Where Goes the Middle Class?
Young families with children are fleeing the city. But
they'll be back.
By Thomas M. Keane Jr.
| October 16, 2005 | The Boston Sunday Globe Magazine
The middle class is leaving Boston. That fact was a key issue when Thomas
Menino first ran for mayor 12 years ago. And today, as
Menino tries for a fourth term, it's still true. Despite better schools,
thousands of units of new housing, a stunning drop in crime, cleaner streets,
greener parks, and even a requirement that compels city workers to live in Boston, the middle class
is still moving away. A 2003 analysis of Boston
by the Brookings Institution, a Washington,
D.C., think tank, found that the
number of families with incomes in the middle continues to decline. There has
been an economic "hollowing out" that is leaving Boston a place of just
the rich and the poor, according to David Luberoff,
executive director of Harvard's Rappaport Institute
for Greater Boston (where I sit on the board of advisers).
So what's the solution? Even more of the seemingly endless
policy refrains of education, housing, safety, amenities, and residency? Or is it perhaps time to
admit that the loss of middleclass families with kids isn't some temporary,
fixable phenomenon. It's permanent.
Indeed, a new pattern seems to be emerging:
Middle-income residents move fluidly between city and suburbs. The young live
in the city. Once they have kids, they move out. When their children leave
home, they return. It's a cycle: in-out-in, one that has happened already in
many other American cities and one that is now happening here.
The reasons for the exit are easy to understand. The suburbs
are cheaper. Modestly sized downtown homes are costly and getting more so,
putting them out of the reach of all but the most affluent. Moreover, suburban living
is easier. There's more green space. Playmates for children are everywhere.
"The kids can run from house to house. You could never do that in Boston," says Patricia Malone, a onetime West Roxbury
resident who now lives in Natick
with her husband and three children.
And then there's education. Boston's schools have
improved, yet, over the last decade, the number of middle-class children in
them has declined. The suburbs seem to offer a measure of excellence and stability
that Boston
can't match. Parents think it better to get out when the kids are young than
deal later with the trauma of a move if their children can't get into one of
the city's few high-quality schools.
"What was quirky and fun as an adult becomes difficult
as a parent," says Susan O'Connell, once of Mission Hill, now living with
her partner and daughter in Canton.
"It's not that we couldn't raise our children successfully in Boston," adds Daniel Cence,
whose family left Brighton for Medway,
"but our chances for success are better in the suburbs." Perversely
enough, the very things that make a city a city - its pace, complexity, and
intensity - are the things that drive out families with kids.
It's also what draws them back.
Once the children have left home, many of these reluctant
suburbanites have little reason to stay. They feel wealthier because their
houses have appreciated and their expenses have dropped. And
Boston - exciting and safe as a result of its
dramatic success at cutting crime - is much more interesting than retiring to Florida or the Cape. And so the idea of the suburbs as a place of transition - a
temporary, not a permanent, home - has emerged. Thinking this way makes the
move out easier; urbanites feel they are not abandoning Boston as much as they are taking a breather.
The implications of these changes are wide-ranging. Some may
see them as leading to a new, and not necessarily bad, future - a different and
better relationship between city and suburbs. Others worry that the middleclass
departure leaves Boston
with a lack of civic involvement and a growing economic division. They fear
that the city is turning into a mere playground for adults. These are all real
concerns. Yet the middle class continues to leave. It's a
truth that needs to be confronted, rather than simply wished away.