Ease of movement
One could argue that the whole of human history is a journey toward ease of commerce and communication with hydraulics on the side. Roman roads and aqueducts remain two millennia later to underscore their importance to that empire. Endless layers of burnt and polished lime forming walkways still snake through the Guatemalan jungle as testimony to the communications link of the Classical Maya. The Tayrona of Colombia’s Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta built arguably too many stone walkways in an attempt to maintain commerce and communication in the obtusely moist and mountainous high jungle. The incomparable monuments of Angkor existed only because of the massive barays that held the water that made civilization possible. I suppose you could add the US interstate system to this list, which we cling to and amend daily, defying its manifest obsolescence.
In architectural history, the 20th century styles of Art Deco and Modernism celebrated the continuity of materials and lines, visually and materially embodying the ethos of commerce and communication and free-flowing hydraulics. The train and the automobile sought to symbolize sleekness and speed and the mythology of the unencumbered in their relentless windswept contours. You can still see it in the modern trains of China and Japan.
I’ve had a Mayan archaeologist comment on the hubris of their lime walkways and compare it to our own material profligacy. Each civilization burns itself out on the hulls of its kernel concepts, lost in materiality because they invested too much meaning into the thing and were afraid to let it go, confusing gross domestic product with wealth and wealth with the economic everyday. Upon its invention, the thing – the walkway, the road, the car, the chariot – meant commerce and communication and control. That meaning remained even as it drifted into obsolescence, so the civilization invested even more in it because of what it meant, not what it could do.
Civilization literally comes from the word for cities, and commerce is both the source of wealth and an end in itself, an activity that is the economic everyday. Stadtluft macht frei, nicht wahr? Six years ago I wrote about cities and the logic of concentration and how every event from the telegraph in the 1840s to the telephone in the 1870s to COVID in 2020 spurred hyperbolic predictions about the end of concentration that were wrong, as they always are. Commerce is civilization, and it means much more than money and goods, it means ideas and inventions, and new ways of smoothing surfaces, increasing speed and building up. We want to be on top of each other because that is where new and interesting things happen.
It wasn’t a wall, it was a road. And it’s name means Long City.
Photos copyright Vincent L. Michael 1996-2025
Walter and Willie?
I just saw the Mexican American Civil Rights Institute exhibit on William Merriweather Peña, the Mexican-American architect/partner of Caudill, Rowlett & Scott who designed the Texas Pavilion/Institute of Texan Cultures building for Hemisfair ’68. I blogged about him back in April, 2024, when it became apparent that the state would be demolishing the only major downtown building by a Mexican-American architect.
William Peña, Courtesy CRS Center, Texas A & M University
Texas Pavilion/Institute of Texan Cultures. Photo by author, 2018.
I learned a lot about Pena from the exhibit, including a very interesting parallel to my role as Executive Director of Villa Finale Museum & Gardens. Villa Finale was the final home of Walter Nold Mathis, who willed his home and massive collection of decorative and fine arts to the National Trust for Historic Preservation. Just as Willie Peña was finalizing the design of the Texas Pavilion, inspired in part by the firm’s recent visit to the Museo Anthropologia in Mexico City, Walter Mathis was buying and restoring Villa Finale. When Hemisfair opened in April, 1968, Villa Finale and the King William neighborhood were on their way to becoming the first historic district in Texas. But the parallels go back further.
William Merriweather Peña and Walter Nold Mathis were both born in 1919 in Texas. Peña’s family was from Laredo and Mathis’ from San Antonio. Walter went to UT Austin and Willie attended Texas A & M, and both joined the army after graduation as World War II broke out. Two and a half years later, they were both fighting in the Battle of the Bulge – Walter from the air with a B-26 and Willie as a captain on the ground. Both were war heroes. Walter flew more than twice as many missions as he had to and won three distinguished Flying Crosses, an air medal and a Presidential Citation. Willie stepped on a landmine in Schleiden, Germany, lost part of his left leg and was honored with a Purple Heart, Bronze Star and later honors from France and Belgium.
Walter Mathis in World War II courtesy Villa Finale Museum & Gardens
Walter became an investment banker with an overriding interest in historic preservation and collecting art. Willie became an architect and partner in Caudill, Rowlett Scott and by the 1960s was know as “The Father of Architectural Programming” with a book that remains in print in its fifth edition.
1968. Willie is completing the modernist Texas Pavilion at Hemisfair, the first World’s Fair in Texas and the only one to preserve historic buildings. Walter is restoring Villa Finale and is more responsible than any other individual for the creation of Texas’ first historic district. He will buy and fully or partially restore another 14 homes in King William. This is the time period when historic preservation tranforms into a community planning tool. Peña and his partners are similarly revolutionizing architectural practice, eschewing the idea of individual artistry for a group focus on process. They called it squatting, when the whole architecture team would go to the building site and develop “brown paper” programming of uses and needs before ever thinking about design. Everything was designed by the firm, not individuals. It would be a couple decades before the starchitects returned.
Stylistically, Willie and Walter are miles apart, functionalist Brutalism on the one side and ultradecorative Victorian on the other.
One of the Napoleon parlors in Villa Finale, 2025
Yet they shared a birth year, a war and its battles and both went on to transform the streetscape of San Antonio in the churn of the 1960s. There is irony in the fact that Willie’s contribution was erased this year while Walter’s has been and continues to be lovingly preserved.
Authenticity after 60 years
In my investigations over the last 15 years into the limitations of the National Register of Historic Places I often suggested the use of “authenticity” instead of “integrity” in judging whether a property qualified for listing. In creating the National Register in 1966, U.S. heritage experts had chosen to go with “integrity” instead of “authenticity” which was more common internationally. Integrity is more mechanistic, and defined by architecture, which makes sense given the heavy influence of architectural practice on the U.S. preservation movement from the 1930s through 1960s. In dealing with the broader range of heritage sites in the 2000s, I thought deferring to “authenticity” could help address the diversity deficit in the National Register of Historic Places. You can see my 2016 blog about integrity and authenticity here.
Now that we are more than 60 years removed from the Venice Charter of 1964, it is interesting to note that “authenticity” has itself undergone a transformation away from a formalistic architectural definition and toward ideas of heritage as defined by the communities who steward them. To quote from the most recent World Heritage discussion of authenticity:
“Over time, the understanding of authenticity has undergone significant evolution from a
material-based notion to a pluralistic, functional, traditional, spiritual, intangible, culturally
relative and value-based concept, reflecting the diversity of human societies, the different
ways in which heritage is created, used, and remembered, as well as reflecting the
evolution of the notion of heritage.” Authenticity in the context of the World Heritage Convention: Evolution and Impact, 25th Session of the General Assembly of States Parties to the Convention concerning the protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage, November 2025.
This is similar to what I have been saying in presentations and book chapters since 2010: Heritage conservation is a four-step process of Identifying, Evaluating, Registering and Treating historic resources. Heritage conservation happens when a community determines what elements of its past it wants in its future. As noted in the Burra Charter, the community whose heritage is being conserved needs to be involved in each step of the process – Identification, Evaluation, Registration and Treatment. If we bring community into the process too late, or if we assume as professionals that we are better qualified to Evaluate or determine Treatments, we will come up short. How you conserve Mount Taylor and how you conserve a Victorian house museum are not equivalent.
Mount Taylor, NM last month.
Villa Finale, the month before
Authenticity received its first definitional challenge about 1980, just a few years after the operational guidelines for World Heritage were established, following Western architecture-based practice that focused on design, materials, workmanship and setting. That challenge was Warsaw, Poland, completely rebuilt after World War II thanks to precise documentation done forty years earlier. The materials and workmanship were not authentic. But it was extremely important to the community. The next challenge came in 1992 when Japan brought with it an understanding of the integrity of process, rather than product. The Shinto temple is a thousand years old even as it is rebuilt from scratch every twenty years, because the tools and craftsmanship are one thousand years old.
Meanwhile in the West, we see no problem restoring an 18th century house with epoxy, nail guns and other tools and techniques that did not exist at the time, because we revere the object more than the process.
The shift toward a more holistic – and genuinely international – approach began with the Nara Document on Authenticity in 1994. To the original four aspects of authenticity were added form, substance, use and function, traditions and techniques, location, and spirit and feeling. The key idea was that authenticity had to be defined within a cultural context. And while that definition is not universal, the process – Identify, Evaluate, Register and Treat – is.
Another 30 years has passed, and authenticity has continued to evolve. By the 2000 expert meeting at the Great Zimbabwe, authenticity was linked explicitly to living traditions, stewardship and ritual. Many cultures do not place as high a value on material remains as they do on speech, memory and community values. In May of this year, the International Conference on Cultural Heritage in Africa: A Dialogue on the
Concept of Authenticity was held in Nairobi, Kenya discussed how African heritage is dynamic, community-centered, and deeply rooted in both tangible and intangible values. A similar discussion is planned for Southeast Asia.
The other problem, as you might imagine, is that “authenticity’ has no equivalent in Japanese, Arabic and certain African languages. Different societies conceive of continuity, value, trust and authority in different ways. As the document notes, the challenge may be existential: How do you ask for proof of Outstanding Universal Value if values are culture-based and not universal?
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.
Fast Track
The demolition of the East wing of the White House suddenly brought historic preservation into the mainstream consciousness this week, with valid recriminations from the National Trust for Historic Preservation, American Institute of Architects and other bastions of civil society. Now, many of those knew that, in fact, the executive does not need to follow the same preservation laws as the rest of the country, and while the Advisory Council for Historic Preservation and others opined on a restraining order, the entire 120-year old wing was gone in a week.
That is because they resorted to mechanical demolition with a (rented) backhoe, which makes for the best visuals. Given the executive predilection for reality-TV-style-theatrics above realpolitik, the choice makes sense. It wastes dollars, though, and contradicts modern practice regarding deconstruction and re-use of valuable materials, a topic I covered recently. Clearly, leadership has their broughams mired in the weird 80 years.
The demolition of the Epstein East Wing is a rare moment when historic preservation spends some brief time at the height of national consciousness, and heck, it could continue next week when some western legislator with a bee in his buckskins is holding a hearing on the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966. We might not wish for that, though, because everything that rises up in this performative administration tends to fall and crash just as fast (except prices).
Yes, it is the People’s House, and yes, the approach drew the appropriate rebukes from the bastions of civil society, and yes, at the end of the day there was precious little anyone could do about it. And yes, it is dumb and artless and clumsy and cowardly. They follow the fast track because they can’t do the actual work. The renderings of the oversized replacement building work in the media, even though they don’t work architecturally, as anyone who looks closely can see. But then again, it’s probably just a pretence for rebuilding the underground bunker…..
Photos by me from March tour of WH – except the featured image – you have to guess where that is.
Remember when the buck stopped here? Good times.
DECEMBER UPDATE:
Kudos to the National Trust for Historic Preservation for filing a lawsuit last week against the demolition of the East Wing. Reality stars reign in media fights, but they fold when evidence is required.
Villa Finale Museum and Gardens
Located in the heart of King William – the first historic district in Texas – Villa Finale tells the story of preservation and the story of Walter Mathis, who worked to save more than just architecture. This unique house museum is the result of Mathis’ lifelong commitment to historic preservation, his passion for collecting artworks of a great variety, and his dogged ability to raise up a community and neighborhood from neglect to prominence. I was proud to take the first tour of Villa Finale when it opened to the public in 2010, and I am more than proud to take the helm of this exquisite site in 2025.
If you haven’t visited, we are the only house museum in King William, we have lovely gardens that stretch back to the “Sauerkraut Bend” of the San Antonio River, and we are the stewards of Walter Nold Mathis’ legacy. Mathis was a descendant of Canary Islanders, decorated World War II pilot, and a serial preservationist. He restored Villa Finale in 1967 and then went on to fully or partially restore another 14 homes in King William, which became Texas’ first historic district in 1968.
Walter Mathis was a lifelong collector, and Villa Finale boasts the largest collection of fine arts, books and antiques of any National Trust historic site, with some 12,500 items. My favorites include the Mary Bonner paintings, which I have admired for years.
Walter also collected a wide variety of items related to Napoleon Bonaparte, including an actual death mask and a wide variety of busts and statuary.
The house is open to the public five days a week and you can do either a guided or self-guided tour, which you can learn about here. We also have a great variety of events each month, including a fabulous presentation of iCatrina by Araminta Romero on October 3.
This weekend we are hosting the Texas Spirit Gathering all day Saturday, and upcoming events include an acoustic music evening November 8, a “Merry Friendmas” Christmas party for our members (join here!) and presentation on historic Christmases in King William by Sallie Schuchard Thomas and Maria Pfeiffer with Michaele Thurgood Haynes on December 7. But wait, there’s more – December 11 features a demonstration of our musical machines and then Ken Slavin brings his vocal talents December 12.
I hope to see you soon!
OCTOBER 23 UPDATE
Oh I just had to add a few more images as I begin to become better acquainted with all 12,500 items in our collection.
One of many significant examples of 18th-19th century Cusco school of iconography
School of Canaletto – Venice
Onderdonk bluebonnets. Did you know it is illegal to be a Texas artist unless you paint bluebonnets?
So many helmets…
Luster weibchen. Ja ja, doch, sicher.
Yes they were treacherous in the olden days. Ruling by Imperial Edict.
Deconstruction and the weird 80 years
I saw a wonderful presentation by Mae Bowley at the Destination Downtown 2025 conference last week in El Dorado, Arkansas. Deconstruction is the systematic dismantling of older buildings in order to re-use their materials. San Antonio adopted one of the best deconstruction ordinances in the country a couple of years ago and Stephanie Phillips and the rest of Shanon Miller’s team got plenty of kudos.
Opening of the Material Innovation Center at the Kelly Bungalows in November, 2022.
Mae’s presentation was electric for many reasons, but the one that stood out to me was the historical one. Deconstruction is not a new thing – it is what everyone everywhere did until about 1940. Only during the last 80 years did we do something different. That different thing was demolishing buildings and throwing them in the trash. No one did that before.
And Mae provided another historical tidbit I had missed completely. Mechanical demolition with bulldozers and the like was a product of World War II, where those machines were needed to clear jungles for airfields or urban debris for troop advancement. Urban renewal started immediately after World War II, and all of a sudden we had new mechanisms – like bulldozers, which derive from tanks – for reshaping place. Urban renewal continued through the 1960s and the National Historic Preservation Act is traditionally seen as a reaction to urban renewal and interstate highways, which required the bulldozing of many, many buildings.
Now, I was aware of the economic shift that took place during this same weird 80 year period. In the early 20th century and before, buildings were commonly moved and reused. Heck, I have seen a significant building moved in San Antonio every year over the last decade. When that happened in 1900 – and it happened everywhere – the economic rationale was simple. The fixed asset of the building was worth more than the land. Even when places like Euclid Avenue in Cleveland saw demolition of mansions, it was because a new use – industry – was MORE valuable. Same in LA circa 1915.
Moving the 1880 Claudius King house in San Antonio, 2019.
Mae even illustrated the long history of deconstruction when she illustrated the deconstruction she did of a 1920s house. By the time they got under the sheathing and onto the walls themselves, they found evidence of earlier materials that had been reused. In other words, the deconstruction revealed evidence of earlier deconstruction.
Which made me think of buildings around the world built from materials scavenged from other buildings. Like this Jacobean house constructed from the stone of Fountains Abbey (Yorkshire, UK) after the dissolution of the monasteries.
Or this mosque in Delhi (India) composed of the ruins of a couple dozen Hindu and Jain temples.
Or, like, most of Rome. Or even like our San Antonio Missions, whose limestone and sandstone walls migrated over the decades into nearby buildings.
The Sisson House near Mission San Juan – this house was itself a deconstruction project last year.
Deconstruction of the Sisson House at Graf and Presa, October 2024.
Mae also spent a lot of time talking about wood – because deconstruction allows you to get some old-growth wood, which is not something that exists in the market in 2025. Old growth wood is straighter, more disease and rot-resistant and has a tighter grain. It is one of the most notable materials that can be easily recycled (once you pull the nails out). Brick, too. When I started in heritage conservation in 1980s Chicago I saw that even then demolition sites would save the Chicago brick and “send it to the South”. When I got to San Antonio in 2016, I finally saw a building made of Chicago brick. In 2009.
Also it is Ladino one of the best restaurants at the Pearl – where they re-used EVERYTHING.
I looked back and it seems I blogged about Deconstruction in 2009 and was pretty negative – I compared it to the difference between recycling and reusing. Recycling requires a lot of energy and produces a lot of waste compared to reuse. I can reuse a bottle by cleaning it, but to recycle it I have to grind it up and remelt the glass. But what I did not realize at the time was that deconstruction is something we have been doing since we first made cities and towns. And it makes sense – why should the landfill get all of the good wood?
Eatonville MCM
I visited Eatonville, Florida last week as part of a consultancy. Considered the first incorporated African-American town, founded in 1887, it is known as the home of Zora Neale Hurston, the author and anthropologist who set her famous Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937) there. It was also the birthplace of NFL Hall of Famer Deacon Jones, who invented the terminology of the quarterback sack. We brought a team to help put together a blockbuster event for August 2027 aiming to raise awareness of the history and culture of Eatonville. That will be the subject of a future blog, but today I would like to simply share some of the lovely Mid Century Modern homes that line the streets of this historic town.
Disappearing original houses
I was always enamored of the story of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Dana-Thomas house in Springfield, Illinois, built in 1903. In what became a familiar scenario, Susan Lawrence Dana had to wait for her father to pass away before she was able to engage the pioneering architectural innovator. Not only that, but she had to promise to keep the original two-story Italianate house her father had built, including his bedroom fireplace. That fireplace is pretty much all that survived Wright’s restless creativity, as the original house vanished into gabled wings of geometric modernism.
Fun fact – AI can not manage to figure out the other FLW examples of this! So here are some remodelings that Wright did in Oak Park in the first decade of the 20th century, from knowledge.
Hills-DeCaro House 1906. The process of modernizing old houses with ribboned windows and continuous stucco finishes became so popular lots of local Oak Park architects and builders did it.
Young House, Wright redesign 1908 – mostly the wraparound porch creating horizontal emphasis with the Tudor gables still sticking up.
Now in my tenth year in Texas, I am surrounded by examples of houses that swallowed up earlier houses, shifting from simple rock houses and cabins into Victorian extravaganzas. Thanks to Professor Kenneth Hafertepe I now understand better how single-pen rock houses grew into double pens and then added upper levels.
You can see the earlier roofline. This is near Bulverde.
The King William Historic District – the oldest in Texas – is rife with big houses that swallowed up little ones. I was recently quoted regarding the Joske House, which is a masterclass in Renaissance Revival, where no pediment is unbroken, no balustrade unbowed and no basket arch unornamented.
But this was a 1900 remodeling by architect Solon McAdoo of a four-room stone house built in 1881. The famous Villa Finale – the only King William house open for tours – also began as a one-story limestone house in 1876. In 1881 a new owner added a two-story brick wing but the big change came in 1896 with the front porch and tower, which is the bulk of what attracts the eye today.
If you look beyond the porch and tower you can see the earlier houses. This actually happened a lot in King William – on Madison Street you can see several houses that began as a single story of stone and had stories of brick or frame added later, like the Elmendorf house, c. 1885 with a 1917 second story.
There are quite a lot of these on Madison Street, including this Wagenfuhr House, of which there were two and each grew a story later. This one was a one-story German rock house in 1870 that had a frame addition perhaps a generation later. Its neighboring Wagenfuhr house added a nice Victorian second story and can be seen in the featured photo for this blog.
Just down the street the Martin/Van Derlip house started as an 1870 limestone one-story and got a brick second story about 1886, smoothed together with a stucco rendering.
The famous Oge house which looks like a Southern plantation was a one story plus basement home built in 1857 and completely made over by architect Alfred Giles in 1881.
On the first block of King William, you have the Ball houses, which were identical in 1868 but one got a second story about 1904.
San Antonio Roundup July 2025
Two big losses this year – the Texas Pavilion (Institute of Texan Cultures building) has succumbed to demolition, seemingly accelerated by the Conservation Society’s failed attempt to get an injunction or even a hearing at either District Court or the 15th Court of Appeals. The unfortunate precedent being set is clear – if you want to demolish a property, make sure it is owned by an institution of higher learning, because they have a special carve-out in the State Antiquities code and may be willing to enter into a transaction for that privilege.
That loss was followed by the lame duck City Council approving the Digital Arts and Media Pilot Program, a digital billboard scheme that was opposed by 71% of those surveyed. Now we will have 10 Times-Square styled digital billboards attached to buildings and accompanied by artwork. All because one billboard company couldn’t play by the rules. Sigh. You can read my earlier blog here.
Speaking of public opposition, the City just wrapped up a couple weeks of workshops on the proposed Sports and Entertainment District previously known as Project Marvel. (Side note: one of the ways you know something doesn’t have great public support is that you have to keep renaming it. The Digital Arts and Media Pilot Program used to be Urban Entertainment Districts). The Express-News today had a feature on the “No Project Marvel” movement. I attended workshop sessions and it was actually pretty tame and useful. I should note that the Conservation Society has not taken a position on the Sports and Entertainment District. Some people did use the mapping workshop as a mechanism to vent.
It has been a difficult and chaotic time for most things, including historic preservation funding, as I blogged about in May here. The historic preservation tax credit did survive the OBBB, along with New Market tax credits, and the 2025 Historic Preservation Fund money was finally released. Solar credits were cut though, dampening one of Texas’ leading industries and giving China a big advantage.
On the plus side, a very cool 1906 Craftsman building in my Beacon Hill neighborhood that we deliver newsletters to is becoming a local landmark. I call it the house of Seven Gables.
Also on the plus side, the design and planning for the Civil Rights exhibit in the Woolworth Building that is part of the new Alamo Visitor Center and Museum is coming along very well. Can’t preview it but safe to say some great stakeholder input and some excellent design.
The biggest news has been the killer floods which claimed 13 lives in San Antonio and then more than 100 in Kerr County on the 4th of July when the Guadalupe River gained 20 feet in an hour and a half. The grim total may well exceed 200 including the flash floods in Travis and other counties. A combination of changing climate, Hill Country geology and limited notification systems came together in this catastrophe which has made the news worldwide and caused great grief and sorrow.