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*A Quiet Crisis*


 The capital of need

*Cleveland's rise to top of census bureau's poverty rankings is the 
culmination of 50 years of decline and abandonment *
Sunday, August 29, 2004

Cleveland is now America's poorest big city. So says the U.S. Census Bu 
reau.

Based on its most recent surveys, the bureau estimates that nearly one 
in three Clevelanders lives below the poverty line. For children, the 
numbers are even worse: Almost every second youngster in this city is 
poor. Those shocking numbers have pushed Cleveland slightly ahead of 
Newark, N.J., in both categories.

In human terms, those numbers mean that too many of our neighbors go 
hungry, cannot maintain their homes, cannot honestly pay their bills. It 
means that many Clevelanders work at jobs that will not support a family 
at more than subsistence level. It means that too many children here 
grow up without the examples of even modest success that might help 
encourage them to stay in school, to abstain from drugs and premarital 
sex, to imagine a better life.

Cleveland's sad rankings should surprise no one. The bureau's 2001 
American Community Survey identified Cleveland as the second-poorest 
city in the land. A year later, it ranked third. Layer on a lingering 
recession - a depression in many city neighborhoods - with its attendant 
loss of manufacturing jobs, and Cleveland's ascent to No. 1 was probably 
inevitable.

Nor is this prevalence of poverty a recent phenomenon. The city has been 
in decline for half a century, bleeding population and wealth first to 
suburban Cuyahoga County and more recently to adjacent counties. 
Middle-class flight, fueled by racial tensions and an understandable 
desire to escape the problems of city life, has been a defining 
characteristic of Cleveland for as long as most can remember. A glaring 
lack of educational achievement means that many residents here are 
unable to compete in a demanding global economy.

Anyone who has bothered to walk around this city already knows it has 
been growing ever older and poorer. And yet it is a little shocking to 
wake up one morning and see it made official across the top of Page One:

"Cleveland No. 1 in big-city poverty."

No one wants that distinction. And yet, this sad reality ought to inject 
a sense of urgency into every discussion about this city and this 
region's economic future.

It ought to force foundations and educational institutions, churches and 
corporations, government officials and private-sector leaders to open 
their eyes and ask what they can do to change the status quo. It ought 
to encourage every one of us, haves and have-nots alike, to consider 
what individual responsibility we can take to raise the boats in which 
all of us - from Old Brooklyn to Twinsburg, from Kinsman to Avon Lake, 
from Glenville to Mentor - sail together.

Make no mistake: The tide of poverty is rising throughout the country. 
The census bureau's new report estimates that 1.3 million Americans fell 
into poverty in 2003, nudging the poverty rate from 12.1 percent to 12.5 
percent. Recent job growth may have capped that trend, but the 
persistence of poverty for one American in eight ought to be an issue in 
this fall's presidential campaign.

Both President George W. Bush and Sen. John Kerry talk endlessly about 
their values. A dedication to alleviating poverty amid America's 
enormous wealth ought to be among them.

The federal government could help Cleveland - and the other urban 
centers where poverty flourishes - reverse the effects of decades of 
abandonment by offering incentives to clean up old industrial, 
commercial and residential properties. Cleveland alone has hundreds of 
these brownfields. They lie unused and ugly, even as potential employers 
leave the city or bypass it because they cannot find the right space to 
do business.

This cycle of abandonment drives development ever farther from the core 
city. Farm land and wetlands are devoured; small communities lose their 
character. The state of Ohio often underwrites this sprawl with highway 
and infrastructure decisions rather than encouraging redevelopment of 
existing communities.

Meanwhile, the state's inability to create a new system of funding 
public education forces Cleveland and other urban centers to impose 
ever-higher taxes on a populace that is increasingly poor. Urban schools 
suffer, parents and children lose hope, employers cannot find the human 
capital they need and poverty grows more concentrated.

It is worth noting this new census report's statistics for the eight 
counties of Greater Cleveland. Poverty in the city went from 24.3 
percent in 2000 to 31.3 percent last year. Poverty for the entire region 
rose only slightly, from 11.8 percent to 12.5 percent. Median household 
income in the region actually grew during this recession.

Some who live far from city will draw comfort from those numbers. They 
may even congratulate themselves on being wise enough to live where they 
do. But that is a fool's complacency.

One study after another has shown that regions with weak central cities 
do not enjoy the prosperity that those with vibrant cores do. 
Cleveland's woes hurt everyone in Northeast Ohio. That's why it is in 
everyone's interest here to aid the city's revival.

Of course the city's leaders - notably the mayor and council president - 
have to understand that, too. They have to be willing to work as 
partners with suburban officials and to finally understand the obvious: 
that the tighter they cling to their piece of the pie, the smaller it 
will become.

We have had lots of summits of late. County commissioners have gotten 
together to talk about economic development. So have foundation leaders. 
The business community is trying a more regional approach. They now need 
to come together and commit to a plan of action.

No one wants to live in the poorest city in America. But without 
concerted effort, the distinction will be hard for Cleveland to lose.


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