Post-catastrophic damage cartography constitutes a serious research gap in the field of urban history. While fire and war damage maps have been made for centuries, qualitative analyses of these documents, especially from a comparative and transnational perspective, have appeared only recently. In response, this article tracks the coeval emergence of urban archaeology, heritage zoning and war damage mapping across Europe. Based on detailed studies of early post-war Munich and Warsaw, it demonstrates that damage mapping was as much about recording loss as it was about reshaping and reimagining Europe's historic city centres.

Seventeenth-century medical theory saw epidemic diseases like the plague as being caused by stinking miasmas resulting from putrefying matter polluting the air. The butchers' trade was singled out in London as a major polluter, implicated in both the regulatory literature and popular images as corrupting both the physical and moral health of the City and its citizens. Controlling the food trades, especially the butchers', was therefore an essential part of containing environmental pollution and preventing disease.

The topic of this study is the control of urban space in late Ottoman Istanbul, particularly during the reign of Abdülhamid II (1876–1909). Issues of the control and surveillance of public gatherings and popular entertainment are investigated by focusing on the Greeks of Istanbul, the largest non-Muslim population in the city. The article is based on an investigation of petitions, the Ottoman Police Ministry records and spy reports on various planned and spontaneous, private and public activities, such as charity concerts, theatrical performances, and collective singing in private and public meetings.

The ‘Labour and the Poor’ investigations of the Morning Chronicle newspaper, which charted social conditions in towns outside London in 1849–51, subjected Irish migrants in Britain to a hostile journalistic gaze. In the case of the iron-manufacturing town of Merthyr Tydfil in south Wales, the minority Irish ethnic identity was defined by observers in terms of exclusion from an emerging mass commodity culture and in opposition to the native working class. This early investigative journalism deployed some conventions of the contemporary novel that were familiar to its mainly middle-class readership to root social identities in material conditions.

Alexander Pope unwittingly offered valuable solace and encouragement to students of urban morphology when he observed, in An Essay on Man, ‘A mighty maze! but not without a plan’. The search for guiding principles shaping morphology, for the formative, generative and adaptive processes operating in space and through time, is a major goal in the field of urban investigation. Every settlement consists of a number, or a mosaic, of distinct morphological units. These units can be classified on various dimensions such as period of development, building style or functional use. The units vary in size and complexity, or heterogeneity, of elements. On occasion, complexity was incorporated into the original design, as in the case of the Georgian New Town of Edinburgh. More commonly, complexity emerged as a result of subsequent adaptation, alteration and partial or total replacement of elements such as plots, blocks, frontages or townscapes. A fundamental, though rather neglected, concern of the morphologist is the identification of formative, generative and adaptive processes and the establishment of a relational model incorporating all of the interactive components, i.e. factors, processes, morphological elements and agents involved in the decision-making process.

This article investigates the emergence of the Copenhagen slaughterhouse, called the Meat City, during the late nineteenth century. This slaughterhouse was a product of a number of heterogeneous components: industrialization and new infrastructures were important, but hygiene and the significance of Danish bacon exports also played a key role. In the Meat City, this created a distinction between rising production and consumption on the one hand, and the isolation and closure of the slaughtering facility on the other. This friction mirrored an ambivalent attitude towards meat in the urban space: one where consumers demanded more meat than ever before, while animals were being removed from the public eye. These contradictions, it is argued, illustrate and underline the change of the city towards a ‘post-domestic’ culture. The article employs a variety of sources, but primarily the Copenhagen Municipal Archives for regulation of meat provision.

With few dissenting voices, the historiography of twentieth-century urban civil society has been relayed through a prism of continuing and escalating elite disengagement. Within a paradigm of declinism, academics, politicians and social commentators contrast a past offering a richness of social commitment against a present characterized by lowering standards in urban governance. Put simply, the right sorts of people were no longer volunteering. Yet the data for such claims is insubstantial, and the applied methodology flawed. What are lacking are detailed empirical studies which offer flexible measures of status across a range of voluntary and political activities, so that we can better understand the social trends of urban volunteering across the first 50 years of the twentieth century.

This article examines the localized nature of leisure provision and consumer taste in Britain in the first half of the twentieth century. Based on an analysis of the cinema-going habits of naval personnel and dockyard workers and their families in the naval town of Portsmouth, this article reveals how closely consumers’ tastes were predicated on their social and cultural identities. By mapping film booking patterns at one cinema, this article reveals how cinema managers chose to book films which responded directly to the tastes of their patrons. The article concludes that the film preferences of this community were shaped by their close connections with naval life.

The Poulson affair is central for the agenda of post-1950 British urban history. Particularly, it suggests that corruption is a key facet within the politics of planning and the rebuilding of Britain's urban environment. Poulson provides a useful route into an examination of the place of corruption because of the scale of his activity both in terms of volumes and types of constructions he planned. His networks and the geographical concentrations of his work also provide a regional dimension. Perceptions of Poulson have been fashioned by investigative and satirical journalism and television. A re-evaluation in light of official government sources and Poulson's autobiography raise important issues concerning the ethics of public officials and private businessmen; and the consequences of the interaction of public and private markets. Poulson's business was driven by the twin engines of government funding and the activity cycles of the construction industry. The fluctuation in his planned commissions provides a useful barometer of the planning environment. Poulson's demise exposed the complex relations between business, civil servants, ministers and local councillors contributing to growing public distrust of the workings of government. Finally, it is suggested that the affair was a critical factor in re-shaping central–local government relationships.

During World War II, Hull suffered from an intensity of bombing which made it one of the most heavily blitzed cities in Britain. Air raids fundamentally reshaped the history of the Yorkshire port city. In 2017, 75 years later, Hull's year as UK City of Culture marked another period of change and development. This article explores how one public history project, The Hull Blitz Trail, brought these two moments of urban transformation together, and reflects on some of the benefits and challenges of taking urban history beyond the academy. It outlines how public engagement projects can become more meaningful, more engaging and more ‘impactful’ if we carefully consider the physical and cultural landscape of the city today, as much as the histories themselves. However, combining the urban past and present influences our work in powerful ways, shaping the histories we are able to share, and how we share them.

This article examines how, in the production and use of cartographic items, urban space and local knowledge were brought together to construct authoritative representations of place. Its approach is twofold. The first half of the article is an examination of the mapmakers John Bartholomew & Co.’s changing premises across Edinburgh, which shows that the firm carefully curated their business properties in order to convey credibility and gain trust. The article then introduces the London-based firm Charles E. Goad Ltd, producers of fire insurance plans, and considers their acquisition of urban information and their use of local knowledge from a distance to achieve similar aims. Both cases illustrate the importance of close attention to geography and the spatial dimensions of knowledge construction.

Throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as many as one-half of the urban inhabitants of England and Wales lived in small towns. In 1801 62 per cent of all towns with populations of 2,500 or more contained fewer than 5,000 inhabitants and in 1901 30 per cent of all towns still contained less than 10,000 persons. Yet despite the strength of small towns within the national urban system these communities are far from proportionately represented in the large body of academic literature directed towards analysing towns and urban growth. Our knowledge and understanding of the forces of change acting upon towns at the lower end of the urban size hierarchy in this critical transitional period of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries remains relatively undeveloped, and this is especially true for rural areas untouched by the main wave of industrialization.

This article considers the relationship between landed culture and the emergent middle classes in a rapidly expanding urban context substantially removed from the more familiar examples. The port of Grimsby expanded rapidly in the second half of the nineteenth century, displaying many facets in common with other industrial centres and boasting a substantial middle-class presence from a relatively early stage. At the same time the extent to which Grimsby's middle classes assumed a leading role in the town's development is questionable and subject to qualification.

This paper seeks to extend the knowledge of small-town structures and of conflict in late medieval urban society by utilizing the unusual survival of a variety of sources for the English small town of Lydd in Kent. The main focus is an analysis of conflicts over capitalizing enclosure in Lydd in the mid-fifteenth century from which it then seeks to generalize, and to implicate towns in the feudalism to capitalism debate previously overwhelmingly confined to rural society.

This article examines how different visions of Tel Aviv as a seaside city in the 1930s were articulated in terms of urban planning and local politics. It expands on the beach as a site of leisure, pleasure, health and recuperation. It further elaborates on the demand to ‘improve the seashore’ in terms of architecture and urban development. At the centre of the discussion is the evaluation of the Grunblatt scheme and the public debate on the benefits and disadvantages of the ambitious project.

This article argues that a one-sided focus on official sources has dominated historical research on urban green space. The absence of the users’ perspective obscures a substantial part of its significance. This article, which aims at complementing rather than contradicting existing research, will show that the different perspectives and practices of city dwellers widen our understanding of the history of urban green spaces. The article will also consider the value of often marginalized, unofficial green spaces like ramparts and wastelands at the urban fringe.

This article examines how the civic authorities of six English towns responded to competition from new markets, regional fairs, informal trade and each other during the period 1250–1400. It argues that the civic authorities adopted an aggressive strategy based on developing a good reputation for their town, in order to show that the town was well governed and that its merchants and artisans maintained high standards of quality. This article focuses upon how a credible reputation was developed through the creation and enforcement of market regulation, and examines its appeal to citizens, foreign merchants and the crown and nobility.

Historical scholarship on the spatial organization of cities has largely ignored the crucial role that house numbering has played as a political technology of spatial calculation since the eighteenth century. This article examines the spatial history of house numbering in Manhattan to illustrate how the numbering of buildings was a key strategy employed to reconfigure the city as a space of calculability. From the very outset, however, such calculable spaces of ‘number’ were riddled with contradictions, resulting in several rounds of spatial rationalization over the course of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. More than a mere technical concern alone, the history of house numbering in New York City exemplifies the spatial politics and temporal instabilities that have shaped the spaces of calculation in the modern city.

The history of cities in the Low Countries at the end of Middle Ages is commonly presented as one of discontinuity in which old textile centres collapsed, and were replaced by new centres such as Antwerp, Leiden, Lille and Amsterdam which were in fundamental respects entirely unlike their medieval predecessors. This conventional interpretation is challenged with reference to Ghent and Douai. Neither suffered devastating economic decline, social trauma or political upheaval in the period, and both enjoyed a degree of relative economic success. Contradictions are also identified, especially the way that economic flexibility was associated with an intensification of social conservatism. This process not only helped produce a characteristically ‘early modern’ social order but also decisively linked the ‘medieval’ with the ‘early modern’ in these two cities.

The aim of this article is to take stock of nineteenth-century transnational urban history. After a short introduction to transnational history, general urban histories are analysed with respect to the ways in which transnational perspectives are incorporated into the narratives. Specific contributions to urban history in a transnational perspective are analysed. Approaches to urban planning history that focus on transnational linkages and international organization are discussed. Approaches to urban history within enlarged geographical scales that go beyond the nation-state framework, with a particular focus on cities as nodes in translocal networks, are analysed. The article concludes with a critical discussion of nineteenth-century transnational urban history.