IShortly after Ralph Ellison's protagonist arrives in New York, he encounters Peter Wheatstraw, a man in Charlie Chaplin pants, pushing a cart piled high with rolls of blue paper1 and singing a blues song that reminds protagonist of home. Often read as a carrier of blues and vernacular traditions within novel, Wheatstraw is also a literal carrier of plans. When protagonist asks him what is in his cart, Wheatstraw responds they are blueprints for everything. Cities, towns, country clubs. Some just buildings and houses. Every once in a while they have to throw 'em out to make place for new plans.2 In Wheatstraw's description of dizzying array of plans that aim to remake city in its entirety, we hear echoes of preeminent modernist architect, Le Corbusier, who proclaimed that the plan is generator and tradition of modern planning that culminated in ascendancy of Robert Moses in New York City under aegis of federal Housing Act of 1949.3 And in Wheatstraw's job hauling and disposing their plans, plans entirely not of his making, Ellison also provides us with a glimpse of racial dynamics underpinning this planning regime. In this article, I argue not only that emergence of postwar modern planning within a framework of urban renewal is an important though often overlooked context of Invisible Man but also that postwar planning generates and structures novel's form. From college president Dr. A. Herbert Bledsoe's plan, which he outlines in his letter, to keep [the invisible man] running,4 to those of white philanthropist Mr. Norton, to those of industrialist's son Mr. Emerson, and to those of Brotherhood, Invisible Man is structured around, and generated by, endless propagation of plans that serve to dispossess and repossess strikingly naive protagonist.The ascendancy of urban renewal in postwar period marked an aboutface in approaches to urban problems. Whereas earlier perspectives on slums and tenements treated them as social problems affecting inhabitants, in postwar period, slums became an economic problem producing an impact on downtown business interests and economic life of city more broadly. As a result of this reconceptualization, meaning and purpose of slum clearance also shifted. Before World War II, slum clearance was tied to construction of public housing with goal of creating better homes for slum residents. With postwar emergence of urban renewal, slum clearance became a social good in and of itself and a necessary prerequisite to stop blight that was understood to be threatening older industrial cities' downtown cores. The Housing Act of 1949 was centerpiece of postwar urban redevelopment policies that aimed to modernize and rebuild cities suffering from problem of urban blight.5 Robert Moses, then chairman of New York City's Slum Clearance Committee, saw in act potential to transform New York in same way that Napoleon III's urban planner avant la lettre Georges-Eugene Haussmann before him had, in words of David Harvey, bludgeoned [Paris] into modernity.6 He was not alone. As Samuel Zipp explains, 1949 Housing Act was no mere set of policies; it was part of a Cold War vision that sought to establish Manhattan as a symbol of American power . . . quite literally, capital of international modernity.7Race was central to this project. Throughout 1950s, Soviet Union pointed to endemic segregation, violence, and inequality that marked Jim Crow in South and slums in North as evidence of United States' (and, by extension, capitalism's) inability to assume global power. The US administration under Harry S. Truman quickly realized that it would need to demonstrate its ability to close its racial divides at home if it was to gain legitimacy as a global hegemon and demonstrate that US-led global capitalism was able to, in words of Jodi Melamed, lead a new world postcolonial order. …
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