Civic life in Gray Mountain: sizing up the legacy of New England’s blue-collar middle class

Abstract

When President Clinton took Congressional and business leaders on a tour early this summer to places where chronic poverty has persisted despite the nation’s booming economy, they visited Appalachia’s coalfields, the Mississippi Delta, the Pine Ridge Indian reservation and inner-city neighborhoods in East St. Louis and Los Angeles. They did not visit New England. Not that New England’s inner cities aren’t plagued with poverty and social problems; they are. And many poor families are struggling to get by in rural Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont. Yet the notoriously bad conditions that took the president to the nation’s “poverty pockets” are exceedingly rare in the six-state region. Why? Why have poverty rates stayed so high in the South compared with New England? And what can the region expect in the future? The answers lie in the kind of civic culture generated by each community’s economy and social structure. Chronically poor places are divided by race and class and saddled with corrupt politics, ineffective schools, and self-interested elites. Distrustful of one another, people in these places look out only for their own families. Escaping poverty is possible only for the lucky few who have a kind relative, caring teacher, or coach who pushes and inspires them to finish school and aim high. But most stay trapped in the same poor conditions their parents and perhaps grandparents knew. In contrast, when communities have a large middle class, the poor are less likely to be cut off from the mainstream. And they are more likely to have the set of contacts, habits and skills—the cultural tool kit—they need to leave poverty behind. More importantly, the community institutions that poor families rely upon are more likely to be effective because the middle class is committed to them. The poor can get ahead without relying solely on personal intervention from a mentor or other benefactor. During the 1990s, I studied poverty and community change in three remote, rural communities: a poor Appalachian coal county I call “Blackwell,” a poor Mississippi Delta plantation community I call “Dahlia” and a more stable and economically diverse northern New England mill community, “Gray Mountain.” The idea was to learn why poverty persisted generation after generation in Appalachia and the Delta, what made the difference when people did achieve upward mobility, and why it was so hard to bring about change. I examined 100 years of Census data detailing changes in population, patterns of work, income distribution and education. I read histories of each region, as well as the local weekly newspapers. But the heart of the study is the 350 in-depth interviews colleagues and I conducted with people living in these communities—not only the poor, but also the rich and those in between. These open-ended conversations revealed how each community’s civic culture—its level of trust, participation and investment—shapes opportunities for both individual mobility and social change.