Mean Streets

Home buyers signed a statement saying they would 'not permit the premises to be used or occupied by any person other than members of the Caucasian race.'

In "Levittown," a vigorous and often surprising narrative, David Kushner journeys into the racially charged heart of what newspapers once trumpeted as "the most perfectly planned community in America." Today Levittown serves as condescending shorthand for suburban conformity. But just after World War II, Levittown, N.Y., and its sister community of Levittown, Pa., symbolized liberation from crowded urban neighborhoods for families whose idea of the American dream was a private home and a patch of grass.

Both Levittowns were conceived from the start as complete communities, themselves prefabricated, so to speak, with shopping centers, churches, pools, parks, curved streets for a rural feel and cul-de-sacs where children could play safely. The Levittown customer, declared Bill Levitt, was "not just buying a house, he's buying a way of life." By 1952, the Levitts were building one out of every eight homes in the country. Time magazine dubbed their company the "General Motors of the housing industry."

But there was a snake in paradise: racial segregation. Buyers of Levittown homes were required to sign a statement that declared, in bold capital letters, that they would "not permit the premises to be used or occupied by any person other than members of the Caucasian race." Like many developers, the Levitts believed that racial integration was commercial suicide.

Mr. Kushner suggests that the demand for housing in the years after the war was so great that the Levitts could have integrated their towns from the start and thus set a national pattern. Instead they capitulated to what they perceived to be Americans' darkest fears. "The plain fact is that most whites prefer not to live in mixed communities," Bill Levitt repeatedly declared.

The core of Mr. Kushner's story focuses on the campaign to desegregate Levittown, Pa., in 1957. He deftly splices together the experiences of two families at the center of what became a terrifying ordeal. Bill and Daisy Myers and their children were educated, friendly, quiet people – just the sort of folks anyone would want to have next-door – except that they were black. Their staunchest local allies were Bea and Lew Wechsler, labor organizers and longtime members of the Communist Party. The Wechslers were among the few whites who remained uncowed by the venomous racism that gripped Levittown that summer.

With the support of local Quakers and the NAACP, the Myerses moved into their Cape Cod-style "dream house" on Deepgreen Lane. They got more than they bargained for. Crosses were burned. Mobs waving Confederate flags staked out their home night and day. Rocks were thrown through their windows. Malicious callers rang their phone around the clock: "I will not let my children drink chocolate milk again as long as I live!" one irate woman yelled at Daisy Myers. Threats were made to burn them out. The local authorities refused to intervene. The police, for the most part, claimed that they were helpless to control the mobs. Many residents in fact blamed the Myerses for provoking all the "agitation."