Harvey Page
I was prepping for a King William walking tour for the 65th Nationales Saengerfest (Nord-Amerikanischer Saengerbund) and I noted that the Berman/Kinder House of 1906 on Madison Street was by the architect Harvey Page. The name sounded familiar and I realized I had been in another of his buildings less than a year ago – but it was in Washington, D.C. The Metropolitan Club, a veritable master class in Renaissance Revival.
Page practiced in his hometown of Washington, D.C. from 1880 to 1897, spent a couple of years in Chicago, and settled in San Antonio about 1900, where he practiced and lived until his death in 1934. In addition to that house in King William (which has been altered since his original design) he did several notable buildings here, including the stunning Temple Beth-El (1927) which I see every day in the neighborhood.
I have visited Washington, D.C. a lot, and have run into some of his work there, including the landmarked Harvey L. Page Block near DuPont Circle. His career, like William Carbys Zimmerman in Chicago, spanned the period between Queen Anne (below), the various Classical Revivals of the turn of the century, and the emergence of the modern as seen at Temple Beth-El. Page did a Craftsman Style house in 1906 that hinted at modern, just as Zimmerman was completing the Joseph Downey House in Chicago.
Downey House, Chicago, 1906. I took this picture in 1998.
In San Antonio, Harvey Page contributed some major buildings in addition to Temple Beth-El, like the Great Northern Railway Depot (1907) with its deliberately Mission-inspired campanulate facade and towers, the Mausolus-worthy Greco-Roman Scottish Rite Cathedral (1924) and several houses, including the quirky Clegg House (1902), which is surrounded by San Antonio College.
Despite the one Craftsman Bungalow and Temple Beth-El, Page never did venture too far into Modernism. Most of his mid-1920s houses in rapidly growing Monte Vista and Alamo Heights tended to stick to the historical styles popular at that time. Even our Frank Lloyd Wright-trained George Willis shifted from Prairie Style to historicism by 1921, as detailed in my blog a few years back.
Even in this stone Craftsman from 1906, Page could not resist a little Mission Style flare with the campanulate dormer. He did do a stucco Craftsman at 210 Encino, but it is impossible to photograph. Page died here in 1934 after a productive career. Six of his houses, including the Berman/Kinder, Clegg and his own home at 331 W Woodlawn are including in the San Antonio House Registry.
Section 106 of the National Historic Preservation Act
Last week the Advisory Council on Historic Preservation put out a call for review of the Section 106 process. What is Section 106? Well, it is basically the federal review process for properties listed on (or eligible for) the National Register of Historic Places. I have taught this process to public officials for decades, and I have been party to the process in many cases, including several projects here in San Antonio.
Foundations of 1875 St. James AME Church as uncovered in 2020. Below is the result of the Section 106 process, completed 2022.
In a time characterized by assaults on civil institutions small and large, a “review” of this process, which has existed in some form for nearly 60 years, is cause for concern. Section 106 is a type of regulation, and regulations are often categorically opposed by self-styled populist politicians and struggling subpar businesspersons. The nuanced reality is that any consultative process will tend to improve outcomes.
With the notable exception of the Milton Historical Society, a Section 106 review that was a perfect storm of bad outcomes. I was hired by the National Trust to figure out what went wrong here 20 years ago. Architect, client, and agency were all at fault. In that order.
Almost a year ago, the Executive began trying to get around regulations like Section 106 through imaginary energy crises, military readiness, and other performative red herrings. Heck, they even demolished a federal building illegally (and of course performatively, without a long-range plan – see my blog about it). But this is not to put Section 106 under one political banner, because in 2024 Section 106 was being challenged as an impediment not to knuckle-dragging capitalists, but to progressive causes like climate change and renewable energy. And bike lanes. I blogged about it here.
There is also an exception being drawn up for military housing, which makes sense intuitively.
Well of course I’m going to pick an architecturally significant example of military housing.
Your intuition is not wrong, but it has no context. The context is that military housing is like all things military – it never has to justify its budget. That means that the housing got “improved” regularly in the 1950s and 1960s and 1970s. That means it has lots of layers added, with each having the potential to become a unique mold biome. And of course those of us involved in actual Section 106 reviews in a city with lots of military bases knows that this has been an issue for more than a decade. Not new.
Tile looks 1930 but that sink looks scallopped in the awful 80s.
Here is how Section 106 works:
1. There is a federal project. This could be obvious, like a highway or a building, or it could be a permit from the Army Corps of Engineers to build along a navigable waterway.
2. There is – or is not – a historic resource.
3. There is – or is not – an effect on that resource.
4. If there is an adverse effect, you oughta try to do something about it.
5. If nothing can be done, you go ahead anyway.
Here is one of my favorite results – the Solomonic baby sliced in half:
The LITERAL bottom line in the process is that the project can proceed, something the Post Office knew back in 1991 when the above article appeared. They knew they could tear it down after they went through the process. (BTW photo proves that I was out standing in my field).
Or you can just repackage the project into different phases that do not engage Section 106 as much.
At her request, I spoke to National Trust for Historic Preservation CEO Carol Quillen last summer about this issue and what should be done. After all, Section 106 has not been revised in over two decades. The conclusion I shared with her is the same I reached years ago in the effort to get the National Register of Historic Places to reflect the diversity of American history. The issue is rarely the law or regulation itself, but the practice of its implementation.
Ah yes, Federal Building West. We encouraged them NOT to worry about the original 1974 bathroom in the basement.
As with many current initiatives from the federal government, it appears that they are trying to solve a problem that doesn’t exist. In over 40 years of dealing with historic preservation review at the federal, state and local level, I have consistently seen that at least 97 percent of reviews are dispatched in a few days. My friend and Washington State SHPO Allyson Brooks provided statistics from last year. They did 5,371 reviews with a response time of 3.7 days. 45 of the projects were “adverse affects”. It could be that there is not a problem, or perhaps there is that one guy with a problem who wants to make everyone pay for it.
Moreover, most federal agencies have executed Programmatic Agreements that essentially resolve potential Section 106 issues in advance, and provide an agency-specific and resource-specific process for dealing with the rules in a more streamlined way. But that doesn’t play well in a media landscape designed for third graders.
Our National Historic Landmark army base is a decade older than Fort Sheridan in Chicago.
So what specifically is the ACHP looking to review?
1. Defining the undertaking and establishing the area of potential effects
I suppose this is to fend off surprises by limiting the scope of the undertaking. The old newspaper clipping above is a case where the new building did not require the demolition of the old building per se. It’s just that, in order to stage the construction of the new building, the old one had to go.
2. Assessing indirect and cumulative effects
I guess this is to try to limit the review to immediate effects rather than long-term or indirect ones. I can’t imagine this affects a large number of cases. One of the interesting ones I witnessed – which was resolved by the Advisory Council in favor of the military, was the issue of cutting trees at the 1930 Randolph Air Force Base. The Air Force wanted to cut down trees to limit bird strikes, and the SHPO wanted them to keep original trees. The Air Force won, and yes, it took a while.
3. Managing review/scope of review for long linear projects with limited federal involvement
This could be for projects like San Pedro Creek or Brackenridge Park that are primarily projects of state and local agencies and the federal role is a permit. Again, Programmatic Agreements can help with this.
4. Managing timelines for review.
Yeah, well that would be good. In fact, this is the big one. European countries have more stringent regulations than we do, and their businesses are used to going through the process. It must be worse there, right? No. See, they have a process which has an endpoint. The US has so many lawyers that projects can get tied up forever not by the regulations, but the ancillary and attendant lawsuits. There is no endpoint in a litigious environment. That doesn’t happen in Europe.
They are better at trains too
You can tweak the regulations all you want, but unless someone sets an example of NOT filing frivolous lawsuits, the timelines will get longer not matter how short the laws are. Anyone know anyone who could set such a noble example? Bueller? Bueller?
My prediction is that the review will cause more problems than it solves. If you go digging into a legal process that is slow 3% of the time, you will reduce the quality of outcomes at the very least, and likely harm that high-performing ratio.
JULY UPDATE
Well, the Advisory Council has flouted its own process, in order to flout the process. Like a suicide bomber! See my latest blog and the preservation community response.
When the history of a site includes preservation
The School of Architecture and Planning at UT San Antonio hosted a colloquium last weekend that began with a keynote by Davide Galleri, PhD of the University of Naples, who spoke about Robie House, the epitome of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Prairie Style and a building I have long known. Indeed, the black and white photo he used of the 58th Street face of the house was the view out my dorm window in 1979-80.
This one is from 2008 after they had torn down my Eero Saarinen-designed dorm.
Galleri’s history of Robie House revealed an interesting conundrum. Most of the house’s history is not about a house as much as a site of landmark preservation. The original owners were there less than two years, and the two subsequent homeowners were gone by the time the building was 30 years old. Like every building in history, it was first proposed to be demolished when it was about 30 years old, in 1941. Preservation pressure kept it alive under institutional ownership until it was threatened again in 1957, when Wright himself argued for it. It was purchased and saved by the same guy who was doing the urban renewal of Hyde Park and demolishing 1000 acres of buildings. It then limped along under the ownership of the University of Chicago for a couple decades before becoming a proper house museum. So, of its 115 years of history, arguably 85 of those years are the history of preservation.
And they still haven’t got the dining room set back.
The more I think about it, this is not unusual. Every building faces its first demolition threat or need for a major overhaul at about 30-40 years. That is when a preponderance of building systems from roofs on down will need to be replaced or trashed. It is normal for most of a building’s history to be about preserving, rehabilitating or retrofitting it. Right now the “Thompson Center” in Chicago is being completely redone exactly 40 years after it was built.
I did not realize until Galleri’s lecture that Robie House faced its first demolition threat in 1941. I always knew about the 1957 battle, since it coincided with the beginnings of the battle over Penn Station in New York, which was the exact same age as Robie House. Even though it looked different.
Heck, when you think about it some more, you realize that the inscription on one of the most famous landmarks of the Western world is all about how it was restored by Marcus Agrippa.
I took this photo 43 years ago, so, like, there is even more preservation history now.
My new place of work, Villa Finale Museum and Gardens in King William, follows this pattern as well. Built in 1876, it was expanded until about 1902, and then enjoyed about 20 more years of being a fancy house, a decade as a slightly bawdy house, and then joined its neighbors at the age of about 65 in being chopped up into a bunch of apartments during the postwar housing shortage. When Walter Nold Mathis bought and restored it in 1967, he was kicking off the restoration of many other houses in King William that had also been chopped up. For almost 60 years this has been a preservation story, and for the last 15 that story is being told to the public each day.
2010.
My favorite example is just two doors down from Villa Finale – James Reily Gordon’s stunning Romanesque Kalteyer House.
Go back to the 1970s and it looked like this.
Now, Galleri and some of the other academics there on Friday night started getting into the questions of how things are preserved and how they are changed, and whether something can be considered authentic or original. Galleri got into the discussion of integrity, which in my experience has caused a lot of trouble and provided little advantage. See my take on these issues and how they have excluded important landmarks here. I also scribbled down “Ditch period of significance” because what is the period of significance? The original construction? Or is is one step back and the original design before it was modified during construction? And who did the modification – was it the architect? And exactly how many angels will fit on the head of a pin?
Loading the angels…..
When restoring Colonial Williamsburg in the 1930s, perfectly historic 19th century buildings were scraped because they did not fit into the period of significance. Even 50 years later during the restoration of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Home and Studio they destroyed work Wright actually did in 1911 to convert it into apartments, in order to go back to the 1899 appearance. So which is it?
Rather than get into a scholarly debate about originality, design and execution, and the great chasms of authenticity and integrity, I think we need to consider that preservation or rehabilitation is part of the story of every building that makes it past 30-40 years. In fact, I am working on a book that considers many lost Chicago buildings, and it is kind of amazing to see how many architectural wonders bowed out before they turned 50.
Masonic Temple by Burnham and Root
Marshall Field Wholesale Store by Henry Hobson Richardson
Prentice Women’s Hospital, Bertrand Goldberg, 1975.
Culture is – by definition – the tending of things that change over time.
Heritage Conservation in 2025
In chaotic times, one might think that the preservation of historic sites might be a respite from chaos, but as with all firehoses, the current recrudescence has soaked all sectors. I was in Washington DC last week for our annual Preservation Action Advocacy Week, which seemed like many of the others, despite the steady drumbeat of the 24-hour news cycle trying to make sense of the firehose. We met with six congressional offices and were well received in all, because for a long time historic preservation (heritage conservation) has had bipartisan support. Texas has had a very good state historic tax credit for the last decade, so our pitch to retain the federal one hit home for the Texas congressional delegation.
The firehose of course refers to the huge quantity of executive actions that have affected most domestic and foreign sectors. In terms of “preservation” the obvious initial impacts are loss of staff at historic sites of the National Park Service, overriding of Section 106 review due to a declared energy emergency, and loss of preservation staff in many other federal agencies, including the GSA which oversees real estate, USDA, Transportation and others. Given that the firehose has been on for less than two months, and given that some firings or overridings are reversed, it is very hard to assess the damage at this time. Of greater concern would be any permanent dismantling of federal review processes, most of which are carried out by states and other sovereign entities.
The role of heritage conservation is to preserve the histories of all communities that make up a place. And the act of heritage conservation is a process by which a community determines what elements of its past it wants in its future, and how those elements are preserved. This process can exist at any and all levels but it only really is effective at the community level. And, as one of our speakers (Valerie Grussing of NATHPO) noted: “Community moves faster than government.”
I have worked in the heritage conservation field for 42 years, working for non-profits the whole time. I have occasionally been hired for specific projects by government entities, mostly at the municipal level. So it is at the level of the blessed community that we must continue our efforts to uncover and conserve the history we find in our local places.
How to demolish a MCM landmark, clumsily.
The surprising thing about the impending demolition (they have started on remediation, the most expensive part UNLESS you are keeping the building) of the Texas Pavilion/Institute of Texan Cultures Building is not that the Texas Historical Commission issued a demolition permit without public comment less than two months after listing the building as a State Antiquities Landmark. That was certainly NOT surprising since they had just done the same thing with University Junior High in Austin – landmark it and then six weeks later allow it to be demolished.
It is also not surprising that the demolition permit came just a month after the City finally revealed Project Marvel, a singular rendering centered on a potential Spurs stadium. The Spurs have the superstar of the decade and their current venue is more than 20 years old, which is what, 100 in professional sports years? What IS surprising is the recent revelation that Project Marvel started – and could easily finish – without a Spurs stadium. Or a UTSA hotel program. Turns out those were late additions to the project, according to City Council members at a public meeting this week. And the project could go without them.
That explains why there is only one rendering. The hotel even looks like a late cut-and-paste.
UTSA’s rush to demolish seems a little odd, as does their deal last year to sell, lease or “give” the building to the City. Yes, the city wants it back after giving it to the state in 1967 for a permanent museum. But UTSA kept saying they wanted to “monetize” the site – why would they “give” it to the city? Especially after a really expensive remediation and demolition?
That is 1963 US Gypsum building in Chicago when it was about 10. It was demolished three decades ago, costing $4 million, of which $3 million was for remediation.
Well, one reason is that UTSA as a state agency doesn’t have to bother with demolition permits from the city. If the city owned it, there would be a public hearing, and one thing UTSA has avoided assiduously for the last eight years is any public hearing. I remember going to the public meetings about their master planning six years ago – which included every parcel they owned EXCEPT the Texas Pavilion/ITC.
Since the new President of UTSA arrived, they have wanted to get rid of the building. They pulled back a Request for Proposals that had been issued in 2016 for developers interested in the site. Odd, because “monetization”? Then COVID came to the rescue and within months they cut staff by 80%. The Texas Folklife Festival, which had been the lifeline for the ITC, ended, and soon other events were moved to other locations. They convened task forces and the ULI to study the building so that everyone knew it needed $80 million – except the 2023 engineering report on their website that said $7 million. And last Memorial Day they closed it and moved the collections out. So now it is just a Brutalist hunk.
This is how you demolish a Mid Century Modern landmark. I call it the POLYESTER PANTS method because I first saw it at work in 1980s Chicago with a lovely 1930 building called Hillman’s. Hillman’s had a ground floor “grocery” called Stop and Shop that was the classiest thing in town – the ultimate upscale bodega, a unique experience and a beloved place. If they had announced they were demolishing Stop and Shop there would be an uproar.
So they got rid of that use and put in a place that sold two pairs of polyester pants for $12. Within a year or too, the polyester pants have successfully distanced the building from its fan base and Boom! down it goes.
So, no more Folklife Festival, no more staff, just those pesky Conservation Society folks loading up the old Institute of Texan Cultures building with landmark titles. Sadly, as I explained late last year, those titles only provide a review – nothing guarantees preservation. And when you have one state entity regulating another, well, you can see that there is no independent arbiter here.
Aw heck, transparency and oversight are out of fashion anyway, right? Want some polyester pants?
Public money and real estate
When the City received its first official briefing on Project Marvel six weeks ago, there was constant reassurance that no public money would go into a private sports stadium. That mantra vanished within a month when the Spurs admitted they were polling taxpayers about using Bexar County funds. They even wanted to get it on the May ballot. The public funded Hemisfair (first Spurs stadium), the Alamodome (second Spurs stadium) and Frost Bank Center (third Spurs stadium) and now they are on Spurs IV (A New Hope.) They have the most exciting NBA player, so you can’t fault their timing.
The reality is that most real estate development has public funding. And it has always been that way.
Go back almost two centuries to the era of steam railroads and canals. How were those financed? Usually by land sales, and generally those were pure raves of speculation where people would sell the same parcel multiple times in a day. Look at the sale of canal lands in Chicago in the 1830s. Absolute madness. Railroads – whether intercontinental or local – were funded the same way. You got land to finance the railroad and that land became more valuable because it would be connected to rail so you could sell it to finance the railroad construction. Not much different to tax-increment financing (we call it TIRZ in SA). You borrow against the increased value you will realize when you finally build. Neat, eh?
There is almost no example of real estate development that is not seeking a public subsidy. In the early 20th century it took the form of amenities like streets and sewers and sidewalks and fire and police and even schools (Remember public schools? Good times!)
In the last 75 years the subsidy has usually been in the form of highways and zoning. You will recall that zoning emerged in the 1910s after the truck and automobile suddenly rendered the location of the railroad tracks irrelevant. Zoning guaranteed that you stayed on the right side of the tracks. Zoning is a form of financing as well, as I explained here in 2008.
Hey, historic preservation has been in the public subsidy game for a half century. Every March we go to Washington to argue for historic preservation tax credits, which are another form of financing. The basic idea in 1976 was: Even the playing field. Bankers preferred to finance new construction because there was less uncertainty. So, you give rehabilitations of historic buildings a tax credit (taxes you don’t have to pay, not a check from the government) after they finish. 10-25 percent covers most uncertainties.
Wait – how does that work? You get the tax credit afterwards? No, you sell the tax credit at a slight discount and turn it into equity at the front end. So…it becomes a form of financing. The clever thing about land sales, tax increment financing, tax credits, highways and zoning is that they are public subsidies that do not require you to write a check. So, no tax dollars involved…directly.
And you can always sell the stadium to a casino. (Caesar’s Superdome, New Orleans)
This is not to say that real estate developers are rent-seeking lampreys (we’ll leave that to the insurance industry). In my current role on the Board of the National Trust Community Investment Corporation (NTCIC), I see first-hand the complexity and fragility of putting together a real estate deal. Quite frankly, tax credits and tax increments DO make projects happen. And there are plenty of small developments that happen in conurbanities without a public subsidy – aside from roads and sewers and water and utilities and garbage collection.
Affordable housing always requires a subsidy because a million bucks only buys four units at any level.
To be fair, many of the hundred-plus unit sprawl developments actually operate at such a scale that municipalities have – on occasion – been able to ask THEM TO PAY for things like sewers and utilities and even roads. These were originally called “impact fees” and were passed on to the consumer. On the other hand, the current upzoning movement is actually adding another subsidy – for increased density in mature urban communities.
We tend to idolize the private market because it seems to reward individualism, a key aspect of American character. In truth, the smart money is always chasing the public subsidy. Real estate is the only asset whose value is entirely externalized, and the shape and value of those externalities lies within the public sector.
Whan That Aprille
In medieval Europe, one of the drivers of economic development was the practice of pilgrimage to holy shrines. The practice began in the 4th century when the Emperor Constantine developed pilgrimage sites in Jerusalem which remain successful today. While pilgrimages to Jerusalem were largely ended with the Fall of Acre in 1291, Rome remained a popular pilgrimage site, as did Santiago de Compostela in Spain, which began in the 9th century with the discovery of the tomb of St. James the Great. The pilgrimage famously began at the Tour St. Jacques in Paris, and was an economic boon to sites, hostelries and businesses en route.
Tour St Jacques, Wikimedia Commons, Cormac 2008
Adrian Bell and Richard Dale have written about the economics of the medieval pilgrimage for years, and they describe the rivalries between various pilgrimage sites seeking to profit – spiritually and economically – from their respective relics. Canterbury was of course a great pilgrimage site made famous by Geoffrey Chaucer, but it had its competitors. Shortly after Thomas Becket was murdered there it became a site of miracles and marvels, leading to “St. Cuthbert performing a sudden spate of miracles at his rival shrine in Durham.”
Statue of St Cuthbert, Durham, 1987
Each of these sites had to have a relic – a piece of the body of a saint, perhaps a piece of the true cross. Similarly, Buddhist stupas and viharas often are centered on a tooth or jawbone of Sakyamuni or perhaps the bones of a boddhisatva.
Unidentified saintly skeleton, Stift Melk, Austria, 2005.
Canterbury found the most economical solution to the relic issue, since they had some of Becket’s blood, which they could almost infinitely dilute with water without reducing its miraculous capacities. Reading Abbey had a hand of St. James and was in competition with Canterbury. Bell and Dale describe how a woman who went to Canterbury for a cure was “confronted” in a dream by St. James who said she would not be cured at Canterbury but had to go to Reading, which she dutifully did. And got cured.
Holycross Abbey, Ireland, 2000
I took the three photos above, which means I also contributed to the economy of these pilgrimages during the late 20th century. I even recall having a St. Cuthbert t-shirt from Durham. I saw St. Thomas the Apostle’s forearm in Chennai when it was still called Madras. Heck, Cologne Cathedral has the bones of the Three Kings behind the altar. Pilgrimages are still an economic boon today, from Mecca to San Antonio, where the World Heritage Mission churches have been promoting El Camino de San Antonio Missions.
“Rose Window,” Mission San Jose. Actually they are pomegranates.
If it was a fight for relics in the medieval era, the competition between cities today tends to revolve around things like convention centers and sports stadiums. As reported everywhere, San Antonio recently released the miraculous Project Marvel, which includes not one, but two sports stadia, an expanded convention center, a new theater in an old theater, and perhaps a park on top of the highway.
Most aspects of Project Marvel had been rumored for a year and a half, and of course the big arena in the center is meant to be for the San Antonio Spurs and implies the demolition of the Texas Pavilion/Institute of Texan Cultures building (CRS, 1968) as I reported last month here.
The good thing about Project Marvel is that it is an example of Daniel Burnham’s “Make No Little Plans” comment. A big plan “stirs men’s blood,” according to Burnham, even if it doesn’t get realized in full. His 1909 Plan of Chicago did exactly that – the majority of it never happened, but some pieces did and it continues to influence urban decisions.
The bad thing about Project Marvel is that it is an example of Daniel Burnham’s “Make No Little Plans” comment. BIG planning grew to maturity in the 1960s and by the 1980s the hubris of big design was already being felt. That hubris is that not even the smartest architect can fully predict the future, so the big plans will have flaws. Also, their bigness can be a hindrance to functionality, an issue that came up today when the Express-News noted that Project Marvel is about 10,000 parking places short of functional.
Hemisfair site with ITC circled on left. Current East Side Spurs stadium, right. Which has more parking?
Beyond parking there is traffic. A big concert in the Alamodome today will quickly back up Cesar Chavez Boulevard for a mile and a half. A big plan putting everything in the center may be bold, but it is redolent of 1960s High Modernist planning. Nowadays we prefer a more iterative, incremental approach. Why put all your eggs in one congested basket? We have a proposed baseball stadium on the northwest side of downtown, the Alamodome itself downtown, and an unused 35 acres at Lone Star. That would give you three major venues in three very well connected locations that aren’t on top of each other.
Chicago has that – a northside baseball stadium, a football stadium five miles south, a basketball-hockey stadium two miles west and another baseball stadium four miles south. Distributes the traffic, you see.
It also contributes economically to the local community, at least on the north side.
Part of the challenge of Project Marvel is that it is trying to do many things. 1. Save the Alamodome, which was a bold “build it and they will come plan” a quarter century ago but needs work. 2. Expand the convention center, because we are losing pilgrims who are choosing Reading Abbey instead. I mean conventioneers going to Austin, but same idea. 3. Do something with the Confluence Theater. 4. Build a new Spurs stadium since they have a genuine superstar. 5. Connect the East Side and St. Paul Square with a land bridge. 6. UTSA hospitality school.
What would St. Cuthbert do? It could all be done, but it might take a miracle or six.
DECEMBER 19 UPDATE:
The Texas Historical Commission has approved a demolition permit for the Texas Pavilion/Institute of Texan Cultures building. The approval has a stack of stipulations before the permit can be issued, so still plenty of time for an injunction. The requirements of owner University of Texas at San Antonio (UTSA) include HABS documentation, interpretation, the potential rehab of another neglected Hemsifair ’68 building and an executed Memorandum of Understanding with the THC. Bad news always arrives during the holidays! Over, not over.
Some people get it – historic designation and affordability
It has been fashionable over the last dozen years to blame historic designation for the rising cost of housing in cities and towns nationwide. If your brain is in a simple, mechanistic mode, it might seem that regulations that encourage the preservation of single-family homes could limit the supply of denser, cheaper alternatives. That has a logical flow to it that can be seductive if you leave your brain in that simple, mechanistic mode. Don’t do that. It’s reptilian.
Some people do get it – my friend and colleague Paul Steinke of the Preservation Alliance of Greater Philadelphia shared a recent article by the Philadelphia Inquirer’s architecture critic titled Knocking Down a Fable About City Historic Districts. Inga Saffron wrote there “is no credible evidence showing that historic preservation is the reason Philadelphia has become more expensive.” She sees the culprit as zoning. When I researched the history of zoning for my dissertation, it was clear that its wide adoption in the early 20th century was driven by suburbs that wanted only single-family homes. I get it.
There has been an effort in many places (Minneapolis, Oregon) to get rid of single-family zoning because it inhibits affordability. I summarized this in a blog last year. There a strong YIMBY (Yes In My Backyard) movement with similar goals. Ed Glaeser was a big champion of this theory in his book Triumph of the City, which I reviewed when it came out. I was not terribly concerned about his argument against historic districts because it had problems of scale, causation and even economics.
SCALE
Even the most preservation oriented cities landmark less than 5% of their buildings. That includes New York if you count all the boroughs. Yes, Manhattan might have up to a fifth of its buildings with historic status, but Manhattan is a unicorn in so many ways that unicorns should be called Manhattans instead. So, how could 4% of properties drive the cost of the other 96%?
Chicago has 60 districts and about 350 individual landmarks. The Chicago Historic Resources Survey done in the 1980s and 1990s identified 17,000 buildings that might have historic interest. So that’s a lot, right! I mean, there are about 370,000 buildings in Chicago, so we are talking 4.5%! But most of those “orange-rated” buildings get torn down after a short demolition delay, so our real percentage thirty years later is smaller.
Now, I did live in a suburb – Oak Park, Illinois – that had landmarked what looks like about a third of its footprint, beginning with the Frank Lloyd Wright Prairie School of Architecture Historic District back in the 1980s. Interestingly, its 1994 Long Range Preservation Plan called for more ADUs (called coach houses or granny flats) – that is to say: more density and a step away from single-family zoning.
As you can see, Oak Park does have a lot of big historic districts, but they do not include the apartments and highrises where a majority of the suburb’s population has lived for the last two generations. The third dimension is missing from the map. Most of the residents do not live in a historic district.
Preservation folks have been encouraging greater density in those districts since 1994. Last week the Village Board took up the issue. 30 years later. (Preservationists are always WAY ahead of the game.)
Similarly, Saffron’s article on Philadelphia noted that the Old City historic district has quadrupled in population since the district was created in 2003. And as my friend Jim Bailey notes, right in the center of the oldest historic district in Texas is a 1920s development with a density of 126 units per acre. It looks like this:
So, scale is an issue and density can work in historic districts. There is also the problem of…..
CAUSATION (ECONOMICS)
Where does real estate value come from? Location, location, location, right? I bought a Frank Lloyd Wright house in 1991 for $1, but it had a negative $40,000 value. Another one of the houses in the row recently sold for $30,000, thirty years later. Real estate is as asset whose value is entirely externalized.
Unlandmarked Bucktown in Chicago tripled in value in 1987 while contiguous Wicker Park lagged in landmark limbo. Saffron’s article points to an NYU study that showed the steepest rent increases happened in the least landmarked parts of Brooklyn. Rapidly increasing real estate values, gentrification and displacement happen in many urban areas. Generally, historic districts preserve and enhance real estate values, because they reduce uncertainty about location, location and location – you know it won’t change much. But designation always arrives AFTER rehabilitation has happened. Residents rehab and then act to preserve their investment. Designation doesn’t happen before values go up.*
Advisory Council on Historic Preservation Chair Sara Bronin has a book coming out about zoning (Key To The City)and has been speaking regularly about zoning changes that would support BOTH historic preservation and affordable housing, including provisions that: enable housing conversions, create mixed-use neighborhood centers, eliminate minimum parking requirements, encourage accessory dwelling units, and strengthen transferable development rights. As noted above and before, many of these items have been on our playlist for 30 years.
Here in San Antonio, the Office of Historic Preservation has been promoting preservation as affordable housing for some years, releasing a major study in 2019. As Donovan Rypkema, the guru of preservation economics has said for years: “You can’t build new and rent cheap.” In 2024 a million dollars will build you three and a half residential units if you are lucky. The economic challenge is on the supply side.
You can’t build your way to affordability. Better to fix – and add density – to what you have. Existing housing stock is a nonrenewable resource.
2021 – Government Hill, San Antonio
2023
*My dissertation on historic districts basically found zero examples of districts created without strong community support and without rehabilitation already happening at scale.
San Antonio Update May 2023
Fiesta is over, the IPW international travel network just completed a lovely visit to the Alamo City, and the State Legislature has almost completed its biennial shenanigans, one bit of which just hit the press and could have a negative impact on one of our treasured landmarks, the Institute of Texan Cultures, built in 1968 and a unique celebration of Texan diversity in a unique Brutalist building.
I wrote about this not long ago – the Conservation Society has been working to list the building on the National Register of Historic Places. Meanwhile, its owner, University of Texas at San Antonio (UTSA) completed a series of working groups looking at the future of the institute and insists it is looking at three possible options – keeping it where it is, keeping it in the Hemisfair area, and moving it elsewhere. The building – the focus of the Conservation Society – has long been rumored to be a potential site for a new highrise (as illustrated in an issue of Urban Land a few years back) or sports stadium.
Two things happened this week that bode ill for the building. First, the popular Asian Festival was moved from the site to the main downtown UTSA campus. This is a classic predemolition move akin to dozens I have witnessed since the 80s. Remove a beloved event/store/use from a building. Ideally replace it with something crappy that people want to get rid of, and then …poof – no one objects to demolition!
This was the classic example from 40 years ago. A beloved downtown grocery in Chicago where you could get apple-sized strawberries (this was before those became normal – GO GMO!) dipped in chocolate was closed first. Then the retail space became a shop selling two pairs of vinyl men’s pants for $9.99. Within a year or two everyone forgot about Stop N Shop and the exquisite 1930 Hillman’s building was demolished.
Eventually they did building something there. It was only vacant like this for 19 years. See my 2012 post here.
The second thing that happened is that the State Legislature passed a bill that basically gives a couple hundred million in tax revenues to the convention center and downtown sports stadiums. Given that the site of the Institute of Texan Cultures has long been rumored for a baseball (or basketball?) stadium, having a handy government funding source sure could help if it comes to undoing a big Brutalist landmark.
I understand the populist dislike for Brutalism, and even more I understand the Mischief of Modernism that made these amazing buildings in 1968, a Hubris of Scale that engenders an equally skewed approach to redevelopment in our own time.
Meanwhile, at the Alamo temporary constructions are EVERYWHERE. This is the South Gate, which is not a reconstruction but a modern interpretation of a feature that existed from the Mission era (1724) all the way until 1871. It is built atop the actual archaeological remains of the south gate, no easy feat. Just beyond it is the temporary Lunette, a palisaded fortification that exists for maybe 18 months in 1835-36, but since that includes the famous battle of the Alamo, there it is.
And cannon. The Alamo has gained an average of one cannon per year over the last seven years. You have been warned.
These are in addition to the also “temporary” Southwest rampart, with its massive 18-pounder cannon which went in a year ago. Oh, and they just got permission to build a “shade structure” just south of the Lunette in Plaza de Valero. The Conservation Society objected that this will obscure views of the Alamo.
I have a natural concern about “temporary” structures, with specific examples from the last 40 years. Sticking with Chicago, back in 1977 they wanted to build a bandshell in Grant Park, but thanks to a 1912 ruling, no buildings can be added to Grant Park (except the ones already there) which is why the Museum Campus is just south of the park. Now, if this had been the 21st century, they would have done what they did with Millennium Park – just build the buildings and then put the park on top of them! Problem solved!
What schmatta?
Alas, this was the 1970s when people were wearing vinyl pants so they decided to build a “demountable structure” for the new bandshell. It was basically a fold-up tent they could erect and disassemble each year, thus not “building” in Grant Park. I remember seeing it the first year it went up. I have seen it since, because it has been demounted exactly 0 times in my lifetime. So, I tend to be suspicious.
More staying power than a traditional mortgage.
The shrine of Texas liberty. Never mind the bollards.
Ouch – Pleasant Home
I served many years as an advisor for the Pleasant Home Foundation, and recall well when it was established to help preserve this rare 1897 Prairie mansion that is currently included on the list of National Historic Landmarks, that 2% of the most important sits in the nation.
I say “currently” because the building’s owner, the Park District of Oak Park, just ripped out its 125-year old Wisconsin white oak floors (3/4 of an inch thick) to replace them with whatever far inferior product is available in 2023. Other buildings have been removed from National Historic Landmark status for similar destructive behavior. My longtime colleague Steve Kelley discovered it and wrote the following:
“I was walking through Mills Park this morning and noticed the dumpster outside. Being curious, I looked inside and saw most of the first floor wood flooring that was clearly original and authentic cut into pieces filling the dumpster. I went inside and took some photographs and spoke with one of the workers regarding the scope of work for which I did not get a clear answer. I asked the supervisor why the floors were being torn out. He told me it was because they were “old – historic.” In my opinion this is a waste of materials and most likely in violation with state and municipal guidelines for treatment and care of historic properties. The original oak flooring was “old growth” wood that had been harvested from virgin forests in Wisconsin. This wood is far superior to any wood available today. It is not replaceable. The original flooring was in good to fair condition and could’ve easily been refinished for a fraction of the cost that is now being expended.
I am resigning from the Pleasant Home Foundation Board of Trustees and any involvement with the restoration committee effective immediately.I am asking this community what should be our next steps regarding this clear travesty to one of our authentic Oak Park historic landmarks.”
The local newspaper Wednesday Journal covered the controversy well. I think about all of the time I spent there, how careful we were to research and discover the history and materials of the house before we undertook any work, how a bevy of preservation experts were always involved in every decision for years and years. Now this. A National Historic Landmark treated like an amateur Home Depot project.
Twice I gave a lecture there comparing the work of George W. Maher and Frank Lloyd Wright, who had shared office space and who both discovered the new American organic architecture in their own way, Maher arguably achieving it here in 1897, three years before Wright’s first “Prairie” house. It has the horizontal Roman bricks, the flanking urns, the stained glass and overhanging eaves, the flow of one interior space into another and Maher’s own rich rhythm of repeated motifs in every detail
And it used to have real 19th century original growth Wisconsin oak floors.
What. a. gut. punch.