Last weekend, the book I took to the Dowd YMCA to take my mind off the mindlessness of stationary bicycling was Mindy Thompson Fullilove's "Root Shock: How Tearing Up City Neighborhoods Hurts America, and What We Can Do About It.
Fullilove's theme is that urban renewal displaced not just homes and businesses but ripped apart essential community networks, the loss of which created havoc for people, neighborhoods and cities.
As I pedaled, I could see out the windows to the Interstate 277 trench and the bland, dead area beyond, where Charlotte's Second Ward once held the lively, black neighborhood called Brooklyn, erased by urban "renewal" in the 1960s and 1970s.
Only shards remain: the old McCrory Y gym survives behind the United Way building, as does the old Second Ward High School gym. A sliver of storefronts survives on South Brevard. All else was leveled. The trauma urban "renewal" inflicted on Charlotte remains virtually unexamined here outside the recollections of the older black generation. A few efforts have been made to document where houses and buildings used to be and to collect and showcase old photos, but to my knowledge no one has studied the emotional and economic toll: the resentment, anger and grief people experienced from that disruption, and how its ripples affect the city to this day.
And as Fullilove explains, wounds from urban "renewal" damaged more than just the neighborhoods she studied in Roanoke, Va., Pittsburgh and near Newark, N.J. I came across this wonderful passage. It comes after a description of Orange, N.J., and a church singing group that survived urban "renewal" and lives on, although the neighborhood surrounding the church has fallen into decline.
Fullilove's theme is that urban renewal displaced not just homes and businesses but ripped apart essential community networks, the loss of which created havoc for people, neighborhoods and cities.
As I pedaled, I could see out the windows to the Interstate 277 trench and the bland, dead area beyond, where Charlotte's Second Ward once held the lively, black neighborhood called Brooklyn, erased by urban "renewal" in the 1960s and 1970s.
Only shards remain: the old McCrory Y gym survives behind the United Way building, as does the old Second Ward High School gym. A sliver of storefronts survives on South Brevard. All else was leveled. The trauma urban "renewal" inflicted on Charlotte remains virtually unexamined here outside the recollections of the older black generation. A few efforts have been made to document where houses and buildings used to be and to collect and showcase old photos, but to my knowledge no one has studied the emotional and economic toll: the resentment, anger and grief people experienced from that disruption, and how its ripples affect the city to this day.
And as Fullilove explains, wounds from urban "renewal" damaged more than just the neighborhoods she studied in Roanoke, Va., Pittsburgh and near Newark, N.J. I came across this wonderful passage. It comes after a description of Orange, N.J., and a church singing group that survived urban "renewal" and lives on, although the neighborhood surrounding the church has fallen into decline.

