Despite the loss of the national government, New York’s population skyrocketed in 1781–1800, and it became America’s largest city. Once again trade grew rapidly, and not even the War of 1812 hindered development; an auction system for surplus British merchandise dumped in New York solidified the city’s economic position after 1816. Even before the opening of the Erie Canal in 1825, New York enjoyed commercial primacy, but, as trade from the interior of the continent flowed onto its piers, the city also attained legal, insurance, and manufacturing primacy. Steamships, cheap transportation by rail and canal, abundant labour, and professional expertise made New York increasingly dominant. By the mid-1800s it handled more goods and people than all the other American ports combined. So secure was its position that in 1861 Mayor Fernando Wood suggested it become a “free city” rather than fight against the South. New York instead provided more soldiers to the Union than any other city and survived the turbulent, violent Draft Riot of 1863. Despite the financial panics between 1837 and 1893, the city remained an economic juggernaut, and by 1900 it was the busiest port and one of the wealthiest cities in the world.

Prosperity in Manhattan was not shared by everyone. Two centuries of domination by the merchant elite ended in the city as the Democratic Party gradually assumed control of political power. Tammany Hall, a fraternal organization that formed in 1789, had been transformed into a party vehicle by Aaron Burr before the early 19th century; the group supported such popular reforms as universal male suffrage, the end of imprisonment for indebtedness, and lien laws. Most important, Tammany opposed the anti-Catholic attitudes of the elite and ministered to the needs of impoverished immigrants entering the city. By the 1850s it was able to count on their votes, and the resulting power base lasted for more than a century.

During the American Civil War, the city was shaken by its worst riots. For four days in July 1863 many thousands of rioters, mostly impoverished Irish immigrants who were infuriated by the new draft law that permitted a draftee to buy his way out of service, swept the city, looting, burning, and killing. African Americans were hanged from the streetlights and trees. Warships trained guns on the city, as rioters clashed repeatedly with the police, national guardsmen, and the army. At least 2,000 people were killed and thousands more wounded, and all business halted in the face of the armed conflict.

After the war there was a steady clamour in the city for a merger with Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx, and Staten Island. The strongest resistance came from Brooklyn, a city in its own right; with good reason it feared that the enormous corruption so evident in Tammany Hall under the first recognized political “boss,” William Magear Tweed—who never rose higher in the city hierarchy than supervisor but who controlled mayors, governors, and legislatures—and later Richard Croker, would be extended to Brooklyn through any consolidation. “Tweed ring” corruption siphoned tens, perhaps hundreds, of millions of dollars into private hands until, in 1871, a coalition of reformers overthrew the boss. Tweed’s successor as county leader, John Kelly, was a more astute politician, who transformed the undisciplined hordes of Tammany into an army. Regimentation down to the block level replaced greed as a ruling party principle, although the organization always remained a source of food, legal help, and jobs for its faithful supporters. So long as corruption was held in check, the Tammany Tiger could happily chant, “To hell with reform.”

Greater New York

The Democratic machine reigned, its excesses became apparent, reformers arose and were temporarily triumphant, and then voters restored a chastened Tammany to power. A generation after Tweed fell, the Croker regime was successfully challenged by reformers who elected Mayor William Strong. Once consolidation won voter support, the addition of nearly 1.5 million people to the city and the opportunity to expand Tammany’s patronage base lured Croker back to Manhattan. After January 1, 1898, the machine ruled Greater New York, its power constantly enhanced by new waves of arriving immigrants. As always, the machine added to urban infrastructure: the subways with their fixed five-cent fare, new bridges, and an expanded park system brought the boroughs together and added to its authority. The booming garment industry, ceaseless construction, and extensive manufacturing provided jobs for the strong, while an excellent educational system trained millions for the white-collar and civil-service jobs that would become increasingly preponderant after the mid-20th century. In the “good years” before World War I and in the “Roaring Twenties” that followed the war, Tammany, under the leadership of Charles Murphy, generally held sway.

In the mid-1920s and early 1930s a series of municipal scandals, which led to another wave of reform, were perhaps the result of Mayor James Walker. A playboy addicted to the wonders of city nightlife, Walker left the mechanics of governing to Tammany. Despite the ravages of the Great Depression and the hardships of World War II, Fiorello La Guardia’s administration represented a high point in the city’s history. Enormous amounts of New Deal funding enabled the city to complete vast construction and other projects; the Tammany Tiger was caged, the government was centralized and modernized, and the subway system was completed and unified. La Guardia dominated the news, cracked down on crime, and even read comic strips to children during a newspaper strike. Only when he chose to retire did Tammany regain control.

Postwar New York experienced an era in which alarming structural problems in urban society became ever more apparent. New York port lost its dominance, manufacturing began its long decline, massive city debt made it increasingly difficult to fund expensive services, and levels of municipal bureaucracy proliferated. In the 1950s Robert Wagner initiated major housing programs and granted collective bargaining rights to city unions but was often accused of ignoring long-term problems. Ultimately, he found it expedient to publicly break with a Tammany Hall that had twice gotten him elected. Wagner destroyed the power of the machine and its last boss, Carmine De Sapio. He was able to install his own Manhattan county leader and undermine Tammany’s influence in the outer boroughs, but he did little to deal with the looming problems. Wagner prepared the electorate for another reform administration, as Republican-Liberal candidate John Lindsay unexpectedly won election in 1965.

During Lindsay’s two terms, New York’s downward spiral accelerated as he attempted to impose administrative order. A massive transit strike coincided with his inauguration and was settled only with the first of several very generous union contracts. Lindsay’s attempt to further undermine the power of the machine by merging departments and creating “superagencies” only added new levels of bureaucratic structure. His efforts to decentralize the school system and broaden minority participation in government led to greater ethnic animosity. Above all, he failed to gain control of a soaring municipal budget, even though he increased taxes. Denied renomination in 1969 by outraged Republicans, Lindsay won reelection as a Liberal-Independent candidate, because the old Democratic machine had been gutted. His subsequent feud with a Republican governor led him to become a Democrat, but he had become a leader without followers. During his last years in office, the metropolis continued to deteriorate financially.

The election of Abraham Beame in 1973 was the last gasp of old-style politics in New York. Beame was a product of the organization, and as the first Jewish mayor he represented the ethnic succession to power that Irish and Italians had previously achieved. Conditions had changed, and Beame’s term was dominated by fiscal disaster. In every way but formally the city went bankrupt, and in 1975 budgetary control was assumed by state agencies. The federal Securities and Exchange Commission later condemned Beame’s fiscal policies. Much of the country, always suspicious of New York’s foreignness and arrogance, cheered as the Big Apple was shown to be full of worms. Many believed it would be years before it could recover from the debacle.

In the late 1970s Edward Koch restored fiscal health to the city in a single term. By working closely with state officials, rigorously controlling expenditures, and instituting a modern accounting system, Koch once again marketed city notes. His extraordinary feat won him nomination by both major parties in 1981, a unique accomplishment but also clear proof that politics in the metropolis had changed. Democratic nominations were soon negotiated by five relatively equal borough organizations that had to be media-friendly. The Republicans were so powerless that they amassed fewer votes than the Liberal Party in the election of 1985. Koch was outspoken, intolerant of opposition, frequently capricious, and prone to see himself as above politics. Fittingly, his third term became a public relations nightmare when some of his important appointees and elected Democrats were involved in municipal scandals. His attempt to become the first four-term mayor ended when he lost the Democratic primary to David Dinkins, the borough president of Manhattan. Some saw Dinkins, an African American, as fulfilling the theme of ethnic succession, but he proved to be a poor administrator and was so dependent on African American votes that he alienated other parts of the coalition that elected him. Both ethnic tensions and crime statistics increased during his term, and he became the first Black mayor of a major U.S. city to be denied reelection.

Race and competence, not party affiliation, were the major factors that led to the election of Republican Rudolph Giuliani in 1993. A successful career prosecutor, he pledged to reduce taxes, improve or privatize city services, and regain control of the streets from criminals. His great successes in reducing crime won him national fame. Giuliani nurtured his reputation as an angry man indifferent to criticism. Although New York reduced its welfare caseload and instituted a vast workfare alternative, the mayor was unable to eliminate other parts of the social “safety net.” Courts consistently limited his initiatives in cases involving free speech, land use, and the rights of the homeless, and many observers held him responsible for instances in which the city’s police department reportedly used excessive force in its war on crime. His elections could perhaps best be interpreted not as Republican triumphs but as mandates for a stern teacher empowered to deal with a disorderly classroom.

In the 1990s New York experienced sustained growth in both population and financial stability. Hundreds of thousands of immigrants were added to its population, while a sustained boom on Wall Street invigorated the economy of every borough. In addition, major renovations of its infrastructure were completed, such as the restoration of Grand Central Station.

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Because of its prominence and its central role in world commerce, however, the city also remained vulnerable to acts of terrorism, most notably two attacks on the World Trade Center complex. In 1993 a bomb planted in one of the complex’s twin towers killed several people and injured some 1,000. A far more devastating attack—the deadliest terrorist act in American history—occurred on September 11, 2001, when hijackers intentionally flew two airliners into the towers, destroying them and adjacent buildings and killing some 3,000 people.

Once the immediate shock of the disaster had worn off, New Yorkers did what they always do: picked themselves up and got back to work. The massive pile of debris from the towers was painstakingly cleared, and visiting the site (which came to be known as “Ground Zero”) to observe the work there became a pilgrimage destination for countless out-of-towners and New Yorkers alike. After a lengthy process, plans were announced for a new World Trade Center complex at the location that was to include several new skyscrapers centred on a 104-story tower called One World Trade Center. Construction on the building began in 2006. The gaping crater left by the destroyed twin towers was developed into a memorial to the disaster and was opened to the public on September 12, 2011.

Thus, New York’s importance did not wane and, if anything, increased in the early 21st century. The host city of the United Nations, it continued to be the country’s most international metropolis and one of the world’s foremost tourist destinations. Building construction continued into the new century. In addition to the work in the World Trade Center area, several new large skyscrapers were erected in Midtown Manhattan, notably the 55-story Bank of America Tower (completed 2009) and the New York Times Building (2007). The 2010s ushered in the era of the construction of “supertalls” (defined as buildings 984 feet [300 metres] or taller), including a number of luxurious residential towers around 57th Street in an area that became known as “Billionaires’ Row.” Among the other notable supertall structures that sprouted in Manhattan were the 1,776-foot (541-metre) One World Trade Center, the 93-story One Vanderbilt building, and 103-story 30 Hudson Yards building. New York’s financial sector boomed at the outset of the 21st century, until the recession in the last years of the decade brought down several prominent banks and trading institutions and shook the foundations of Wall Street.

In September 2011, inspired by the mass demonstrations of the Arab Spring earlier that year, a disparate group of protesters calling themselves Occupy Wall Street took up residence in Zuccotti Park (which they renamed “Liberty Square”) in the financial district. They sought to call attention to what they saw as a variety of injustices, including their belief that major corporations—particularly banks and other financial institutions—needed to be held more accountable for risky practices. The protests, which sparked a nationwide movement, continued for months.

New York’s economy was recovering slowly when another major disaster struck the city, this time a natural one. On the night of October 29, 2012, Hurricane Sandy slammed directly into the Greater New York region, with high winds and an unprecedentedly high storm surge that inundated low-lying areas, flooded subway and road tunnels in and around Lower Manhattan, precipitated widespread power outages and property damage, and sparked a massive fire in Queens that burned down more than 100 houses. Several dozen people were killed citywide, notably on Staten Island, which was particularly hard hit by the storm.

In early 2020 New York City, like most of the rest of the world, was afflicted with a different kind of catastrophe, the coronavirus SARS-CoV-2 global pandemic. On March 1 the first New Yorker to test positive for the virus (the first cases of which had been reported in China in December 2019) isolated in her Manhattan home. Soon an avalanche of cases overwhelmed the city’s hospitals and health care system as the metropolitan area became the epicentre of the outbreak in the United States during its early stages. By April 14 more than 10,000 New Yorkers had died of causes related to COVID-19, the disease caused by the virus. A lockdown of businesses, schools, and (of great symbolic importance) Broadway was imposed, along with mask-wearing and social-distancing guidelines. New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo’s daily pandemic-related press conferences became must-see viewing. As the spread of the virus surged and subsided, along with the relaxation and reimposition of safety protocols, during subsequent waves of the pandemic, New Yorkers embraced the “new normal” and soldiered on.