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by former DCist Editor Ryan Avent
It’s painful to look through photographs of the beautiful old buildings that used to line the streets of the District before being torn down. Fabulous buildings, many of which resemble some of the city’s most beloved structures, ripped down because they’d become derelict and empty, or because the land was wanted for some other use - a freeway, maybe, or a new office or housing complex. It seems so senseless and absurd that such treasures would be demolished, the more so since their replacements are often loathed by today’s Washingtonians as ugly, concrete behemoths, remnants of a sorry age for the field of architecture.
And so it’s particularly galling to some that these old modernist buildings are being considered for historical preservation. Having ruined the District streetscape for nearly half a century, they now stand to enjoy protections that were denied to the buildings that were razed in order that Modernism might be inflicted upon the capital.
But then, that’s just my opinion. I have no problem declaring that the FBI building is ugly, and bad for the streetscape as well, but there were many in the 1950s that felt the same way about older buildings we’d now kill to have around. Who’s to say that the District’s concrete boxes won’t one day bring tourists into the city just as stately buildings dating to early in the 20th century or before do today.
In this month’s Washingtonian, Larry Van Dyne addresses this very question, with a focus on one of the loci of the preservationist debate -- the Brutalist Third Church of Christ, Scientist at 16th and I streets near the White House. The church wants to raze its building and replace it with a lucrative office development that will include a space for the church to conduct its business. Developers also want this to be done. So does the District government. But preservationists do not.
Photo by mosley.brian
The question as posed by Van Dyne is whether the church is worthy of preservation. That’s not really the right question. The building is clearly worthy of preservation. Were it a mobile piece of statuary, there would never be any issue as to whether to save it or destroy it, even if most people who laid eyes on it thought it bland or hideous. The right question is - should a worthy piece of architecture be saved given that the land on which it sits is of extreme value to the landowner, the city, and the residents of the District of Columbia? The issue, in other words, is the scarcity of city land.
That scarcity means that there’s a significant opportunity cost to saving the building. Doing so would leave a fairly unproductive hole in the middle of the city’s office core. It would mean foregone jobs in the District - temporary construction positions and permanent office jobs. And it means a lost opportunity to increase tax revenue, an important point in light of the city’s budget shortfall and growing population.
Given these constraints, preservation has a high immediate cost, and the city should think very carefully - and empirically - about whether to save a structure like the church at 16th and I. But it’s important to remember that these constraints are, to a certain extent, artificial. At present, downtown and the Golden Triangle are basically built out. But they’re not built out because there is any physical or logistical limitation on the addition of new square footage. They’re built out because of a quirk of law - a piece of legislation passed in a vastly different era that limits heights on buildings.
Once we remember this fact, it becomes clear that we can have our cake and eat it too. The city can solve the problem of a scarcity of District land by creating more of it. When a property on valuable land is deemed to be worthy of historical preservation, the landowner could be granted transferable development rights equal to the potential value of the property on which the historic building sits. Those rights could then be transferred to another parcel of land, even if such a transfer took the building over the city’s height limit.
In that case, the historic building is saved, the property owner’s rights aren’t infringed, the city gets its additional space and tax revenue, and the overall goal of adding density is met. This process would also allow heights in the city to be increased in a slow and orderly fashion, which is appropriate given the growth pressures on the city.
Preservation is a tricky subject in any case, but the District has made preservation choices more difficult than they need to be. There’s no sense in artificially limiting the extent to which we can save our architectural heritage and accommodate a growing city.
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For the benefit of a few temporary construction jobs we should tear down historically significant architecture?
The real question is not whether architecture is significant but whether the land it sits on is worth a sh*tload of money?
You've got to be kidding me.
The church owns the building. The church wants to raze it. This goes to the core of the preservationist-vs-owner argument: do owners have the right to develop their own property, or does preservation make that contract null and void?
Ryan and others, while I agree with your sentiment on this building or the FBI building (etc.), it is important to have a strong framework/analytical structure to justify such decisionmaking from a legal standpoint, one that has intellectual and legal standing.
I think there are two points: (1) concerns context and urban design considerations, rather than considering the building/site independently from the area around it and how it meets those objectives (which arguably aren't part of the current law or purview of the HPRB when it comes to the consideration of individual landmarks, but is considered when creating and then regulating historic districts) and (2) making a decision about the value of a particular building in terms of the overall oeuvre of the architect/architectural style, rather than only within the oeuvre specifically present within Washington, DC.
Somewhere I wrote about the latter, but I can't seem to find the piece. Anyway... right now, in the context of the entire city, HPRB/HPO makes decision about the presence of the building as a work of art/best example at the scale of the whole city, so some buildings get landmarked, others don't. By extending this idea nationally, at least in terms of the "recent past," it's possible to make more discerning decisions. OTOH, one could argue that only the DC context matters, since it is a local preservation law.
Could we add consideration (3), whether the building in question is so painfully hideous that people cross the street to avoid passing through its toxic shadow?
Srsly, Brutalism may have made some important architectural statements at the time. But this city is brutal enough as it is. Tear this monstrosity down and build something human-scaled and attractive.
It's these uneducated, knee-jerk "It's ugly, let's tear it down" reactions that make the protection of Brutalist architecture through historic preservation measures all the more important.
I'm firmly in the camp that the owner should be able to do *WHATEVER* they want with their building - raze it, add onto it, make it modern, make it Victorian, make it ugly. Historic preservation is founded in the absurd notion that something is worth saving simply due to temporal primacy. Older is not necessarily better and vesting aesthetic authority with any person or group is dangerous and a bad idea.
Anyone who thinks brutalist architecture is ugly and not worth preserving should check out Capital Losses: A Cultural History of Washington's Destroyed Buildings. You'll find buildings that were considered just as ugly by their contemporaries, yet today seem positively quaint.
Also, the Smithsonian Castle was to be demolished as part of the Mcmillan Plan overhaul of the Mall but was spared. The same fate did not befall the Army Medical Museum, and their delightful collection of elephantitis infected limbs, swollen genitals, and pickled fetuses remain banished to some forgotten closet off Georgia Avenue.
Agreed. Styles and trends will always be changing and there is no need to be locked into one period of time for all eternity when it comes to the design and planning of an entire city. Brutalism is cool when it was done right (like the example of Metro station design in the older stations), but there is no need to force that style upon everyone! You also make a good point about the District being brutal enough, haha, let's add some friendly modern architecture that will welcome and invite people to the city, not make them feel cold and isolated, or blind them with highly reflective white sandstone that bounces sun right into your face in the summer (like so many of the capital area buildings). *sigh* preservationists... ugh...
There are two costs to historic preservation. There's the opportunity cost of not developing the property into its highest and best economic use. Ryan's on the right track ~ some sort of transferable development right addresses this concern.
There's also the cost of maintaining the current property. In this instance, it sounds like the building is crumbling and the church doesn't want to pay the maintenance costs. Who should bear those costs? Should the church be forced to eat those or should the city do something?
Clearly, the answer is for the city to buy it and turn into an internet cafe for the homeless and a foodcourt for tourists.
you forgot nail salon for laid-off DC government workers.
While I lean towards your position, greeper, preservation is NOT simply about "temporal primacy," though that may be a factor.
IMHO, historic preservation is an acceptance of the fuzzy line between public and private spaces and the dynamics of the impacts of one upon the other.
Land rights advocates out West often decry government actions that impact the value of private, calling them a "taking." However, in urban environments, the relationship is usually reversed - private action impacts the value of public space.
In fact, such was the motive behind height restrictions. In the latter 19th Century, residents became aware that in the not-too-distant future they could find themselves living in man made canyons so deep that the sunlight would never touch the pavement.
I don't think the Church of Christ, Scientist is ugly. Furthermore, while brutalism may not have made the cut, brutalist methods most certainly have. Like the giant panda, it's worth saving as a significant architectural specimen.
My thought is people often feel an attachment to the past in ways that make issue of public vs private even trickier to navigate than usual. There are those among us who keep nothing of sentimental value. No cars, no stuffed animals, no relics at all. There are those who keep everything, and we call them packrats. And most of us fall somewhere in the middle.
Losing a building then is a test of our attachment to the ways things were. Would we be missing out on something important in court lives by tearing down an old, well known, easily recognized building, however ugly it may be? In fact, the uglier the building, the more monstrous or outrageous you believe it to be...the more you might want to keep it.
A similar question was faced by the residents of Birmingham (UK) when the city finally got around to redeveloping the area known as the Bull Ring. Do a quick Wiki on it to see that the old BR was about the ugliest thing ever made. Imagine waking up to find all your shoes were grey, worn out and about a 1/4 size too small. Take that feeling and translate it into a massive building project.
Anyway, the old BR was so bad that people were upset to see it go. The new BR is a beautiful pedestrianized area. It's brilliant. But the old one, was, well, if it was a place you grew up in...it was hard to see it go.
found a nice set of Bull Ring photos:
http://kebabselector.myzen.co.uk/
Half the problem is the term 'historic'. What are the criteria for being historic? Hell, my tennis shoes from 1988 are historic in that they represent a time gone by. These preservation groups need to be operating at a macro level, but too often they get swept into the details of particular properties and become too heavily involved in the owner's decision making abilities. We should have clear, precise guidelines that are legally interpretable and binding, not throwing every little decision to the court of public opinion. Otherwise what is the point of ownership besides control. And if I am going to become an owner in something, I want to know up front what my rights are. Under the current system there is no way of knowing how these boards will react, and may even react differently at different time periods. This is not a good solution to the problem.
I couldn't agree more; let's set some standards that are equal for all properties. Nothing I hate more than neurotic community members living in the past and feeling they've an entitlement to meddle in the private affairs of others and their properties!
Has anyone really looked at that church compared to its surroundings?! It really does look more like an asylum than a church! I mean really, it's an eye sore, even by 50's and 60's standards. It's not really historic, it hasn't been around more than 50 years, it hasn't served any historical purpose and has had no signficant events occur there--so for goodness sakes stop meddling and let them do what they want with their building. I can't understand why people are so stuck living in the past that they can't accept some modernization from the world ahead. I like to live for today and tomorrow, not yesterday... now I understand there will always be some monumental structures that we should keep and preserve, but those should be ones that are actually historic, and have been the site of some important event(s) that play a vital role in the local culture and history of DC... not some ugly blemish of a church that should never have gotten off the drawing board to begin with! This type of meddling in private affairs in the name of "preservation" is just an afront to the inhibition of progress and modernization--and it's unfortunate because developers are the only ones in this trying time with money! If the District is unwilling to accept their money for modernization projects, they will take it somewhere else. Someday, DC will be a shell of a city with a bunch of pretty (but old and decrepid) ghostly buildings while the surounding suburbs of MD and VA will be booming and bustling, shining cities of modern design and healthy economic development...
Someday, DC will be a shell of a city with a bunch of pretty (but old and decrepid) ghostly buildings while the surounding suburbs of MD and VA will be booming and bustling, shining cities of modern design and healthy economic development...
I think "someday" arrived circa 1998.
And I think the idea is that the church is "historic" from an architectural perspective; it's an example of an architectual dead-end, like MLK Library or the FBI Building. So from that perspective, we should preserve examples of fug architecture so that future architects can understand what they're NOT supposed to do, if they want to create an environment that encourages groundfloor commerce and pedestrian access.
Or perhaps we should only preserve pretty things?
Well you know, a friggin' photo is a darn good way of preserving something, let those nuts go out and get some good 360-degree photos and all that, then plow the damn thing into oblivion! Haha... but yes, perhaps leaving a few eye-sores wouldn't hurt, so that our children will learn better design techniques... In that sense, maybe the older metro cars are a good thing to keep around too, so that nobody in the future will EVER use that much orange, yellow, and brown in one design! *shudders*
Highest and best use has two dimensions. But typically when the phrase is used, only one dimension is considered, that of the profit of the property owner solely, rather than community concerns. (In some respects, you could argue these are the contradictions of property and democracy as outlined in Foglesong's _Planning the Capitalist City_.)
Highest and best use means that the entire city should be made over into office buildings. They generate the most property tax revenue, and only cost 55 cents/$ of property tax revenue to service, whereas multiunit buildings generate only 15 cents net/$ of property tax revenue, and single family houses costs 20 cents (loses money) for every dollar of revenue. (Note that these numbers don't take into account income tax revenue, which DC keeps, unlike typical municipalities.)
You have to balance place value considerations vs. property value considerations. What makes DC attractive as a place to live, work, or play is valuable too and needs to be protected. A bunch of urban renewal office buildings destroys the place values of the city.
The reason I am an adamant supporter of preservation generally is the fact that it saved the city--set the stage for the retention and/or attraction of residents with choice--during the 40+ year period when trends did not favor urban living, and when urban living in DC was particularly problematic. Today's attractive DC rests on the efforts and sacrifices of historic preservation and preservationists who did the hard work while most people decamped to the suburbs and avoided having to deal with the hard problems of urban reality.
I am not a fan of the urban renewal period, although monkeyrotica's point about _Capital Losses_ is a good one. Although there is no question that architecture from earlier periods strongly considered context while a goodly amount of modernist architecture does not, and the overall effect on urban form does matter and should be considered when making decisions about landmarking.
While we are at it, why don't we tear down the Hay-Adams, or Willard and Washington Hotels, respectively? We could probably gain a bit more square footage on those parcels, perhaps with a new shiny glass curtain wall building that looks outdated in 10 years.
Although I don't think that Brutalist/Modernist architecture (and the urban renewal movement that accompanied it) to be particularly appealing, they are still representative of a period and psyche that existed in American in the not to distant past. I find it naive to view the parcel solely as valuable land because it ignores all of the other factors that contribute to the evolution our cities. There are many other parcels in this city that can contribute to the cities tax revenue. What overall value is added if we get another 10-story box? If we should build everything to its highest and best use, why isn't every building in New York 50 stories (or more) tall?
I am no knee-jerk preservationist, but any argument for getting rid of a distinct building should incorporate more than just one qualifier.
I find this quote from NYTimes Architecture critic Nicolai Ouroussoff to be especially prescient:
"In the age of global warming, deciding to tear down and rebuild rather than think through whether a project can be salvaged has obvious ethical implications"
"Yet an equally important issue is how we treat the cities we inherit and the memories they hold. Condemning an entire historical movement can be a symptom of intellectual laziness. It can also be a way to avoid difficult truths"