Jul 29, 2021
The history of relocating New Orleans City Hall, and how it used to be a prized neighbor
The history of relocating New Orleans City Hall, and how it used to be a prized neighbor By Richard Campanella, Contributing Writer 7/29/2021 For the third time in as many administrations, citizen-led resistance has led to the withdrawal of a mayoral proposal to relocate New Orleans City Hall. The most recent episode entailed advocates fighting Mayor LaToya Cantrell’s plan to put City Hall in the Municipal Auditorium, by Congo Square and Armstrong Park in the Faubourg Treme. Eight years earlier, Mayor Mitch Landrieu proposed moving the seat of local government to another empty public building, the former Charity Hospital on Tulane Avenue. Four years before that, in 2009, Mayor Ray Nagin proposed putting City Hall in the former Chevron Building at 935 Gravier Street. he pros and cons of all three moves were widely discussed, and their fates are a matter of public record. What has gone less noticed is the broader shift of citizens’ perception of City Hall as a neighbor. New Orleanians once fought to get iconic government buildings like City Hall located in their neighborhood. Now, the most passionate voices fight to get them out. In analyzing cities and their dynamics, geographers and urban sociologists speak of "amenities" and "nuisances." n amenity is something that enhances the livability, desirability or economic value of a neighborhood, such as parks, trees, beautiful buildings, recreational assets or scenic attractions. A nuisance is the opposite — something perceived to diminish value, such as a highway, railroad, industries, transmission towers or landfills. There’s a fair amount of subjectivity between the two. One person’s amenity might be another’s nuisance, such as when a new park is viewed as a catalyst for gentrification, or a recreational facility is feared by those who think it might become noisy and congested. Likewise, a nuisance to one resident might be viewed as a vital economic benefit to another, such as a highway exit, metro stop or industrial plant. For centuries, New Orleanians wanted to have the seat of government in their backyard, viewing it as an amenity and a source of pride. The tipping point in the city’s tenuous early years, for example, came with the 1721 decision to relocate the Louisiana colony’s capital and company headquarters from Biloxi to New Orleans. Plenty of challenges lay ahead, but the move generated optimism and momentum. “The year 1721 had been generally favourable to New Orleans,” wrote French historian Marc de Villiers du Terrage, and with its new status, the struggling outpost became “a small town, and the number of its irreconcilable enemies began to decrease.” By the mid-1800s, that town had become a major American city. French-speaking Creoles battled English-speaking Americans for political power and cultural sway, and one way to win both was to get local government in their backyard. For Creoles, that meant the French Quarter, where City Hall had long been located. For Anglophones, it meant the “American sector,” today’s Central Business District. Political geography became so disputatious that, in 1836, the city split into three semi-autonomous municipalities. Each section took pride in its own Municipality Hall, which kept power and prestige close to home. When the city reunified in 1852, Creoles were disheartened to see City Hall get relocated out of the aging Cabildo at Jackson Square to a majestic new structure, today’s Gallier Hall, on Lafayette Square. The relocation symbolized the ongoing loss of Creole power in the face of the city’s gradual Americanization and upriver expansion. State Capitol as amenity The view of public buildings as amenities persisted later in the 1800s. When two real estate speculators wanted to develop an open tract in Uptown in 1871, they knew building amenities would help their cause. According to researcher Hilary Somerville Irvin, they “lobbied the state legislature to acquire the site for a public park on the river side of St. Charles Avenue, and for a new state capitol on the lake side.” The seat of state government had been in flux since the Civil War. Building a stately new capitol in Uptown would raise property values, and state legislators were promised parcels along the avenue to encourage their support. The scheme soon became a scandal, and the capitol eventually returned to Baton Rouge. But in doing so, it left behind open space for two future amenities — the campuses of Tulane and Loyola universities. As for that other amenity, it became Audubon Park, which together with the campuses has helped make Audubon/University among the city’s wealthiest neighborhoods. Federal buildings as amenities A rivalry of the early 1900s further illustrates how neighbors once vied for prominent government buildings. In 1899, city boosters petitioned to get a federal post office built in New Orleans. Around the same time, state officials called for a new courthouse to replace the century-old Cabildo on Jackson Square, formerly City Hall and now deemed inadequate. What ensued was a spirited competition between the 2nd District, meaning the French Quarter, and the 1st District, now the Central Business District. Advocates for both areas wanted these amenities on their side of Canal Street, and marshaled arguments that they felt were fair and reasoned. One 1st District advocate thought the post office ought to be next to all the newspaper offices on Camp Street. Another noted that “the growth of the city is upstream, and not towards the cemeteries,” and held that “all the big public buildings (should be) grouped around a park,” namely “Lafayette Square, having the City Hall there already.” Still another warned against any attempt to turn a nuisance into an amenity, saying, “We do not want a Post-Office in the rear of the city, surrounded by houses of prostitution … There will be no Mardi-Gras business with Uncle Sam’s money.” Merchants in the 2nd District, meanwhile, argued their lower property values would ease acquisition costs, while reinvestment would reverse downtown decline. Why not site both buildings adjacently, they proposed, perhaps at 800-900 Customhouse (now Iberville), or 200-300 Bourbon? One prominent Canal Street clothier placed a front-page ad in The Picayune, preemptively declaring “Hurrah for Downtown. Downtown is Taking the Lead. Downtown Will Have the New Postoffice. Downtown Will Have the New Court House.” What resulted was a compromise — one amenity per neighborhood. The state in 1903 selected the 2nd District for its courthouse. Demolitions of old Creole town houses ensued, and in 1910, the Louisiana State Supreme Court moved into its gigantic new Beaux Arts building at 400 Royal Street, where it convenes today. As for the post office, federal officials selected a parcel in the 1st District, on Lafayette Square directly across from City Hall. They purchased the land in 1904, had it cleared by 1907, and in 1915 completed an Italian Renaissance behemoth for the post office and other federal offices. It now houses the U.S. 5th Circuit Court of Appeals. Current City Hall What we don’t necessarily hear in the historical record is the voices of those folks who might have suffered the deprivations of such relocations — the ones who got expropriated, who viewed the targeted “nuisance” as their beloved home, or who endured more costs than benefits from the supposed amenity. That was probably the case for residents of the mostly African American 3rd Ward neighborhood who got displaced for the next relocation of City Hall, in the 1950s. That was an era when “slum clearance” and “urban renewal” were nationwide trends, and when planners aimed to centralize government functions into sprawling civic and cultural complexes. New Orleans’ new City Hall opened in 1957, followed by a new library, offices and courts, all in gleaming Modernist designs. The opening of the Civic Center presaged a building boom on Loyola Avenue, and a decline of the Lafayette Square area which had just lost City Hall. The dynamic seemed to evidence the long-held sense that City Hall was an amenity. New perspectives What changed to make a project like City Hall no longer the neighborhood prize it once was? In part, it’s due to new sensitivities on the impacts of such projects of the past, giving voice to the disenfranchised who were expropriated, displaced or otherwise harmed by society’s power brokers. Relatedly, it comes from a new appreciation for places once shrugged off, but now venerated, whereas City Hall, once venerated, is now often shrugged off. One prominent critic of the move to the Municipal Auditorium went so far to say that City Hall would “desecrate” Louis Armstrong Park and Congo Square. To others, the resistance is symptomatic of a broader American disdain of government, or of a polemical strain in civic discourse amplified by social media. But to hear the resistors themselves tell it, they have rationality, facts and fairness on their side in keeping City Hall out of their neighborhood — which is just how proponents felt in times past, when they argued to do the exact opposite. Richard Campanella, a geographer with the Tulane School of Architecture, is the author of “The West Bank of Greater New Orleans,” “Cityscapes of New Orleans,” “Bourbon Street — A History,” and other books. He may be reached at rcampane@tulane.edu, http://richcampanella.com, or @nolacampanella on Twitter. Photo: Municipal Hall, designed in 1845 by James Gallier originally for the First Municipality, became City Hall in 1853, now Gallier Hall. Library of Congress
The history of relocating New Orleans City Hall, and how it used to be a prized neighbor
The history of relocating New Orleans City Hall, and how it used to be a prized neighbor By Richard Campanella, Contributing Writer 7/29/2021 For the third time in as many administrations, citizen-led resistance has led to the withdrawal of a mayoral proposal to relocate New Orleans City Hall. The most recent episode entailed advocates fighting Mayor LaToya Cantrell’s plan to put City Hall in the Municipal Auditorium, by Congo Square and Armstrong Park in the Faubourg Treme. Eight years earlier, Mayor Mitch Landrieu proposed moving the seat of local government to another empty public building, the former Charity Hospital on Tulane Avenue. Four years before that, in 2009, Mayor Ray Nagin proposed putting City Hall in the former Chevron Building at 935 Gravier Street. he pros and cons of all three moves were widely discussed, and their fates are a matter of public record. What has gone less noticed is the broader shift of citizens’ perception of City Hall as a neighbor. New Orleanians once fought to get iconic government buildings like City Hall located in their neighborhood. Now, the most passionate voices fight to get them out. In analyzing cities and their dynamics, geographers and urban sociologists speak of "amenities" and "nuisances." n amenity is something that enhances the livability, desirability or economic value of a neighborhood, such as parks, trees, beautiful buildings, recreational assets or scenic attractions. A nuisance is the opposite — something perceived to diminish value, such as a highway, railroad, industries, transmission towers or landfills. There’s a fair amount of subjectivity between the two. One person’s amenity might be another’s nuisance, such as when a new park is viewed as a catalyst for gentrification, or a recreational facility is feared by those who think it might become noisy and congested. Likewise, a nuisance to one resident might be viewed as a vital economic benefit to another, such as a highway exit, metro stop or industrial plant. For centuries, New Orleanians wanted to have the seat of government in their backyard, viewing it as an amenity and a source of pride. The tipping point in the city’s tenuous early years, for example, came with the 1721 decision to relocate the Louisiana colony’s capital and company headquarters from Biloxi to New Orleans. Plenty of challenges lay ahead, but the move generated optimism and momentum. “The year 1721 had been generally favourable to New Orleans,” wrote French historian Marc de Villiers du Terrage, and with its new status, the struggling outpost became “a small town, and the number of its irreconcilable enemies began to decrease.” By the mid-1800s, that town had become a major American city. French-speaking Creoles battled English-speaking Americans for political power and cultural sway, and one way to win both was to get local government in their backyard. For Creoles, that meant the French Quarter, where City Hall had long been located. For Anglophones, it meant the “American sector,” today’s Central Business District. Political geography became so disputatious that, in 1836, the city split into three semi-autonomous municipalities. Each section took pride in its own Municipality Hall, which kept power and prestige close to home. When the city reunified in 1852, Creoles were disheartened to see City Hall get relocated out of the aging Cabildo at Jackson Square to a majestic new structure, today’s Gallier Hall, on Lafayette Square. The relocation symbolized the ongoing loss of Creole power in the face of the city’s gradual Americanization and upriver expansion. State Capitol as amenity The view of public buildings as amenities persisted later in the 1800s. When two real estate speculators wanted to develop an open tract in Uptown in 1871, they knew building amenities would help their cause. According to researcher Hilary Somerville Irvin, they “lobbied the state legislature to acquire the site for a public park on the river side of St. Charles Avenue, and for a new state capitol on the lake side.” The seat of state government had been in flux since the Civil War. Building a stately new capitol in Uptown would raise property values, and state legislators were promised parcels along the avenue to encourage their support. The scheme soon became a scandal, and the capitol eventually returned to Baton Rouge. But in doing so, it left behind open space for two future amenities — the campuses of Tulane and Loyola universities. As for that other amenity, it became Audubon Park, which together with the campuses has helped make Audubon/University among the city’s wealthiest neighborhoods. Federal buildings as amenities A rivalry of the early 1900s further illustrates how neighbors once vied for prominent government buildings. In 1899, city boosters petitioned to get a federal post office built in New Orleans. Around the same time, state officials called for a new courthouse to replace the century-old Cabildo on Jackson Square, formerly City Hall and now deemed inadequate. What ensued was a spirited competition between the 2nd District, meaning the French Quarter, and the 1st District, now the Central Business District. Advocates for both areas wanted these amenities on their side of Canal Street, and marshaled arguments that they felt were fair and reasoned. One 1st District advocate thought the post office ought to be next to all the newspaper offices on Camp Street. Another noted that “the growth of the city is upstream, and not towards the cemeteries,” and held that “all the big public buildings (should be) grouped around a park,” namely “Lafayette Square, having the City Hall there already.” Still another warned against any attempt to turn a nuisance into an amenity, saying, “We do not want a Post-Office in the rear of the city, surrounded by houses of prostitution … There will be no Mardi-Gras business with Uncle Sam’s money.” Merchants in the 2nd District, meanwhile, argued their lower property values would ease acquisition costs, while reinvestment would reverse downtown decline. Why not site both buildings adjacently, they proposed, perhaps at 800-900 Customhouse (now Iberville), or 200-300 Bourbon? One prominent Canal Street clothier placed a front-page ad in The Picayune, preemptively declaring “Hurrah for Downtown. Downtown is Taking the Lead. Downtown Will Have the New Postoffice. Downtown Will Have the New Court House.” What resulted was a compromise — one amenity per neighborhood. The state in 1903 selected the 2nd District for its courthouse. Demolitions of old Creole town houses ensued, and in 1910, the Louisiana State Supreme Court moved into its gigantic new Beaux Arts building at 400 Royal Street, where it convenes today. As for the post office, federal officials selected a parcel in the 1st District, on Lafayette Square directly across from City Hall. They purchased the land in 1904, had it cleared by 1907, and in 1915 completed an Italian Renaissance behemoth for the post office and other federal offices. It now houses the U.S. 5th Circuit Court of Appeals. Current City Hall What we don’t necessarily hear in the historical record is the voices of those folks who might have suffered the deprivations of such relocations — the ones who got expropriated, who viewed the targeted “nuisance” as their beloved home, or who endured more costs than benefits from the supposed amenity. That was probably the case for residents of the mostly African American 3rd Ward neighborhood who got displaced for the next relocation of City Hall, in the 1950s. That was an era when “slum clearance” and “urban renewal” were nationwide trends, and when planners aimed to centralize government functions into sprawling civic and cultural complexes. New Orleans’ new City Hall opened in 1957, followed by a new library, offices and courts, all in gleaming Modernist designs. The opening of the Civic Center presaged a building boom on Loyola Avenue, and a decline of the Lafayette Square area which had just lost City Hall. The dynamic seemed to evidence the long-held sense that City Hall was an amenity. New perspectives What changed to make a project like City Hall no longer the neighborhood prize it once was? In part, it’s due to new sensitivities on the impacts of such projects of the past, giving voice to the disenfranchised who were expropriated, displaced or otherwise harmed by society’s power brokers. Relatedly, it comes from a new appreciation for places once shrugged off, but now venerated, whereas City Hall, once venerated, is now often shrugged off. One prominent critic of the move to the Municipal Auditorium went so far to say that City Hall would “desecrate” Louis Armstrong Park and Congo Square. To others, the resistance is symptomatic of a broader American disdain of government, or of a polemical strain in civic discourse amplified by social media. But to hear the resistors themselves tell it, they have rationality, facts and fairness on their side in keeping City Hall out of their neighborhood — which is just how proponents felt in times past, when they argued to do the exact opposite. Richard Campanella, a geographer with the Tulane School of Architecture, is the author of “The West Bank of Greater New Orleans,” “Cityscapes of New Orleans,” “Bourbon Street — A History,” and other books. He may be reached at rcampane@tulane.edu, http://richcampanella.com, or @nolacampanella on Twitter. Photo: Municipal Hall, designed in 1845 by James Gallier originally for the First Municipality, became City Hall in 1853, now Gallier Hall. Library of Congress
Jul 29, 2021
Posted Date
Apr 05, 2022
Historical Record Date
Jul 29, 2021
Source Name
Nola.com
City Hall, 545 Saint Charles St New Orleans, Orleans Parish, LA
It is a splendid and impressive building in the Greek Revival style which with the growth of the city has become completely inadequate to house the City administration. The Mayor`s parleur once beautifully furnished, still has the crystal chandelier and despite its use as an office maintains its dignity. The rest of the building has been cut up with partitions for office use.
City Hall, 545 Saint Charles St New Orleans, Orleans Parish, LA
It is a splendid and impressive building in the Greek Revival style which with the growth of the city has become completely inadequate to house the City administration. The Mayor`s parleur once beautifully furnished, still has the crystal chandelier and despite its use as an office maintains its dignity. The rest of the building has been cut up with partitions for office use.
Posted Date
Sep 27, 2021
Source Name
Library of Congress
