Property Rights- A 2-Way Street

Anyone who has ever heard me speak publicly knows that among my many underlying beliefs is a fairly obvious one about 100-year old structures.  Simply put, while we may disagree on what to do them or how to regulate them, the one thing we should all be able to agree upon is that they are not making any more of them.  

Earlier this week I trotted that phrase out in a study session, where a city was evaluating the wisdom of taking the first tentative steps down the road that could lead to the identification and yes, designation, of some its earliest buildings as “historic.”  This being Oregon, where private property rights are held in high regard, several participants voiced concern about maintaining an owner’s ability to do what they want with their property and not encumbering anyone with a bunch of regulation or "telling" them what to do.

I think property rights are a two-way street.  Sure, an owner should have some ability to use their property as they see fit, unfettered by burdensome regulation.  Everyone gets that, if only because millions of dollars are spent by real estate and property rights advocates to make sure that we, and our legislators, do.  The other side of the property rights street, however, rarely gets any press.  That side is that every property owner should have the assurance that their NEIGHBORS have some requirement to use their property in a sane and responsible manner.  Put another way, nobody ever wants “the gummit” telling them what to do, but nearly everyone, at least anyone living in an urban context, relies upon the government to corral their crazy neighbors and get the junker cars off the front lawn, tone down the wild parties, reduce the scale of the mammoth sun-blocking addition, or re-paint in something (anything!) other than that awful (fill in the bright color scheme of your choice). 

We all, especially we that call ourselves preservationists, need to understand that historic designation is just a tool, not an end.  I happen to think it’s an important tool, and I hope you and others agree.  But knowing the history and comparative value associated with a particular property does not, and in general should not, mandate its survival by definition.  Not all historic properties, no matter how significant, are capable of being restored to begin with, or even should be restored.  Cities, communities, have other values (open space, habitat restoration, economic development, etc.) that very often, and very appropriately, outweigh historic values.  It is, ultimately, up to cities, communities, and yes, even property owners, to weigh each of those values fairly and with full understanding, so as to determine the best course.  Obviously that choice may not always be historic preservation, and that, sad it can be, is still entirely understandable.

The thing is, you can’t weigh the value of historic significance, or the potential benefit of restoration, if you are unaware of history.  And you can’t or shouldn’t relegate historic values to some second tier “it’s nice to do if nothing else is available” approach, especially if you are leaving that decision up to the property owner. All too often, in our transitory culture where people move on the average of every few years, a community’s most prized possessions can be placed in the hands of individuals or entities that have little understanding, or connection, to its history or culture.  Do you really want McDonald's deciding the future of important resources in your city?  And if you are opposed to McDonalds (or Chevron, or whomever) having that power, why on earth would you give that sole authority to Mr. & Mrs. Jones, or "Bill," that nice guy that works at the market?"  

Education, knowledge, is a good and essential thing.  Ask any decision-maker worth his or her salt.  Knowing, identifying, and understanding the history of a community, its context, allows us to fully appreciate the role that this or that property may play in creating its character.  And in some cases, regulation to protect key properties with high value to the community as a whole is and should be an important part of what a forward-thinking community does.  Some properties are simply too rare, too irreplaceable, and too important to the community’s character, to relegate their existence to the hands of the highest bidder, no matter whom they may be.

All cities live and die, both financially and qualitatively, by the investment they can encourage, both for new construction and restoration.  It is unrealistic to ask or expect somebody, anybody, to invest in their property while not providing them some assurance that if they do, their neighbor won’t put in a Pig Farm, or God-forbid, a strip mall (!) next door.  Neighbors and communities have property rights too.

 

Greyhound Bus Portal- A Missed Opportunity

Well, I wrote earlier about the “portal” arch at the former Greyhound Bus Depot in downtown Medford and the fact that its future is undecided.  No more.  At noon today the Medford Urban Renewal Agency (MURA) board voted 6-3 to request the arch be demolished and replaced with a plaque. That request will be forwarded to the City’s Landmarks and Historic Preservation Commission but the reality is that all they can do is delay demolition for 120-days.  MURA Board members talked about their lack of affection for the arch and their concern that the cost of saving it was too high, though nobody really knows what it will cost to save.  The “ballpark” figure being bandied about is $50K. 

I wrote a Guest Opinion in the local paper MT attempting to point out the value in keeping this as a part of the city’s downtown, what it takes to make a great urban place, and the value of retaining context among things.  While several of the board (even several that voted against) were quite complimentary about what we had to say, it obviously wasn’t enough to convince them.  It appears that what was really going on here was an unfortunate competition between saving the arch and building a seasonal ice skating rink that has come out of the blue as the holy grail of crowd attraction to the downtown.  Too bad.  I would like to personally thank Mayor Gary Wheeler, and Councillors Greg Jones and Karen Blair for their votes.  I wish they could have brought along some of their fellows.

From the testimony, and the comments, I think that many of the board were uncomfortable with this decision.  Some of their opposition stems from what might be characterized as anti-Mid Century Modern sensibilities, others from structural unknowables (the format doesn’t really allow much information sharing at the meeting and who knows what happened before it got to this point), but in the end it was mostly about money.  After having spent $14 million of public money, much of it for property acquisition, building demolition, infrastructure and other costs related to The Commons project and Lithia’s new corporate headquarters (a building strikingly reminiscent, frankly, of the tile-clad, angular, mass of the Greyhound Depot), spending $50K on this public amenity within the two blocks of public park land was deemed excessive.  Restoration of the Greyhound Arch was originally offered as what amounted to “mitigation” for the destruction of multiple historic buildings to allow for the construction of The Commons several years ago. This would involve re-installing the 'Greyhound" channel letters at the top and the cleaning and repair of the mottled green ceramic wall tiles, all to serve as "gateway" of sorts to the park.  It would have been cool.  Now, backing away from even that token effort, the Board is proposing to offset this loss with a plaque.  Why bother?

A few days ago I had hope that "vision will out."  It didn't.  Medford is great town, with a great history.  Over recent years they have gotten much better about embracing that and seeing the potential history offers in creating vibrant, interesting and enjoyable urban spaces.  Not so today.  This decision to remove the Greyhound Bus Depot portal is a mistake.  A seasonal ice rink, if they ever even build that, won’t make it right.  With or without a plaque.

ADDED 12/5:  Although it appears unlikely this will even happen, below is the rendering that was submitted to show the restored, completed, Greyhound Arch.  I still think MURA is making a big mistake but apparently that is a minority opinion.  

Good Intentions

Occasionally I am asked to review a planning application for this or that municipal client, typically when there is something non-standard about the proposal or they are not certain about how to react.  Sometimes I think I just am being asked to play the heavy, to provide language that is more polite than “What the %*^%$ are they thinking?” and perhaps provide some re-direction.  It is always an interesting experience.

I think that preservationists sometimes need to work a little harder to remember that no one sits down at the drawing board with the idea of “How do I really ruin this historic property” in the forefront of their mind.  Those property owners that are reaching for their wallet are, no matter how misguided, still following a laudable impulse - to invest in their building with the intent of improving it, making it more attractive, secure, functional, or whatever.  That’s a good thing and one that should be nurtured, not squashed.

Admittedly there are times when that impulse is so misdirected it is hard not to castigate anyone who proposes it.  Those are often the applications sent my way.  And often what the applicant is attempting (improved access, greater sense of entry) is a really good idea...it is just the proposed execution that fails.  Turning that around, educating them without making them feel stupid, isn’t always easy, but I try hard to see these situations as opportunities.  It isn’t really that difficult to do the right thing by a historic building, if you know what the right thing is and know that there are other sources of supply beside Home Depot and Lowes.

What STYLE is that?

Sigh.  How many times have you heard THIS question?  It’s understandable, that the public, clients, interested parties want to have a “name” to call their home or building and those of us in a position to serve as “experts” are logically expected to be able to give them an answer.  But c’mon, let’s be honest and point out that very very few buildings in the real world (as opposed to those in architectural coffee table books) are really pure examples of any particular style.  This is especially true for buildings, the bulk of buildings, that were designed without the aide of an architect, and even many that were.  And even in cases where a building was once easily associated with a particular style, what do you do with changes made over time, such as a Queen Anne residence with a flaming bungalow-inspired front porch?

Yesterday I gave a noon-time lecture in Medford, on architectural styles.  I’m not sure what the people who come to such a presentation are looking for, but if it was an easy check-off list that will allow them to identify a variety of styles as though it was a birders lifelist or something, I rather expect that they were disappointed.  When I talk about “style” I almost always open up with a slide about the “problem” with style (feel free to cancel me off your speakers list at this point).  Most residential design in Oregon, especially in the smaller towns that I generally work in, is most appropriately categorized in my opinion as “vernacular,” those buildings from the mid-19^th to early 20^th century that were just built.  There are ells, and tees, and I-houses (and double I-house variants too,  but you get the idea.)  Carpenters put the wooden pieces together to create a functional weather envelope and, given their limited tools (no chop boxes in the 19^th century) they used trim not for decoration but for ease of construction and the ability to shed water.

It makes sense, and it even makes a pretty decent house.  But nobody is thrilled learn that they live in a I-House.  Or an ell.  Or a “Vernacular” anything.  That’s the problem with “style.”  Truth hurts.

Change is good….

One of the most difficult issues for the public, and for many historic commissioners, is coming to grips with change. Change in use, change in design, or change in detail all create both an opportunity for quality and, sadly, for conflict. People, despite what you may read, don't like change much, even when it's necessary, or for the best.

The reality is that very few historic buildings survive without change over time. Houses get added to, or upgraded to meet new needs. Commercial buildings change use or have to respond to new code or new technology. Many of projects that I am involved with begin with "de-garbagification" (see my post from July 24, 2009), removing a change that somebody once thought was a good thing. That part's easy. Everyone is excited to get rid of the 1970s and 1980s layers that obscure history. But then come all the issues surrounding taking a structure that almost by definition failed to meet its original purpose in some fashion, and transforming it into something that "works" better and has a future. A future that reflects its past, of course, but still one that likely includes some significant changes to address function, code and a new use.

How those changes are handled, from inserting new systems into historic interiors, modifying a structure to meet new seismic or ADA codes, or even something as simple as converting a house into a business and providing larger restrooms, can cause lots of head-scratching and consternation on the part of the design team. And, of course, once that group comes up with a workable plan, there is multi-level review of local, state, and sometimes even the Feds, that get to weigh in as well. In a perfect world everyone in that chain works together toward a common goal but sometimes, at least from my perspective, unreasonable, or unnecessary, demands arise that complicate the process.

I suppose, having poked and prodded historic structures for the last 25+ years , that I  find them to be a little more resilient than some review boards and appreciate that change is an important part of their story.  These are not museums, but buildings that need a new purpose.  We've all had clients who, with the best intentions,  start out a project with the unrealistic goal of making their building "look just like it did when it was new." First, of course, that is a near impossibility from a technical standpoint and second, and more importantly, why the heck would you want to do that anyway? It is the change, the passage of time, the nicks and dents, and the creative evidence of modification to meet new needs that give a historic building the bulk of its character. Sanitizing that history of change to create something that looks "new" isn't what I think preservation should be about. Sadly, sometimes, I don't think that's the majority viewpoint.