When I read about LaGuardia’s final term as mayor, it struck me how he was so absorbed in getting involved in so many agencies and departments outside of NYC municipal government. I cannot quite pin down whether this is because of his irrational ego and desire for a platform, or because he really was just that enthusiastic and patriotic. For example, the generalship debacle was particularly bizarre. LaGuardia, who was not really a military expert, and who had held NYC’s interests at the forefront all throughout the Great Depression, suddenly wanted to abandon his post, and travel abroad in his out of shape old age. Perhaps he was simply so used to getting his way in matters of New Deal funding for NYC that he saw his whims as instantly to be fulfilled. Either way, his winding down of his political career and Roosevelt’s obvious failure to last past his third term bear witness to the prudence of term limits.

To me, the most prominent feature of this reading was the immense amount of legislation that FDR managed to push through Congress in such a short period of time. It is no wonder that the New Deal is often termed the Alphabet Soup of FDR — so many bills with three letter names were churned out in so few years. The national crisis clearly called for extreme relief measures, but the volume of legislation that Congress merely accepted from the administration is shocking. Which calls to attention even more the abrupt skepticism Congress seemed to catch after 1936, when even Democrats began to be disillusioned by the New Deal results. It is also questionable why FDR continued to push public job creation when two additional economic crises occurred under his administration following the Great Depression.

Criticisms of the WPA also make it seem that FDR was using the US as an economic lab. Conservatives, particularly southerners, cited the urban centralization that the WPA caused (since workers would leave rural areas to get city jobs for higher pay). It seemed strange to me that this effect was totally the opposite of what FDR’s “relocation plan” of sending urban families to subsistence farms would’ve had. The WPA did, however, on an individual scale, make voters happy about what their president was doing for them.

In light of these two points, it seems that the biggest legacy the New Deal left the US’s consciousness is one of a feeling of job entitlement and deficit spending.

What stood out to me most in the first third of this book was the prevalence of bipartisan cooperation in Washington during LaGuardia’s tenure as a congressman. Of course there was not a total lack of conflict, but the ability of a Republican to collaborate with Democrats, and to even have a second association as a “Progressive” (which could be applied to members of both parties), was quite shocking to my twenty-first century political paradigm.

Perhaps the enabling reason for this flexibility of party lines was the emphasis on economic policy rather than divisive social issues, as is the case today. I also found that the mentality of lawmakers was largely focused on improving the national economic state rather than winning one over on the other party. Even while Democrats (and LaGuardia) remained opposed to Hoover’s recovery plans, they shared the same goals though they differed in views on the proper means.

I also noticed that FDR, in his support for public works and government relief programs, only intended for them to be used in times of national crisis. It struck me that he never outlined what constituted a “crisis” worthy of extensive government involvement. Whether he have considered the recession of 2008 as necessitating government intervention is questionable, as unemployment was never as high as during the Great Depression. It seems that the precedent set by the New Deal dictates that extensive government involvement in the economy is the norm. However, as the New Deal aimed at directly aiding the unemployed and common workers, the recent bailouts have not had much of an impact at the lowest levels but have only saved the well-off. This embraced the spirit of “trickle-down economics” which FDR and LaGuardia viewed with skepticism.

Anzia Yezierska portrays turn-of-the-century immigrant life with a colorful, fast-paced narrative. The story is not lacking in authenticity except as regards the character of the father, Reb Smolinsky. His repeated religious manipulations of his daughters really disgusted me but also seemed exaggerated and not quite believable. However, when I compared this story to Fiddler on the Roof, a film which bears some common themes involving the conflict between tradition and modernization, it became clear that the entire story was full of purposeful exaggeration, in the style of a folk story.

Reb Smolinsky, more than an actual person, seems to me to be a personification of what Yezierska sees as the tyrannical old Jewish male tradition, and is purposefully cast as an idealist with his head in the clouds. He pairs his three older daughters off in a fashion directly opposed to the matchmaking in Fiddler on the Roof. In a sense, Reb represents all the Yezierska herself viewed herself as resisting, and his characterization provided an easy straw man to knock down in her condemnation of certain traditions.

I enjoyed the more realistic approach Yezierska to to the conclusion, however, where she does not insert a formulaic break-with-tradition ending of complete separations but shows us how Sara, the main character, accepts her position of straddling two worlds — on old, one new.

Reminiscent of revolutionary cafes in the Old World, the forums of Greenwich Village in the early twentieth century seemed an incredible break with the prudish Victorian Era. The open discourse and daring lifestyles of early 1900s figures shock me when I consider how they are still viewed as socially unacceptable. What disappointed me, however, is the relative ease with which the bohemian era petered out and its main players faded into obscurity. However, the effects of bohemian ideology, from free love to free speech, remain in society today.

When we consider the forces that wound down the bohemian era of Greenwich Village, it is apparent that there is a negative reflection cast on our society. I found it disheartening that political dissent could be suppressed to such an extent as to deport citizens and turn newsletters out of business. Even worse, however, was the fact that commercialization and popularization of the bohemian scene degraded its original goals of an avant-garde to a mere scene of “culture” that now puts a high price on access to its venues. This seems to mirror American culture overall. The founders of the US began with ideals, as did Emma Goldman and the other bohemians, and both tried revolutionary new forms to put them into practice. But in the end, the freedoms prized by both sets were taken away by money and the priorities of a few privileged, monied people. Greenwich Village is now a place of expensive food and clothing, a disappointing shell of the real life it formerly housed.

One thing that remains the same since the early 1900s, however, is the presence as NYC as the mecca of artists and creatives. It is heartening to see how this city draws the best and brightest globally. But, unfortunately, it seems that the opportunities offered previously have largely closed off — where immigrants could rise to social leaders is now where well-backed people land opportunity through value of connection and money.