Several of the
replies to my question “Why Phoenixville?” referenced the town’s “community
spirit;” some use the phrase itself, others point to manifestations of it. A few have actually attempted to identify its
roots, and I am grateful for these, because roots are what I am all about. The problem comes with trying to come to
grips with the concept itself. It can be
seen, and it can be expressed, but just exactly what is it?
Community
spirit is a very local example of an “ideology,” a belief system that
people hold about themselves and others.
The role of ideology in historical causation is extraordinarily
difficult to grapple with, because it cannot be quantified, and therefore
compared to those things that can. I am,
however, very sympathetic to the attempt, because I believe that how people
perceive things is ultimately more important than the facts of the things
themselves. People view reality through
filters, and they make decisions on those filtered perceptions, which make
history. Still, history is a profession
based on facts, so perceptions tend to get short shrift.
Except by
me. You know that already if you have
been following my blog, but if not, be advised that I have an intense interest
that the facts be correct, but I don’t give them primary place in my
analysis. So I am glad of the
opportunity to discuss community spirit, one of the most important, yet most
elusive, forms of ideology.
So what is
community spirit? You can see it, you
can hear it, you know it exists, you know it’s important, but how do you
measure it in ways that you can compare to other contributions to revival and
assess its relative value? That’s a
rhetorical question, by the way. I don’t
expect an answer, because there can’t be one.
That’s the problem with employing “ideology” in anything more than the
most general way in historical discourse.
But don’t we all know in our hearts how important “community spirit” is?
I would
venture that Phoenixville has more “community spirit” than any other town on
the lower Schuylkill. You can count
festivals and the like and pretend to measure it, but it’s really something you
just feel. Besides, when we ask the
question “why?” we are not talking about the Phoenixville of today; its revival
has achieved critical mass and feeds from itself. It attracts the type of people who embody
“community spirit.” To point out that
Phoenixville has more “community spirit” today than say, Norristown (to pick
the most obvious example) does not say anything of any value to either town. Their conditions differ too much to make such
a comparison. Phoenixville was never
Norristown, but it did suffer its share of dark days. THAT is the period we must look at to even
begin to answer the “why” question.
Or maybe
earlier? Can a town posses “DNA,” as one
respondent put it? And if so, as a
result of what? I’m open to other
suggestions on this point, but I would nominate Phoenixville’s history as a
“company town.” This is primarily what
distinguishes it from the other towns along the lower Schuylkill River. All had a manufacturing base, the core of
which was metals and metal fabrication.
Conshohocken and Pottstown also made iron and then steel, and both can point to early
settlers leading the way. Pottstown’s
steel industry was eventually consolidated under an outsider, Bethlehem Steel. Conshohocken retained a close connection to
Alan Wood Steel, even though it moved outside the Borough itself (Alan Wood had
been a Conshohocken resident), but Phoenixville’s connection to the Phoenix
Iron (later Steel) Company is on an entirely different level.
To say that
the Phoenix Company had a massive physical imprint on its namesake town is to
understate the obvious. It’s a mixed
legacy, to be sure. The Company
eventually owned almost all of the land around lower French creek, and what
wasn’t suitable for production had “workers housing” built on it, which made it
the Borough’s biggest landlord, in addition to being the biggest of pretty much
everything else. Much of Bridge Street
was its creation, from office buildings to hotels. Its leaders built their mansions on the best
ground.
Bridge Street
and the mansions were lasting gifts, but the company’s initial legacy upon its
death was a substantial “brownfield” around lower French Creek. Nobody cared much about pollution in “the
good old days.” A brownfield can be
cleansed, and the remaining structures (let’s not forget the Foundry and the
“Sample Bridge”) repurposed, so that mixed legacy tends toward the
positive. If no one is counting money
spent ameliorating pollution, even more so.
Then there is
that question of an ideological legacy, and here is where things get tricky. In American history, the phrase “company
town,” has several different examples, and few of them were good for their
workers. The claim is that the Phoenix
Company was different. People speak of
its “inclusivity,” and see the Company’s legacy as a positive one in ideological terms.
There is less question about another legacy, one that the Borough's history of unionism has bequeathed. Unionism is an ideology, and one that
promotes a spirit of community among its workers. When we are talking legacies, however, this creates a problem. In American industrial
history, company and union were antagonistic, and never more so than in a “company
town.” In theory, two such opposing
forces should have bred two equally separate—and contending—ideologies. It is difficult to see how they could have
blended to jointly underpin a spirit that embraces the whole community.
Yet there is
evidence; in Phoenixville the steelworkers union was more agreeable than in
many towns, although whether that was a positive thing or not is
debatable. The last “heat” of steel at the plant took
place in 1976, but the final closing did not happen until 1987. By that date, the president of the
steelworkers union declared his men (those few who had held onto their jobs amid repeated layoffs) to be “the lowest paid steelworkers union
in the country.” They had demonstrated a
greater willingness to sacrifice, accepting both wage and benefit
reductions. All to no avail, of course.
Are we talking
separate legacies here? Perhaps the
focus of Company ideology is on its proud place in U.S. industrial history,
rather than its actual local actions. Or
is the Company’s legacy largely physical, while that of the workers is the
ideological taproot of the community and its “spirit”? Could these two usually opposed factors have somehow
combined in their legacy to Phoenixville?
Perhaps enough time has passed that the beautiful physical legacies have
become so integral to the image—and the reality—of Phoenixville as to replace
the memory of a profit-driven company that held a community in the palm of its
hand. What is the population’s general
opinion of the town’s industrial history?
Speaking of which, is there a difference on the subject between the attitudes
of the longer-term residents versus those who have recently moved there?
I ask a lot of
questions, but even more about Phoenixville, for the causes of success are
harder to evaluate than those of failure. The
Borough displays abundant community spirit, but is that a recent thing, since
revival took hold? How important was this
spirit, compared to the great physical remains, or the input of money,
or of other potential causes, to the revival that has taken place?
I seek some answers, from which I hope that Phoenixville benefits, but my hope is to see them applied to other towns on the Schuylkill, which could certainly use them. That's why I seek the deeper answers, the historical ones. Phoenixville is unique today, but that is a very recent development; the Borough began to revive before it became "trendy." So I continue to ask why, and I continue to need your help in finding some answers.