I consider the whole idea that companies will move to where the talent is to be borderline bullshit. It's called the "theory of creative capital," and it all started with Richard Florida's 2001 book Rise of the Creative Class and snowballed from there. The Duluth charrette of a few years back brought consultants to town who spouted off Florida's theories as if they were established fact and made recommendations based on that.

The mayor is a strong believer in the theory of creative capital. He talked about it a lot in his 2013 State of the City address. The fact that it hasn't been proven doesn't seem to matter to him, just as it doesn't matter to the leadership of hundreds of other communities. In a little over a decade, the theory of creative capital has swept through urban planning departments around the globe.

It's all fuzzy thinking and feel-good pronouncements. In the progress report issued by the charrette team a few years ago, one member said,

"From all indications we've seen, from its setup to its architecture to its location along the lake, our team thinks Superior Street has the ingredients to become a truly great street of national stature. At night there are music, performing arts, funky bars, cool hotels, grand theaters and ballrooms all lit up. During the day there are coffee shops full of creatives and dealmakers and studio spaces full of large screen computers and/or artisans. So much so that it attracts people, just to watch it all go down."

See? "It attracts people, just to watch it all go down." They're saying that as fact, when there is no evidence that it's true. Just like they're saying that people in coffee shops are "dealmakers and creatives." How do they know that? Well, for one thing, because Richard Florida really likes coffee shops. He said so in his book.

Moreover, this description of Superior Street seems to be weirdly incomplete. There is plenty of talk of "cool hotels" and "funky bars," but three of Superior Street's busiest locations -- the public library, the bus station and the plasma center -- aren't mentioned at all. Why? Most likely, because a lot of the people who hang out at those places are poor. The theory of creative capital is only concerned with things that will interest highly-talented "creative" folks, who will bring in the big bucks. Richard Florida's most creative communities also tend to be the most inequitable, and the theory of creative capital offers no solutions to that.

It's no coincidence that the Atlantic is publishing stories about this stuff. Florida is a senior editor at the Atlantic.

As a creative person myself, I have never had many opportunities in the Zenith City. Most of the time, when I want to do something creative, I have to do it on my own time and at my own expense. If I want to earn money, I have to deliver pizzas or phonebooks or wash dishes or drive a taxi. So there's my anecdote, in response to yours.

If pointing out that city policy is being driven by fuzzy, feel-good, unproven theories is a buzzkill, so be it. It's my creativity at work, baby, and if you don't think I've put in some long, entirely voluntary hours researching this, you would be mistaken. Sharing my knowledge with others is how I give back to the community. Look for my full report on the subject sometime in the future.

Although few things are more authentic and indigenous than poor people -- especially in Duluth -- poor people do not represent the kind of authenticity the Creative Class is looking for —- the kind that enables their own relentless pursuit of self. To his credit, Richard Florida does not ignore the poor completely in his book. Every so often, after rhapsodizing about Creatives for page after page, he mentions that this sweet new world does come with some problems. One group of people that has been growing in tandem with the Creative Class is the lowly, menial-wage Service Class. Indeed, the most creative cities in the nation are frequently the most economically divided. While Creatives get paid more and more to pursue their various brands of funky value-addingness, the Service Class gets paid less and less to wash their shirts.

Duluth starkly exhibits this divide. While the Creative Corridor report happily notes that households with incomes above $150,000 have risen 23 percent in the Duluth metropolitan region over the past six years, citing this as evidence that Duluth has "turned a corner," it neglects to mention that the portion of Duluthians living below the poverty level is still 21.4 percent, more than twice the state average. Drew Digby, an economist at the University of Minnesota-Duluth (and one of Richard Florida's biggest fans locally), told a reporter, "There are ... two types of jobs in Duluth. The first are really well paying jobs for people with a lot of skills, whether they're people in healthcare, or doctors or nurses, technicians, engineers, folks like that. On the other end of the scale we have a lot of jobs that pay less than $10 an hour." 

The fruits of the Creative Economy, it would seem, go almost entirely to the winners. So why are we so gung-ho to build that kind of economy?

Well, I'd have to say I'm hating on Richard Florida more than the mayor, because--ugh!--I really can't stand Richard Florida. At his going rate of $40,000 per speaking engagement, I estimate that I've watched nearly half a million dollars' worth of Florida's prattling on YouTube. That's enough to make anyone nauseous. My criticisms of the mayor are to the extent that the mayor has adopted the teachings of Florida--but that, as it happens, is quite a bit.

The easiest way to prove this would be to simply ask the mayor. I'm sure he would say yes. In his 2013 State of the City address, he said

"National experts are pointing to the increased importance of skill availability as a key variable in determining population and job growth across the country, while employers are becoming increasingly concerned with their ability to find qualified workers. These sought-after employees can find work anywhere. Increasingly, companies are choosing to locate in the places where these talented employees want to live, rather than the other way around."

That's the theory of creative capital the mayor is reciting, practically word for word. I'm not setting him up as a straw man. He's practically a Richard Florida clone.

He's not alone in that, of course. In 2011, the city established a "creative corridor" in Duluth, the purpose of which is "to attract and retain vibrant, knowledge-based industries and professions and the workforce they employ (dubbed the 'creative class')." As it happens, creative corridors have also recently sprung up in Charleston, SC; Detroit, MI; Little Rock, AR; Portland, OR; Pueblo, CO; Shreveport, LA; Philadelphia, PA; and San Antonio, TX, just to name a few places in the world. These days, everybody loves Richard Florida, and nobody loves him more than consultants.

Terry G.: I think Duluth should be the kind of city that pays high wages for low-skill jobs, via city-imposed income redistribution if necessary. I would be very happy if fast-food workers in Duluth unionized. A mayoral proclamation to that effect would be a very bold statement indeed. But I doubt if it would attract Creatives.

A fine article, Emmadogs. I like how it points out that Richard Florida's theories are bogus. The big difference between the article and Duluth city policy, however, is that Duluth is actively pursuing gentrification. Nobody is to blame for it. If gentrification is achieved, its architects will be hailed as heroes.