Date: Mon, 11 May 1998 14:26:51 -0400 (EDT) From: Sara Brady 160 Acres of Steel: How Bethlehem's Historic District Erases the South Side Introduction I first visited Bethlehem, Pennsylvania on a tour of universities with my parents when I was 16. Upon exiting the highway, my dad made a wrong turn; that is, he mistakenly went the way opposite from that which the sign indicated. As a result, we arrived at Lehigh University via Fourth Street, the main drag on the south side of Bethlehem. The road was narrow and crowded, lined with cars parked in front of depressed-looking rowhouses. As we drove up to the Admissions Office, however, I remember noticing a marked difference: instead of dreary soot and a depressed economy, we were surrounded by the delicate landscaping typical of private northeastern universities. It wasn't until I arrived as a freshman at Lehigh that I realized that the blue sign, erected by the city at the bottom of the exit ramp, led visitors through a "scenic" view of farmland and rolling hills-and took an extra 10 minutes to get to the same campus I had visited the year before. Bethlehem's motivation in putting up such a misleading sign is obvious- to get parents to "buy" Lehigh, it is in the best interest of the university--and the town-to present the best image possible-and everyone knows that nature sells better than slumlord rowhouses that trickle down the Lehigh River in competition with the profile of the five-mile long Bethlehem Steel Mill. Bethlehem tried to make me a tourist-a sucker to the exclusionary performance of its identity: a city built on the quaint but imaginary history of Moravian settlers who believed in equality and a just and comfortably liberal god. The blue sign is only one example of the ubiquitous mini-performances constructed within Bethlehem's city limits. A growing tourism industry has created these spectacles, rituals, and performances out of the need to save an economy that has crashed since the end of the steel industry. As Paul Connerton discusses in How Societies Remember, such events require replication and repetition in order to achieve justification and authentication (1989). Bethlehem has facilitated opportunities for such re-presentations through the production of a permanent site, the Bethlehem Historic District, located on the north side of the city, on which tourism can be maintained and expanded through the marketing of experience: the essential ingredient that the product of Bethlehem tourism aspires to. This structured, imagined, and bordered area has become a "whole" that, as Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett mentions in Destination Culture, performs a world without the complications that reality reflects (1998:20). From the glorification of "friendly" interactions between Moravians and Native Americans to the ignored complications consistently arriving with new immigrant workers scheduled to take over the labor force at Bethlehem Steel, the Bethlehem Historic District succeeds in its attempt to present to tourists a self-contained world of white lights, white Moravians, and an incredibly loyal sense of community. The following paper investigates the Historic District through the history of its construction and an analysis of fieldwork conducted in February and March 1998. My research shows that the success of this tourist area depends on the erasure of the south side of Bethlehem; an act which reflects great irony considering the fact that the north side's wealth, beauty, and "quaintness" has been afforded mostly by the efforts of the south side's steel industry. Bethlehem's History: A Nostalgic Journey Through True and False The land comprising Bethlehem and the surrounding area was inhabited by tribes of the Iroquois Confederacy in the 1740s when Moravian missionaries arrived from eastern Europe. However, the story told to children in the Bethlehem Area School District is a little different: Moravians "founded" Bethlehem on Christmas Eve, 1741, in a log cabin, the first "house" in Bethlehem. Just as schoolchildren are repeatedly told the story of their city, visitors meet a similar scenario, both before they arrive as well as upon reaching the Bethlehem Tourism Authority. For example, the Tourism Authority's webpage explains that: The story begins with Count Nicholas Ludwig von Zinzendorf, leader of the new Moravian settlement, in his log cabin in a Colonial land where the Lehigh River and Monocacy Creek meet. . .It's Christmas Eve, and his fellow Moravians in the settlement are singing "Not Jerusalem, but lowly Bethlehem. . ." [...] The count is so moved by the rendition, sung in a log cabin that reminds him of the stable where the Christ child was born, that he sees it as a sign to call the settlement "Bethlehem." (1998:btour8) This warm narrative, which uses the present-tense to better accommodate the visitor looking to be welcomed, ironically misstates the position of Zinzendorf. His stay in Bethlehem consisted of a few brief visits, and none were spent in the aforementioned log cabin (Schwarz 1992:14-15). After receiving a name, Bethlehem grew up as a stronghold for Moravian missionary work with local Indians and freed slaves. In the 1750s, however, missionary work fell sour; Indians began to return to their tribes. Soon, the need to reclaim land became more and more important for Native Americans who continually lost tracts of land to "treaties" from the past (Bethlehem Tourism Authority 1992 [1976]). War broke out in 1756, and by 1758, most Indians were either killed or had fled west; the city was now defended by a fortress. A communal economy began shifting to a private one in 1760 (Schwarz 1998:17). Bethlehem continued to grow in size and wealth through the revolution, when the facilities offered by the Single Brethren's House allowed Washington's army to set up a hospital during the war. As the 19th century approached, farms were relocated and renovated to make room for a growing commercial economy. But it was the arrival of the Lehigh Canal in 1827 that triggered a significant set of changes that have continued through the late 20th century (1998:25). Soon after goods and services were capable of passing through the area, a railroad could be built. And with a railroad that could supply surrounding areas, industry could flourish in the Lehigh Valley. Bethlehem in the mid-19th century saw the founding of Asa Packer's Lehigh Valley Railroad which eventually developed the Bethlehem Rolling Mills & Iron Company, the precursor to Bethlehem Steel. These corporations, so vital to the industrial growth of the United States, predictably provided great wealth to the city. However, this wealth was skewed in that Steel executives throughout the next hundred years consistently built their great houses on the north side of the city. Maps over the decades (Figures 2-4) display the emphasis on industrial space on the south side versus a commercial and residential one on the north side. One needs only to visit the graves of a few major Steel executives to understand from where they chose to view the company. At one site in the north-side Nisky Hill Cemetery, elaborate stone-carved benches surround a tall gravestone. These structures situate both the visitor and the deceased with a view looking down the hill and across the river directly at the steel mill. As the steel industry grew in size and capabilities, so did the demand for steel. One of Bethlehem's claims to fame is the incredible distribution of raw materials from the area. Steel from Bethlehem built the Trans-Siberian railroad; provided I-beams for some of the tallest skyscrapers in the world, and is inside the walls of the Waldorf-Astoria. As the 19th century drew to a close, the demand for labor greatly increased. A diagram in the tourist video The Spirit of Bethlehem claims the following progression of immigrants to the area: 1850s Belgians arrive 1860s Irish, Germans, Pennsylvania Germans arrive 1870s Slovacs and Hungarians arrive 1880s Ukranians and Poles arrive 1890s Windish and Italians arrive 1900s Russians, Lithuanians, Croatians, Greeks arrive 1920s Mexicans arrive 1930s Puerto Ricans arrive Since the waves of immigrants began, Bethlehem and its steel-supported economy matched its reaction to these groups in cycles of resistance and finally acceptance, marked by the movement of immigrant families who finally "made it," in other words, were replaced by a newer, less-valued group. It is with the arrival of these diverse immigrants that the difference between north and south became more important to the city's identity. The history that is performed for tourists is one that mentions immigrant workers as a thing of the past-there are hints of various European groups arriving and then fulfilling the "American Dream" and moving north, across the bridge, away from the soot, noise, and smell of steel to the cobblestone streets and quaint community on the north side. These cycles have gone on throughout the 20th century but have become more and more complicated in their motivating forces. Recruitment procedures differed from group to group. For example, my Irish grandfather got a job at the Steel because he read an ad in the newspaper; a Mexican American 8th-grader I know had a grandfather who came to Bethlehem after Steel management traveled by train to Mexico to recruit new labor. It is interesting to point out that this community, so famous for expounding on its lack of racism "since 1741," is the same body that, unlike many other northeastern industrial areas, overlooked the South as a "source" of African American labor and skipped right to Latin America and eastern and southern Europe for new worker pools (Cameron and Gatewood 1994:29). Since the 1950s, however, the steel industry in Bethlehem has suffered repeated slumps; methods of steel making have been improved in other locations, and steelmills have moved from large-scale operations to "minimills." Layoffs have occurred again and again, leading up to the virtual closure of the mill in the past few years. In response to this economic crisis, the City of Bethlehem began to invest significantly in alternative income sources, ranging from the conversion of farmlands to light industry (a project which has provided thousands of jobs since the 1970s), to the development of tourism in the area, a route taken by dozens of other Pennsylvanian communities. Long-range planning for tourism has spotlighted a Moravian history due to the comparatively well-kept conditions that many 18th- and 19th-century buildings maintained over the years. Most buildings visited along Main and Church Streets in the Historic District represent restoration and renovation projects begun in the 1960s (Figures 5-7). The Present: Keeping up Appearances With each new generation, as the people of Bethlehem learn more about each other, their differences become less, and they grow closer. Bethlehem, whose people proudly claim over 64 different ethnic origins, is truly a melting pot of cultures and religions. (Miller 1992) My mouth hangs open as the narrator of The Spirit of Bethlehem utters these words. I'm sitting in the screening room of the Bethlehem Tourism Authority, realizing that this is what tourists hear when they arrive. I'm dumbfounded-and yet totally unsurprised. Although I have lived and worked in Bethlehem long enough to know that the area is indeed diverse, I, as a tourist, began to understand what diversity meant to Bethlehem's tourism planners. The Spirit of Bethlehem performed the scenario for the tourist that diversity has dwindled away into a melting pot in which various sizes, types, and creeds from "over 64 different ethnic origins" all pretend to be Moravian, a religion that actually includes only 2% of the population in Bethlehem. This false sense of unity is further complicated by publicity text that hails the "white lights" lining the streets on the north side in complement to the "multicolored lights" that hang on the south side as a touch reflecting the area's "diversity" (quoted in Touchstone 1997). Diversity in Bethlehem is synonymous with borders: south of the Lehigh River, the tourist will find anything but what they have come to see--Moravian "heritage." I finally got it: diversity is the south side, and the south side is the other, while the melting pot oozes on the north side, inviting visitors "for over 250 years" to "experience the warmth and hospitality of this delightful community" (Bethlehem Visitor Center 1997). Tourism in Bethlehem So, what does the contemporary tourist do in Bethlehem? How does the city market itself as an attraction? What is it actually selling? Bethlehem has consistently focused tourism on the area just north of the Lehigh River where there is the most concentrated area of historic Moravian buildings. These include the Gemeinhaus, or "Community House," built in 1742; the Widows' House from 1768; the 1748 Brethren's House; the Bell House, home to Moravian couples in the mid-18th century; the Sun Inn (1758) restaurant on Main Street; The 1762 Waterworks and surrounding "18th-century industrial area"; and others (See Figures 5-9). Before I describe my fieldwork as a Bethlehem tourist, it is important to explain how tourists come to visit the area and why. As I stated above, Bethlehem has constructed a "Historic District" on or near which other events draw tourists. Therefore, in addition to the tourist simply interested in the history of these sites, there remain much larger numbers of visitors who have made the journey to Bethlehem to have a corresponding "experience." For example, the season begins in the spring with several small-scale festivals including the "Bach Festival," the "Shad Festival," and the "Rose Garden Children's Festival." Most of these events attract locals to the area. When summer sets in, the Historic District hosts visitors presumably interested specifically in the sites themselves, as there are little supporting activities. In August, however, things begin to heat up. Musikfest is a major festival hosted in and around the Historic District since 1984 (see Figure 10). In September Celtic Fest follows with Celtic games, shops, and foods. But it is not until December that the city's most important part of the tourist season begins. Christmas, performed with fully decorated sets, costumed actors, sound and lighting design, shopping, nativity scenes (including one placed unconstitutionally on City Hall grounds), and other pine-scented decorations, absorbs the late fall and early winter tourist audiences in Bethlehem. Ambiance, provided by candles "in every window," lit "Stars of Bethlehem" hanging on porches, white string lights in trees, speakers playing holiday music hidden in the same trees, shops selling beeswax candles, pine-needle wreaths, Stars of Bethlehem, cr^Êche pieces, (I could go on and on), allows the tourist a multisensory experience. As one visitor put it, "You soon find yourself humming a carol and thinking of eggnog and having your family home by the fireside as the snow sifts down through the majestic trees on historic Church Street. It just looks the way Christmas-time should" (de Paolo 1997:1). Frightened? How 'bout these apples: an anthropological study claimed in 1994 that visitors, regardless of their socioeconomic background, all agree that Christmas in Bethlehem is a more "authentic" experience than that in their own hometown (Cameron and Gatewood 1994). My official fieldwork was conducted in Bethlehem during the "off-season," in the late winter/early spring before any major festivals. At this time of the year, there are no bus tours to the city or package deals that include lodging, dining, and/or performances that occur during busier times in the year. Therefore, my days as a tourist in Bethlehem started from scratch. I stopped by the Moravian Museum, one of the major sites in the Historic District. It was closed; I headed for the Bethlehem Visitor Center, realizing that it was here that tourists begin in Bethlehem. Marketing strategies include brochures, a detailed webpage, and regular articles in newspaper travel sections each year. Tourists are encouraged to first call or stop by the Visitor Center before exploring the rest of the "Christmas City USA" (de Paolo 1997:1). From there, tourists can choose among brochures and schedules for dozens of sites, shops, and eateries to explore. And this is exactly what I did. Fieldwork: A Day in the Historic District My touristic visits to Bethlehem always began at the Visitor Center. Located just off Main Street, the Visitor Center has plenty of room for coach buses and individual cars to pull up and/or park directly outside. Opening the door, I was struck with the bright walls, covered with large pictures of sites in the Historic District, and the great width of the hallway ramp, floored with all-weather rubber tile, leading down into the reception area. This structure is built for large groups to move through, there is little doubt about that. The front desk is surrounded by brochures covering the Historic District as well as other tourist sites in the Lehigh Valley and Pocono Mountains. I rarely announced my covert operation right away; however, I usually did give in after awhile to reveal my research project as a "study in tourism." I never disclosed that my hypothesis involved the intentional ignorance of the south side. On most visits I was welcomed by a volunteer who quickly revealed a Moravian heritage. Fortunately, I think I only had one or two repeat performances. I always asked general information about "what there is to see around here." Volunteers' responses always involved the Moravian Museum, the Kemmerer Museum of Decorative Arts, the self-guided walking tour, and Main Street shopping. On one occasion, when I asked, "How about the south side, what is there to see over there?" my volunteer-assistant reflexively said, "Oh, nothing." "Nothing?" I asked, surprised by his reaction. The south side was not in his script. My hypothesis had supporting evidence!! "No, well, I mean, of course [nervous laugh] there is the steel mill, you know, Bethlehem Steel, but that's nothing, really, now." He made no mention of the museum plans in the works, but finally added, "and there's Lehigh University." "I know," I said, "I went there." He was surprised again, and probably confused as I had been playing the role of clueless tourist. He finally told me that he too went to Lehigh, in "the fifties." The man had lived on the south side for four years of college, then moved to the north side until retirement; but had nothing to say about that section of town- no mention of the restaurants, shops, community garden, or even the newly constructed tourist sites including the Banana Factory and the Discovery Center. The thought didn't seem to cross his mind. Bethlehem, as his pen showed me as it circled the "area of interest" on the map, including only the section north of the river. His subconscious ignorance of the south side was one of the most blatant responses I had about the area. On most visits, I was simply told that "this was not a heavy tourist season"; once I signed up for a walking tour with a costumed guide, but it was canceled because the minimum number of visitors was not met. I was always told that I must watch one or two videos, depending on the day. I later purchased both films, as they proved to encapsulate the intentions of the Tourism Authority quite well and offer several representations vital to the disappearance of the south side. The videos are certainly part of the ritual; as in the case of many historical tourist sites, they prepare the visitor for what they will see outside. City in the Wilderness. Produced by the Tourism Authority in the late 1970s for the Bicentennial, City in the Wilderness is a dated piece that outlines the "history" of the Moravian community in Bethlehem. It depicts white actors playing "Indians" that lurk in the "wilderness" with predatory eyes as Moravians arrive on horseback. The story follows the settling of missionaries in the valley, the conversion of and subsequent war with Native Americans, and details a fantastical Revolutionary War. Throughout the film, ambivalent messages obscure truths; for example, missionary work with Native Americans is depicted as admirable while the stealing of their land during the famous "Walking Purchase" in 1737 receives sympathetic attention. A narrator speaks to an audience of tourists who have come to learn about this quiet community that has barely changed over the years, still retaining the values of education, equality, and religion. His conservative voice tells the spectator what kind of people s/he will "experience" in the Historic District and surrounding commercial sector: Moravians, or at least, people just like Moravians. Humanitarians, who, like their "forefathers," believe in equality: "even in death we make no division of humanity; in God's Acre are no family plots, no distinction is made for position or wealth" (1992 [1976]). Ending words ask the tourist to experience the "sights and sounds that make Bethlehem so special." The Spirit of Bethlehem. The second of two videos shown to tourists on their first stop in Bethlehem, this film includes an introduction by director, Jon Miller. He tells the tourist-viewer that, as a native of Bethlehem, he felt so strongly about his community that he wanted to give back to it somehow by using his resources at his production company to make this video. A music video for the title song commissioned for the piece follows (see Figure 11 for lyrics); another version of the same music video appears at the end of the hour-long tribute to the city. By asking tourists to join in the celebration ("opening our hearts to the history of Bethlehem/ Sharing our lives in the spirit of Bethlehem"), the song is a key element in arousing a sensory reaction to Bethlehem, preparing tourists seated at the Bethlehem Visitors' Center for what they are about to experience. Culminating in a "view" of the city from the top of Hotel Bethlehem overlooking the Central Moravian Church and the Brethren's House with the Star in the distance, the last image of the video firmly places the center of Bethlehem north of the Lehigh River. A perspective repeated in postcards, on the Bethlehem Tourist Authority webpage, and souvenir books, this angle looks south only out of the necessity to include the Star. The Spirit of Bethlehem also carefully documents and replays the kinds of commemorative ceremonies described by Connerton as vital to the inscription of social memory (1989). Official celebrations of the city's 250th anniversary included a year of parties, parades, concerts, exhibits, and special programs of recognition and remembrance [including an interfaith religious commemorative service]. Thousands of volunteers helped to make it a time for all of us who call Bethlehem our home to realize what a rich inheritance we were given by the dedicated men and women who lived and worked here before us. (Miller 1992) This vague description of a community gathering to honor the history of their origins is not surprising: it speaks of home, inheritance, dedication, remembrance. I expected such creative events from city officials, and, I venture to guess, so would most tourists. The performance I found more disturbing as a ritual prepared by the city for the city and later used as an event repeated for a "diverse" tourist audience was the celebration entitled "Hands Across the River," a name that immediately asks the question Why the need to enforce such a meeting? On this day participants literally joined hands across the bridge connecting north and south and, in unison, sang a song written especially for the occasion: When I stop and think about What our city means to me >From Main Street to South Side I can feel the unity People standing proud Of what they built and what they made And you only need to take a look at Bethlehem As the star shines brightly from the mountain, Shining bright for all the world to see Bethlehem, Bethlehem, you're looking good to me. The kind of irony that this event and this song performs is as equally obvious as it is hidden, denied, and ignored in Bethlehem. Instances of crime and families at or below poverty level are higher on the south side; statistics show these facts. But what is almost more well-known are the attitudes. One need only ask a resident of Bethlehem to know how north feels about south: people are afraid to "go over there at night," teachers spend their careers trying to "get promoted to the north side," and it is a common myth (?) that teachers who "step out of line" on the north side will be "sent to the south side." Hands don't reach across the bridges that separate north and south; a major sociological study is not required to figure that one out. It would, however, be interesting to find out more about this event that took place in 1992; who sponsored it and who attended would be some of my first questions. The ceremony's importance to my present study is it's ability to serve as yet another performance that is repeatable for a tourist audience in the service of the Bethlehem Tourism Authority's mission to present a cohesive, quaint, nostalgic community. Perhaps the Tourism Authority anticipates visitors who are familiar with the south side, a likely scenario when the demographics over the past several decades of steelworkers is considered. Jon Miller's video leaves viewers with the message: "The Christmas City is a truly wonderful gift that we want to share with the rest of the world. During the holiday season, Bethlehem offers a host of events, displays, and community activities: the live Christmas pageant, staged by over one hundred volunteers, includes actors and actresses and even live animals! The Christmas nightlight tours are designed to give both visitors and residents a better understanding of our traditional lighting from the star on South Mountain to the candles in every window of the historic buildings. From Christmas trees to spectacular displays of miniature figures and finely crafted models depicting the birth of the Christ child, Bethlehem remembers the true meaning of Christmas. Our little town of Bethlehem is celebrated in music and the arts throughout the year. We will continue to care for and nurture our community and its people so that we may pass on to our children and their children the spirit that is Bethlehem." (1992) Version Two of the "Spirit of Bethlehem" music video includes absolutely priceless shots of a choir of community members singing interspersed with images of Main Street at Christmastime- uniting the tourist audience with a feeling of belonging under a simplified umbrella of "spirit." The lyrics tell them: "We came here for different reasons, searching for a home" and "We are all our Father's children, though different in many ways/ No matter what our heritage, we are really all the same," inviting me, the tourist, to join in the north-side melting pot while at the same time attempting to get off the hook for the well-known discrimination of the south side. Gift Shop. Finally, the video is over. I try to breathe again, knowing that my personal relationship makes this project all the more difficult if not all the more fascinating. I can only do my best at objectivity in the interest of my field, but subjective I am, and I feel it is what the community needs. I get up, wander aimlessly into the "Gift Shop," and stare at a lame attempt at such an establishment. Looking around I realize that there are really only a few important items: Stars in all shapes and sizes, from earrings to large crystal-made sculptures, and beeswax candles with red ribbons, lit every year during Christmas Vespers. I know that the real shopping goes on around Main Street, where a few elegant shops (one is even called Heritage!!) sell much of the same, only with much more ambiance. I purchase my videos, and stagger back up the long, wide, yellow hallway to my car. Moravian Museum. My tours at this museum always followed my Visitor Center appearance; I am told that is the usual progression. On display at the Moravian Museum is a host of 18th- and 19th-century artifacts, displayed as the tools and decorations of Bethlehem's ancestors (for an interior view see Figure 12). A National Historic Landmark, tours at the converted Gemeinhaus proved to be diverse and interesting. I found that more information passed in the discussions with tour guides; the rooms were not as interesting as whatever the personal knowledge the specific tour guide had about the Historic District and Bethlehem in general. My first and most extensive tour was interesting in that my tour guide was summoned when I signed up for a tour. She was from the Widow's House across the street, a restored Moravian building that housed widows in the late 18th century and has been "converted to apartments for widows, single women, or retired clergy and their spouses" (Bethlehem Area Chamber of Commerce 1995). I later found out that she was indeed an "authentic" Moravian widow who was very eager to explain the history of the Gemeinhaus and its various uses over the years. One of the more interesting moments, I found, was in her explanation of a lithograph on the wall depicted the Moravian Lovefeast ritual. The ceremony, she explained, is still practiced: it involves sharing cookies and warm milk or cocoa. It has been associated with children for obvious reasons, and is often held around the other Moravian holidays (there was one held this Easter Saturday). When asked whether the ritual is performed for tourists, she grew visibly disturbed and assured me that no, the Lovefeast was never an event that tourists were invited to. After a beat she perhaps rethought her statement, because she then stated that, of course, "tourists are always welcome, if they happened to be visiting the church." I asked whether visiting the church meant joining services or just peeking in, and again, she seemed perturbed. "No, they would be there for services." I asked where services are advertised; she was silent and then said she didn't know. I found this moment interesting in that it confronted the possible clash between the tourist who journeys to find a nostalgic Moravian community and the devout Moravian who would resist turning the ritual into a "representation of [itself] and circulating [it] within an economy of performance" (Bruner and Kirshenblatt-Gimblett 1994). I decided to leave it alone- for the moment. Main Street. Spanning from the entrance to the Central Moravian Church to the newly renovated site of the department store Orr's, Main Street houses several stuffy shops filled with breakables and other over-priced gifts. There is the ironically named "Heritage," a store selling children's clothes and accessories, a British Isles-items store selling Marmite and Waterford, "The Star Gift Shop," "Musikfest Souvenir Gift Shop," a few eateries (including the 18th-century Sun Inn), Hotel Bethlehem, the Moravian Bookshop and Cookshop, and various other shops and services. Other than candles and Stars for sale, there is little unique about the area's commodities, and yet, during the tourist season, the Moravian Cookshop is so crowded even the incredibly good homemade chocolate does not seem appealing to locals. During Musikfest, things are even worse, as funnelcake stands begin to infest the quaint streetlights and wooden benches that line the well-kept sidewalks. Parking is infamously a problem during this 10-day music festival, leading a great deal of locals to plan their vacations for that very span of time. One of the more important aspects about this street involves its branding by the city, the Tourism Authority, and general reputation as the "Downtown Shopping" area, excluding the commercial district on the south side. "Treasure Bethlehem," a brochure from the Tourism Authority listing "Bethlehem Area" restaurants, hotels, and bed and breakfasts, lists 28 establishments, of which 20 are on the north side if not in the Main Street immediate area and only three on the south side. The remaining five fall outside either categories. Results of this exclusion are presently trying to be ameliorated, but not only from south side forces-for example, the north-side Musikfest organization acquired a building now converted to the "Banana Factory," an art space. South side business owners have continually fought for their presence to be recognized, and, for the first time that I can remember, a brochure entitled "SouthSide," which includes the businesses and organizations south of the Lehigh, was printed in December of 1997 in part by the Downtown Bethlehem Association. Present, but separate: the brochure states that "the dynamic remaking of the SouthSide celebrates our unique ethnic heritage and neighborhood diversity. The SouthSide offers a variety of shops, restaurants, nightlife, and arts & culture in friendly surroundings reminiscent of the past" (1997). Translation: Don't be afraid to cross the river at night! Our "unique" Puerto Rican "heritage" won't shoot you-oops, I mean, offend you! The very statements invite such an analysis as they beg the question: Why the need to point out phrases like "unique ethnic heritage" and words like "friendly" and "nightlife" if things are cohesive and community-oriented? Processing the Visit Bethlehem and its tourist economy present a myriad of questions and concerns. Some of the theoretical frameworks that tourism in Bethlehem and its repercussions have been established above. As I have begun to process my "experience," I have drawn further relationships between theory and these sites. Beginning with MacCannell's analysis of tourists and sightseeing, Bethlehem offers-indeed, sells-the experience that tourists so often seek (1976). Sightseeing, he explains, "is a ritual performed to the differentiations of society [...] a kind of collective striving for a transcendence of the modern totality" (13). In Bethlehem, sightseeing complies with this theory in that sites have been elevated to a higher status, sacralized on the north side for tourists to come view and experience, and this marking is defined specifically in contrast to the industrial soot of the south side. The north side is quaint because it's not the south side, "a setting that Hogarth or some other seer of long ago might have depicted as 'Hell in the 20th Century'" (de Paolo 1997:1). There is no doubt that quaintness and contrast to the south side is important to the Historic District and surrounding commercial sector: the one store that dared to place a neon "Adidas" sign in its store window has since closed. In association with MacCannell's definition of cultural experiences, the Bethlehem tourist economy attracts visitors to a representation of an aspect of life on stage inside museums and stores, as well as "on stage" in logistics: i.e., the pamphlet that lists businesses and services, the signs pointing the way, the "sets" constructed up and down Main Street, etc. The subsequent influence of such production swings back and forth from the tourist arriving with the desire to find Gemeinschaft, or community, as pointed out by Cameron and Gatewood (1994), and those who leave with the feeling that Bethlehem has a "spirit" that they will remember and perhaps return to. Videos such as The Spirit of Bethlehem provide a medium through which representations and influence can connect and transmit to the tourist (1976:22-24). The construction and maintenance of these sites depends on the initial and subsequent professed ignorance of the second half of town, home to "multicolored" lights, stores that sell Goya, not Godiva, crack houses, a now-abandoned steelmill, and a train that, very loudly, stops traffic for up to 15 minutes several times a day. By renovating and reconstructing several Moravian buildings Bethlehem tourism has also created what can be defined as Pierre Nora's lieux de m^Âmoire. On these sites memory and history become confused; reestablishing the buildings as prominent sites was an arbitrary act that chooses a "center" for the city that seems to be based on fact, but has actually been based on an economic strategy. By reconstructing Moravian buildings, history is rewritten, eradicating memory in Nora's using equation of the two (1989:8). The resulting erasure of Bethlehem's south side has left memory to flutter aimlessly and school kids see themselves only in comparison to the "better" north side. Nora's model accurately matches the process that Bethlehem tourism has gone through: Lieux de m^Âmoire originate with the sense that there is no spontaneous memory, that we must deliberately create archives, maintain anniversaries, organize celebrations, pronounce eulogies, and notarize bills because such activities no longer occur naturally. The defense, by certain minorities, of a privileged memory that has retreated to jealously protected enclaves in this sense intensely illuminates lieux de m^Âmoire-that without commemorative vigilance, history would soon sweep them away. We buttress our identities upon such bastions, but if what they defended were not threatened, there would be no need to build them. (1989:12) Perhaps the need for a structured tourist economy with built-in festivals on the north side, in exclusion of the south side, does not only involve the contested history of immigrants flowing through the south side in search of work or home, but also reflects the anxiety produced by such an immense structure. Standing tall, narrow, and threatening, Bethlehem Steel once stretched miles down the river (Figure 13). 160 acres of blast furnaces, coke works, and other previously operable facilities now await demolition. In a car, the Steel is visible miles before the Bethlehem exit off I-78. The furnace's steam towers cower over south side residences (Figure 14). The sheer size of the plant causes unrest; it sits as a testament to the ease with which history could sweep away Moravianness much sooner than steel or steelworkers. And thus the greatest irony of all: the conversion of the south side into a tourist district. Steel Works Perhaps my study came too late; it is possible that the work of analyzing performance in Bethlehem's Historic District as an erasure of the south side is null and void since Bethlehem has secured tentative agreements with the likes of Enterprise Development and the Smithsonian Institution (Orenstein 1998:10-11). But I don't think so. What seems like the solution to a long- avoided and too-long-ignored situation may prove to be the ultimate erasure, the ultimate success of "north side" forces: Bethlehem Steel's 160 acres will soon evolve from rust and garbage to reveal the National Museum of Industrial History, the Discovery Center (complete with IMAX cinema), and, of course, a shopping district (see Figure 15). Spokespeople from all sides are excited by the prospect of "revitalizing" the area: "We are delighted to take these next steps to facilitate the development of a museum and entertainment showcase on our South Side property," says Curtis H. Barnette, chairman and CEO, Bethlehem Steel (in Bethlehem Steel 1997:1). Former mayor Ken Smith argues that "The entire Bethlehem Works project represents the centerpiece of a revitalized South Side in Bethlehem" (in Orenstein 1998:18). The commemorations and remembrances, the sacralizing and conversion of a work site to attraction now begins. A history will be performed on the site; recognition will finally turn to a locus south of the Lehigh River. Many are happy; Lehigh University and various south side businesses are only some. There has, however, been very little word from community organizations on the south side. Schools participate in the already functioning Discovery Center; I've heard middle-schoolers say they are excited to have "stores and a movie theatre" within walking distance. The questions that still need answers include how the package deals of the Historic District will involve Steel, how will the entire project erase what is next door, i.e., through the use of more "blue signs." There is talk of a new road that will cut from the highway exit to the site-to "handle the anticipated volume of cars into the area." In that case, a new sign won't be needed; a shiny new road will provide comfortable access parallel to Fourth Street, one of those roads that never seems to get cleared after winter storms. Capital in the project, from all the articles I can find, does not seem to revolve around south side forces, other than Lehigh University. Minimum-wage jobs will most likely be the only benefit that permanent south-side residents will see. How will the mill, a traditionally dangerous, loud, and dirty place, make its way into the imagination of the visitor? Oral histories of steelworkers that I have seen performed at Lehigh University often focus on the everyday presence of fear and health risks that steelworkers faced. The need to water down this life experience, I argue, will contribute greatly to the suppression of memory in favor of "history." The need for a cozy outing, it seems, will overpower the call for a "true" commemoration of the bodies that worked the mill. Even if the influence of the steelworkers' stories grabs attention, whose stories will be told? Will the stories of Puerto Rican men (as far as I can tell, women only worked the mill during World War II) who were allowed only to work under the worst conditions-at the coke works-be told? Workers whose diseases killed them at young ages caused by coal in their lungs, will those stories be encased and enshrined? Or workers who lost their lives to molten iron weekly-how well will that story fly in an IMAX theatre? Nostalgia, I doubt very little, will focus on such atrocities. The Steel is actually spending too much time praising themselves for even bothering to "preserve" the site: "Bethlehem Steel could easily walk away from the site where is was incorporated by Charles Schwab in 1904, and leave a black hole" (Jeanette Dunlap quoted in Orenstein 1998:10). What will a steel museum do to promised performances like these: More than 250 years later, Christmas remains something very special to Bethlehem - to the point where it is referred to as "The Christmas City." People walking downtown during the holidays can still hear "O Little Town of Bethlehem" and other Christmas carols literally coming out of the trees. The trees downtown are equipped with speakers so the music can be played throughout the season. The trees are also filled with lights, which give the town a holiday glow after dark that must be experienced to be appreciated. A horse-drawn carriage pulls visitors through two and a half centuries of history. Guides dressed in Moravian garb walk guests through the town explaining that history in vintage detail. A look toward South Mountain bears witness to the huge Star of Bethlehem, just as three kings saw it on the first Christmas. (1998:btour8) 63;1;2;4;8;9;15c While it is likely that the package deals already planned for bus tours will simply tack on admission to the Bethlehem Works, I would go so far as to guess the stop on the south side will still take place before the sunset. In other words, I anticipate a joining of the two tourist forces, but only as an essential business partnership that will remain separated by the river/border. Performances will differ on either side; the north side performance will include the roots of Bethlehem, the 19th-century quaintness still evident in traces, i.e., lights, stars, etc. The south side will concentrate on industry, a past only just so far behind us. The politics of the everyday between north and south, the erasure of the south side as a vital part of the "whole" Bethlehem community, I will guess, will remain unresolved. Further Study: Prometheus Bound Standing at the now re-forested area that once was Esgair Fraith, right about where the bedroom used to be earlier in this century, I realized that the Mike Pearson's theatre archaeology would effectively serve my interest in the space of the steel mill as a theatrical one. As a site- specific creator of theatre pieces, Mike's work with layers and coexisting phenomena in space and time visible through performance would greatly facilitate a discussion of an upcoming theatre piece planned by the south side community-based Touchstone theatre. The use value of a blast furnace will transform when Touchstone enters rehearsals for Prometheus Bound, slated for the fall of 1999. Archaeology is a major means of dealing with site histories and material traces, a key component of tourist heritages. Performance, and experimental site-specific theatre, is a powerful vehicle for integrating, into 'deep maps', informations generated by diverse practices, from archaeology to poetry through travelogue, genealogy, journalism and memoir. (Pearson and Shanks 1997:41) Pearson's focus is on the "experiences of place and the politics of landscape in contemporary Wales," mine on the same subject in Bethlehem (41). The play will prove an interesting study in the contrasted use of space between the Bethlehem Works planning team and an artistic collaboration. I will resist the jump to concluding that Touchstone will serve the space better than Bethlehem Works, only to leave with the notion that there has to be something said for the regular community gatherings of former steelworkers to readings of the play, planning rehearsals, and casting meetings in order to weigh the influence of steelworkers in the process as well as select community members for acting and chorus roles. Unlike many of Pearson's Brith Gof productions, people will not need to be bussed in from miles away, but people will most certainly need to be transported across the soot, scrap metal, and torn-up drives on the site. One thing is certain: audience members who arrive on opening night will be tourists in a much different way than those who drive up the "new" road and pay their admission fee for the IMAX in the next few years. Lisa Knauer describes the conversion of a coal-mining community into an open-air museum in "Eckley Miners' Village: Heritage in the Twilight Zone" (1996) as an example of an attempt by the town to rejoin the contemporary global economy. Mike Pearson and Michael Shanks's "Performing a Visit: Archaeologies of the Contemporary Past" from Performance Research (1997) was based on a lecture/demonstration I attended as part of the Centre for Performance Research's Performance, Tourism, and Identity conference in the fall of 1996. References Bethlehem Area Chamber of Commerce 1995 Bethlehem of Pennsylvania: A Walking Tour. Pamphlet. Bethlehem, PA: Bethlehem Area Chamber of Commerce. Bethlehem Steel 1997 "Bethlehem Steel signs letter to lease shop for museum preview center, IMAX." Press Release. <> Bethlehem Tourism Authority 1998 <> Bethlehem Tourism Authority 1992 [1976] City in the Wilderness: In Celebration of the Bicentennial of the American Revolution. Videotape. Produced by Bethlehem Visitors' Center, Bethlehem, PA. Bethlehem Visitor Center 1997 Brochure designed by Musselman Advertising. Bethlehem, PA: Bethlehem Tourism Authority. Bruner, Edward, and Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett 1994 "Maasai on the Lawn: Tourist Realism in East Africa." Cultural Anthropology. 9(4):435-470. Cameron, Catherine, and John B. Gatewood 1994 "The Authentic Interior: Questing Gemeinschaft in Post-Industrial Society." Human Organization. 53, 1:21-32. Connerton, Paul 1989 How Societies Remember. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Downtown Bethlehem Association 1997 "SouthSide Bethlehem Pennsylvania." Brochure. Bethlehem, PA: Downtown Bethlehem Association. Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, Barbara 1998 Destination Culture. Berkeley: University of Califorina Press. Knauer, Lisa Maya 1996 "Eckley Miners' Village: Heritage in the Twilight Zone." Paper for Museum Theatre Seminar, New York University. MacCannell, Dean 1976 The Tourist: A New Theory of the Leisure Class. New York: Shocken Books. Miller, Jon 1992 The Spirit of Bethlehem. Videotape. Produced by Valley Production Center, Bath, PA. Nora, Pierre 1989 "Between Memory and History: Lieux de Mémoire." Representations. Spring, 26: 7-25. Orenstein, Beth 1998 "Bethlehem Works." Lehigh Alumni Bulletin. Winter 1998:9-19. de Paolo, Ron 1997 "Christmas City USA." Star Ledger, 30 November. Pearson, Mike, and Michael Shanks 1997 "Performing a Visit: Archaeologies of the Contemporary Past." Performance Research. 2, 2:41-53. Schwarz, Ralph Grayson 1992 Bethlehem on the Lehigh. Bethlehem, PA: Bethlehem Area Foundation. Shaffer, Craig R. and Christine M.R. Miller 1992 "The Spirit of Bethlehem." Tape recording. Produced by Valley Production Center, Bath, PA. Touchstone Theatre 1997 The Christmas City Follies. Performance. Bethlehem, PA: Produced by Touchstone Theatre.