Anderson@Large

Monumental Matters in Philadelphia

Philadelphia is the “City of Firsts.” In 1959, the city launched the nation’s first Percent for Art program which requires some developers to “dedicate at least one percent of the total building construction costs toward the commissioning of original, site-specific works of art.” In the ensuing years, the city has commissioned hundreds of works of art, including the Philadelphia Courthouse Mural.

Contrary to popular belief, the city did not commission the Frank Rizzo monument. The monument was commissioned by the Frank L. Rizzo Memorial Committee which was led by Frank Rizzo, Jr. So the public was never given an opportunity to weigh in on whether his father deserved to be honored in a public space.

Indeed, many have drawn comparisons between Rizzo and Donald Trump (here and here).

In the run-up to the 2016 election, the New York Times reported:

A former police officer who was nicknamed Big Bambino, Mr. Rizzo rose to power during the city’s crime-ridden 1960s and ’70s, cracking down on lawlessness with a legendary bellicosity.

After becoming police commissioner, he rounded up homosexuals late at night, forced the Black Panthers to strip down in the streets and once appeared with a nightstick stuffed in the cummerbund of his tuxedo. As mayor, he threatened to “break the heads” of criminals and boasted that his Police Department was strong enough to invade Cuba.

Timothy J. Lombardo, author of the forthcoming The Rise of Blue-Collar Conservatism: Frank Rizzo’s Philadelphia and the Politics of the Urban Crisis, observed:

The difference between Rizzo and Trump is that Rizzo was the real deal. Rizzo has the authenticity, but Trump is really good at playing that role.

Given the parallels, New York City art dealer John Post Lee and I decided to introduce the pop-up Trump Rat statue to the pay-to-play Rizzo monument.

Lee said:

The idea that anyone in my native Philly ever thought that there should be a statue of Frank Rizzo, Philadelphia’s mayor from 1972 to 1980, is astonishing. He was, and remains, a human stain. If there is a statue of Rizzo, then we might as well have a statue of the inflamed Eagle fans who pelted Santa Claus with snowballs at Veterans Stadium.

It’s high time that Philly’s biggest rat came face-to-face with the rat who now threatens the very norms and decency of American civic life. The inflatable Trump Rat began as a mischievous art project but has evolved into an enduring sign of resistance, helping to lead protests against Trump’s policies.

The conversation between the pop-up and pay-to-play public art underscored the absurdity of Rizzo’s presence at the gateway to city services.

Public art should not be about nostalgists romanticizing a public figure. Public art is about public memory. The thin slice of supporters in South Philly notwithstanding, the collective memory of Frank Rizzo is that of a divisive politician who reigned over a city in decline. Rizzo left a legacy of police brutality, racism, sexism, homophobia and attacks on free speech. Rizzo’s legacy begs the question: Why is the monument still there?

Public Art: ‘Dirty Rat’ Frank Rizzo Meets ‘Trump Rat’

Almost from the moment the Frank Rizzo statue was unveiled, there were calls to remove the monument to police brutality from the steps of the Municipal Services Building. Unsurprisingly, there was no pretense the statue was for all Philadelphians. It was unveiled after the Mummers Parade which had a fetish for prancing down Broad Street in blackface.

The Philadelphia Art Commission is mulling over whether the statue should be removed, relocated, or as many suggested, tossed in the Schuylkill or Delaware River. The 1977 book, “The Sayings of Chairman Frank, or I Never Saw My Mother Naked,” should be required reading for the commissioners. A collection of quotes and cartoons exposing then-mayor Rizzo, the book was published by the Southeastern Pennsylvania Chapter of Americans for Democratic Action.

The book was brought to my attention by Philly native John Post Lee who, along with his wife Karin Bravin, commissioned the “Trump Rat.”

I came across the 15-foot work of art as I was making my way to the High Line. John shared some memories and said he has a copy of the Rizzo compilation. We both agreed it would be awesome for the Trump Rat to meet the Dirty Rat who somehow paid $410,000 to remodel his home on a salary of $40,000.

President Trump and Rizzo have a lot in common. Trump was elected by white voters. As the New York Times reported, Rizzo told his supporters to “Vote White.”

In remarks before the law enforcement officials, Trump encouraged police brutality:

When you see these thugs being thrown into the back of a paddy wagon -- you just see them thrown in, rough -- I said, please don’t be too nice. Like when you guys put somebody in the car and you're protecting their head, you know, the way you put their hand over? Like, don’t hit their head and they've just killed somebody – don’t hit their head. I said, you can take the hand away, okay?

Rizzo, also known as the Big Bambino and Cisco Kid, presided over a police department whose practice of beatings “shocks the conscience.” Black Lives Matter didn’t say that. That was the finding of the U.S. Justice Department.

The Rizzo compilation includes his remarks during a trip to Rome:

The way to treat criminals is “spacco il capo” [break their heads]. If you [the Rome Police] need some help, we’ll transport some guys over here and they’ll straighten them out right away.

John and I are working on the logistics on when and where to hook up the two divisive rats. Stay tuned.

Indigenous Peoples Day 2017

In 1937, President Franklin D. Roosevelt proclaimed Columbus Day a federal holiday. Eighty years later, cities across the country are telling the explorer who never set foot in North America to get lost.

From Bangor, Maine to Berkeley, California, Columbus Day has been replaced with Indigenous Peoples Day, a celebration of the millions of Indigenous Americans who were here long before Christopher Columbus sat sail from Spain.

Given the givens, former President Barack Obama’s 2016 proclamation may be the last White House acknowledgment of the devastation inflicted on those who came before Columbus:

[W]e must also acknowledge the pain and suffering reflected in the stories of Native Americans who had long resided on this land prior to the arrival of European newcomers. The past we share is marked by too many broken promises, as well as violence, deprivation, and disease.

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