for him the only feasible defense against nuclear
weapons was “to not be there when the bomb goes off”. Peterson was famously quoted in 1954 (in a
letter to the mayor of San Francisco) that:
“In the face of the increased
destructive capacity of hydrogen bombs, planned evacuation of our cities
becomes an urgent necessity… If I may oversimplify the problem the choices that
confront us are [1] get out, [2] dig, [3] or die.” The Tribune simplified the message with its’
page 30 headline, “Lists Choices in H-Bomb Raid: Run, Dig, or Die.” (Hearst
1954)
Noting that shelters were
untested and a mass construction program to protect the American people was not
economically viable he went on to claim “no American by choice will
deliberately stay in his city to die.” His
reliance on planned, practiced evacuations depended on the promise of two to
six hour warnings to be given by an expedited “plane detection system” – what
was to become the Distant Early Warning (DEW) line, completed in spring 1957 (Farish
2006). Earlier (in September 1953)
Peterson stated that Russia “…has enough atomic bombs to drop one or more on every
major American city at the same time… we could have 8 or 9 million to 20 to 22
million casualties in the United States from one Russian attack… We must
decrease our urban vulnerability. When
we tear down slums in the middle of a city, we don’t want to put up big
apartment buildings in the same place.
These buildings should go up on the outskirts of the city.” (Chicago
Daily Tribune 1953c) Peterson made these
comments to the annual convention of the National Association of Insurance
Agents in Chicago.
Chicago’s experience
with and planning for evacuation drills at this point (1953-4) was rather thin
and over the next few years a lively public dialogue emerged between proponents
and advocates on various sides of the question including those supporting planned
and mandatory evacuation, urban dispersion, publicly-funded shelter
construction, express highway construction, mass transit expansion, and several
other related schemes. There was also a
fair amount of public resignation that little could be done to move the 3-5
million people in most direct danger from their homes and workplaces as quickly
as necessary and that some combination of early warning and air defense would
be the wisest investment. An incipient
anti-war movement also became more vocal at this time, particularly as civil
defense drills became more frequent and regimented through the mid-1950’s.
The first large-scale, Chicago
simulation (in summer 1950) was a paper exercise and had no actual evacuation
drills. Hundreds of city, county, and
state employees participated in what was a rather forced role-playing exercise,
with a theoretical attack “problem” presented by the NSRB. Three Hiroshima-size fission bombs were
dropped on the city (two air-burst and one ground-burst) in mid-September and government
agencies and volunteer organizations developed responses to the attacks based
on estimates of the
damages around each “ground zero”. A five-day conference was held in late
September 1950 (attended by over 1000 CD officials from various jurisdictions
around the country) to present the results of the exercise and critique the
response of the parties involved. The
results of the exercise were published in a massive volume with detailed
descriptions of the responses and critiques – the principal response was to
treat each bombing as a separate problem – for example this map shows water
mains to be cut-off in the central bomb area (a ground-burst). From this and
other mapped responses it is clear that the plan was to “duck and cover” and provide
aid to casualties within the city, in this exercise estimated at over 130,000
dead and a similar number with non-fatal injuries. (Chicago Civil Defense Corps
1951)
These
simulations continued through the early and mid-1950’s in the city, and as they
were conducted debates around evacuation, dispersion, and sheltering roiled. Local officials and city residents often
found themselves on the receiving end of confusing and contradictory
instructions from different parts of the federeral and state bureacracies, in
particular during 1953-4 as the shift in policy attendant on the changing
administrations occurred. For example,
in early 1953 a report from Brookhaven National Laboratory sponsored by the
NSRB challenged gloomy assertions by military planners that there was little
hope to avoid devastating losses from a Soviet atomic assault on the nation’s
cities. After suggesting changes to our
preparation for an expected attack such as industrial dispersion, shelter
construction, and improved defense capabilities, the report seemingly
contradicts itself. “The enemy’s
stockpile of atomic bombs and other weapons, together with the means to deliver
them on targets, will reach a total at some not too distant date which will
permit the lauching of what could be a knockout, saturation attack on the
United States.” (Chicago Daily Tribune 1953a)
In late
April, 1953 the Chicago Civil Defense Corps held its first full-scale atomic
simulation with over 1 million participants, including 700,000 school children
who filed to their in-school shelter areas.
Emergency personnel were dispersed to areas close-in to the attack site
at the corner of Belmont and Kedzie Avenues – the headquarters was at Belmont
and Cicero 2 miles west of ground zero where dozens of police and fire vehicles
gathered during the test so they could move quickly into the devastated area. (Chicago Daily Tribune 1953b) Less than 4 months later the Soviets tested
their first thermonuclear device resulting in immediate calls for urban
decentralization and relocation of industrial production centers and government offices outside the expected death zones
of hydrogen bombs. By March 1954 the Chicago
Civil Defense Corps released an “evacuation plan” for the city prepared at the
direction of the FCDA, advising residents to take cover during the attack, then
evacuate by rail and road in an orderly fashion. This recommendation was accompanied by a map
that showed collection and staging centers far outside the city boundaries
(figure 11). City residents were left to
wonder whether and how they would survive the impending attack, whether to
evacuate, or leave the city altogether.
Bombs and Highways
As the hysteria around the
nuclear peril built through the mid 1950’s, long-standing initiatives to
accelerate ongoing and planned construction of “superhighways” laid over the existing
grid of city streets and arterials gained momentum, spurred by many advocates
in the public and private sectors. The
Chicago Tribune had long supported the construction of an expressway system for
the city, beginning in the 1920’s.
Transportation planning in the metropolitan area had evolved as a mix of
city, county, and state initiatives, somewhat coordinated with minimal input
from the federal government in the pre- and postwar period. In 1940 the Cook County Highway Department
published a framework for the expressway system that would become the hallmark
of postwar highway construction in the city, laying out the several routes
radiating from the Loop and ring roads to bypass the congested core. The plan included estimates of traffic flow
when the system was complete, as well as rather sketchy recommendations for the
cooperative financing of the system working with city, state, and federal
authorities. The construction of parts
of this system was initiated through various authorities in the immediate
postwar years after wartime restrictions on road building were lifted, and it
was not long before suggestions were made by city officials of the defense
benefits and the necessity of express highways to remobilization in the Chicago
industrial complex.
Transportation planning in
Chicago during the 20th century was a politically-charged process
characterized by controversy, corruption, and media boosterism. McCormick’s Tribune was the chief proponent
of express highways in the city and they regularly gave voice to industry and
government officials with open or vested interests. In 1927 Walter Chrysler, hardly an objective
observer, wrote “In cities we shall see further condemnation of property to
make way for arterial highways. We shall
see the construction of more elevated motorways such as Chicago has recently
completed,” referring to early projects in the Loop and on the northwest side
(Chrysler, W. 1927). Master plans for a
Chicago expressway system were created in a negotiated process between county
and city politicians with each producing competing “superhighway” plans. These were augmented by minor contributions
from state and federal highway authorities.
The city plan was first vetted in 1937 (Chicago Daily Tribune 1937) with
a county plan floated in 1940 (Chicago Daily Tribune 1940). Substantive moves toward the creation of
express highways began prior to WWII with the first stages of construction of
Lakeshore Drive and a number of West Side express highways, followed by the
prewar planning of a new Skokie Road (what was to become the Edens
Expressway). The Skokie project was
almost immediately caught up in controversy involving land purchases from a
sitting Cook County board member, Robert Bobrytzke a “professional Polish
politician” and Milwaukee Avenue banker who was considered a tool of Mayor
Edward Kelly’s political machine in Chicago (Chicago Daily Tribune 1941). This project was put on hold until after WWII
and was finally completed in 1951.
All of this occurred as the
public transit system in Chicago was cathartically socialized during the 1940’s
with the final public takeover of several bankrupt private surface lines in
1947 (Chicago Daily Tribune 1947a) and the formation of the public Chicago
Transit Authority (CTA). This new agency
became a huge patronage tool of the Chicago Democratic machine in postwar
years, greatly expanding the public sector workforce. The near immediate action of the new CTA was
to begin decommissioning the old “rattler” streetcars and replace them with
modern buses operating in the normal automobile rights of way while investing
in new equipment for the city’s aging “L” trains. By 1954 more than 3200 electric streetcars
had been retired and replaced by buses on all but four of the city’s lines –
once the largest in the world (Chicago Daily Tribune 1954). The last electric city streetcar clanged its
bell in June 1958. The reconfiguration
of the public transit system left urban commuters uncertain about its
reliability and convenience in the postwar auto age.
Plans for Chicago-area
expressways were given a strong push through the mid 1950’s by Eisenhower’s
plans to create a system of defense interstate highways. In Chicago and Illinois this came as a
largely welcome move – a 1954 study showed that even though the state had 933
miles of “so-called” freeways (under a 1943 state law) only 22 miles of these
roads were classed as “expressways” with limited access. The Chicago media regularly wrung their hands
over the construction of “superhighways” in New York and the slow action of
area jurisdictions to keep up. Defense
highways were not a new idea – there had been several initiatives for defense
highway construction after WWI and in the late 1930’s and 1940’s these were
taken up anew. Immediately after Pearl
Harbor the War Department took control of all highway construction projects and
directed them towards the war effort.
After the war, with the explosion of car ownership and increased traffic,
there was widespread public support for express highways, strongly supported by
the automobile and construction industries.
The Eisenhower plan did not come without political controversy –
metropolitan area politicians (and urban residents) felt that resources
directed to create “highways to nowhere” in rural areas would be better
directed to urban areas where there was much greater traffic pressure and need
for relief (Chicago Daily Tribune 1955).
More importantly large cities were recognized as prime targets for
Soviet nuclear weapons and the prime method for evacuation was logically seen
as the private automobile. In 1955 the
FCDA pamphlet “4 Wheels to Survival – Your Car and Civil Defense” recommended
keeping your gas tank more than half full at all times – and a carton with
7-days food supply handy to toss in the trunk (FCDA 1955).
In Chicago the sense of
emergency was almost palpable, spawning schemes for one-way mass transit as the
sirens wailed. In 1950 the National
Defense Transportation Association called for deepening the Illinois and
Michigan Canal from 9 to 12 feet in order to accommodate larger barges to be
used in the mass evacuation of residents in a bomb attack – the industry
claimed 500,000 evacuees could be carried in a single trip using available
vessels on rivers, canals, and Lake Michigan.
Later a prominent architect proposed the construction of “an 11.5 mile
double deck bridge and causeway over Lake Michigan from Oak St. to Evanston for
automobile and mono-rail traffic” with an additional span to Indiana. The lower deck was to be used as a bomb
shelter in the event of nuclear attack.
Not insignificantly the Cook County Civil Defense director Joseph Downey
was housed in the Highway Department.
The Department’s monthly newsletter normally contained a column penned
by Downey. Writing in June 1953 he said:
“Despite recent emanations
from Moscow of what may be interpreted as feelers for world peace, the American
people must continue to regard Civil Defense as vitally important. Nowhere is the need of vigilance greater than
in Cook County, heart of the ‘arsenal of democracy.’ To relax now would be to risk the lives of
nearly five million persons and our great volume of production as well.”
(Downey 1953)
Such comments on international
affairs were common in these writings, obviously intended for local
consumption.
As some of these plans (and
actual construction on express highways) went forward between the end of the
war and the mid 1950’s, so did developments in nuclear weapons and their
delivery systems, early warning systems and other defensive technologies like
the Nike missiles bases ringing the city, and the public perceptions of these
things. This dynamic changed calculations
made by civil defense planners for any planned or anticipated evacuations and local
civilian agency responses to an expected nuclear attack. This also affected decisions that urban
residents were making regarding preferred locations that would remove them a
sufficient distance from likely target zones for these weapons – and in the
1950’s Chicagoans and residents of other large U.S. metropolitan areas reacted
in a massively rational way to these perceptions. The spatial problem presented by fission-type
weapons for urban residents, considered in light of what was to rapidly follow
in the early 1950’s, seems relatively benign.
The “kill-zone” radii of these weapons, established through postwar
studies of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and early tests in the Pacific and the
American southwest and represented in the 1950 “Chicago Alerts” exercise, ranged
from 1.41 miles for the ground burst to 1.875 miles for the air burst (Chicago Civil
Defense Corps 1951, p. 12). These would
create a circular “death zone” of 6.25 to 11 square miles – requiring 10 – 20
bombs to blanket the city. Assuming the
kill-zone represented in media maps of a single fission bomb attack (cribbed
from the “Chicago Alerts” maps by the Chicago Tribune) a resident might
consider a low risk (5-10% likelihood) of instant incineration. As thermonuclear weapons were developed and
tested, first by the U.S. and then the Soviets (late 1952 and August 1953
respectively) these weapons and their much larger kill-zones (over 1,250 square
miles in the 1950 pre-test map, later maps calibrated this to zones of varying
damage) made it very difficult to imagine survival in a hydrogen-bombed city.
Delivery systems and
early-warning defensive measures also affected decision making. Until the late 1950’s the most likely attacks
were seen as long-range Soviet bombers approaching from the north or northwest
either using a polar or oceanic route. Early
in the decade before the advent of the three-tier radar system across Canada,
the Department of Defense could only ensure a 15-30 minute warning of an
impending attack through early radar systems augmented by vigilant GOC
volunteers. This short time combined
with lower yield fission weapons made the early emphasis on “duck and cover”
tactics in the Truman administration more logical. The Nike defense missile system (first
deployed in the Chicago region in 1954) was intended to stop squadrons of
high-flying bombers. By the mid 50’s the
construction of the DEW line promised increased warning times to 2-6 hours. This raised the possibility of at least
partial urban evacuation favored by the Eisenhower administration and
championed by Peterson, and spawned a flurry of evacuation planning, drills,
and politicized critique. By the mid 1950’s
speculation on Soviet missile capabilities and submarine missile systems (matching
U.S. programs in these areas) added to hysteria regarding security and
vulnerability, and projected warning times were again dropped to minutes rather
than hours since there were no surveillance systems in place to warn against
the launch of Soviet missiles. The
Ballistic Missile Early Warning System,
completed in the late 1950’s, promised only 25-30 minute warning of north polar
Soviet ICBM’s (after Sputnik I in October 1957 speculation turned to more certainty
of this capability).
June
15, 1955
There are moments where
historical/geographical processes working over longer temporal and spatial
extents are crystallized. One of these
occurred in Chicago around the middle of June, 1955. June 15th stands out particularly
as an important day as this was the day of the first simulation of a hydrogen
bomb attack on the city – a pleasant, sunny day with a light wind off the lake,
yet the culmination of several years of ugly hysteria, fear and loathing, and
real and imagined warfare. This was the largest test yet performed in
the series of major CD exercises in the city, part of a national exercise (Operation
Alert 1955) on this day where 58 cities were subjected to a hypothetical nuclear
sneak attack. The hypothetical bomb (a
5-megaton hydrogen bomb likely dropped from a Soviet Tupolev 4 – the aircraft
silhouettes shown in figure 13) detonated at ground level at the intersection
of Jackson and Ashland at 2.20 pm following warning sirens at 11:07am and
1:50pm. The newly elected mayor Richard
J. Daley, key CD personnel, and members of the city council were evacuated to the
western suburb of LaGrange (a second-tier suburb about 15 miles southwest of
the Loop) via a special air-conditioned train to establish a temporary city
hall for a few hours. Other CD sections
were sent to Elgin and Aurora while the main body of the staff huddled in their
headquarters under the Soldier Field stands.
There was no massive evauation of city residents, although 500,000 elementary
school children were sent home for lunch – high schoolers conducted in-school “duck-and-cover”
shelter exercises. Across the nation
relatively small-scale evacuation tests were planned in 12 cities (New York
Times 1955). The Cook County coroner,
one of the few republicans in city or county government, was not informed of
the exercise and charged that it was “nothing more than a gimmick for
democratic officials to get their names in the paper.” Even without his help the post-mortem
analysis of the paper exercise was as precise as it was chilling: as a direct
result of the detonation the city would suffer “513,225 dead and 422,270
injured in the first 24 hours.” The
suburbs would lose 10,000 dead and another
30,000 injured. (Thompson 1955) These
numbers were based on several unlikely assumptions, including a 3 hour warning,
successful evacuation of 1.6 million residents, and “adequate underground
shelter” for those unable to leave.
What
makes this moment doubly interesting is what was happening downstate in Springfield
on June 15. The Illinois House of
Representatives, having broken a filibuster by two Democrats on June 14, busily
got about pushing legislation through on voice votes (Kanady 1955). One of the bills passed permitted the issuance
of $245 million in bonds without referendum (nearly $2 billion in 2010 dollars)
that would allow the accelerated completion (in 3 rather than 20 to 30 years)
of the four main spokes in the Chicago expressway system, planned since the
1930’s and under construction since immediately after the war. These arterial freeways would connect with
the completed Edens and Kingery Expressways and ultimately into the planned toll
roads system that
would spread across the prairies of DuPage, Lake, McHenry, Kane, and Will
Counties. While intended to open the
clogged arteries of the city relieving the auto congestion of the postwar boom,
this system was to also valorize farmlands within commuting distance of the
Loop without easy access to mass transit.
Successful city real estate developers like Arthur Rubloff were poised
to cash in on the postwar suburban land boom, benefiting from the effective subsidization
of taxpayer-funded express highway construction in the postwar era.
Summary and Conclusion
The combined action of these forces in postwar America
contributed to a perfect storm of suburban residential development in virtually
every large city. In the Chicago
metropolis the results were stunning – explosive population growth in dozens of
existing and new bedroom communities created in the context of massive fordist
consumerism, accelerated construction of publically subsidized private auto
transportation infrastructures, and hysterical fear-mongering on a grand
scale. This growth was largely made up
of former Chicago residents, people who left the city for a complex web of
reasons. We can never know how many were
driven to relocate in fear of nuclear holocaust but the evidence is strong that
a large proportion of new suburban residents in the decades after WWII felt
safer in the far periphery of the city – on the edge of what they perceived as
a likely target of Soviet sneak attack.
Suburbs that were located in proximity to new or planned expressways
were most affected, and growth in unincorporated areas of Cook and surrounding
counties was also accelerated.
The role of the media, in particular print media and the
graphical representations presented in this milieu, in fostering the conditions
which led to the reconfiguration of U.S. cities in the postwar world was
complex. There certainly were many
factors that contributed to this process, in particular that described as
“white flight”, a reflection of a deeply-rooted social pathology that has been
a feature of human history and geography for millenia. Early cold war anxiety regarding the
possibility of nuclear annihilation and the public policies, posturing, and
imagined civil defense scenarios (particularly as presented in maps of
hypothetical kill-zones) were another strong motivator for urban residents to
relocate to peripheral suburbs during the period following 1945. In Chicago (and other large U.S. cities)
print mass-media, in particular newspapers, served as the principal channel for
these representations of possible holocaust in the decade following WWII, heightening
the worst fears of urban residents, motivating local, state, and federal
officials to action (including massive investments in transportation and
communication infrastructures), and molding the social geography of the postwar
American city.
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