Window-box gardening has been a Philly tradition since the 1800s. Sonja Dümpelmann, CC BY-SASonja Dümpelmann, Ludwig Maximilian University of MunichIt’s that time of year when Philadelphia row home owners with a green thumb fastidiously attend to their window boxes – selecting new plants to design an artful blend of colors, shapes and textures.Sonja Dümpelmann is a historian of landscapes and the built environment who lived in Philly from 2019 to 2023. During this time, she researched how female reformers and activists in Philadelphia in the 19th and 20th centuries tended to window-box gardens both for charity and to spur urban renewal in rundown neighborhoods.Dümpelmann recently published an article on this history in the architectural journal Buildings & Landscapes. She spoke with The Conversation U.S. about what she learned.Some homeowners change out their plants throughout the year.Sonja Dümpelmann, CC BY-SA
How did you become interested in window boxes?
When I first moved to Philadelphia from Cambridge, Massachusetts, in August 2019, I was immediately struck by the window boxes. The lushness and freshness of the plants in many of the boxes, and sometimes in sidewalk planters, made walking more pleasant and interesting. This was especially the case in the hot summer months when I would often see plants from subtropical and tropical climates in the Rittenhouse Square, Fitler Square and Graduate Hospital neighborhoods. I noticed that there were three categories of window boxes. Many were visibly cared for, often freshly planted and decorated several times a year in accordance with the changing seasons. Some were derelict and had spontaneous growth of saplings and different grasses. And a third category were boxes outfitted with plastic plants, perhaps signaling absentee owners or landlords who seek to simulate care.
What makes them landscape architecture?
Window boxes – especially the planted boxes, but also painted boxes that are empty – change outdoor space and building exteriors. They make them more colorful and interesting, and they break up plain vertical walls by protruding from the facade. You could say that the window boxes “greet” passersby. They connect private indoor space with the public realm of the street. As one early window-box promoter observed in 1903, “The man in the street gets as much enjoyment out of them as its owner.” “Gardens in a box,” as they were also referred to by early promoters, can make homes and entire neighborhoods look and feel different. They forge distinct identities with their plant selection and the style and color of the boxes.Window gardens are a way to greet passersby on the street.Sonja Dümpelmann, CC BY-SA
How did window gardening begin?
Window gardening became popular in Victorian England and continental Europe in the 19th century. It began as an indoor activity and was practiced especially by women, but it soon also moved outdoors. There it became part of what American women in the late 19th century called “municipal housekeeping.” It extended their conventional female roles as housekeepers and mothers into the larger “household” of the community. Window gardening became a means of female social reform during the Progressive Era. During this period in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, when industries and cities were growing fast, women sought to improve education, public health and living conditions, especially for poor and immigrant communities. By offering plants, flowers and entire window boxes, the women supported homemakers of lesser means. However, these boxes were also a way to make sure that order in and outside of homes was maintained. Window gardens became cultural symbols of cleanliness and good housekeeping. Furthermore, reformers considered window gardening as a practice that could help immigrants assimilate into American society.
When did they become political?
In Philadelphia there were two big window-gardening movements. The first occurred in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and I describe it as window-box charity. The second, which I call window-box activism, began in the 1950s. Window-box charity was carried out primarily by white philanthropists and social workers who would distribute plants and goods sent from outside the city to the urban poor and sick, especially immigrants and Black Americans. Sometimes the window boxes were ready to be installed outside the windows. Other times recipients built and planted boxes themselves.The Neighborhood Garden Association, the organization that pioneered window-box activism, at work near the now-closed Alexander Wilson School in West Philadelphia in 1955.Courtesy of the McLean Library and Archives, Pennsylvania Horticultural Society, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Several decades later, in the mid-20th-century, plants became a vehicle for white suburban garden club ladies and Black inner-city residents to counter urban decay resulting from racism and public disinvestment. On annual planting days, the garden club ladies brought plants into the city and joined residents in planting and installing window boxes to brighten up their neighborhood blocks. Plants were key in both window-box charity and window-box activism. People came together to care for plants, creating friendships among neighbors and ties between low-income and wealthy neighborhoods. The women used plants and window boxes to protect private space and increase the safety of public space. In the 1960s, the Philadelphia police reported less crime on streets with window boxes. Of course, window boxes and plants alone could not solve larger urban social problems such as poor housing conditions and racial discrimination. So while they could be catalysts of neighborhood change, they also helped to camouflage and quite literally naturalize larger social problems that required political responses.
Are they still linked to urban renewal?
Like a smaller version of public parks, community gardens and street trees, window gardens can contribute to green gentrification. This occurs when the construction of parks or the planting of trees contributes to an increase in property values that leads to the displacement of long-term residents in low-income neighborhoods. Window gardening did help save some of Philly’s old row house neighborhoods from demolition during urban renewal beginning in the 1950s. However, quite a few of these neighborhoods – such as Washington Square West and Graduate Hospital – have since been gentrified, and families who once window gardened to turn their neighborhoods into more beautiful and safer places could no longer afford to live there. The 20th century window-box activism drew the attention of sociologists and other national and international observers, especially because it brought white and Black residents together during the tensions of the Civil Rights Movement. It also raised public awareness about unequal access to urban green spaces.Window boxes on Delancey Street in Philadelphia.Photo by R. Kennedy for Visit Philadelphia, CC BY-SA Yet despite the movement’s good intentions and positive effects, racial segregation remains a persistent problem in Philadelphia. In gentrified parts of Center City today, new and restored row houses often include fixtures and built-in irrigation pipes for window boxes. Many owners outsource window-box planting and maintenance to paid service providers. But for lower-income residents, the costs in both time and money to install and maintain window gardens can be prohibitive.Sonja Dümpelmann, Professor of Environmental Humanities, Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
This question fascinates me because I am a business professor who studies why society abandons and then sometimes returns to certain technologies, such as vinyl records, landline phones and metal coins. The demise of electric streetcars in Los Angeles and attempts to bring them back today vividly demonstrate the costs and challenges of such revivals. https://www.youtube.com/embed/9X78ZqGyc5o?wmode=transparent&start=0 The 2028 Olympic Games will be held in existing sports venues around Los Angeles and are expected to host 15,000 athletes and over 1 million spectators.
Riding the Red and Yellow Cars
Transportation is a critical priority in any city, but especially so in Los Angeles, which has been a sprawling metropolis from the start.
In the early 1900s, railroad magnate Henry Huntington, who owned vast tracts of land around LA, started subdividing his holdings into small plots and building homes. In order to attract buyers, he also built a trolley system that whisked residents from outlying areas to jobs and shopping downtown.
By the 1930s, Los Angeles had a vibrant public transportation network, with over 1,000 miles of electric streetcar routes, operated by two companies: Pacific Electric Railway, with its “Red Cars,” and Los Angeles Railway, with its “Yellow Cars.”
The system wasn’t perfect by any means. Many people felt that streetcars were inconvenient and also unhealthy when they were jammed with riders. Moreover, streetcars were slow because they had to share the road with automobiles. As auto usage climbed and roads became congested, travel times increased.
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Nonetheless, many Angelenos rode the streetcars – especially during World War II, when gasoline was rationed and automobile plants shifted to producing military vehicles. https://www.youtube.com/embed/AwKv3_WwD4o?wmode=transparent&start=0 In 1910, Los Angeles had a widely used local rail network, with over 1,200 miles (1,930 kilometers) of track. What happened?
Demise of public transit
The end of the war marked the end of the line for streetcars. The war effort had transformed oil, tire and car companies into behemoths, and these industries needed new buyers for goods from the massive factories they had built for military production. Civilians and returning soldiers were tired of rationing and war privations, and they wanted to spend money on goods such as cars.
After years of heavy usage during the war, Los Angeles’ streetcar system needed an expensive capital upgrade. But in the mid-1940s, most of the system was sold to a company called National City Lines, which was partly owned by the carmaker General Motors, the oil companies Standard Oil of California and Phillips Petroleum, and the Firestone tire company.
These powerful forces had no incentive to maintain or improve the old electric streetcar system. National City ripped up tracks and replaced the streetcars with buses that were built by General Motors, used Firestone tires and ran on gasoline.
What’s undisputed is that, starting in the mid-1940s, powerful social forces transformed Los Angeles so that commuters had only two choices: drive or take a public bus. As a result, LA became so choked with traffic that it often took hours to cross the city.
Three key improvements are planned for the Olympics. First, LA’s airport terminals will be connected to the rail system. Second, the Los Angeles organizing committee is planning heavily on using buses to move people. It will do this by reassigning some lanes away from cars and making them available for 3,000 more buses, which will be borrowed from other locales.
Finally, there are plans to permanently increase bicycle lanes around the city. However, one major initiative, a bike path along the Los Angeles River, is still under an environmental review that may not be completed by 2028.
Car-free for 17 days
I expect that organizers will pull off a car-free Olympics, simply by making driving and parking conditions so awful during the Games that people are forced to take public transportation to sports venues around the city. After the Games end, however, most of LA is likely to quickly revert to its car-centric ways.
As Casey Wasserman, chair of the LA 2028 organizing committee, recently put it: “The unique thing about Olympic Games is for 17 days you can fix a lot of problems when you can set the rules – for traffic, for fans, for commerce – than you do on a normal day in Los Angeles.”
This article has been updated to indicate that Los Angeles has four light-rail lines.
Dive into “The Knowledge,” where curiosity meets clarity. This playlist, in collaboration with STMDailyNews.com, is designed for viewers who value historical accuracy and insightful learning. Our short videos, ranging from 30 seconds to a minute and a half, make complex subjects easy to grasp in no time. Covering everything from historical events to contemporary processes and entertainment, “The Knowledge” bridges the past with the present. In a world where information is abundant yet often misused, our series aims to guide you through the noise, preserving vital knowledge and truths that shape our lives today. Perfect for curious minds eager to discover the ‘why’ and ‘how’ of everything around us. Subscribe and join in as we explore the facts that matter. https://stmdailynews.com/the-knowledge/
The Building That Proved Los Angeles Could Go Vertical
Los Angeles once banned skyscrapers, yet City Hall broke the height limit and proved high-rise buildings could be engineered safely in an earthquake zone.
Last Updated on February 19, 2026 by Daily News StaffLA City Hall. Image Credit: TNC Network & Envato
How City Hall Quietly Undermined LA’s Own Height Limits
The Knowledge Series | STM Daily News
For more than half a century, Los Angeles enforced one of the strictest building height limits in the United States. Beginning in 1905, most buildings were capped at 150 feet, shaping a city that grew outward rather than upward.
The goal was clear: avoid the congestion, shadows, and fire dangers associated with dense Eastern cities. Los Angeles sold itself as open, sunlit, and horizontal — a place where growth spread across land, not into the sky.
And yet, in 1928, Los Angeles City Hall rose to 454 feet, towering over the city like a contradiction in concrete.
It wasn’t built to spark a commercial skyscraper boom. But it ended up proving that Los Angeles could safely build one.
A Rule Designed to Prevent a Manhattan-Style City
The original height restriction was rooted in early 20th-century fears:
Limited firefighting capabilities
Concerns over blocked sunlight and airflow
Anxiety about congestion and overcrowding
A strong desire not to resemble New York or Chicago
Los Angeles wanted prosperity — just not vertical density.
The height cap reinforced a development model where:
Office districts stayed low-rise
Growth moved outward
Automobiles became essential
Downtown never consolidated into a dense core
This philosophy held firm even as other American cities raced upward.
Los Angeles banned skyscrapers for decades — except one. 🏛️ While most buildings were capped at 150 feet, LA City Hall rose three times higher. This wasn’t a loophole — it was power, symbolism, and city planning shaping the skyline we know today. Why was City Hall the exception? And how did this one decision change Los Angeles forever? 📍 Forgotten LA 🧠 The Knowledge Series 📰 STM Daily News LosAngelesHistory LACityHall ForgottenLA UrbanPlanning CityPlanning LASkyline DidYouKnow HistoryTok TheKnowledge STMDailyNews ♬ original sound – STMDailyNews – STMDailyNews
Why City Hall Was Never Meant to Change the Rules
City Hall was intentionally exempt from the height limit because the law applied primarily to private commercial buildings, not civic monuments.
But city leaders were explicit about one thing: City Hall was not a precedent.
It was designed to:
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Serve as a symbolic seat of government
Stand alone as a civic landmark
Represent stability, authority, and modern governance
Avoid competing with private office buildings
In effect, Los Angeles wanted a skyline icon — without a skyline.
Innovation Hidden in Plain Sight
What made City Hall truly significant wasn’t just its height — it was how it was built.
At a time when seismic science was still developing, City Hall incorporated advanced structural ideas for its era:
A steel-frame skeleton designed for flexibility
Reinforced concrete shear walls for lateral strength
A tapered tower to reduce wind and seismic stress
Thick structural cores that distributed force instead of resisting it rigidly
These choices weren’t about aesthetics — they were about survival.
The Earthquake That Changed the Conversation
In 1933, the Long Beach earthquake struck Southern California, causing widespread damage and reshaping building codes statewide.
Los Angeles City Hall survived with minimal structural damage.
This moment quietly reshaped the debate:
A tall building had endured a major earthquake
Structural engineering had proven effective
Height alone was no longer the enemy — poor design was
City Hall didn’t just survive — it validated a new approach to vertical construction in seismic regions.
Proof Without Permission
Despite this success, Los Angeles did not rush to repeal its height limits.
Cultural resistance to density remained strong, and developers continued to build outward rather than upward. But the technical argument had already been settled.
City Hall stood as living proof that:
High-rise buildings could be engineered safely in Los Angeles
Earthquakes were a challenge, not a barrier
Fire, structural, and seismic risks could be managed
The height restriction was no longer about safety — it was about philosophy.
The Ironic Legacy
When Los Angeles finally lifted its height limit in 1957, the city did not suddenly erupt into skyscrapers. The habit of building outward was already deeply entrenched.
The result:
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A skyline that arrived decades late
Uneven density across the region
Multiple business centers instead of one core
Housing and transit challenges baked into the city’s growth pattern
City Hall never triggered a skyscraper boom — but it quietly made one possible.
Why This Still Matters
Today, Los Angeles continues to wrestle with:
Housing shortages
Transit-oriented development debates
Height and zoning battles near rail corridors
Resistance to density in a growing city
These debates didn’t begin recently.
They trace back to a single contradiction: a city that banned tall buildings — while proving they could be built safely all along.
Los Angeles City Hall wasn’t just a monument. It was a test case — and it passed.
When TV Talks About Gentrification and Shopping Local — and Where It Gets It Right (and Wrong)
A closer look at how the TV show The Neighborhood tackles gentrification and shopping local—and where the reality of online sales and small business survival is more complex.
In our continuing look at how entertainment—television, movies, and streaming shows—grapples with real-world issues, this time we turn our attention to gentrification and the often-repeated call to “shop local.” Once again, we examine how popular culture frames these conversations, this time through the CBS sitcom The Neighborhood and the episode “Welcome Back to What Used to Be the Neighborhood.”
A Familiar Story: When the Neighborhood Changes
In the episode, Calvin’s favorite longtime restaurant closes its doors and is replaced by a flashy new pet spa. To Calvin, the change symbolizes something much bigger than a single business closing—it represents the slow erosion of the neighborhood he knows and loves. In response, he launches a campaign urging friends and neighbors to buy local in order to protect small businesses from disappearing.
Emotionally, the episode hits home. Many communities across the country have watched beloved neighborhood institutions vanish, replaced by businesses that feel disconnected from the area’s history and culture. In that sense, The Neighborhood gets something very right: gentrification often shows up one storefront at a time.
Where Television Simplifies a Complicated Reality
But, as is often the case with television, the episode also simplifies a much more complex economic reality.
The show frames “shopping local” as a direct alternative to shopping online, subtly suggesting that online platforms are inherently harmful to small businesses. In real life, however, the line between “local” and “online” is no longer so clear.
Many local and small businesses now survive precisely because they sell online—through their own websites, through Amazon, or through other platforms that support independent sellers. For some, online sales are not a threat to local commerce; they are a lifeline.
Why Brick-and-Mortar Isn’t Always Sustainable
Rising costs are a major factor driving these changes. Commercial leases, insurance premiums, utilities, staffing costs, and local fees have all increased dramatically in many cities. For small business owners, keeping a physical storefront open can become financially impossible—even when customer support remains strong.
As a result, some businesses choose to close their brick-and-mortar locations while continuing to operate online. Others scale back to pop-ups, shared spaces, or hybrid models. These businesses may no longer have a traditional storefront, but they are still local—employing local workers, paying local taxes, and serving their communities in new ways.
The Real Issue Behind “Shop Local”
Where The Neighborhood succeeds is in capturing the emotional truth of gentrification: the sense of loss, displacement, and cultural change that comes with rising rents and shifting demographics.
Where it misses the mark is in suggesting that consumer choices alone—simply avoiding online shopping—can solve the problem.
The real challenges facing local and small businesses go far beyond individual buying habits. They include zoning policies, commercial rent practices, corporate consolidation, and economic systems that increasingly favor scale over community presence.
A Conversation Worth Having—Even If TV Can’t Finish It
The Neighborhood deserves credit for bringing these issues into mainstream conversation. It sparks discussion, even if it wraps a complicated topic in a sitcom-friendly moral lesson.
The reality is messier. Supporting local businesses today often means rethinking what “local” looks like in a digital economy—and recognizing that survival sometimes requires adaptation, not nostalgia.
At STM Daily News, our Local and Small Business coverage continues to explore these real-world dynamics beyond the TV screen, highlighting the challenges, innovations, and resilience of the businesses that keep communities alive—whether their doors are on Main Street or their storefronts live online.
📍 Read more Local and Small Business coverage at:STM Daily News
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Sonja Dümpelmann, Professor of Environmental Humanities, Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
