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This Blog is taking August off (it will return on September 7th) but history suggests preservationists cannot do the same.
We are regularly cautioned to beware the Ides of March but it is the month of August that has historically been the bane of preservationists. What could be so dangerous about August? Buildings don’t get sun burned. Historically it has been a time when those advancing agendas benefiting from less, rather than more, publicly scrutiny go into overdrive. Whether they be a developer, agency or institutions, having reasoned that with many (if not most) people’s attention focused elsewhere (fishing, the beach, reading a good book, the mountains, the pool, anything but preservation) it is a very good time to do the deed and hope few people are paying attention.
Most dangerous of all is the Friday in August. Case in point—it was on a Friday in August, to be specific, Friday, August 14, 1981 that the demolition began on the landmark quality interiors of the Biltmore Hotel. From experience I can testify that on a Friday in August it is very, very hard to find judges to approach for injunctions, let alone legal counsels to prepare papers for such judges, let alone senior staff members to activate the lawyers to try to find the judges. You get the picture.
Even in August one might be able to get some press attention focused on the dirty deed and I remember being kicked out of the Biltmore Hotel with Gabe Pressman as he tried, that August decades ago, to cover the demolition of the Biltmore’s famous Palm Court. However, the value of such press can be discounted because much of the audience for such coverage is away consciously trying to avoid the news.
 The Biltmore Hotel, Madison to Vanderbilt Avenues, East 43rd to East 44th Streets, was designed by Warren & Wetmore and built in 1914. The building and its famous interiors were lost. Demolition began in August of 1981. It was also in August, this time in 1990, when the Board of Estimate decided to eliminate some buildings from the designation of City and Suburban Homes (see the blog entry focusing on that battle) and it approved Columbia’s Plans for its biomedical laboratory at the expense of the true preservation of the Audubon Ballroom.
Times have changed a bit and now thanks to technology we are almost all connected, almost all the time, no matter where we are. We can also now use web cams (as preservationists did with 2 Columbus Circle) so it is harder for anyone to do something to a threatened building without it being highly visible–even to people miles away. Despite these advances, I still get a nervous feeling when August rolls around. Experience still suggests that if you leave town in August, only rest easy if you’ve left in place a robust crew to cover your preservation beat. For some of us that old admonition: “the price of preservation is constant vigilance” rings particularly true in August.
On that note, enjoy August and please return here on September 7th!!
On July 29, 1981 Robert Moses died. Though that was almost three decades ago, sometimes it feels as though he is still alive. Today the intellectual battle between the heirs of Robert Moses and Jane Jacobs is still being fought at a fevered pitch and perhaps the battle rages with a level of intensity not seen for some years.
In a perverse way, preservationists owe Moses a debt of gratitude. It was Moses projects that helped stir the flames of preservation in Greenwich Village and Brooklyn Heights. Without his excesses it is likely that the civic gentry and the polite civic leaders of the 1940s, 1950s and early 1960s would not have been incited to take action. It took a lot to rile them up but Moses was up to the challenge. Time and again the man inciting them was Robert Moses. Having first enraged those at the grassroots, it only took a little longer for him to rile those on the boards of citywide civic organizations. Moses helped unite a growing array of New Yorkers against him. In a very real way, New York’s landmarks law—the result of years of efforts long predating the demolition of Pennsylvania Station—was a response to both what Moses did and larger societal trends he came to personify. Having a villain who relishes his role as their enemy is a true gift for any nascent movement.
Recent efforts to rehabilitate Moses emphasize the ends he produced and not the means by which they were accomplished. Those means are largely responsible for his need of rehabilitation. On this, the anniversary of his death, we should all take a moment to reflect on the Moses legacy. Those new to the subject of Moses have a wonderful array of resources to consult to study the man and to reach their own conclusions. Such a course of self study needs to begin with Caro’s classic, The Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York and should include Moses’ own lesser known work: Public Works: A Dangerous Trade. Next on the reading list is Robert Moses and the Modern City: The Transformation of New York, a publication viewed by some as an effort to rehabilitate the Moses Legacy. Two new additions round out this reading list: Anthony Flint’s Wrestling with Moses: How Jane Jacobs Took on New York’s Master Builder and  Transformed the American City and most recent of all, Roberta Gratz’s new publication: The Battle for Gotham: New York in the Shadow of Robert Moses and Jane Jacobs. Those particularly interested in the story of Robert Moses and preservation in New York should turn to this author’s work, Preserving New York: Winning the Right to Protect a City’s Landmarks.
Do your homework and draw your own conclusion. No matter how you come down on the Moses legacy you will have to agree that he is a man of such import to New York City that it is worth devoting more than a moment to reflect on him, his legacy, and the ongoing fascination this city has for him–either as villain or maligned civic great. 
In recent years a number of voices have both subtly and not so subtly suggested that when it comes to the cityscape, New York City has either lost the will or the ability to create the new. Some have even suggested we need a new Robert Moses but of course, this time, a “Moses lite” (a truly oxymoronic concept). Others have implied that a city’s interest in historic preservation suggests its glory days are behind it. And still others caution preservationists that we have to be careful that we don’t go too far (perhaps we should take it as a complement that someone actually thinks we have the political clout to take preservation too far) and create “some grotesque version of Colonial Williamsburg on the Hudson.” Having recently devoted a weekend to some intensive touring of parts of our city, I have to ask: What city are these people talking about?”
For the last 15 years, as my two nieces and four nephews turned 13, I brought them to New York City for an intense, long weekend, total immersion experience. This month I just completed the last of these excursions. Though each visit is personalized a bit to reflect the particular interests of the visitor (sports, food, NYC sites featured in TV shows, etc.) there is a core itinerary involving the Circle Line Tour (still the best overview introduction to the city—no one can take it without getting the point that Manhattan is actually an Island), the top of the Empire State Building, a Broadway show, the walk over the Brooklyn Bridge and then fast-paced marches through Central Park, Midtown, China Town, Little Italy, SoHo, Greenwich Village, TriBeCa, Brooklyn Heights, the Financial District, Times Square, and the list goes on. Despite the miles covered (usually on one of the hottest weekends of the summer) the visits do get positive reviews and all the kids are still talking to me.
So, I’m fresh from the most recent and last of these tours and am happy to report that New York City is fully capable of still creating the new and that the danger of New York becoming a Colonial Williamsburg on the Hudson has been highly over rated. The changes that have occurred during this 15–year period are remarkable. Walking along the Hudson River is a totally different experience—how about that Hudson River Park! Also new is the emerging Brooklyn Bridge Park. Then, of course, there is the High Line. Who knew what you could do with an old elevated rail line? Actually—a bunch of really smart people knew. Then of course, there are all the new buildings, some along the High Line, others towering up in Midtown West, those at the edge of Greenwich Village, a troubling tower across the street from the Museum of Chinese in America, or all the changes along the Bowery, or the Gehry buildings: the IAC and the unfortunate(in both location and size) Beekman Tower. Want change? See what NYU has done to the Village over the last 15 years—Washington Square South will literally never be the same. And of course, there is the transformation of Times Square and 42nd Street and the new TKTS booth. And what about those Apple Stores? And on and on….
By in large the many historic neighborhoods we visit have fared well. Crowds are thicker in many and some old favorites are no longer there. Taking a wide-eyed 13 year old through the back courtyard to enter Chumley’s in the Village is a thing of the past. Fortunately the frozen deserts at Café Dante and the cookies at Café Roma live on. The wonderful juxtaposition of uses in the meat market still read from the street but probably not for too much longer. All in all, the experience walking these historic streets still rings true.
My tour also reminded me of special elements in the landscape that we take for granted, just assuming they will always be there. One of these is the moment when the Circle Liner is going up the East River and for just a few seconds, it lines up with Wall Street and you can see Trinity church at the far end. That view is always available from a certain spot on the Brooklyn Heights Promenade. Do we have mechanisms in place to make sure such iconic views are protected?
 The author and a selection of the nieces and nephews that sailed the Circle Line with him over the last 15 years. On a long weekend in New York, even at a fast march, one can only cover so much ground so these observations are limited to only a fraction of the city. Imagine the changes elsewhere. We did see enough to clearly make the case that ours is still a vibrant city, adding and subtracting from its urban fabric. It has not become some faltering metropolis looking longingly at its past in the face of a dismal future. The tour also underscored what most of us already know, the places we love most and the ones we tend to want to show off to our visitors, are more often than not, our individual landmarks, our scenic landmarks, and our historic districts.
It is hard enough to successfully preserve architectural, cultural, and historic treasures in a vibrant city like New York without being cautioned by those worried by largely theoretical concerns with little basis in current reality. Preservation efforts in New York City still need encouragement—not entreaties to hold back or go slow. The recent attacks on preservation do create an opportunity to set the record set. This has started. The recent pro-preservation blog entry by the Municipal Art Society’s Vin Cipolla in the Huffington Post is a good example of what is needed. Now is the time for all preservation voices to be heard—make sure yours is one of them.
Having successfully introduced all my nieces and nephews to New York City, the question has been raised regarding the next generation, the first of which has just arrived on the scene. In 13 years it is likely my role will be less a tour guide and more a tour consultant. It is clear to me that in 13 years there will be many more new things to see: some exciting new parks (Governors Island among them?), more Gehry buildings? and lots more towers. Will NYU have totally consumed Greenwich Village by then? Will our historic districts still be intact? Future pressures will not only make preservation harder to accomplish but more important than ever. The current assault on preservation should only make us double our efforts. What preservation needs today is not caution but courage.
This year marks the 40th Anniversary of the founding of Carnegie Hill Neighbors and this day, July 23, in 1974 saw the designation of the Carnegie Hill Historic District. That initial district consisted of two small, keyhole-shaped assortments of mid blocks. On December 21, 1993 the Landmarks Preservation Commission approved an extension to the district, significantly larger than the original district. For its 40th birthday, Carnegie Hill Neighbors is asking the Commission to continue its good work in this truly special neighborhood (Disclosure: I live there) by designating two additional districts: one expanding protection on Park Avenue and the other creating a Hellgate Hill Historic District. What better way to celebrate a 40th anniversary!
 Historic rowhouses in Carnegie Hill. Image via Carnegie HIll Neighbors. Created in 1970 in response to inappropriate development in this northwest corner of the Upper East Side of Manhattan, Carnegie Hill Neighbors has an impressive history of accomplishments. Its spring 2010 newsletter includes a chronology of such accomplishments ranging from successfully campaigning for the 1974 designations to starting the planting and maintenance of the Park Avenue Malls, achieving mid-block re-zoning in the 1980s, publishing and updating an architectural guide to the neighborhood, expanding the historic district, rezoning Madison Avenue, and on, and on—including recently helping dissuade the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia from the misguided notion of adding two stories to the acclaimed Baker Mansion.
The Neighbors should not only be congratulated for their accomplishments but for taking the time and devoting the energy to focus attention on their own history. What could be more empowering for an organization than to look back at such an impressive series of accomplishments and realize what they are capable of doing? If an organization could do all that, imagine what they can do in the future. History often reminds us that what seemed virtually impossible at the time, later looks inevitable. It can help us decide to take on the next seemingly undoable but compelling cause that confronts us.
The history of Carnegie Hill Neighbors also offers insights into broader historical narratives. The chronology in the newsletter reminds us that the first president of Carnegie Hill Neighbors was Fred Papert. Those who have followed citywide preservation issues over the last 30 plus years will recognize the name of Fred Papert from such important preservation campaigns as those to save Grand Central Terminal and to preserve Saint Bartholomew’s Church. Fred’s name is also closely associated with the Municipal Art Society, the Urban Center, and decades of efforts around the Theatre District and 42nd Street. For years a major preservation strategist and brilliant communicator, Fred is a prime example of a neighborhood preservation leader who became a major player on the citywide preservation stage.
 Existing historic districts in Carnegie Hill. Carnegie Hill Neighbors is currently seeking the designation of two additional districts. Image via Carnegie Hill Neighbors. Often neighborhoods seeking landmark protection don’t get all the protection they need first time out of the gate. This can result from political realities (too much political opposition), the prevailing preservation philosophy of the time (the approach to drawing boundaries for historic districts has evolved over the years) and the current attitude about history and architecture (tastes and knowledge also change over time). If a neighborhood organization doesn’t lose its advocacy abilities or its staying power, it can continue its efforts and outlast the obstacles in its way. Political realities can change, preservation philosophy can evolve, and new awareness and information can change tastes and preconceived notions.
Like many other neighborhood organizations, Carnegie Hill Neighbors didn’t stop after the first district. It has kept additional landmarks protection on its agenda (though its place on that agenda has fluctuated over time) and as a result over the decades it has achieved more and more landmark protection for its neighborhood. That Carnegie Hill Neighbors is in the midst of an active effort to expand historic district protection while in the midst of its 40th Anniversary seems fitting on many levels. It reminds us that preservationists must persevere; we must be in it for the long haul. It reminds us of the importance of the neighborhood preservation organization. If a neighborhood doesn’t take the lead in being its own preservation advocate, it is unlikely some external group will play that role for them. Preservation starts at home.
Happy Birthday Carnegie Hill Neighbors—and many happy returns!!
In the spring of 1965 New York City got its long-awaited landmarks law. In the summer of 1966 Ernest Flagg’s Singer Tower of 1908 was sentenced to the landfill. What happened? We had a law, why didn’t it save the Singer Building?
 Postcards of Ernest Flagg's Singer Tower of 1908. Anthony C. Wood archive. Alan Burnham, the Executive Director of the Landmarks Preservation Commission at that time, explained: “If the building were made a landmark, we would have to find a buyer for it or the city would have to acquire it. The city is not that wealthy and the commission doesn’t have a big enough staff to be a real-estate broker for a skyscraper.” (For more see Joseph P. Fried, “End Near for Singer Building, A Forerunner of Skyscrapers,” New York Times, August 22, 1967 and Stern, Mellins, Fishman’s New York 1960.)
It would be unfair to judge too harshly the inaction of that landmarks commission. The law was new and untested. Remember, the Commission’s own Executive Secretary kept a sign on his desk that read: “This Law Raises Grave Constitutional Questions.” (see Baccash p. 9). One can surmise that the Commission decided to side step the process the new law had created. Why bother to designate the building since it was imagined that a hardship, for which the Commission could find no relief, would then be determined and the building would be lost anyway so why raise potential legal questions about the law, expose this fledging city agency to undesired attention, risk antagonizing powerful interests, create a public stir, and expend limited resources for no reason?
Fortunately, today we find ourselves in a very different set of circumstances. Our law has been upheld by the highest court in the land. The Landmarks Law and the Commission that administer it have a 45 year track record of success. Yes there are still powerful interests that can align aginst preservation but preservation itself has developed considerable clout of its own. Today such Commission inaction would likely create a greater public stir than action (witness the 2 Columbus Circle case). The Commission has had limited resources since its birth but ways to supplement them have been creatively found.
The Landmarks Law was not created to save every landmark quality building in the city. It was passed to make sure we didn’t unnecessarily lose such places. It created a process to make sure that when important sites did face a hardship, there was an opportunity for the city and the larger civic community to step forward to try and save them. New York City was never given a chance to try and save the Singer Building. If it had, could it have been saved? Unlikely but who knows?
Today, short circuiting the thoughtful processes created by the law for both designation and hardship are anathema for preservationists. We have come to value the importance of process. The case of the Singer building makes clear that having a law isn’t enough, one has to use it. As we reflect on the loss of this incredible building we can be thankful that we live in different times but we also need to be mindful that there will also be the temptation on behalf of some to avoid a process whose end seems obvious.
We must never sell short our city treasures or underestimate the creative powers that can be brought to bear when indeed the public is invited in. Our landmarks law creates processes that do that—when they are ignored fates like that of the Singer Building are guaranteed, alternatives are precluded. When they are followed, other results become possible.
July 17 is literally a landmark day for Park Slope. It was on this day in 1973 that the Park Slope historic district became a reality. July 19th marks the anniversary of the 1994 designation of the St. George historic district on Staten Island. In blogging about the events of the last 45 years of preservation in New York City, the creation of historic districts has emerged as a major theme. With 100 historic districts and 16 extensions to such districts, a considerable amount of the preservation agenda over the last 45 years has been focused on achieving protection for these truly special places. All preservationists are well aware of their incredible success.
Enemies of preservation periodically take pot shots at the historic district concept. Recently the City Journal ran a piece that even questioned the continued existence of historic districts as part of our law. However, as the old saying goes, the proof is in the pudding. The historic district concept has been so successful that today literally dozens of neighborhoods are seeking such status. Clearly districts work for those who live there and own property in them. Clearly they work for the city, generating not only tourist revenue dollars but increased tax revenues as house proud owners invest in their homes. Clearly they have worked as a vehicle to stabilize and improve neighborhoods. They have been a proven success whether residential, retail or commercial. As much as their opponents hate it, historic districts work—and they work well. Nothing is perfect so one expects to hear unhappy tales of regulation, bureaucracy, and enforcement (and often the lack thereof) but with all the districts we have, and with all the years of experience we’ve had with them, complaints are modest when compared to the accolades districts receive.
One reason for the success of New York’s historic districts, is the Historic Districts Council. This advocacy group has been a supporter of historic districts for almost 40 years. For more on its history I recommend reading the oral histories of many of its early leaders. They can be found on the website of the New York Preservation Archive Project. Historic districts fall into that category of wonderful New York places often taken for granted. In fact, their very success could help lead to their undoing. How could their value even be questioned?
With the recent rumblings of the property rights movement (even here in New York City) it is critical that the success story of New York’s historic districts be told. Powerful narratives of how such designation helped stabilize and turn around neighborhoods are useful to remind policy makers of the value of historic districts to the city. We know the value of these districts—both in dollar terms and in those harder to calculate variables so essential to the quality of life in New York. We need to better document these values, both with stories and hard facts and figures. We can be sure that those who see historic districts as the last frontier for redeveloping New York are looking for ways to camouflage their real agenda with questionable studies and statistics.
When the next frontal attack on historic districts is launched (and indeed there will always be another one) we need to be well prepared with the type of ammunition that thought leaders and policy makers want to see. It is hard for us to imagine that anyone could seriously question the value of historic districts or the importance of them to the future health of our city but we need to wake up and smell the coffee. The enemies of districts are real and not to be under estimated.
Thank goodness we have boots on the ground in 100 neighborhoods and countless friends of historic districts across this city and a solid and robust advocacy group dedicated to their future. We cannot led the present success of districts distract us from the need to seriously document their success in new and more refined ways. One place to begin is understanding the history of each district. The time to gather data and to make the case for our historic districts is before we have to. The time to act is now.
A particularly hot summer even makes thoughts of February in New York City seem welcomed! So imagine a blast of cool air accompanying this save
 James Marston Fitch, 1946. Photo courtesy of Martika Fitch Sawin. the date notice. Saturday February 5, 2011 promises to be an interesting day for those interested in preservation law—and frankly all preservationists need to be interested in preservation law. That is the date of the Fitch Forum 2011: 45 Years of Preservation Law and Policy: New York City and the Nation.
The Fitch Forum 2011 will be a significant event at which the past, present, and future of historic preservation law in both New York City and across the country will be critically examined. Participants will evaluate the effectiveness of landmarks laws and identify the forces that challenge them. The 45th anniversary of the New York City landmarks law provides the inspiration for those in the fields of architecture, urban planning, preservation and the law both to assess how far we have come and to discern what direction we need to take in the future. In order to sustain successful stewardship of the preservation movement, we need to not only grapple with the forces which seek to undermine the advances made in preservation law and policy but to also explore ways to further advance preservation law and policy to address preservation the 21st Century.
In the wake of increasingly aggressive attacks on preservation law, such as the Hanna v. City of Chicago and Connor v. City of Seattle cases, it is particularly important for preservationists to step back and analyze the current state of preservation law and the challenges it will face in the years ahead. In addition, the rumblings of the property rights movement’s resurgence further underscores the need to secure and advance preservation efforts in New York City and the nation. Since the Supreme Court upheld New York City’s law in the Penn Central case in 1978, its constitutionality has been established. However it is becoming increasingly apparent others are working toward a different end, and they welcome opportunities to question the fundamental soundness of preservation law in New York City and elsewhere. These challenges need to be addressed.
The Fitch Forum 2011 will therefore explore the pressing issue: what are the impediments to a bright future for preservation law and policy, and what can be done to counter them? The conference will bring together professionals, advocates, academics and students for a comprehensive discussion about both the broad and specific challenges facing landmarks law in 2011 and innovative ideas for furthering the legal protection of threatened resources. It will address such questions as whether New York’s landmarks law is up to the challenges of the 21st Century? Are their innovative ideas from other places that could strengthen it? Speakers from around the country will join with leading New York City experts to explore these and other questions.
The Forum is being co-sponsored by the Historic Preservation Program of Columbia University’s Graduate School of Architecture, Planning and Preservation and the Law Department of the National Trust for Historic Preservation. The New York Preservation Archive Project is happy to be one of a growing number of organizations partnering on the Forum. This day-long event will be held at Wood Auditorium, Avery Hall, Columbia University. Seating is limited so when registration is announced be sure to respond ASAP.
On February 5 when you are trudging through the snow and fridge weather, remember just how hot it was when you first heard of this event.
On July 14, 1966, under the headline, “A Vision of Rome Dies: Shorn of Its
 Penn Station during demolition. Photo by Peter Moore © Est. of Peter Moore/VAGA, NYC from The Destruction of Penn Station (D.A.P., 2000.) Proud Eagles, Last Facade of Penn Station Yielding to Modernity,” Ada Louise Huxtable wrote the following “obituary” in the New York Times for the great Pennsylvania Station: “Pennsylvania Station succumbed to progress this week at the age of 56, after a lingering decline. The building’s one remaining facade was shorn of eagles and ornament yesterday, preparatory to leveling the last wall. It went not with a bang, or a whimper, but to the rustle of real estate stock shares. The passing of Penn Station is more than the end of a landmark. It makes the priority of real estate values over preservation conclusively clear. It confirms the demise of an age of opulent elegance, of conspicuous, magnificent spaces, rich and enduring materials, the monumental civic gesture, and extravagant expenditure for esthetic ends.”
It too three long years for Pennsylvania Station to be demolished. Though we now know that New York City’s landmarks law did not emerge fully formed from the wreckage of Pennsylvania Station and instead was the result of decades of prior advocacy, research, and constituency building, the larger importance of the loss of Penn Station to the history of preservation is without dispute. The demolition of Pennsylvania Station has given the preservation movement an iconic image that has taken on a life of its own. Preservationists in other cities talk of their “Pennsylvania Station,” the loss that galvanized their community into taking action to preserve their sites and places of special value. When did Pennsylvania Station achieve this almost mythic status? When did it start to be used this way? Let us know your thoughts on this.
Whenever the Station started to take on that larger meaning, it seems to be human nature that certain things are only appreciated when they are threatened and sometimes, only after they are lost. Too often we take it for granted that something we value will just always just be there. Part of this is a result of our failure to tell the story of preservation. Today most New Yorkers routinely walk by any of our over 2,000 individual landmarks or through one of our 100 historic districts, with no awareness of the effort that went into preserving those New York treasures. If we’re lucky they noticed the terra cotta colored street signs announcing they are in a historic district or perhaps they saw a plaque on a site indicating that a building is a landmark, but more likely they just walked by. People just assume that of course these special places have been saved. In this day and age, preserving our history is standard practice. Right? We know better. Unless we educate people to the fact that landmarks and historic neighborhoods survive because people have consciously worked to save these places, there is the danger that the general public will just take preservation for granted.
Why is that a danger? First, people will not get involved. If it is already taken care of clearly their involvement isn’t needed. A false sense of complacency can set in. As a result, by the time the larger public becomes aware that a cherished place is threatened, it can be too late to save it. On a larger scale, the danger is that New Yorkers will take for granted the very thing that gives them the right to fight for such places, and creates the forum in which to do so, our Landmarks Law. Most New Yorkers give little thought to this law. If they do it is perhaps because it hits them in the face—perhaps it required them to do the right thing to property they own or it has failed them as a vehicle to save a site they hold dear. But for most New Yorkers, at best it is something they once read about in some media piece.
How many New Yorkers walk through Greenwich Village, Brooklyn Heights, or SoHo and thank the Landmarks Law for its role in preserving our city? How many pass by their favorite landmark and think the same thing? For a moment, run the film It’s a Wonderful Life in your mind’s eye but replace George Bailey with the Landmarks Law. You’ll quickly get the picture of the importance of our law.
Just as it is dangerous for New Yorkers to just assume that the law will routinely be used to save a place they care about, it is also dangerous for New Yorkers to take for granted the preservation of the law itself. As we experience another moment in time when the City Charter is under study, let us all keep our eyes open and clearly focused on our landmarks law. Though it would be wonderful to think such a Charter Review might lead to an even stronger law with an even greater ability to preserve New York’s sites of historic, cultural, and aesthetic value, Huxtable’s 1966 observation on the demolition of Penn Station: “It makes the priority of real estate values over preservation conclusively clear” still rings too true to our ears.
If preservationists have learned anything, it is to take nothing for granted. By educating our fellow New Yorkers to the long and honorable history of preservation efforts in our city, to our tragic losses and glorious victories, to the value of preservation (both in dollar terms and in currency of even greater value), to the work done and remaining to be done, we can help guarantee that it will not take another Pennsylvania Station to galvanize New Yorkers to the cause of preservation. Before we can fully educate our fellow New Yorkers we need to better understand our own history and have the information we need to tell that story. That is why the New York Preservation Archive Project works to document, preserve, and celebrate the history of preservation in New York City. We’re too small to do it by ourselves, we need your help–every preservationist and preservation organization needs to add to their agenda the documentation, preservation, and celebration of their own preservation history. If we get this right, New York will never need another wake up call like the loss of Pennsylvania Station.
2010 marks the 30th anniversary of the opening of the Urban Center and also the year of its closing. Launched in 1980 by the Municipal Art Society, “Many of the big debates over urban design and planning in New York were talked about and advanced” at the Urban Center, noted Vin Cipolla, current president of the Municipal Art Society. Indeed, much history was made at the Urban Center. Who knew when its doors opened that it would become a place where preservation history was both celebrated and made?
 Anthony Wood with Margot Wellington. It was under the inspired leadership of Margot that the Urban Center came to life. Photo credit: Steven Tucker, November 1999. Under the inspired leadership of Margot Wellington, then Executive Director of the Municipal Art Society, the Urban Center came to life. In short order it became a Madison Avenue showcase for urban issues–whether the subject was planning, preservation, architecture, parks, urban design, open space, transportation, street furniture, and the list goes on, it was likely to be addressed in a lecture, exhibit, panel discussion, or other program at the Urban Center, or certainly in a publication at Urban Center Books. For many years the Urban Center was the watering hole for those who cared about New York’s built environment. Today those interests and conversations can be found in a variety of locations but that was not the case when the Urban Center opened in 1980. In fact, it is in part because so much has changed since the Urban Center opened, and a good deal of that change resulting in part because of what happened at the Urban Center, that it is of great importance that an effort be made to capture its history. Some of the origins of the Center were captured in Gregory F. Gilmartin’s 1995 Shaping the City: New York and the Municipal Art Society but its full story only exists in the memory of its participants and in random documents that one hopes still survive in file cartons in storage units.
I had the good fortunate of arriving at the Urban Center in 1981, a year after it opened, and working there until 1986. I worked for the Municipal Art Society, the organizer of the Urban Center, but not its sole occupant. A great part of the Center’s genius came from the synergy of having a variety of civic organizations under one roof: The New York Chapter of the American Institute of Architects, the Architectural League and the Parks Council. Add to the offices of these organizations exhibit spaces, meeting rooms, and an incredible bookstore, and one had the recipe for a vibrant center focused on urbanism and in particular, New York City. The staff and boards of these various groups would rub shoulders in the halls while their memberships would co-mingle at events, lectures, and exhibits. Breakfast meetings, special lunch time programs, an endless array of evening events, and a robust schedule of exhibits (usually at least two at a time) helped put the Urban Center on the map. It became a designation point for New Yorkers and for those with shared interests from other cities and countries.
Having been involved in its early years, I can testify that as we madly put on events, organized exhibits, and worked to create a sense of “there” there, one thing not on my mind—and I don’t think on anyone elses—was the notion that we were making history. But in fact, we were. Preservationists are involved in the history business but most of us think of history as something that happened before we got here. It is rare for preservationists, and I think for most people, to consciously realize that what they are doing today will be tomorrow’s history. As a result, we tend to madly scramble to do what we do without a lot of time devoted to documenting it as we go along. At the Urban Center we were making history without knowing it. Odds are good that many of you are in that same situation today. Those battling to create new historic districts, do you think that future preservationists will look back on your work as a historic accomplishment and be interested in how you did it? Preservationists tackling sticky policy issues, are you aware that at some future point others will look back to better understand what you were trying to do and why? Will you have left behind records to help them learn from your efforts? Even when it comes to public education, those of you who offer tours, sponsor exhibits, and host programs, when someone in 50 years wants to know what preservationists were talking about in 2010, will they easily find a list of your activities?
 The Urban Center. There are many lessons to be learned form the Urban Center. It demonstrated how to combine public education and advocacy to achieve policy change. It showed how to reach out to thought leaders and opinion makers and the value of doing so. It helped develop and demonstrate public interest in topics previously thought to be of concern to only professional and limited audiences. It is hard to imagine the Neighborhood Preservation Center, the Center for Architecture, or the robust urban programming at the Museum of the City of New York without the precedent of the Urban Center. One lesson from the Urban Center is the realization that we go about making history every day though we aren’t consciously aware of it. A little more awareness on all our parts would lead to a much richer historic record which will only further leverage all of that good work.
There is still a chance to capture the history of the Urban Center and with some luck those who were involved in it will come together to do so. Perhaps if its historic role and true importance had been more fully appreciated and recognized earlier, its 30th anniversary would not also have been its last.
July 8, 1980 was a day of celebration in the Bronx—it was the day that the Longwood Historic District was designated by the Landmarks Preservation Commission. The importance of Longwood was noted in 1989 by Roberta Brandes Gratz in her book The Living City: How America’s Cities Are Being Revitalized by Thinking Small in a Big Way. We are also lucky that much of the Longwood story has been captured in an oral history by one of those intimately involved in that important chapter in preservation’s history, Thom Bess. Thom not only helped preserve Longwood but has now helped preserve the story of Longwood’s preservation!
 Thom Bess on a preservation field trip to the Manchester neighborhood of Pittsburgh, PA. That oral history is one of over a dozen that the New York Preservation Archive Project has conducted in partnership with Pratt Institute’s graduate program in historic preservation. The Archive Project orients Pratt graduate students and selects the subjects for interviews usually organized around a theme. Past themes have included preservation in the 1980s, preservation in the 1970s, and historic districts. The students conduct the interviews and the Archive Project pays to have them transcribed. The final text is then edited and posted on the Project’s website. These oral histories are a rich source of inspiration for contemporary preservationists and will be a treasure trove of information for future historians.
This is indeed a landmark time of year. It was on July 11, 1978 that the Albemarle-Kenmore Terrace historic district in Brooklyn was designated and on the same day in 1989 that the South Street Seaport Extension was designated. July 12, 1977 witnessed the designation of the Central Park West 73rd-74th Street Historic District and on the same day in 1988, the designation of the Gramercy Park Extension came to pass.
Today we have 100 historic districts and 16 extensions to historic districts. The Longwood Historic District was extended in 1983. Behind each one of these is a story. Many districts are lucky enough to have preservation groups who act as their curators—educating property owners, testifying before the Landmarks Preservation Commission, and otherwise watching out over these precious New York City resources. In addition to curating the built fabric of these special places, it would be wonderful if these groups would also curate the history of preservation in these districts. Has the story of how the district was designated been captured? Have oral histories been done with early preservation leaders in the neighborhood? What about key events since designation? Have they been documented? Have those stories been captured?
Everyone’s plate is full these days but it doesn’t take a fortune or require a brain surgeon to capture your neighborhood’s preservation history. There are already some exciting models to follow. As part of its 25th Anniversary activities LandmarkWest! is working to capture that neighborhood’s preservation history. A number of years ago the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation did a series of oral histories with early preservation leaders in the Village. The Archive Project would be happy to work with neighborhood groups interested in documenting their preservation history. Thom Bess, and a growing number of other preservation activists have shared their stories.
Why devote your limited resources and time to this task? Where preservation has successfully taken hold, there is the danger of complacency. You fought hard to preserve your neighborhood and know that achieving landmark designation was only the beginning. Nurturing and sustaining a preservation ethic in your district requires ongoing education. What you worked so hard to achieve can easily be taken for granted. The history of preservation in your historic district can be a source of inspiration; it can be a reminder of the need for constant vigilance and a source of information on specific sites and issues that may prove useful in future advocacy efforts.
It is time for preservation to have its own version of Storycorp. If you don’t preserve your neighborhood’s preservation history, who will?
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On April 19, 1965, Mayor Robert Wagner signed New York City’s Landmarks Law, and a new era in historic preservation began. This anniversary provides the preservation community with an opportunity to reflect upon our past and prepare for the future. With your help, we can document the landmark accomplishments of the past forty-five years, and prepare for the work to come.
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