The lost subways of North America A cartographic guide to the past, present, and what might have been

Author-illustrator Berman, a Manhattan lawyer by trade, has expanded a personal interest in remapping New York's subway system (an endeavor which earned him a 2020 New Yorker profile) into these wholly immersive historical accounts of 23 of the most significant subway/light-rail systems in the U.S. and Canada. Some systems--in Houston, Vancouver, and Montreal, for example--earn high marks for serving existing high-density populations and in some cases, even creating appropriately high-density housing around stations. Other systems, such as those in Cleveland, Dallas, and L.A., underserve their populations at exorbitant costs. Cincinnati began digging a subway system, then stopped, never to continue. The Minneapolis streetcar system had run for decades with quiet efficiency, until a Wall Street investor, unhappy with his returns, initiated a hostile takeover that sent the system into a death spiral. Effectively illustrated with past and current system maps, this collection offers fresh insights into how large cities can--or don't--work.

Cartographer Berman's comprehensive debut succinctly recounts the histories of 23 public mass transit systems built by American cities in the 20th century. With rare exceptions, each city's transit history begins with privately owned horse-drawn or electric streetcars that later became publicly owned and were then replaced by surface buses and highways after WWII. Focusing mainly on subway systems, but also including streetcars, light rail, and bus rapid transit, Berman takes note of the many postwar attempts to expand or modernize transit systems, which mostly faltered in the face of mass suburbanization, federally funded limited-access highways that drained cities of residents and tax revenues, and increasing automobile traffic congestion. According to Berman, America's essentially failed systems include Detroit's People Mover, Miami's Metrorail, and the now-defunct subway in Rochester, N.Y. He also spotlights underperforming systems, such as Dallas's light rail and Philadelphia's regional rapid transit, and systems that have done better, including Houston's light rail and Pittsburgh's buses. Berman nevertheless finds most of these transit systems to be inadequate, blaming restrictive zoning laws, political interference, union intransigence, and the managerial dysfunction of transit agencies. For each city, Berman provides his own exquisitely illustrated maps of past, existing, and proposed transit systems. The result is a valuable resource for transit enthusiasts. Illus. (Nov.)

At 1:40 a.m., Sunday, June 19, 1955, the last regularly scheduled train of the Pacific Electric Railway left the Italianate, marble-floored Subway Terminal, 417 South Hill Street, Downtown Los Angeles. The Pacific Railway Society and the Electric Railroaders Association of Southern California held quiet ceremonies later that day, and the occasion came and went with little fanfare. The Los Angeles Times didn't bother to send a reporter. The last train carried a banner that read "To Oblivion."  The Pacific Electric had built the mile-long tunnel and its downtown terminal in the 1920s, at the then-enormous cost of $4 million, and it was believed that the subway would eventually form the basis of a regionwide rapid transit system. At the time, the Pacific Electric stood astride Southern California like a colossus, with over a thousand miles of electric rail service. And transportation wasn't the only thing the Pacific Electric had its tentacles in--the Pacific Electric was also the largest real estate developer in Southern California. Towns kowtowed before the company to attract a station. One town, Pacific City, had even renamed itself Huntington Beach, after the Pacific Electric's founder.  But by 1955, the once-mighty Pacific Electric was broke, and Los Angeles was going full speed ahead with the construction of its freeway system. The Pacific Electric had run out of cheap land to develop, the company hadn't turned a profit in over 10 years, its trains were unreliable at best, and its infrastructure was decrepit. Making matters worse, the Pacific Electric's Red Cars would get stuck in traffic behind the hordes of new motorists who jammed LA's roads during the prosperous 1950s. The last Red Cars ran in 1961.   I originally became aware of this history because of Los Angeles's infamous gridlock. A little over a decade ago, I was living in LA and was caught in an interminable traffic jam on the 101 Freeway. It was a hot summer day. The air conditioning in my car wasn't working particularly well. I had been stopped behind some guy in a Jeep with too many bumper stickers for half an hour. Bored, frustrated, and questioning my decision to leave New York for Los Angeles, my mind began to wander. I asked aloud, to the empty car, "Why doesn't LA have good public transit?"  Unable to figure out a good answer while stuck in traffic, I stopped by the LA Central Library a little while later. There, I stumbled on an ancient map of the Red Car system, showing a spiderweb of electric railway lines extending all across Southern California. In a corner of the map, a long-dead cartographer proudly printed, in all caps, "largest electric railway system in the world."  The largest electric railway system in the world? In Los Angeles?  I had assumed that cars in Los Angeles were just a fact of life, like beaches, palm trees, and tacos. But that wasn't the case at all. Gridlock was a choice that the people of Los Angeles had made.   Los Angeles was far from the only city to radically reshape itself for cars and freeways. Scenes like this repeated themselves across North America, as cities turned against public transportation and embraced the car after World War II. But not every city is the same, and the results in otherwise-similar cities were often dramatically different. Los Angeles would become the poster child for freeways, suburbs, and lousy traffic thanks in part to its experience with the Pacific Electric. In contrast, rival San Francisco opened a municipal streetcar company to challenge its privately owned streetcar monopoly. The city-owned Municipal Railway ultimately outcompeted the privately owned Market Street Railway and bought it out. San Francisco's leaders were thus more receptive to public transit expansion during the freeway-mad 1950s and 1960s. Coupled with a grassroots revolt against urban freeways, the region built the Bay Area Rapid Transit subway system instead. Excerpted from The Lost Subways of North America: A Cartographic Guide to the Past, Present, and What Might Have Been by Jake Berman All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.