De-industrialization and the rise of the service sector have formed the basis of recent attempts to develop a new metanarrative of economic change in twentieth-century Britain. Their effects have been taken as writ through labour market statistics or aggregate measures of gross domestic product. However, by focusing on particular micro-economic spaces, a different story emerges. Using the inner areas of Liverpool as a case-study, this article shows how the city's social and economic problems were underwritten by the decline of the service sector, located around the port. By reading the effects of social and economic change through accounts of the physical environment, it demonstrates how urban decay and dereliction provided material resonance to Liverpool's economic decline. The city's landscape of urban decay and dereliction encompassed the infrastructure of everyday life – housing, roads and even trees – as well as that of economic activity, including the docks and warehouses. Taken together, this article shows how this landscape of urban decay and dereliction came to be constituted as an agent within Liverpool's continued economic decline in the 1970s rather than simply being a reflection of it.

The adoption of non-traditional housing by local authorities is customarily explained in terms of economic factor shortages or a nationally determined policy discourse. This underestimates the significance of distinctly local understandings of civic responsibility. Based on Leicester and Nottingham, this article argues that those influences frequently used to predict outcomes – like party political allegiance – mattered less in decision-making than a city's intrinsic view of itself. Such perceptions were grounded in subtle constructions of civic community, perceived need and political reinterpretation. Particularly important was the role of the local press. Even cities with similar problems, therefore, could be represented, and subsequently see themselves, in very dissimilar terms and act accordingly.

Historians have argued that American social welfare reformers looked to Europe for examples of successful programmes. This article provides a counter-case where a progressive American state, Massachusetts, developed public health reforms prior to their British counterparts. Social concerns about reducing cases of tuberculosis in Massachusetts' cotton manufacturing cities led to the transference of the public health discourse from the urban living environment to the workplace. This same relationship could have been applied within the Lancashire industry. Instead, the urban public health discourse focused on living conditions. In both countries, local and state political structures influenced health campaigners' actions.

When John Leland toured England in the 1540s, he observed water conduits in several towns, including a number of smaller urban centres. Subsequent historians and archaeologists, however, have seriously understated the number and importance of piped water systems in English towns. This article uses studies of individual towns, together with civic records and Leland's Itinerary, to examine the sources and technologies of urban water supplies, the origins of civic piped water systems, their relationships to other local systems, finance, management and oversight. It will argue that the growth in piped supplies by civic bodies in the later Middle Ages reflects the importance of charitable provision and the efforts of civic authorities to establish, maintain and regulate them. An appendix lists medieval English towns known to have provided public access to piped water supplies by c. 1550.

The switch from intermittent to constant water supply in London in the late nineteenth century has attracted little attention. This article argues that this transition, the basis of the modern water system, was a considerable undertaking. System-builders (London's private water companies) faced a permissive regulatory environment and a population that could be ambivalent about constant water. While the water companies tried to encourage standardization through contract agreements and inspection, their lack of domestic access encouraged technical fragmentation. Local socio-political relations influenced the form of the constant water system, with consequences for future consumption practices.

Urban icons were common in the Roman world, with monuments, cityscapes and personifications all used as metonyms. Yet an icon for the most important city of all is not easily identified. Rome was always sui generis, too large to be easily captured visually. Filled with innumerable wonders, no single structure or artwork stood for the whole. Representing the collective, as well as the great extent of the empire, the city could not be encapsulated in a single image.

The paper investigates the activities of the eight London Commissions of Sewers during the period 1800–47. It is argued that the criticisms of the Commissions made by Edwin Chadwick and later historians are undeserved. The Commissions were efficient, innovative and honest, and successfully kept pace with the ever-changing sanitary needs of the capital. Although they operated under severe statutory constraints, they constructed many miles of sewer and can be seen as the true instigators of the nineteenth-century sanitary revolution.

This article explores how notions of African authenticity informed urban planning in post-colonial Africa. It examines an attempt by Tanzania's ruling party to build a new national capital in the sparsely populated region of Dodoma. Paradoxically, Dodoma's planners sought to build a modern African city based on the social principles of the traditional African village. This vision of African village authenticity legitimized Tanzania's ruling party by linking its authority to a purely African, rather than colonial, past. At the same time, it allowed politicians to criminalize urban poverty by attributing it to racial betrayal rather than broader structural failures.

This essay explores the concept of collective memory as a component of political culture in pre- and especially post-Reformation provincial towns. Pre-Reformation political culture depended heavily on a collective memory shaped by traditional religious experience and institutions. When so many of these were destroyed by the Reformation, it became necessary for the ruling elites of provincial towns to create alternative cultural forms, and thus to refashion a usefully legitimizing political culture. Three forms of this refashioned and legitimizing collective memory – civic regalia, civic portraiture and historical writing – are examined as they applied to the provincial urban milieu in the years c. 1540–1640.

Drawing on life stories, this article considers the relationship between urban working-class men and domesticity. Focusing on the spaces, objects and rites of men's homecoming, it questions perceptions of working-class men as peripheral to the inter-personal dynamics of family life and assesses how men's occupation of domestic space and time could be invested with emotive meaning by adult children. The article suggests that fathers were not simply figures of authority or masculine privilege but, rather, that the domestic interior was a space where men and their children navigated family roles and filial obligations to enjoy nurturing and intimate relationships more commonly associated with mothers. In doing so, the article stakes a claim to reconsider the idea that working-class homes were ‘a woman's place’ and view them more dynamically as inter-personal domains.

As an administrative tool of police reform, the introduction of house numbering in eighteenth-century Geneva was the result of a broad desire for urban transparency that resulted in the production of a new ‘regime of visibility’. This article examines how the logic of ‘number’ transformed the way in which urban space was conceived, organized and governed. As a political technology, the spatial practice of house numbering enabled governmental officials to divide, count, identify and classify urban populations in order to regulate the spaces of circulation in the modern city. Although the city's house-numbering system is taken for granted by most of the town-dwellers today, the current study illustrates how these police techniques encountered considerable resistance when they were initially imposed during the latter half of the eighteenth century.

This essay examines the nature and role of mythical histories in English medieval towns. Myths concerning the origins and special destinies of particular cities were widespread and long-lasting. For contemporaries they acquired meaning through their interaction with changing historical circumstances. Evidence for their circulation in both elite and popular domains is reviewed. Their significance was not unambiguous; they were, rather, contested territory, a means through which townspeople articulated their particular views about the nature and purpose of urban society. Their effect, therefore, could be to assist both in the formation and in the transformation of that society. Issue is taken with the argument that the early modern period saw a weakening of the potential force of such myths.

Existing research in urban environmental history is often characterized by a narrow viewpoint or limited material reflecting the rationalist approach typical of white, middle-aged, middle-class and educated men. This orientation risks overlooking the viewpoint of the majority of urban dwellers: ordinary men, women, children, the elderly and different ethnic groups. The article focuses on the urban environmental history of children, because childhood forms the foundation for our relationship with nature. Environmental reminiscences offer fruitful material for the study of children's urban environmental history as well as children's contemporary relationships with the urban landscape. The article integrates aspects of urban history, environmental history and evolutionary psychology.

Swift's poetic jibe was aimed at the ever-friendless literary critic; but there were many others who shared in the polymorphic business of ‘giving directions’ to the unwieldy town. Some very literally so: the makers of the early directories provided names, addresses, and occupations of leading urban residents, plus staple information about transport services, posts, banks and miscellaneous local offices. Itemizing and classifying a complex urbanity took a certain confidence. ‘I have taken upon me the arduous Task of compiling a Complete Guide, for the easy finding out of every inhabitant of the least Consequence…’, asserted Elizabeth Raffald, publishing the Manchester Directory in 1772, while confessing the difficulties of the task. Not everyone may have been convinced by her computation that the significant citizens numbered only 1,500 men and women, in a growing conurbation of over 30,000 residents. But that was not the point. A directory offered immediacy rather than complete accuracy or comprehension. Indeed, most compilers were careful not to claim too much. ‘Errors and Deficien- cies must unavoidably appear in every Work of this Kind, from the extreme Difficulty of procuring Information in some Things, and the fluctuating Variety of others’, as A Directory of Sheffield explained firmly in 1787. Many compilations made a caveat of this sort, and indicated a willingness to accept corrections and additions for future editions.

The study of the urban experience in Lisbon, the former capital of the Portuguese empire, creates a specific observatory to interpret the colonial process and its post-colonial developments. Following an itinerary from colonial to post-colonial times, this article examines the continuities and discontinuities of Lisbon's urban dynamics linked with Portugal's colonial history through three interlinked processes. First, the material inscription of policies of national identity in the memory space of the city since the late nineteenth century until today. Second, the expansion of a network of economic relations that affected Lisbon's industrial, commercial and urban life. And finally, the development of a system of social and political organization, where spatial distribution and civil and political rights were unequally distributed.

Street and house numbers are part of the modern state's geo-locational regime, by which people and places are made legible to distant governments and bureaucrats. Some writers have suggested that they were important in colonial cities, where urban regulation and political control was often insecure, but we know little about their extent and significance in such settings. Bombay and Calcutta c.1901 are significant test cases, being two of the largest colonial cities in the world, as well as being recent sites of major disease outbreaks. City directories in Bombay, together with property assessment and census evidence for Calcutta, show that house numbers were rare for all types of property and people. Local residents used other methods to navigate the city, while British administrators did not believe house numbers to be an important aspect of colonial rule. Fragmentary evidence for other colonial cities suggests that the experience of these Indian cities was broadly typical.

Oddfellows' lodges in mid-nineteenth-century Lancaster and Preston offer fresh perspectives on affiliated friendly societies. These societies combined fraternal good fellowship with a hierarchical organization which operated on the assumption that members were breadwinners supporting dependants in nuclear family households. Despite the skilled or artisan occupational status of many oddfellows, their domestic economies often relied on more than one wage and complex household structures. Since oddfellows' households also clustered in certain neighbourhoods, social associations established by lodge membership overlapped with local networks. By considering these lodges less as bounded institutional entities and more as focuses for intersecting social networks where mores of respectablity and social identity were worked out, relations of gender and community as well as class, can be brought to bear on a historical appreciation of this topic.

Professionals and volunteers in inter-war England and France advanced a ‘modern’ health movement, placing particular emphasis on children's physical condition. The use of the urban clinic in this process has been considered. However, the mass relocation of young people to the countryside and attempts to generate intra-urban spaces of ‘nature’ for the young were also integral to this movement. Surprisingly, the pioneers of modern urban healthcare supported a ‘return to nature’ by mobilizing anti-urban and pro-rural discourse. Comparing Nottingham and Saint-Etienne, this article addresses the politics that produced this paradox.

The micro-history of one apartment block in the inner-suburb of Bovisa, Milan over a period of 100 or so years is examined using oral history interviews to trace the development of the block and its residents in relation to that of the city of Milan. The piece is bounded by theoretical reflections on the role of micro-history, oral history and other methodologies as tools for understanding the home and urban history, and concludes that the survival of a rural past, the role of gender, the importance of architecture and of nostalgic memory in a rapidly changing world were important influences.

Johannesburg, in certain respects the Republic's leading urban centre, celebrates her centenary in 1986. Acquisitive citizens and indifferent officials have, however, long driven much of her past from the streets. Today carnival history is being manufactured hurriedly beyond remote tarmac parking grounds and behind ticketing turnstiles. Although its popularization is also overdue, scholarly interest in South African urban history fortunately has not attracted only whimsical attention. In the brief review which follows an attempt is made to sketch the outlines of the South African urban past, to capture the flavour of substantive research into South African urban history and to contour the intellectual climate in which this has been conducted and shaped. Emphasis is placed on research reported in scholarly outlets. Not unexpectedly there is a wide range of other publications which contain elements of urban historical interest, these ranging from newspapers and magazines to general historical texts and finely liveried, lavishly illustrated Africana. For the purposes of this presentation, the ‘modern period’ of South African urban history is closed during the 1950s.