Why did the ‘Workshop to the World’ bustle, then wither?

    How will future generations of Philadelphians have any inkling that their city once thrived as a premier manufacturing center with so few traces of that history left? The decline of Philadelphia manufacture is directly related to its rise, flip sides of the same coin.

    This is the fifth in a series of essays on key phrases from Philadelphia’s history, being written for the Encyclopedia of Greater Philadelphia project.

    How will they know? How will future generations of Philadelphians have any inkling that their city once thrived as a premier manufacturing center, the fine products issuing from its shops, mills, and plants prized by customers around the nation and the world?

    There are few traces left of this history—abandoned factory buildings here and there. The acres and acres of empty lots that form the landscape of decaying neighborhoods that once brimmed with industrial sites and jobs offer few clues to that past. 

    The curious onlooker might ask: What was here? What happened?

    The decline of Philadelphia manufacture is directly related to its rise, flip sides of the same coin. The city was graced by a particular kind of industrial system, resting by and large on the production of quality goods, that had distinct strengths and weaknesses.

    Early success in trade

    A rich agricultural hinterland, an enterprising merchant community, and ready markets for the products processed and crafted in the city transformed Philadelphia into a major commercial entrepôt within a half century of its founding by William Penn in 1681.

    By the time that delegates convened in Philadelphia in 1776 to write the Declaration of Independence, the city had become second only to London in both the volume and value of the goods that entered and left its port.

    Philadelphia’s commercial fortunes plummeted, however, in the early nineteenth century as the city lost trade to its chief rival, New York. Rather than enter a long-term period of economic stagnation, Philadelphia fortunately embarked on a new direction that would marks it history for the next 150 years: prospering as a major manufacturing center.

    Chronicling Philadelphia’s rise to industrial supremacy is difficult since no single invention, businessperson, event, or circumstance can be designated as a prime mover. Thousands of initiatives occurred as a steady mushrooming of varied enterprise. The individual efforts do add up to a whole, and at least four features characterized Philadelphia’s industrial structure in its heyday:

    Product diversityNever a one or two-industry city, Philadelphia became known for its fine textiles and garments, boots and shoes, hats, iron and steel, metal items, machine tools and hardware, locomotives, saws, rugs, furniture, shipbuilding, chemicals, pharmaceuticals, glass, cutlery, jewelry, paints and varnishes, printing and publishing, medical instruments, and so much more.

    Diversity of work settingsGoods were made in homes, craft shops, sweat shops, small manufactories with hand and foot-driven machinery, water and steamed-powered mills, and multidimensional plants. In their manufacture, some products even passed through several of these settings from initial processing of raw materials to final finishing.

    Specialization in processes and productsPhiladelphia manufacturers did not prosper by competing with mass producers of goods in other parts of the country, but rather by operating in niche markets fashioning high-quality wares or by concentrating in single aspects of production. In textiles, for example, separate establishments emerged respectively to spin special fibers, weave fine clothe and dye elaborate fabrics. Even in the case of Philadelphia’s famous (but relatively few) large firms, such as Baldwin Locomotive, Stetson Hat, and Midvale Steel, specialty production remained the hallmark. Baldwin rarely made two engines alike, meeting particular orders of rail carriers for locomotives with highly specific dimensions and powers; Stetson produced the finest of felt and straw hats and sold them in beautifully-made boxes with silk insides and adorned with the renowned Stetson logo; and Midvale produced a specialty grey steel and took orders for specialty castings and forgings (unlike its other Pennsylvania rivals, U.S. Steel and Bethlehem Steel).

    Family ownershipPhiladelphia had a wealth of small-to-medium-sized, family-owned-and-managed manufacturing concerns that were reliant on highly skilled workforces. Large, corporate enterprises with armies of mass assembly workers did not form a part of Philadelphia’s economic skyline.

    A number of factors contributed to Philadelphia’s particular industrial history. An abundance of skilled labor allowed for specialty production. The absence of a powerful river-way with waterfalls initially limited the building of large-scale, fully mechanized factories.

    Philadelphia custom producers further chose not to compete with manufacturers of cheap, standardized products in other cities; their small size afforded a flexibility that allowed them to shift into new product lines and profit in niche markets.

    Finally, Philadelphia’s elite tended to invest in banks, canal and railroad construction, and mining rather than in local industry; this created a capital scarcity for manufacture in the city, another limit on large-scale ventures, and a vacuum that enterprising native-born and immigrant skilled men could fill in establishing their relatively small custom manufactories.

    War delayed the decline

    Although the first use of the label “Workshop of the World” cannot be precisely determined, by the first decade of the 20th century, the phrase was regularly attached to Philadelphia in journals and books and in the pronouncements of business and civic leaders.

    However, the success and prosperity that marked Philadelphia industry crested in the 1920s when declines occurred in textile and garment manufacture and in shipbuilding—although new production of radios and electrical appliances sustained employment.

    The Great Depression saw retrenchments everywhere as unemployment at its peak reached more than 40 percent of the city’s work force. Military orders during World War II then boosted production, but a massive enduring decline in industrial jobs occurred thereafter.

    At a postwar height in 1953, 359,000 Philadelphians were employed in manufacture, 45 percent of the city’s entire labor force; in our own times, the number of industrial jobs has dramatically fallen to below 30,000, 5 percent of the total.

    These figures reflect the greater deindustrialization of the United States, though the downward spiral for Philadelphia far exceeded the nation as a whole; since the early 1950s, overall manufacturing jobs have declined from a high of 19.4 million to 14 million, from 32 percent of all employment to 10 percent.

    The long road down

     As Philadelphia’s industrial ascent had a particular cast, so did the descent. Philadelphia did not primarily lose manufacturing jobs in the ways familiar to other American cities and regions in the late 20th century.  Its decline was not driven mostly by national corporations buying and liquidating the facilities of local firms to undo competition; nor by financiers breezily buying, breaking up and selling firms to make paper profits; nor by foreign competition. 

    Rather, Philadelphia’s manufactories closed their doors because of changes in consumerism. Synthetic fibers, for example, wiped out Philadelphia’s famed silk hosiery trade; parquet flooring and wall-to-wall shag carpeting decimated the city’s tapestry rug industry; men stopped wearing fine felt hats to the detriment of Stetson; and cheap hardware merchandized by Sears Roebuck and other mass distributors cut deeply into the sales of the magnificently crafted and durable saws of the Disston Saw Company.

    Mass production and marketing systems promoting shifts in consumer preferences to inexpensive disposal products proved the death knell of Philadelphia industry as the city’s custom manufacturers—slow, unable or unwilling to react—failed to compete with standardized producers of goods elsewhere in the county and across the globe.

    The loss was great not just for the city and its citizens; greater awareness and respect for workmanship and quality was lost as well.

    Walter Licht is the Walter H. Annenberg Professor of History at the University of Pennsylvania.

     

    Join the discussion

    Workshop of the World” will be the topic for the Greater Philadelphia Roundtable, a free public discussion series, at 6:30 p.m. Wednesday at the Tacony Branch of the Free Library of Philadelphia, 6742 Torresdale Ave. For information and registration, go to www.philadelphiaencyclopedia.org/events.

    This essay is published in partnership with The Encyclopedia of Greater Philadelphia and the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, with support from the Pennsylvania Humanities Council.

    The Encyclopedia of Greater Philadelphia is a civic project to build “the most comprehensive, authoritative reference source ever created for the Philadelphia region.” This year the project has commissioned nine essays on signature phrases describing Philadelphia. This is the fifth.

    NewsWorks will publish all the essays in the series. Other phrases explored in the project are: “City of Brotherly Love,” “Holy Experiment,” “Green Country Town,” “Cradle of Liberty,” “Corrupt and Contented,” “Athens of America,” ” “City of Neighborhoods,” and “Place That Loves You Back.”

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