Abstract
Founded in 1907, the New York Bureau of Municipal Research was central to the emergence of American public administration. But in 1914, its Board sided with Frederick Cleveland against William Allen, deciding to guarantee Rockefeller funding by eliminating Allen’s publicity and controversy-generating orientation. Allen quit, then founded the Institute for Public Service. He maintained it for nearly 50 years, producing a steady output of reform suggestions. This article recounts Allen’s largely unknown post-1914 career. Increasingly an outsider, his later career presents a glimpse of an alternate history of public administration, distinctly different from the path the field actually chose.
Keywords
The New York Bureau of Municipal Research (NYBMR) was founded in 1907 and codirected by the trio of William Allen, Henry Bruère, and Frederick Cleveland (“The ABCs”). Tevelow (2000) credited the concept of the new institution to Allen, as his “brainchild” (p. 38). The story of the Bureau has been well covered in histories of American public administration and political development (Dahlberg, 1966; Finegold, 1995; Kahn, 1997; McDonald, 2010; Schachter, 1989, 2000, 2011; Stillman, 1998; Stivers, 2000, 2006; Williams, 2002, 2003). One of the factors contributing to its seminal status was its unique blend of Allen’s social activism and Cleveland’s accounting orientation. Allen felt that reforming government required mobilizing public opinion through noisy agitation and publicity, whereas Cleveland saw government as a machine that needed to be finer tuned by experts and specialists. For as long as it lasted, theirs was a combustible synergy of in-house and out-of-house strategies, good cop and bad cop, accomplishing efficiency through eye-glazing and incremental improvements versus using blunt instruments of democracy by publicly calling out corruption and then channeling the resulting civic wrath. One of the trademarks of Allen’s role in the Bureau was a mass-mail publication called Efficient Citizenship. These were intended for relatively lay audiences, not public administration professionals. The purpose of the mailings was to educate the citizenry with seemingly objective information, expose maladministration in government, and then trigger civic activism to press for the reforms indicated by that issue. Allen’s formula for successful agitation and communication included small postcard size (so a recipient would not have to open an envelope to see the contents), brightly colored paper to attract attention, and arresting headlines on the same side as the address and postage (Schachter, 1997).
In some respects, the romantic view of the NYBMR in public administration’s history is because, up to the 1914 crisis, it truly was all things to all (academic) people, with efforts to increase democracy and civic participation side-by-side with government by experts and fact-based research. This has given it a near mythological status in public administration’s history, of a brief era of near-perfection in the pursuit of good government.
But these two strains of Progressive reform were too antithetical to last long. This led to a titanic struggle, well covered in the literature, in 1914 between Allen and Cleveland over the modus operandi of the bureau. Allen, the idealist, was strongly in favor of continuing the Bureau’s high-profile, publicity-oriented, and democratic approach by involving the citizenry in reform (Recchiuti, 2007; Rubin, 1994; Schachter, 1997). Cleveland, more the technocrat, saw the reform movement as a way to place a professionalized government of experts beyond the reach of mass democracy (Lee, 2011). (By now, Bruère had left.) The deciding factor was money. John D. Rockefeller, Sr., offered the Bureau a commitment of a stable and generous cash flow, but—due to his earlier infamy as a predator and monopolist in the oil business—was only interested in doing good when it was noncontroversial, neutral politically, and not confrontational to the privileged beneficiaries of the status quo (Roberts, 1994). Efficient Citizenship’s format, tone, and contents embodied just about everything that Rockefeller sought to avoid any link to. The newsletter was practically the embodiment of controversy and agitprop. This was the last thing that a millionaire seeking to change his image would want to be identified with. His conditions “effectively stripped the Bureau of its watchdog role” (Finegold, 1995, p. 61). Essentially, he was asking the Bureau to recant Allen’s doctrine and engage only in dull (at least to the news media) apolitical reform. Cleveland, with the majority of the board, took the money and ran. Allen was out (Kahn, 1997). At age 40, what now?
In retrospect, Cleveland’s win was a major intellectual and philosophical fork in the road. The reorganized NYBMR continued to influence the governmental research movement as the heir of its pre-1914 preeminence. It was the prototype of the right way to go. As a result, public administration as a profession and as an academic discipline emerged largely as an embodiment of these seminal choices: technocracy over idealism, insider status over agitation, expertise over vox populi, and administrative autonomy over politics. In the larger sense, public administration chose to side with the economic status quo of the privileged, moneyed, and corporate-based power of the economic elite. Major social change and redistribution of economic power was not of interest. Public administration was a tool of the power elite, not its adversary.
As the loser, Allen’s post-NYBMR 50-year career roughly presents a glimpse of an alternate history of American public administration. His life’s work embodied a “road not travelled” by the discipline, presenting in a relatively tangible outline what the field could have been. Given that history is written by winners, Allen’s later career has understandably been largely ignored, mischaracterized, or given short shrift. For example, Allen continues to be depicted as the heavy in the fight over his controversial survey of the University of Wisconsin (Cook, 2007). In another instance, Recchiuti (2007) stated that Allen’s Institute for Public Service (IPS) was “short-lived” (p. 123). In fact, it existed until 1962. What if Allen had won in the showdown over NYBMR? Given the bureau’s influence on the nascent profession of public administration, what impact would Allen’s leadership have had on the agenda, scope, and shape of public administration?
Scope and Method
A few historians have given Allen his due, including Schachter (1997) for his failed efforts for more extensive government reporting to the citizenry; Rubin (1994) for his losing effort at legislative-centered, rather than executive-centered, budget reform (Meyers & Rubin, 2011); and Marcus and Hall for Allen’s—also losing—effort at increasing accountability, reporting, and transparency by nonprofit foundations (Hall, 1992; Marcus, 1992). The common theme they identified was Allen’s desire to expand democracy as the raison d’être of the bureau movement. Without duplicating their scholarship, this inquiry seeks to fill in the large blanks in the historical record about Allen’s post-NYBMR career. Generally, he was a lonely voice in the wilderness of American public administration, sketching the outlines of a very different kind of field from the one that gelled and remains largely unchanged in the present.
In particular, this inquiry benefited from a hitherto unused archival source, the records of Allen’s IPS which he donated to the Wisconsin Historical Society (WHS, 1964). As such, this inquiry would represent Category IV of the Wrege, Greenwood, and Hata (1999) typology of management history, based on previously unused archival sources. Archives “are underutilized data sources in public administration research” (Piotrowski, 2008, p. 279). However, because archives also can have major limitations, including accuracy, comprehensiveness, and self-servedness, McNabb (2010) recommended triangulation as a methodology. For this article, archival materials and IPS publications (which must be deemed as self-published) were counterbalanced with newspaper coverage, independent publications, and the sparse academic literature. Little use was made of Allen’s 1950 oral history interview, given the strong possibility of a post hoc revisionist narrative (Allen, 1972). Allen’s contemporaneous materials have more credibility.
First Decade, 1914-1923
Allen announced his departure from NYBMR in late 1914. The news was reported in the American Political Science Review (Mathews, 1914) and the American Economic Review (Notes, 1914). A year later, in December 1915, Allen established a new good-government organization, the Institute for Public Service (“Dr. Allen Back,” 1915). He liked “institute” over “bureau” or “society” “to suggest the educational motive and demonstration method of teaching” 1 and “public service” to convey “the use that will be made of information rather than the method of obtaining it or even the importance of information itself” (“Institute for Public Service,” 1916b).
In short order, he quickly revived Efficient Citizenship as a weekly publication (except in July and August) called Public Service (PS). 2 It reflected his now fully evolved philosophy about the link between publicity and reform. He was free from having to compromise or soften its tone and contents to satisfy Cleveland and Rockefeller. As such, it had a relatively fixed formula that did not change significantly from Issue 1 (December 8, 1915) to the last issue (Issue 1,465), 47 years later. Most were small one-sheet pamphlets. The address side always contained a headline, usually with provocative wording. Sometimes it was in the form of a question, such as “New Taxes or Old Waste?” 3 At other times the headline was teasingly opaque, such as “‘Half People’ or Misuse of Averages in Testing Educational Results.” 4
In a major accomplishment, the New York State Legislature passed a special law incorporating the Institute in May, 1916. 5 In one version, it was done slightly underhandedly, “slipped through” by a Senator from Syracuse, without the members realizing the significance of impliedly endorsing the most the prominent critic of the (now establishment) NYBMR (“Organized to Fight,” 1916). The charter stated that the Institute’s purposes would be to operate “a training school for public service,” to promote “efficient citizenship,” to promote improvements to public administration, and “securing, in all subjects in all schools, the use for educational purposes of work that needs to be done” (Laws, 1916, pp. 1753-1755). The law required an annual report to the legislature. A report for 1916 was issued but apparently no more (IPS, 1917). 6
The report contained hints of Allen’s one-man-band style. It listed a five-person Board of Trustees, but two were Allen and his wife. The report stated that the board worked mostly informally “instead of depending upon formal meetings” (IPS, 1917, back cover). Elsewhere, IPS reported ten “supervising members” comprising men in municipal research bureaus throughout the United States. However, they had no formal role in governance, being more a network of like organizations, with IPS impliedly its capital (IPS, 1916a). The report listed four employees, including Robert Rosenbluth (who went on to a prominent career in government; Rosenbluth, 1964). Allen’s vestigial importance in the reform movement prompted the annual report to be reviewed, somewhat lukewarmly, in an academic journal (Park, 1918a). Another reformer reviewed it, noting that the report asserted relationships that were probably “merely decorative” and claimed training accomplishments that were “not clear” (Fitzpatrick, 1919, pp. 140-141).
Allen’s fast start was partly because he found his own “Rockefeller.” Julius Barnes was a grain businessman from Duluth (Minnesota) initially interested in founding a residential school for 50 boys. Allen talked him out of it, arguing that improving public education in general, and civic education in particular, could influence millions of boys. This was not an ad hoc self-serving argument to pry money from a potential donor. Rather, Allen had consistently interpreted reform-oriented efficiency as meaning a greatest possible reach of reform efforts versus dilettantish small bore projects. Eight years earlier, in his influential Efficient Democracy, he pointedly put down benevolent efforts to build a model housing project for 40 families compared with improving existing tenement conditions for two million residents. Even more sarcastically, he compared a project of tutoring “a dozen Swedish maids who want to learn English” versus helping 200,000 public school students performing below their grade level (1907, p. 269). This represented a continuing theme in his advocacy, swinging for the fences, not bunting for a single.
In 1915, Barnes committed to US$30,000 in IPS’s 1st year, US$40,000 in the 2nd year, and a last US$50,000 in the 3rd year (Allen, 1972). Apparently, after that, he guaranteed certain IPS financial obligations, although it is unclear whether those guarantees were ever called. Barnes served as chairman of the board beyond his original 3-year financing commitment, through to 1923 (Barnes, 1923). Allen announced the termination of Barnes’ relationship with IPS in 1924. He claimed that this helped assure IPS’s independence from potential appearance of bias due to fund-raising needs; that IPS needed to shift to a self-sustaining business model, relying on income from publication sales and PS subscriptions. Such economic independence would demonstrate serving an authentic need, not merely being subsidized by the rich. “I therefore asked Mr. Barnes to withdraw all guarantees except good wishes,” Allen averred. 7
Allen’s vision for the Institute’s mission (as embedded in the state law) broke with the increasingly narrow focus taken by his peers who had de facto excommunicated him and rejected his ideas. Generally, the bureau movement focused on municipal government, with a one-on-one focus for a bureau in each major city. State government was secondary and the federal government even less. A 1927 report on the bureau movement identified dozens of such research agencies, but IPS was identified as one of only two “unique” organizations because it was interested not only in its hometown municipal government but also other governmental entities and educational institutions (Freeman, 1927, p. 9). In general, IPS’s heterodox mission covered four foci: New York City’s government, good government reform (outside the city), K-12 public education, and higher education. Allen not only considered all four rubrics appropriate for the nascent field of public administration but also considered himself a credentialed expert in all.
Municipal Research and Reform (New York City)
In one role, the Institute was a continuation of NYBMR’s focus on hometown municipal government. Gulick (1923) categorized IPS as similar to other bureaus of municipal research. Fifteen years later, Upson (1938) agreed, noting that NYBMR’s “place in New York City affairs was taken in some measure by the Institute for Public Service” (p. 175). These bureaus tended to focus narrowly on improving the technical efficiency of the operations of local governments. Examples of such IPS activities included Allen’s critiques of the mistakes and weaknesses of Mayor Mitchel’s management of New York City (Allen, 1916b, 1916d; Amberg & Allen, 1921) and a 32-page report on abuses in the handling of municipal bonds in New York (Allen & Cummin, 1923). Allen testified innumerable times at municipal government hearings or made suggestions in letters released to the press (“Admit, Not Evade,” 1921; “Dr. Allen Fights,” 1916; “Mayor Would Deny,” 1918). Many issues of PS were dedicated to municipal reforms in New York City. These generally reflected the traditional focus of the municipal research bureau movement at the time. But going against the grain, Allen continued his crusade for increased publicity by government to the citizenry through exhibits and reports as a way to expand democracy and citizenship. He also used IPS publicity efforts to promote public support for his ideas for municipal reforms, the approach that had gotten him expelled from NYBMR (Allen, 1916a).
Good Government Reform (Outside New York City)
The first decades of IPS’s existence occurred during the heyday of the “survey” movement, of conducting comprehensive surveys of an organization or locality and then using the results as the factual basis for recommendations for improvements (Allen, 1916c). For example, in 1916, Allen was hired to direct a field survey of the Denver Federation for Charity and Philanthropy (IPS, 1916a). The results included more than 100 recommendations about rectifying deficiencies in agencies funded by the Federation, including in health, education, service provision, and financial safeguards. In 1920, he was one of the “field investigators” for a survey of Ohio’s state government, authoring a majority of the agency-by-agency reports (Joint Committee, 1921, pp. iii-iv). He was also involved in a similar study of Michigan’s state government (Upson, 1921).
In 1917, Macmillan (a major commercial publishing house) issued a book by Allen on training the public for citizenship and public service. It was mostly oriented to a lay audience and stressed the need for citizens to participate in democratic government. Later chapters also focused on volunteer civic work, leadership, and the civil service (Allen, 1917d). The book received positive review in a California newspaper (“Citizenship: William Allen,” 1918) and the National Municipal Review (NMR) described it as “equal to his best” writings (Book reviews, 1918, p. 296).
Allen wrote shorter pieces relating to citizenship and good government, including for women voters (because 1918 was the 1st year they could vote in New York), naturalization for immigrants, and the new office of Comptroller General in the federal government (Allen, 1917a, 1919, 1923). His writings about waste in government prompted a complimentary editorial in the Atlanta Constitution (“Thrift and Waste,” 1918). Another indication of Allen’s broader vision was a two-volume series on the United States–Latin American relationship. Intended for civics groups, both used concrete examples to convey the economic interrelationships between the United States and Latin America (Dangaix, 1917, 1920). Latin America and international economics were far from public administration’s agenda.
K-12 Public Education
Allen routinely attended the annual conferences of the National Education Association (NEA), sometimes making presentations or distributing IPS material. For example, for the 1916 conference, he was senior author (with three others) of a 128-page report on “High Spots in New York Schools” (Allen, Benezet, Purcell, & Hitchcock, 1916). It claimed to present the results of best practices from visiting 100 schools and getting input from 3,000 teachers. It covered the entire scope of public education, not just civics or administration. Chapters ranged from training teachers, basic curriculum, school lunches, student government, and employment placement.
Another indication of Allen including public education within the scope of the reform movement was that many PS issues were designated as part of a subseries called Educational Review of Reviews. Although he discontinued the subseries in the late 1920s, with its 428th issue, 8 subsequent PS issues often addressed education, such as the 1959 “What USA History Is In Textbooks?” 9 Early education issues of PS were treated as interesting and credible by a professional journal for English teachers (Attention to English, 1916). But a journal for high school pedagogues was unimpressed, saying that in most cases “this output passes without exciting any desire to print it.” When PS criticized the value of summer schools for teachers, the journal editor felt compelled to publicly denounce it as an uninformed “diatribe” (Summer Schools, 1920).
In 1917, Allen issued a blistering attack on a major grant by Rockefeller’s General Education Board to Columbia University’s Teacher’s College for creation of an experimental school based on the latest pedagogic thinking (Allen, 1917b, 1918a; “New Rockefeller School,” 1917). His was largely a lone critical voice (Unblushing Materialism, 1917). Two professional journals for public educators criticized Allen’s views. One called it “Yellow Journalism” because its alleged neutrality and compilation of “best practices” were in reality “a cleverly disguised attack” on the Rockefeller initiative (Stetson, 1918, p. 628). The other noted the outdatedness of Allen’s research methodology, noting that “The questionnaire method was so long ago abandoned as a basis for criticism of educational practices that it is surprising to see it revived without apology and with seeming confidence” (Comment, 1918, p. 302).
The institute issued not only pedagogic reports but also materials for direct use by students. For example, in 1921, Allen coauthored a brochure written for boys to persuade them not to drop out of high school (Monsell & Allen, 1921). The same year, IPS published a brochure on “Why Graduate: A Talk With Boys and Girls” (Winship, 1921).
World War I was a major focal point for Allen. A leading publisher of textbooks issued a book he coauthored for public school students with inspirational stories about American war heroes (Allen & Kleiser, 1918). IPS published a play for students to stage regarding the upcoming postwar peace conference and the American goals for it (Salsbury, 1918). Allen also authored two books on War Fact Tests, for the citizenry and for high schoolers, both published by a commercial printing house (Allen, 1918b; 1918c). A syndicated column for teachers recommended the latter book as “an excellent summary of what every child ought to know about the war” (Crane, 1918). A shorter version (in PS) was sharply criticized by the Superintendent of the New York public schools because of its true/false format. The Superintendent said the false statements might be thought of as true by a student and would therefore constitute “poison” and enemy propaganda (“Poison Seen,” 1918).
A 1921 IPS publication embodied just about every element of Allen’s fixed formula. It had the catchy title of Who’s Who and Why in After-War Education (Allen, 1921). Coming out 4 years after the end of World War I (WWI) made the “after-war” phrase in the title close to false advertising. It had nothing to do with the war in any meaningful way. The title also suggested the book was akin to, perhaps even legally related to, the Who’s Who brand. It was not. And only half of the 432-page book was a biographical reference sourcebook. The book’s long subtitle was A Pioneer Effort to Start a Fact Based, Specific, Impersonal, Unprejudiced, Growing, Freshly Repleted [sic] List of Forward Steps for and in Education. This suggested the value-free paradigm associated with scientific management so popular at the time. Ostensibly, this was a compilation of hundreds of replies Allen received to a mailed questionnaire. But, actually, the text advanced Allen’s views and dogma about education, some more idiosyncratic than others. They included “high spots,” his suggestions for “forward steps” and his ideas for teacher recruitment. Allen later confessed the book was his “protest” against the insider approach that school boards usually used to hire new superintendents. His hidden agenda was to expand the pool of eligibles (Allen, 1972). Only a few reviews were published, some quite belatedly. In 1927, a journal for special libraries (i.e., neither public nor school based) felt it had “value,” especially because the topic of education “is used in its broadest sense” (Biographies, 1927). A 1930 review felt that when issued it was “Full of pep, characteristic of the [IPS] director,” but now “was found to have gone flat” (Sargent, 1930, p. 20).
The fallout from WWI included the fear of Bolshivism. In 1919, Allen published a 31-page issue of PS on “Teachable Facts About Bolshevism and Sovietism.” It contained, for example, 34 points about “What National Bolshevism Has Done in Russia” and 25 points on “What Bolshevism Wants and Teaches.” 10 It generally argued that knowledge was better than ignorance and that open discussion, rather than suppression of a subject, buttressed democracy.
Higher Education
One of Allen’s favorite approaches to auditing institutional operations was a self-survey. In contradistinction to the (fading) popularity of surveys conducted by a third party (ostensibly a neutral out-of-town expert), a self-survey was pragmatic and expedient. An internal survey would be less expensive and less likely to trigger defensiveness by stakeholders. (The current day “self-study” stage of the contemporary academic accreditation process echoes the self-survey.) In 1917, in cooperation with Carroll Pearse, president of Milwaukee Normal (i.e., teacher training) College, he wrote a manual for conducting self-surveys at normal schools (Allen & Pearse, 1917).
11
The 200-page report was more than a how-to manual, also highlighting areas of operations that likely needed attention (in Allen’s predetermined view), such as a tellingly titled subchapter on “Faculty Meetings Are Symptoms.” The American Journal of Sociology reviewer generally praised the book, but disliked Allen’s modus operandi: An excellent book is unfortunately marred by the malicious tone employed throughout in the references to all other professional surveys and surveyors. Openly and by implication the authors foster the idea that their methods embody the last touches of perfection and that methods of all others are but the futilities of incompetents. Such insistent claims to a monopoly of wisdom rather repel the judicious [reader]. (Bobbitt, 1918, p. 106)
The same publishing house also issued a self-survey book for colleges and universities sole authored by Allen (1917c) which was nearly double the length of the companion volume. The NMR reviewer warmly endorsed it, praising the “brilliant, analytical way, [Allen] relentlessly asks questions.” The review warned that “readers who dislike thinking for themselves will find the book uncomfortable” (Gross, 1918, p. 193). An academic reviewer also praised the book, noting two approaches which were Allen’s signature style. First, he “states an idea and then hammers it home with a striking fact” by taking “ordinarily dry and unpalatable” facts and making them interesting. Allen knew how to hook a reader with startling and intriguing headlines and questions. In modern parlance, this was the tease for the story to follow. Second, “Although under the guise of a scheme for investigating colleges and universities, the author has written a brilliant and a suggestive essay on college administration” (Park, 1918b, p. 107, italics added). This exposed Allen’s oft-repeated claim that he merely wanted to raise questions and encourage the collection of facts, while in reality forcefully advocating his particular position on dozens of issues.
In late 1916, Allen coauthored a 128-page report on improving forms and records management in institutions of higher education. Following his formula, the report summarized the results of a survey he had sent out. A total of 52 universities responded with examples of the forms they used. The report presented examples of forms including admissions, character, health, attendance, space management, alumni relationships, and student organizations, followed by commentary on the best forms for each category (Ralph & Allen, 1916). IPS also issued publications intended for readership by college students and potential ones in high school. One tongue-in-cheek effort focused on “getting by” in college by finding easy graders and how to flatter faculty for better grades (Berg, 1920b). 12 Another sought to convince women to enroll in teaching-training programs (Weber, 1921).
During the first decade after departing NYBMR, Allen quickly created a platform permitting him to continue pursuing solutions to governmental problems through active publicity as a form of democratic and efficient citizenship. With IPS under his sole control, he could define the scope of the bureau movement with a broad view of the public sector, including public and higher education. His was a bold and broad vision for the good government movement. But he was out of the mainstream of the emerging discipline of public administration. It was narrowing its focus to neutral and technical expertise for municipal and other general governments.
Second Decade, 1924-1933
Given Allen’s belief in the importance of publicity as a tool of reform, it would be a fair standard to use as one gauge of his success. If so, then Allen’s post-NYBMR career reached its high-water mark during the second decade after leaving the Bureau. The New York Times mentioned the Institute 174 times in articles during that period, compared with 57 in the previous decade. 13 He and his institute had become prominent in the fight for good government.
However, a 1927 report about the municipal research movement was quite explicit in omitting Allen and IPS from any perceived importance, clearly tagging him as an outlier and marginal nonplayer. A summary of “Twenty Years of Municipal Research” from the Governmental Research Conference included a bureau-by-bureau history of the emergence of the profession from NYBMR in 1906 until the founding of the Newark bureau in 1928 (Freeman, 1927). It made no mention of IPS’s creation in 1916. Furthermore, the discussion of NYBMR as the first bureau also mentioned its successor, the National Institute of Public Administration, and noted that the Institute shifted focus away from New York municipal issues. There was no mention of IPS as another quasi successor to NYBMR. The only mention of Allen and IPS was in a long list of governmental research agencies. Allen was being excised from the accepted narrative of the bureau research movement.
Municipal Research and Reform (New York City)
Lacking much competition from any other goo-goo groups monitoring New York City’s government, Allen was often the major critical voice during this period. His many criticisms of mayors and city agencies were widely covered and extensively quoted. In fact, his negativity (at least in news coverage) was so consistent, regardless of who the mayor was, that it seemed he could never be satisfied, never find anything good to say about city government. 14 The closest he seemed to come to a compliment was his view that New York’s government could be judged as “fair” compared with other American and European cities (“Find Government,” 1925).
Some of his criticisms included the lack of annual departmental reports (“Sees City Reports,” 1926); unfair property assessments, especially giving artificially low values to properties owned by influential citizens (“Finds Assessments Unfair,” 1928); bribery required of cart peddlers seeking city permits (“Allen Dispute to Banton,” 1928); issuance of state bank charters (“Two City Trust Men,” 1929); overtaxation and spending (“New York’s Billion-Dollar Budget,” 1930); corruption by municipal judges and bail bondsmen (“Appellate Justices Act,” 1930; “Grand Jury Indicts,” 1930); low grade gasoline bought for in fire trucks (“Scores City’s Motor Fuel,” 1930); and excessive firefighter staffing (“Firemen’s Bill Assailed,” 1933). One of the targets of his criticism dismissed Allen as “a professional fault-finder who makes his livelihood by promoting complaints against public officials” (“Berry is Accused,” 1931). While this was to be expected from an accused official, sometimes Allen’s overheated rhetoric and characterizations of maladministration seemed to go too far for disinterested observers. For example, the Yonkers [NY] Herald editorialized that some of Allen’s accusations “are plainly far fetched” (“One Voice,” 1931).
Allen doggedly battled the corruption of the Tammany Hall political machine. His hostility was so fierce that he refused to believe that Governor Al Smith had truly reduced the relationship he had with Tammany from his pregubernatorial career. Allen even tried to discredit Smith as the Democratic nominee for president in 1928. IPS published a scathing 338-page attack on Smith (Allen, 1928a). A review in a political science journal by a faculty member at Columbia University praised the detail the book provided but disliked Allen’s penchant for criticizing Smith on almost every page “whether relevant or not.” Allen “manages to place a good deal more of the local story at the Governor’s doorstep than has generally been accepted” (McGoldrick, 1928, p. 613). 15 A senior official of the National Municipal League described the book as “frankly, if not avowedly, a campaign document” (Woodruff, 1929).
When Franklin Roosevelt succeeded Smith as governor, Allen criticized him for being soft on municipal corruption, especially for not reacting forcefully enough to evidence of graft by Tammany and Mayor Walker (“Governor Fails,” 1931). Roosevelt declined to act on two formal complaints filed by Allen against Mayor Walker and “dropped” a similar one against the city comptroller (Warn, 1931). Roosevelt apparently disdained Allen. According to an anti-Tammany reporter, Franklin Delano Roosevelt “says Allen is a person of no importance” (Renaud, 1931, p. 90). Roosevelt—already running for President—did not want to get enmeshed in the quicksand of New York City politics. Walker eventually resigned in mid-1932.
Invariably, these concerns led Allen to want to influence local elections, especially defeating mayoral candidates (incumbent or otherwise) whom he disagreed with—which meant almost all of them. This was a step that the increasingly orthodox public administration viewed as a red line not to be crossed by reformers. In their view, politics and administration were different worlds which should be kept separate. Ignoring that conventional wisdom, in preparation for the 1925 municipal elections, IPS issued a series of 62 pamphlets on issues facing city government (Mandel, 1926). For example, Issue 30 was on the subway system, especially if the 5¢ fare would be maintained or increased (IPS, 1925). During the 1929 mayoralty campaign, Allen was hired by the Republican fusion ticket to provide research and writing services. (His bill went unpaid and he had to sue; “Must Defend,” 1931.)
Allen was sometimes in and out of courts and grand-jury rooms as a result of his accusations. 16 For example, in 1928, he was called to testify before a grand jury following his accusations at a budget hearing of malfeasance in several city agencies (“W. H. Allen Called,” 1928). Notwithstanding this deep involvement in city government, Allen failed in an effort to create and lead a broader coalition of civic and business groups for municipal reform. He explained that “centrifugal forces were too strong” to coalesce a viable Municipal Economy Committee (Forbes, 1927, p. 603). Whether accurate or not, he was on his own.
Good Government Reform (Outside New York City)
Allen also sought a national role in the 1928 presidential election. Notwithstanding his blistering attacks on Smith’s connections to Tammany, IPS released a 32-page civics-style guidebook about party nominees Smith and Hoover. While ostensibly focusing only on their early years, Allen summarized their adulthoods as well, such as a section on turning points in their lives when each was 40 years old. Allen encouraged readers (especially boys) to compare and contrast their own lives with Smith’s and Hoover’s boyhoods through a series of 12 questions to be answered by each reader (Allen, 1928b). Another national issue Allen wrote about was race. In 1927, a magazine surveyed various leaders for their views on “Should the Negro Be Encouraged to Cultural Equality?” Allen responded in the negative, somewhat enigmatically: To me this discussion is a good deal like debating the question whether we should grant the moon the same privilege of shining on one side of the earth that it has to shine on another part, or like granting the strawberry the privilege of selling in December at the same price for which it sells in June. (“Can We Absorb the Negro?” 1927, p. 792)
In other words, the stated goal was so theoretical, even fictional, that it would be impossible ever to achieve it. And he did not express any sorrow about that. His lack of interest in racial equality put Allen, atypically, in the mainstream of the good government movement which was openly racist (Lee, 2011). Allen was also occasionally involved in municipal reform beyond New York City. For example, he appeared before the Baltimore Real Estate Board urging it to pursue fair property assessments (Mandel, 1926) and was a principal researcher for a survey of the Atlantic City (New Jersey) municipal government (Briefer Notices, 1931).
Allen’s vendetta against Rockefeller for forcing him out of NYBMR reached its high-water mark during IPS’s second decade. In his view, Rockefeller was personally responsible for the choking off of Allen’s concept of “efficient citizenship” including a publicity orientation to government reform. Initially, Allen tried to make nice. In 1927, the Institute published a 16-page brochure intended to use Rockefeller’s life as a model for young boys in school. He identified 12 principles that Rockefeller used to guide his life and urged boys to adopt the same rules, including providing a checklist for the readers to assess their progress to implementing all dozen guidelines (Allen, 1927). In another effort to make Rockefeller look good, Allen released to the African American press a letter written by 15-year-old Rockefeller opposing slavery (“Even at 15,” 1931). It did not work. Rockefeller viewed him as a “crank” and publicly ignored him (Schachter, 1997, p. 54).
Giving up, Allen decided to attack Rockefeller head on. But no publisher would agree to issue his magnum opus, a screed and tome attacking Rockefeller. Finally, in 1930, he self-published it (Allen, 1930b). Behind the scenes, Rockefeller père and fils were quite concerned about their public image and being depicted negatively by Allen. The family’s PR consultant, Ivy Lee (no relation to the author of this article), worked intensely to sabotage Allen. He persuaded mainstream publishing houses against publishing it. Then, when Allen self-published it, Lee worked to dissuade major publications from reviewing it or, failing that, to generate negative reviews. He was largely successful (Marcus, 1992). Lee’s efforts delegitimized Allen and the book. This was nicely reinforced by Allen’s own typical hyperbolic accusations. His attacks on Rockefeller Sr. and claims that the family was torpedoing his book played into Lee’s hands, making Allen sound paranoid and grandiose. In fact, in this case, Allen was more right than wrong. But in the American political economy, might makes right, in this case money trumping just about everything else. Unlike Hollywood, truth does not always win out. With their successful undermining of Allen’s manuscript, the Rockefellers were now on a roll, garnering increasingly better PR over the years, largely continuing to this day.
Allen tried to promote the 619-page book on his own by placing ads in highbrow magazines. 17 It was reviewed mostly negatively by major publications such as the Times (Feld, 1930) and the New York World-Telegram and Sun (Marcus, 1992). Another called it “interesting,” but “badly written” (Brickell, 1930). A relatively positive review said it was good as a popular biography but disliked the author sprinkling “pungent comments” about Rockefeller throughout (Case, 1930). Predictably, union publications liked it (Power, 1930; Rockefeller’s Power, 1930) whereas business-oriented ones did not. A Harvard business historian wrote that “as a caustic criticism of a business man this book can hardly be surpassed in American business biography” (Larson, 1948, p. 138, italics added).
Allen, again, had lost. The historical significance of the Rockefeller book highlights the long-term impact of the Cleveland–Allen showdown. It led to an unofficial pact between the public administration establishment and America’s wealthy—the funders of the bureau movement. The agenda of good government reform would be sterile ideologically, not taking on the power structure or the wealthy. Public administration would be about making government more efficient and more businesslike, not about leveraging the power of government to accomplish social justice and fairness. For example, when the Socialists were in power in city hall in Milwaukee in 1910 to 1912, they created a bureau of efficiency that sought to use government for “social efficiency,” such as legal aid for the poor and more playgrounds for children of the working class. When the Socialist mayor lost reelection, the winner promptly abolished it. Then, the local business elite created a nonprofit bureau of efficiency that was limited to a narrow concept of businesslike efficiency and eschewing publicity (Lee, 2008).
K-12 Public Education
Allen’s efforts to play a role in K-12 public education were the predominant focus of his work. For example, every issue of IPS’s newsletter from January 1924 to June 1927 was designated as part of the Educational Review of Reviews subseries, oriented to a readership interested in K-12 education. 18 Some of his activities were continuations of previous interests. He was the “chief consultant” to the New York City School System for a survey of its educational programming. Although conducted in 1924, it was belatedly published 5 years later (Board of Education, 1929). An elementary education journal was scathing about the survey’s “pretensions” and Allen’s claim that it ushered in a new era of school surveys (Educational News, 1929, pp. 247-248). Allen protested in a letter to the journal (Allen, 1930a).
Allen spoke at NEA’s annual conference in 1926 on his longtime push for publicity to keep public opinion informed of school activities (Allen, 1926). He led a survey of Atlantic City (New Jersey) schools’ budget (Allen, Benezet, Milligan, & Reigart, 1931). IPS began publishing a series of booklets specifically for teachers and students, such as on the Constitution and its relevance to students’ daily lives (Leighton, 1924). Showing a sense of humor, he published a collection of silly pupil answers about U.S. government and history, thus using a lighthearted approach to indicate a serious point, namely, the apparent inadequacy of civics pedagogy. For example, “What was the direct cause of the Civil War? Taxation without meditation” (Allen, 1924).
Allen launched two major initiatives during this period. He created a separate business to publish Looseleaf Current Topics and registered the title as a trademark. Intended for civics classes, during the school year it was issued weekly in a format for students’ loose-leaf notebooks. Each issue addressed in depth a topic then in the news. For example, the issue for the week of September 8 to 12, 1924, was 31 pages, covering the then-pending Dawes plan to restructure Germany’s postwar reparations payment schedule. Each issue began with an introduction covering “Since Our Last Lesson” and ended with questions and ideas on other issues. 19 The success of the publication led to the extension of the brand to two other series, People and Places in Current Topics and a Looseleaf edition geared to students in New York City. He frequently plugged them in PS issues. With circulation passing 200,000, Allen sold the three series to the employee who worked on them (Mandel, 1926). 20
Allen’s other initiative was using radio as an educational tool. Taking advantage of free airtime of a still-young medium, he gave weekly talks on current affairs, most broadcast throughout the network nationally. The topics were closely tied to the issues of Looseleaf. While intended, generally, as civics education for the pubic at large, his major purpose was pedagogic, what he called “radio education.” 21 Between 1921 and 1925, he made 150 broadcasts (Allen, n.d.). But, somewhat predictably, he got into a fight with the radio station and network over his desire to discuss controversial political issues, especially upcoming elections. This was, understandably, a touchy subject for a business subject to federal licensing and regulation. The Radio Corporation of America (RCA) strove to find a compromise to keep him on the air. But Allen, inflexibly, refused as a matter of principle. RCA pleaded one last time, saying his decision was “a little hasty” and perhaps he would reconsider? No. Reluctantly, it canceled his program (Popence, 1925). In a relatively unusual self-reflection, years later he conceded “it was probably a mistake, a[s] I look back” (Allen, n.d.). Too late. He was off the air and had increased his reputation for not being able to play well with others.
Higher Education
Occasionally, Allen dedicated issues of PS to subjects relating to institutions of higher education (besides teacher training, more related to public education). 22 In 1933, he injected himself into the search for a new president of the coed (and public) Hunter College in New York City. He sent the recruiting committee a list of educators he deemed qualified, including several women (“Kieran Successor,” 1933). The Board picked a man not on Allen’s list.
Third Decade, 1934-1943
Allen’s fall from public attention occurred precipitously during IPS’s third decade. It was mentioned in only 13 articles in the Times from 1934 to 1943, compared with 174 in the preceding decade. Significantly, in another 9 articles, the newspaper mentioned Allen, but not IPS. 23 This suggests that the Times gradually came to the conclusion that IPS was a one-man venture. As a result, the paper seemed to redefine Allen as an individual gadfly, rather than the voice of any larger movement. Another indication of his falling star was Gill’s (1944) survey of the municipal research movement. Though published in 1944, his research occurred in the late 1930s (Gill, 1944). Gill admiringly referred to Allen’s role in the founding of the NYBMR but omitted any reference to Allen’s later career. Pointedly, Gill noted that the conversion of the Bureau into the National Institute for Public Administration meant “it withdrew from research activities pertaining to New York City” but made no reference to IPS as continuing that focus (p. 19). Finally, his list of the 20 “principal” research bureaus also omitted IPS. Gill’s criteria for the list included “reputation of the agency,” research “characterized by objectivity and high quality,” and “a general atmosphere of research and constructive analysis of public problems” (p. 32). It was a silent rebuke to Allen, a person Gill so admired for his role in founding the municipal research bureau movement. 24 Allen (1945), of course, was quite put out by Gill’s treatment of him and IPS, writing a complaining letter to the editor.
During this period, Allen served for almost 3 years in government. In September 1934, the three municipal Civil Service Commissioners voted to appoint him as Commission Secretary, essentially CEO of the city’s civil service (Ogg, 1934). In his oral history interview, Allen said he took the job because of continuing IPS debts that he covered personally (Allen, 1972). However, later in the same interview he asserted that the Civil Service Commission (CSC) annual salary of US$5,000 was a cut in pay for him compared with IPS. Allen’s tenure at the CSC was predictably stormy, with Mayor LaGuardia (who Allen routinely criticized as a phony reformer) seeking to force him out. One of the fights was directly related to the Depression. Allen wanted those hired for federally funded work to be selected by a civil service process and then for those employees to hold classified positions, like regular city workers (Allen, 1935). LaGuardia disagreed, wanting no independent gatekeeper for relief project hiring (Allen, 1972). Eventually, the mayor’s pressures to get rid of Allen worked. In mid-June 1937, the Times delicately reported that the Commissioners were “planning to dispense with the services of William H. Allen” (“City Civil Service,” 1937). He resigned a few days later, replaced by Professor Wallace Sayre (“Dr. Allen Quits,” 1937; “Dr. Sayre Gets,” 1937). 25
Allen did not mothball the Institute during this period (so that could not be the cause of diminished press coverage). He continued issuing IPS bulletins and reports. 26 Most prominently, in 1936, he authored a 30-page IPS booklet on the underfunding of public education and the need for increased tax aid to school districts (Allen, 1936). It was, of course, controversial, especially disliked by politicians in office. Allen tried to camouflage this continuing IPS role by subtitling the booklet as a teacher’s guide for classes on current affairs. But that was a thin disguise. It was largely about his long-standing crusade against unfair property assessments, of the city giving lower valuations to well-connected citizens, including the new Rockefeller Center.
Municipal Research and Reform (New York City)
Allen quickly plunged back into city government and politics after leaving the CSC. In a 1939 IPS fund-raising pamphlet, he stated the need to “preserve” democracy in New York City, why the non-IPS criticisms of municipal affairs were “not enough,” and “what questions need more citizen study” (Allen, 1939). He resumed regular testimony at municipal budget hearings (“Kinsley Criticizes,” 1939), speaking to other good government groups (“Churchmen Back,” 1934), and releasing studies and public letters to city officials (“Arrears in Taxes,” 1934; “Offers Peace Plan,” 1934). His most flamboyant action was a formal petition to Governor Lehman to investigate Mayor LaGuardia’s alleged misdeeds and remove him from office. Allen accused LaGuardia of “gross waste and inefficiency, false representations, broken pledges and undodgable responsibility for city-wide tax evasion, tax avoidance and unsought tax escape in assessing realty for taxation” (Allen, 1937a). These were inflammatory accusations, especially against a mayor largely viewed as a reformer. The Governor quickly dismissed the petition (Associated Press, 1937a). Still, the petition served as a backdrop for another Institute book that linked LaGuardia with “Tammanyism” (Allen, 1937b). Allen continued his fierce criticisms of LaGuardia, focusing especially on excessive spending and inconsistent property assessments (Broderick, 1940). 27 LaGuardia responded in kind. He canceled an appearance at the annual conference of the Governmental Research Association (GRA) because Allen would be there (“Mayor Calls Off,” 1939).
In general, Allen was marginalizing himself with such persistent, over-the-top rhetoric and wild accusations. Press coverage dropped off so sharply that sometimes he could only get public exposure through letters to the editor (Allen, 1942a, 1943). In 1940, the Times pointedly signaled its increasing skepticism about the veracity of Allen’s claims. It reported that IPS “contended” municipal overtaxation, rather than a more neutral verb, such as “said” (“Credit to be Given,” 1940). This was no one-time slip. It used the same word 2 years later (“Cities are Warned,” 1942). The changing characterization of Allen starkly indicated the demise of his role as a respected and credible good government researcher and reformer.
Good Government Reform (Outside New York City)
Maintaining his long-standing crusade for improved public reporting and publicity, Allen praised the annual report of Chicago’s corporation counsel. (This also indicated Allen’s broad-ranging reading.) He complimented the report’s focus on explaining the work of this government agency in language that would be understood by lay readers, for its presentation and for its graphics to complement the text (Allen, 1942b).
A constitutional convention for New York State placed nine constitutional amendments on the statewide ballot in 1938. Allen issued a 29-page booklet attacking the first one, known as the omnibus amendment (for its many unrelated clauses). He opposed it in toto because some of its sections went against his government reform agenda, including excessive protections to public employee pensions, too-strict debt limits for municipalities, and potential abuses in real estate assessments. He wanted the voters to “know the dangers in Amendment No. 1” (IPS, 1938, p. 29). It passed (“Six Amendments,” 1938).
Allen’s long-term feud with Rockefeller came to the fore again. Somewhat oddly, Allen co-owned the farm in Tioga County (near Binghamton in upstate New York) where Rockefeller had been born and grew up. It was in arrears in property taxes for 1936 (Associated Press, 1937b). Allen said that he felt the property was historic and had hoped that a museum about Rockefeller might be built there. He even tried to sell it to the Rockefeller family, unsuccessfully (“Tells Rockefeller Deal,” 1937). 28
K-12 Public Education
Allen had jumped feet first into WWI as a major focal point for his pedagogic efforts. But he did not embrace World War II (WWII) with similar gusto. In 1940 (after the war began in Europe and the Far East but before Pearl Harbor), he coauthored a textbook for public schools explaining Nazism, Fascism, and Communism in terms that would be meaningful to students. To do that, the 53-page booklet described what life would be like in the United States under those ideologies. Examples included the absence of commercial radio, privately produced movies, freedom of religion, and democratic voting (Quitman & Allen, 1940). After Pearl Harbor, IPS issued a few publications about the US role in the war but significantly less than WWI. Allen continued to be active in the NEA, attending and participating in its annual conferences (“Public School Heads,” 1934).
Fourth Decade, 1944-1953
Allen’s final fall from grace and influence during IPS’s fourth decade is again documented by coverage in the Times. During this period, the Institute was mentioned in only two articles (Du Bois, 1953; “40 Outline Stand,” 1946). Given that Allen was getting virtually no press coverage (especially in comparison with earlier decades), his only publicity outlet was letters to the editor. The Times published ten, including in its Sunday book review and magazine. 29 Reflecting his broad reading habits, his letters were also published in the Washington Post (Allen, 1946a), Christian Science Monitor (Allen, 1948), Hartford [CT] Courant (Allen, 1951), and the Catholic weekly America (Allen, 1946b). In an effort to rebrand IPS, he developed a new mission statement: “Better Results From Fewer Tax Dollars by Citizen Fact-Finding.” Its values were “Constructive, Continuous, Cumulative, Nonpartisan, [and] Independent.” 30 But this had no significant impact on reinvigorating the Institute’s finances or influence.
As an indicator that his best days were behind him, in 1949 to 1950, Allen was interviewed for Columbia University’s Oral History Project (Allen, 1972). At the time, he was 76. The interview involved three extensive sessions, with the final typescript version running 532 pages, plus an 11-page appendix of exhibits he provided to document his long-standing charge of the city’s mal-assessment of real estate. Allen knew that this was his last chance to provide future historians with his version of the many issues he had been involved in. Still, even in his 70s, Allen kept plugging away, advocating for his viewpoints and stands on controversial issues. Even if there would not be better days ahead, he still wanted to publicize his views, and he had the energy to do it. For example, in 1953, IPS released about 20 issues of PS.
Municipal Research and Reform (New York City)
Even if no one was listening, Allen kept expostulating about politics and governance in New York City. He opposed tax and fare increases, 31 criticized the lack of expertise and qualifications by the city’s appointed tax commissioners, 32 and denounced exaggerations about LaGuardia’s accomplishments as a “Hitlerish falsehood.” 33
Good Government Reform (Outside New York City)
The 1944 presidential election was a major event for Allen. After Roosevelt was reelected to an unprecedented fourth term, IPS issued a 13-page booklet that raised 150 questions and concerns about it. 34 Allen seemed to be looking back to refight the controversy of the election—even going farther back, rehashing the 1940 arguments over Roosevelt running for a third term. WWII was practically invisible in the booklet.
Allen was interested in the operations of the federal government, not just national elections. He urged the adoption of performance budgeting as a way to make government more accountable. Emphasizing the need for post hoc reviews of results, he sometimes called this performance auditing, rather than budgeting. 35 His last independently published article was on this topic (Allen, 1950). Allen also expressed support for the Hoover Reorganization Commission which had been appointed by President Truman. But, tellingly, when the “Citizens Committee For the Hoover Report” asked him to fill out a form for IPS to be listed as publicly endorsing its efforts, he did not return it (Johnson, 1950). 36 He preferred being a loner.
At the state level, Allen condemned giving the lieutenant governor an allowance for expenses, a de facto doubling of his salary. Claiming this was a salary increase through the back door (and therefore in violation of the state Constitution), he called on all candidates for statewide office in the November 1950 election to be asked what their positions were on receiving such allowances. 37
K-12 Public Education
Allen tried to revive his long-ago radio series, suggesting to WOR, a commercial radio station in New York City, that he host programs on important educational issues in the news. The Mutual Broadcasting Network declined (Driscoll, 1950). Indicating that some in the good government movement were still reading PS, in 1947, NMR noted Allen’s statements on the importance of increasing teacher salaries and quality recruitment (Bebout, 1947).
In the late 1940s and early 1950s, Allen’s last important external funding came from the Volker Fund of Kansas City to monitor textbooks (WHS, 1964). But his longtime criticisms of mediocrity in the American school system and poor quality textbooks on civics, government, and U.S. history placed him in an odd situation in the 1950s. His views on patriotism and vigorous anti-Communism, which he had articulated in WWI and the Red scares of the 1920s, were fixed fields in his belief system. But, America in the 1950s was changing. This progressive and Wilsonian liberal was now finding himself more in agreement with the reactionary right. In the hysteria of McCarthy-style anti-Communism, school boards felt besieged by militant right-wing groups that accused the boards of using textbooks that were not pro–United States enough and too balanced. The insinuation was that some textbooks were written by authors who were (purportedly) Communist sympathizers and who deliberately tilted their books to be too critical of America. Even though Allen always had kept IPS out of coalitions and partnerships, his persistent criticisms of textbooks led to IPS being lumped into a recurring list of reactionary organizations that were unduly pressuring somewhat liberal school boards regarding textbook contents. This first happened in 1951 in an article in the Washington Post (Meyer, 1951). Confirming that this was not a case of misidentification, at the annual NEA convention in 1951, the list of the 10 worst organizations attacking public education included “Institute for Public Service, New York” (Associated Press, 1951). The controversy continued for a decade, with IPS routinely identified as one of the organizations that were attacking so-called un-American textbooks (Gressle, 1962; Rorty, 1956). Undeterred, Allen continued criticizing the contents of textbooks throughout the 1950s. 38
Higher Education
IPS’s penultimate publication (excluding PS) was a compilation of commencement addresses made to graduating classes in 1952. Allen had written to major schools requesting a copy of the keynote commencement speeches. Then, in a 65-page booklet, he reorganized important quotes from the addresses by theme. Allen’s rationale for the effort was that readers would find a “wealth of inspiration” with “rich materials here for vitalizing study” of U.S. public affairs and history (Allen, 1952, p. 1).
Fifth Decade, 1954-1963
In 1954, 40 years after founding IPS, Allen was 80. But even then, the fire was still burning inside him. The words kept pouring out. He wanted to tell the world his views even if no one was listening. He kept issuing PS on a relatively regular basis. By now, his writing style and formulae had ossified. For example, he used a teaser headline “More Important Than [the] McCarthy Issue” when the subject was the U.S. General Accounting Office (GAO). 39 Other startling headlines included “Pulitzer Prize for False Fiction!” 40 and “President Is Misled re His Budget Document.” 41 Some headlines were obscure to the point of incomprehensibility, such as “NYC Faces 3-R Test of Its Civic Maturity.” 42 Allen also maintained IPS’s GRA membership, which still listed IPS in its 1960-1961 roster (GRA, 1960) when he was 86.
IPS’s last major publication was a 27-page booklet issued in the fall of 1956. It was intended to suggest constructive roles that high school and college students could play in the election season, even though they were too young to vote. (At the time, the voting age was 21.) However, oddly, most of the contents focused on performance auditing. 43 Allen continued writing new issues of PS throughout the late 1950s and early 1960s. By now, in his late 80s, he felt he still had important points to make. They included the importance of detailed annual reports from foundations, 44 bonding by local governments, 45 and maladministration in the municipal government. 46 A very long issue of PS in April 1961 seemed to be his swan song, a 20-page listing claiming 95 IPS accomplishments. 47 But it was not the final issue. He kept PS alive for another 18 months. The last issue was on the need to improve the quality of public education in the United States. Eight-pages long, it came out on November 21, 1962. 48 He had written a staggering 1,465 editions over 47 years, an average of 31 a year.
Allen also continued an active correspondence. He was not discouraged that none of his letters to the editor had been published in the Times since 1958 (Allen, 1958). He wrote to the New York World-Telegram complaining about some aspects of an editorial about the “Little Hoover” government reform commission. The editorial had supported reform efforts, but Allen focused on the negative, on what was missing. The editor replied that he was “puzzled” by Allen’s negativity, instead expecting Allen to be glad for the paper’s general editorial stance (Wood, 1960). In early January 1961, he submitted to Harper’s Magazine a proposed article with the startling opening sentence: “President Kennedy is not only the world’s biggest spender, but its most shadowed spender.” This before Kennedy was sworn in. The piece was actually about the importance of GAO. The editor rejected it, stating that “it is badly organized and the writing is far from a professional magazine level” (Fisher, 1961). As late as September 24, 1962, Allen was still peppering elected officials, editors, and civic leaders with letters of complaint and suggestions. 49 On November 27, 1962, a week after sending out Issue 1,465 of PS, he donated IPS’s records to the WHS and retired. He died a few months later, on February 23, 1963, at age 89 (“Obituaries,” 1963).
Conclusions
An emblematic phenomenon of the golden age of NYBMR was the budget exhibit. The concept, from Germany, was public education of the masses with visual and interesting representations of the work of city government and the budgetary choices it needed to make. NYBMR sponsored the first two, in 1908 and 1909. For the next 2 years, 1910 and 1911, the Bureau successfully encouraged the municipal government to organize them. The attendance at the first was 50,000, growing—amazingly—to a million in 1911 (Williams & Lee, 2008). Then, nothing. Within 3 years, Allen was out. While Cleveland may have earned Rockefeller’s financial commitment, neither Cleveland nor Rockefeller were interested in Allen’s delight in the public hoopla of an exhibit. So, the Allen-less Rockefeller-funded NYBMR let the event atrophy. The short life of the budget exhibit is an indication of what Allen would have wanted to continue doing had he earned substantial funding from another wealthy foundation. But, none were interested in that highly public and expensive approach to mass democracy, civics, and good government. Had Allen been able to attract major funding, it is not only likely that budget exhibits would have become a permanent phenomenon of municipal government in New York, but throughout America. 50
The demise of the budget exhibit is also significant in intellectual and political terms. Cleveland favored executive budgeting, that is, the chief executive (mayor, president, etc.) constructing a unified budget for the executive branch and then submitting it to the legislative branch as a package. This model tilted toward a significant redistribution of power from the legislature to the chief executive. Allen, typically, supported legislative budgeting, which he saw as a more open and democratic process (Rubin, 1994). Hence, the demise of the budget exhibit reflected not only issues of funding the exhibit itself but also which political theory of budgeting would prevail. To Cleveland, budgets should recede into the closed doors of executive decision making, thus making high-profile budget exhibits an irrelevant anachronism. The demise of the budget exhibit is a stark example of the power of private funders in shaping public administration and of the underlying political philosophy that motivated it. The exhibit and the fight over executive versus legislative budgeting are powerful synecdoches of the Cleveland–Allen disagreement and of moneyed interests putting their thumb on the scale to decide the winner.
So, the 1914 schism between Allen and Cleveland at NYBMR was so much more than that of temperament. It was about the essence of the new field of public administration. This was a conflict between those urging efficiency in government as a bulwark against mass democracy and those seeing governmental reform as a way to involve the public in decision making. In essence, it was an argument whether public administration stood for an autonomous and apolitical bureaucracy that was above politics or for expanding democratic participation. These conflicting strains coexisted in NYBMR until 1914 when the organization’s survival was at stake. That the NYBMR board took the money and ran is understandable. That Rockefeller’s money entailed an acceptance of the basics of the status quo of the American political economy and that he wanted to avoid controversy are also understandable. But privilege begets privilege, and NYBMR had to accommodate itself to a status quo–oriented reasonableness versus Allen’s boisterous and continuing calls to arms, to man the barricades of democracy.
During this period, wealthy funders had a de facto stranglehold on reformers. Whether they were bureau men or the settlement women, lurking in the background was the power of wealth, whether to finance activities or to permit the upper-middle class to have discretionary time to volunteer for causes. As would be expected, the rich wanted to protect the structure and values of a political economy that permitted them to accumulate, retain, and pass on their wealth. Reforms to make government more businesslike or to co-opt the angry and potentially threatening underclass were OK. But no rabble rousing, no revolutions, no threats to their advantages. Even competitive and mass democracy was alright, as long as the choices were—for the rich—between Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Otherwise no campaign contributions. Early public administration had to make a pact with the devil about what would be on its agenda and what dropped, the latter epitomized by Allen’s NYBMR and IPS activities.
The power of privilege and money has had a somewhat surprising staying power given the changes in public administration. The field’s center of gravity shifted away from nonprofits which were directly dependent on contributions and funding from the social elite. When the discipline migrated to the academy with its cherished autonomy of tenure, one could perhaps expect to see a modest return to some of Allen’s more boisterous values. That did not happen to any significant degree. One can speculate about some reasons. Perhaps the post-1914 NYBMR culture of apolitical reform had sunk deeply into the profession’s culture. Perhaps public administration by definition is stability and status quo oriented. Or perhaps the academy’s credentialing process weeded out activists like Allen. Certainly, funders continued to be important in the discipline. Notwithstanding the powerful force of academic freedom, the financial paradigm of public and nonprofit institutions of higher education is greatly dependent on donations from private citizens. Institutional finances are probably more of interest to senior university officials than rank-and-file faculty, but money plays a major role in what higher education is interested in. That is amplified by the new role of government in funding research, also reflecting an aversion to risk of political embarrassment. It is true that some foundations and governmental actions have explored social reform, such as the Ford Foundation in the 1960s and 1970s and the federal government’s War on Poverty funding of community action agencies. But these isolated incidents have triggered strong, vociferous, and powerful backlashes, indicating the accurate array of the bulk of social and political forces. No doubt, professors of public administration noticed. Reviving Allen’s values carried little appeal or career benefit.
NYBMR’s glory days, the reason it became so influential in public administration’s history, was the joint work of the ABCs. In that respect, Allen was as vital a contributor to that legacy as the other two. But the Cleveland faction, after 1914, had the benefit not only of winning but also of keeping the franchise and of maintaining the title of the organization. This made Allen the bolter, the disgruntled schismatic, the marginalized gadfly. Cleveland and the Board kept control of the organization’s increasingly influential brand, inheriting (undeservedly in part) the aura and mantle of NYBMR’s pathbreaking pre-1914 work and influence. As such, the post-Allen NYBMR had the legitimacy that Allen did not have. Allen had to try to influence public administration de novo, whereas Cleveland and his successor merely had to continue—even though that was quite different than before 1914. Luther Gulick’s later central and influential role in public administration was partly based on the legitimacy of the organizational inheritance he was given, as much as it was what he accomplished.
Allen’s entire career and the catholicity of his interests present the outlines of a road not traveled by public administration. Historical choices are not always inevitable, merely sometimes nearly invisible. Allen’s IPS work gives us an inkling of alternatives to the choices that public administration made. First and foremost, he stood for publicity as a reform device, noisy headline-grabbing confrontations, calling out the power elite for its privileges. This was the bludgeon he liked using to force reform on recalcitrant and corrupt public officials. In that respect, he loved the power that democracy could exert over government, quite different from the apolitical cadre of elite of experts being trained by Cleveland and his successors. Allen also believed in a reciprocal form of publicity, that government actively inform the public of its work, report on its stewardship, and educate the citizenry about the realities of budgetary choices. But a commitment to public reporting and budget exhibits gradually faded from public administration’s central interests, too.
Second, in Allen’s view, it was a tautology that public education was government. Therefore, it was self-evident that public administration’s scope of interest should include it. After all, public education was managed by professional administrators, such as district superintendents, school principals, and heads of administrative services departments. Yet, again, Allen was swimming against the currents. By the first decades of the 20th century, public education was asserting itself as a field unto its own, with specialized training, credentialing, and professional associations. In fact it was subdividing quickly, with separate silos for elementary versus secondary education, administrators versus teachers, and specific pedagogic subject areas. University-level schools of education (then called normal schools) were increasingly creating new departments of educational administration, viewed as a species wholly unrelated to public administration, with its own literature, best practices, and truths.
Giving up on public education was the first of several strategic retreats by the young field of public administration and for civic activists seeking government reform. It was a major slice of the pie of governmental expenditures and employment. Ceding it meant that public administration would lose any consistent coherent framework that explained its scope. By rejecting Allen, the field did not cover all of government, only parts of it. Why? Well, there never was a good explanation. (The same occurred with military administration.) Public administration’s self-definition became a fuzzy effort at identifying generalist government managers. But, in fact, few civil servants were truly generalists, most were affiliated with one silo or another. So, over the years, less and less of the spectrum of government seemed to be under public administration’s microscope.
Third, Allen’s interest in higher education was similarly at odds with the direction of the field’s mainstream. Certainly, a major portion of colleges and universities in the United States were in the public sector. Nearly every state government maintained one university, usually more (such as “University of ____” and “____ State University”). Yet, American higher education was bisectorial, with another major segment in the nonprofit sector. Allen never grappled with the sectorial issue. After all, he could simply have argued that state (and municipal) universities were public agencies and, therefore, what their managers did was public administration. But, that would compel him to ignore institutions such as Columbia, located in New York City. He did not accept the sectorial distinction, feeling it was appropriate for “his” public administration to focus on both kinds of universities. Impliedly, both categories were associated with a broad definition of the public sector, that is, everything that was not a for-profit corporation. Yet, again, however valid his premises, higher education emerged as a separate disciplinary field from public administration, disregarding sectorial affiliations in the process. Eventually and inevitably, American universities established departments of higher education and graduate programs in university administration, wholly unaffiliated with their own public administration programs.
Fourth, Allen’s focus on the nonprofit sector was prescient. His interest in the public accountability of foundations—like his interest in nonprofit universities—reflected his understanding that these were powerful centers of influence that were different from private businesses. He simply wanted to follow the money. In his view, these large foundations (such as the Rockefeller and Ford Foundations) needed to be recognized as nonprofit institutions that had a public character (if only because they benefited from preferential treatment in the tax code). These were not for-profit corporations. He wanted greater transparency and accountability by these major nonprofit organizations. Again, he was shouting into the wind. And, again, public administration paid little attention to the nonprofit sector and nonprofit management. The latter, eventually, began emerging in the second half of the 20th century as a largely autonomous field, increasingly coequal to public administration, rather than a subgenus of it.
It is sad to recount that the last 50 years of a person’s life was anticlimactic. But the very characteristics that led Allen to his trailblazing role at the NYBMR were also the reasons for his downfall and for the marginal role he and IPS played in the good government movement afterwards. His doggedness, obstinacy, excessive focus on the negative, inability to work with others, and tendency to exaggeration gradually led to his exclusion from the mainstream of the good government movement and the new field of public administration that emerged from it. Still, as far as he was concerned, his life was not a failure. He did not doubt. He felt he was right, or at least knew he could not tolerate doing things differently than he did. He stayed true to his beliefs, values, and ideology—public administration’s establishment be damned. He blithely did what he wanted and never recanted his views due to his exilic status. That was the meaning he gave to his 50-year career at IPS. His was an authentic life, even if ultimately marginal.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.