Founded in 2002 on the former site of Providence Steel and Iron Company (PS&I), the Steel Yard’s 3.5-acre site has become a community gathering space for people interested in creative, industrial arts. The design of this former brownfield site embraces the property’s urban industrial history while incorporating innovative approaches to sustainability.

Founded in 1822, PS&I built precision iron castings, water meters and architectural ironwork. In addition to installing pipes in numerous local buildings, such as the Pawtucket Times Building and the William Fletcher Building, PS&I produced ironworks for the iconic Library of Congress. PS&I purchased the 27 Sims Avenue site in 1902 to accommodate its growing manufacturing output. The complex expanded over the next forty years, eventually absorbing the former Providence Brewery site. PS&I was an early adopter of electrical power in the 1890s and utilized electrically driven movable cranes and hoists to manage heavy materials and parts in their fabrication and assembly process. Technological innovation in steel manufacturing resulted in increased output of large industrial products such as bridges, trusses, girders, stairs, fences, railings, and grillwork. After 179 years of operation, PS&I closed in 2001.

In 2002, two local artists and entrepreneurs purchased the property. The owners formed the nonprofit Woonasquatucket Valley Community Build, which operates as the Steel Yard, and began to actively rehabilitate the facility. The first priority was to address the site’s toxic environmental legacy. As part of their operations, PS&I sprayed lead-based paint onto steel beams. Overspray resulted in elevated lead levels in the soil. In 2007 the Steel Yard began a brownfield cleanup in compliance with the EPA, the RI DEM and the Narragansett Bay Commission, which it completed in 2007. The Steel Yard’s cleanup is a showcase for regenerative design. What was once two acres of unusable space is now a de facto public park, home to over 100 trees, a half acre of green space, and storm water-managing wetland plants.

As part of the transformation, old PS&I buildings have been converted into over 9,000 square feet of workspaces for artists, classrooms (for education and job training), and office space. The Steel Yard is the recipient of the 2010 Providence Preservation Reuse and Neighborhood Revitalization Award, the 2011 Honor Award from the American Society of Landscape Architects and the 2013 Rudy Bruner Award for Urban Excellence.

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As part of a nationwide “City Beautiful” movement in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Providence’s civic leaders envisioned the creation of numerous parks through the city as a means to provide refuge and beauty for its citizens as a counterweight to overcrowding conditions. The population of Providence had doubled between 1880 to 1910, and with the accompanying building boom came the construction of  nearly 30,000 dwellings. The congestion of the city meant that parks were no longer considered “luxuries,” but instead were recognized by the 1906 Board of Trade Journal as “necessities for the health and wellbeing of every community.”   In its report presented to the City Council of Providence in 1906, the Metropolitan Park Commission urged the “building of a parkway from Promenade Street, running along the easterly side of Davis Park, then running in a westerly direction through Pleasant Valley, and extending to Academy Avenue.” This area, a natural valley amidst Providence’s hills, was named “Pleasant Valley Parkway.” The intent of the new boulevard was two-fold: first, it would provide a welcoming, green destination, especially for drivers as automobiles were recent luxuries for the wealthy; second, the park would also increase the real estate value of surrounding homes. Pleasant Valley Parkway’s geographical layout -- running north from Promenade Street to Davis Park, then angularly veering west to run parallel with Chalkstone Avenue, until briefly heading north again to connect to Academy Avenue  -- was a response to the area at the beginning of the twentieth century. The stretch from Promenade Street to Davis Park had, over time, become a communal dumping ground for the residents of Smith Hill. (Open dumping grounds were a common occurrence during this time period as this was the first time that city-dwellers outnumbered those in rural areas on average in the nation. Cities were filling faster with people than municipal demands could generally keep up with.) Pleasant Valley Parkway was planned to rehabilitate this unslighty dumping ground, turning it into a more sanitary, usable location. Added onto this section, the east-west turn of the Parkway continued, following the course of a natural brook, which was incorporated as the scenic center of the boulevard. Apparently, after its completion in 1909, response to the new green thoroughfare was poor. The Metropolitan Park Commission noted that “the Pleasant Valley Parkway will in time prove to be a good public investment although it now begins dismally at Promenade Street, and ends unfortunately, before it gets much of anywhere.” Despite this negative response, the Commission was hopeful that the changing waterfronts of downtown Providence would lead to changes in the streetscapes, and thus in the appeal of Pleasant Valley Parkway. Over that past century, some scenes along the Parkway have changed,  like the building of the Roger Williams Medical Center or Nathanael Greene Middle School, but a good portion of Pleasant Valley Parkway is still residential and scenic -- either overlooking parks or the green space of the boulevard. One can get a sense of how the area looked and felt over a century ago when it was first created. Moving to the  southernmost section, closest to Promenade Street and the Woonasquatucket River, is urban and industrialized, with a number of businesses and the Coca-Cola Bottling Company Plant.

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When Alfred Augustus Reed of Providence formed the Oriental Mills Manufacturing Company for the production of cotton sheet goods, he and his associates also formed the Oriental Print Works, located in Warwick, RI.  Although the printworks failed during the Depression of 1873, production at the parent mill lasted until the Depression of 1893 when Oriental went out of business.  The mill property was purchased by J.P. Campbell & Co., which continued cotton production until 1907.  The following year, the mill property was purchased by Edgar J. Lowenstein and reborn as the American Silk Spinning Co. Despite its name, American Silk eventually would branch out into weaving synthetic fibers with considerable success until 1962.  Union Industries of Providence then purchased the mill complex, transforming it into a production facility for packaging materials. Originally known as Union Paper, the firm now calls itself Admiral Packaging Division of Union Industries. Today, the original mill serves as a showroom and corporate offices, with remaining spaces rented to other firms, while production continues in the more modern parts of the complex. The mill complex is located on the northeastern edge of Smith Hill at the southern end of what was the West River industrial district.  Originally part of North Providence, this area began to develop as a factory corridor following construction of the Providence and Worcester Railroad in 1848. Noted Providence architect Niles B. Schubarth designed the original three-story production loft which is mostly visible today, although obscured by later single-story weave sheds on the west (Whipple St.) side and by other buildings to the east and south.  Additionally, the original complex contained a smaller three-story loft as well as a power house, of which only the brick chimney remains. The main building is a classic “New England Mill” design, long and narrow to accommodate line-shaft mechanical power and copiously endowed with arched windows to allow for maximum natural lighting.  The most distinctive architectural features of the site are the twin external stair towers on the east and west sides, originally crowned with helm roofs (one was lost years ago and not replaced). Despite twentieth-century modifications to windows and doorways and infilling of the site with more modern structures, the basic architectural integrity of the complex remains. Construction of this mill and its neighboring industrial facilities spurred rapid residential development in both Smith Hill and West River for the simple reason that factory employees needed easy pedestrian access to their places of employment. The City of Providence annexed this area by 1874, and urban amenities such as schools, churches, public safety installations and public transit gradually followed.  Very little of this development remains today, the result of highway construction, urban renewal, and the de-industrialization of the city. The West River residential neighborhood to the north has entirely disappeared along with most of its factories.  Railroad roundhouses and storage tracks to the east likewise are gone. The extensive Chad Brown/Admiral Terrace housing project on the west side dates only from the 1940s. Thus, the old mill seemingly stands alone, without historical context save for remnants of old Smith Hill to the south.

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After World War II, Providence's fortunes were shifting. Textile jobs had moved south. Industry was leaving. Jewelry manufacturing went offshore. Between 1950 and 1980, the population of the city declined by a third. These western neighborhoods were hit hard. As part of the Eisenhower Interstate Highway System and urban redevelopment efforts, I-95 was cut through here. The redevelopment of the high school campuses also meant significant demolition, leaving few traces of the neighborhood that was. Take a look at the two postcards, one looking eastward into downtown from Cathedral Square, just behind McVinney Auditorium, and the other looking westward up Westminster Street, to get a sense of how these streets and neighborhood once appeared.

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Luongo Memorial Square was named in honor of Thomas S. and Vincent Luongo, World War I veterans who lived nearby. Before the name change in 1938, this was Decatur Square and is today a rare space in the city that evokes 19th century city life. The confluence of Fountain and Carpenter echoes the organic flow of streets and squares in early Providence. Hidden behind the major thoroughfares of Broadway and Westminster, these smaller squares often housed the working class. When the industrial bottom dropped out of Providence, many left these dense neighborhoods for the suburbs. Homes were abandoned to decay and corruption. Organizations like the WBNA and the Providence Revolving Fund served as advocates and change-makers, working hard with public and private partners to reanimate this once-moribund public space. Take a look at the before and after photos. Through research, WBNA Executive Director Kari Lang discovered that a horse fountain once adorned the square and commissioned one of similar design to recreate the aesthetic of old Providence in this now dynamic part of the city.

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“Bay Village First to Go Solar, Makes History Again!” shouts the enthusiastic headline on the New Bedford Housing Authority website. Accompanied by a video, the announcement about New Bedford’s oldest public housing project has an upbeat feel that is at odds with the mixed legacy of public housing in the city.  Built from 1939 to 1941, Bay Village consisted of twenty-two brick buildings containing 197 multifamily units with one to four bedrooms. The sprawling nature of the complex evokes the post-World War II suburban housing boom more than the tightly packed public housing “projects” that followed. In theory, early public housing provided the working poor with clean and modest housing during their inevitable rise to the middle class, and suburban-style housing provided by the government would help to ease that transition.  Bay Village replaced much older, working-class housing stock on this site, much of it dating from the whaling era. The project was supported by federal Housing and Urban Development funding as part of nationwide "slum" clearance. 115 homes and businesses were razed including Monte Pio Hall, the oldest Portuguese social club in New England, and the “Irish House,” once home to itinerant whalers and other seafarers.  When completed, Bay Village represented a step up in amenities for most of its occupants. The apartments contained indoor plumbing and more space for families accustomed to crowding into one or two rooms. There was a playground and open area for children to play. On the other hand, the construction of Bay Village destroyed an existing community, and replaced the older housing, however substandard, with far fewer units, leaving some people displaced.  Bay Village foreshadowed the destructive urban renewal projects in New Bedford during the 1960s and 70s. The New Bedford Redevelopment Authority demolished entire neighborhoods to create a waterfront industrial area to service the fishing industry and to build a highway link to Interstate 195. This highway, Route 18, eventually connected the declining industrial areas of the north and south ends of the city, passing close by Bay Village. Many longtime New Bedford residents remain bitter over the loss of 203 homes and 113 businesses, many of them historic. Route 18 created a literal divide in the city, cutting off the waterfront from the rest of the city.  Bay Village provided the means for many people to move from substandard, often dangerous housing to safe and affordable homes that are still in use—and still being improved—more than seventy-five years later. Urban renewal helped the fishing industry to grow into the largest in the country. The destruction of much of New Bedford’s historic buildings spurred the creation of a vibrant preservation movement that recalled the glory days of New Bedford whaling. In recent years, the city has taken steps to reconnect the historic downtown areas of New Bedford with the working waterfront. However, some scars will always remain. 

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Rainbow-colored homes spring up from the street grid in New Bedford’s West End like children’s play blocks. However, underneath the colorful patina of the Temple Landing Apartments lays a dramatic history of protest, neglect, and reuse.

To understand the full history of these bright new houses you must travel back half a century to the summers of the late 1960s and early 1970s. During the Civil Rights era, Black residents of New Bedford increasingly voiced their discontent over high unemployment and discriminatory hiring practices, poor public schools, and inadequate, unsafe housing.

In a series of actions called “the rebellion” by protestors and “the riots” by many others, the summer of 1970 erupted in arson, looting, sniper fire, and street confrontations in an increasingly hostile relationship between New Bedford’s Black residents and the police department. At one point, the National Guard was placed on alert in nearby Fall River.

These conflicts started in a variety of ways. Protests arose over the arrests of young African American men without obvious justification, and again when three white teenagers from surrounding towns drove into the neighborhood and shot indiscriminately into a crowd, killing one bystander and wounding several others. A white resident driving through the area told police he had been shot in the ankle as he passed the protest headquarters. The following day, New Bedford and state police raided the building, targeting the Black Panther-affiliated organizers. Twenty-one people were arrested, including unaffiliated activists, community supporters, and bystanders, and were charged with conspiracy to commit murder, anarchy, and riots.

Following this unrest, a group of community members established the United Front Development Corporation, which supported the construction of more and higher quality housing in the neighborhood on the site of the New Bedford Cordage Company, established in 1842 by ship owners and captains who needed rope for whaling vessels. The company grew and eventually filled a four-acre parcel bounded by Court, Emerson, Ash, and Kempton Streets, before closing in 1964. In 1973, a massive fire destroyed a two-block section of the vacant rope factory, and the remainder was demolished, along with older, blighted housing to make way for the United Front Homes.

The project was progressive and experimental for its time. Closed off from the general street grid, the 200-unit affordable housing development was accompanied by green space, a community center, and a daycare facility.

However, these 200 units did not meet the demands of the housing shortage. Meanwhile, the closed-off nature of the compound prevented police from driving through the development. Crime flourished, much of it committed by the United Front street gang, further damaging the development’s reputation. In 2008, a quarter of all shootings in New Bedford took place in United Front.

The tide began to turn after 2009, when several gang members were arrested. In 2010, the Boston-based group Preservation of Affordable Housing (POAH) extensively renovated the complex, partnering with United Front Development Corporation to improve 138 units, demolish 62 others, and build 35 new units. The net loss of 27 units was caused by reopening the complex to the street grid, connecting United Front with the rest of the city, and making crime prevention easier.

The new developers, eager to shed the connotations that United Front carried, renamed the development “Temple Landing” after Lewis Temple, the African-American inventor of the toggle harpoon that revolutionized whaling. Crime in the neighborhood has decreased since the opening of the new units, but only time will tell if this project serves the community better than its predecessor.

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Staring at the endless concrete in the Huntington Expressway Industrial Park, it seems impossible that this was once a vibrant neighborhood. Laughing children ran across neighbors’ yards, caught up in games of hide and seek. The smell of coffee, oranges, and kerosene filled the air. Fruit trees grew everywhere. On a warm day you could hear cicadas sing, and, at night, the frogs chirped. Everybody knew each other.

A close-knit neighborhood, old West Elmwood referred to the community bounded to the east by Mashapaug Pond, to the north by the railroad tracks at Huntington Avenue, and to the west by Niantic Avenue.

Dennis Maynard grew up in West Elmwood in the 1950s: "As a child living in that area it was like Disneyland. It was just a playground. To this day we always talk about West Elmwood as probably the best place you could grow up. It was a combination of residential, country, a lot of gardens. Not farms, but gardens. Lots of fruit trees. You had the access to the water. Everybody knew each other. Regardless of your race, everybody knew each other. As kids you were in everybody's house."

Today, old West Elmwood is gone.

Providence was one of many American cities drastically altered by so-called “urban renewal” projects in the mid-twentieth century. Supposedly “blighted” and deteriorated neighborhoods were demolished to make way for highways, industrial parks, and other modern urban structures. These changes were supposed to improve cities, but in many cases, they destroyed vibrant communities and negatively altered people’s lives. This is what happened in West Elmwood.

The Providence Redevelopment Agency bulldozed West Elmwood to construct the Huntington Expressway Industrial Park. Studies describing unhealthy and unsafe living conditions in this portion of West Elmwood were used to justify the city’s action.

Knocking down this portion of old West Elmwood forced families to leave both their homes and their community. As a result of implicitly racist practices of banks and lenders, people of color often could not get mortgages to purchase new homes in new suburban developments. “Many neighborhoods, [the government] classified as white,” explained Cliff Montiero, a longtime activist and opponent of urban renewal. “People of color could not get mortgages [to live] in those areas.” For the former residents of West Elmwood, who could not afford to buy a home in desirable neighborhoods outright, that meant they were forced to live in sub-prime housing. ”Many people [in West Elmwood] used to be homeowners. After losing their home ownership in the Mashapaug Pond area, [they] became renters,” Montiero said.

Some West Elmwood homeowners fought to save their homes with the help of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) and the Urban League. Two hundred people signed a petition. People attended city government meetings, speaking out about the injustice of the urban renewal project and the Providence Redevelopment Agency’s misrepresentation of West Elmwood. Arguing that “urban renewal is Negro removal,” they highlighted the implicit racial discrimination in urban renewal projects, which disproportionately negatively affected colored people.

For five years, the people of West Elmwood fought for their neighborhood, but in the end their struggle failed. Most of the houses in old West Elmwood were knocked down. Over five hundred families were forced to leave. "They came in and tore down the houses, bulldozed the hill," recalled neighborhood resident Ed Hooks. Now, West Elmwood survives only in the memories of the people who once lived there.

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