Schools, libraries, courthouses, and public gathering places create strong personal and public memories and symbolize important moments in a community’s development. It is no wonder that these institutions engender such strong emotions when threatened with demolition, but heroic efforts to stop the oncoming bulldozer are no substitute for a forward-looking preservation strategy. As the region’s cities grow and change, our communities must grapple with how to identify and preserve those iconic buildings that provide a sense of history and place.
Reactive Preservation Efforts Fail to Save Two Historic Schools
Historic Schools are lightening rods for preservation debates because their value as historic resources often conflicts with perceived community needs. Two recent examples in the Portland metro area highlight this conflict—the J.B. Thomas Middle School in Hillsboro, Ore. and the Riverdale School in Portland, Ore.
This summer the Art Deco J.B. Thomas Middle School was demolished to make way for a play field next to the new school, which was built to replace the old 1928 building. The decision to construct a new school and accompanying play field was made years ago in a bond measure.
During the intervening years, no effort was made to list the building on the local landmarks inventory or the National Register of Historic Places, the nation’s list of important cultural resources. Only this year as the school district moved forward with its plans did more than one thousand residents sign a petition to save the building. Balking, the school district simply stated that the building was not historically important, and pointed to years of community inaction as proof. After public pressure failed to sway the school board, a local advocacy group launched a desperate effort to save the school which culminated in an unsuccessful lawsuit and the building’s eventual demolition.
Unfortunately, the fate of J.B. Thomas Middle School and the circumstances surrounding its demise are not uncommon, or even unexpected. In early July the Riverdale School, a classical revival design by noted architect A. E. Doyle, was also demolished. Like Thomas Middle School, the fate of Riverdale School was, in part, decided with the approval of a bond measure that passed with little public notice in November 2008.
At the time of the bond measure's passage, Riverdale School had not been added to any local or state inventory, nor listed in the National Register. Although cost estimates showed that renovating the building would be only $500,000 more than full replacement, school officials stated “nostalgia” was not a good reason to keep the building and that a new building would help reverse declining enrollments and allow for more flexibility in faculty administration. After making repeated calls to preserve the building and mounting an unsuccessful campaign to unseat three board members during the regular election, advocates called it quits—choosing instead to focus on preserving the school’s memory.
For both Thomas Middle School and Riverdale School, public outrage was simply not enough to combat years of inaction. The loss is still particularly difficult given that both were determined eligible for listing in the National Register of Historic Places, and if listed might have been a contender for state and federal tax programs and grants.
While the community did not publicly recognize these buildings for their historic or architectural significance before these crises, each has since become an example of how far removed decision making about cultural resources is from the citizenry. In both cases the key question is why did advocates loudly complain about the lack of public process even though each school board faithfully followed its protocols for bond measures? Why didn’t the community “know” what was happening?
Portland’s Historic Memorial Coliseum: Safe for Now
Of course, demolition just doesn’t threaten historic schools. In Spring 2009 demolition was planned for Portland’s city-owned Memorial Coliseum, a 1960 international style building notable for its all-glass exterior supported by four cruciform columns that encase a curving, sculptural seating bowl. Designed by the firm Skidmore, Owings, and Merrill and dedicated on January 8, 1961, the design was shaped in part by Gordon Bunshaft, the firm’s best known architect, famous for landmarks such as the Lever House in New York.
Stating that “now is the time for action,” Portland mayor Sam Adams proposed redeveloping the site to accommodate a new minor-league baseball field. By April, Portland’s historic preservation community rallied around the building, forcing a public conversation in the pages of the local newspaper and the city council chambers.
Unlike 20th century schools, mid-century architecture is still appreciated by a select few, and the fight to save the building reflected the resource’s narrow constituency. Led by Peter Meijer, a local architect and preservationist, advocates for saving the Coliseum gained support from the National Trust for Historic Preservation and a number of architects and preservation-minded groups and individuals from around the metro area.
Debate was heated, as advocates for replacing the building argued that the building had outlived its usefulness and that the estimated costs for repairing the facility outweighed any potential gain. Others simply and emphatically stated that the old “ugly” building simply had no historic, architectural, or monetary value. Adams eventually relented, instead supporting “repurposing” the Coliseum rather than replacing it.
Safe for the time being and now listed in the National Register of Historic Places, the real fight for Memorial Coliseum is now beginning. Shortly after Adam’s reversal, a newspaper headline asked “Save the Coliseum, but for what?” Proposals are varied, but almost all include major alterations to the building, some of which preservationists are already lining up against.
It is not clear if preservation advocates, despite excellent press coverage, have really convinced Portland’s voting public of the importance of the building. A recent editorial mused that despite listing in the Register that the City may still be better off replacing the “functionally obsolete” building with a baseball stadium.
Community Icon Preserved with Neighborhood’s Help
While not offering nearly the excitement and high drama of many preservation fights, the story of Portland’s Kenton Neighborhood and that community’s efforts to preserve their 31-foot steel-frame and concrete Paul Bunyan Statue illustrates how preservation efforts can be successful. Kenton’s Bunyan Statue was constructed in 1959 to commemorate the Oregon Centennial, the state’s timber heritage, and to hopefully draw tourists on their way to the Oregon Centennial Exposition and International Trade Fair.
The statue was the creation of local machinists and father-and-son business team Vic A. and Vic R. Nelson. Initially intended as a promotional stunt for the Fair to stand for only six months, the statue, according to Vic A. Nelson, “just sort of stayed there.” Over time the statue became a community icon, often referred to as “Paul” by local residents.
What differentiates this case from the others is that here residents took a proactive interest in their history. Throughout the statue’s life, the neighbors came together to give Paul a fresh coat of paint as necessary. At the neighborhood’s urging, in 2002 the statue was relocated 59 feet to the west to a new plaza to make way for a light rail station instead of demolishing the icon. The move was a community event, with “Paul” temporarily donning a specially made construction helmet and reflective vest.
In late 2008, the statue was nominated to the National Register as an example of 20th century roadside architecture. Interest was high, and the progress of the nomination was tracked by the local papers and by the neighborhood association. When the property was listed in early 2009 the news was carried in several regional newspapers. This summer the neighborhood received a grant from the City of Portland to repaint the statue and has invited speakers to talk about the statue’s importance at neighborhood meetings. Quirky, but most certainly not loved by all, Kenton’s Paul Bunyan remains in the community as a direct result of the neighborhood’s involvement in the statue’s long-term preservation. Ultimately, it is this grass-roots involvement that is needed for any community icon to last.
Lessons Learned
Each of these four community landmarks were important to the urban fabric, but only the continued preservation of Kenton’s Paul Bunyan statue was successful. While the Memorial Coliseum has been temporarily “saved,” most Portlanders appear to be ambivalent about its final disposition. In the case of the two schools, residents acted too late to affect the decision-making process.
Reactive preservation, the kind evident in the case of J.B. Thomas Middle School, Riverdale School, and Memorial Coliseum is almost always contentious and generally reinforces the idea that preservation stands in the way of larger community needs. Pitched battles can hinder future preservation efforts and create deep rifts within the community.
In these cases, is the failure to identify and protect historic resources the fault of the city, property owner, or perhaps the advocates? For each of the schools and Memorial Coliseum the lack of historic landmark designation and government resistance to preservation contributed to these controversies. Yet, ultimately the failure lies with the community’s inability to find a forum to fairly evaluate what public properties are important in the community and which of these should be saved.
The true test of good planning is not just that it allows for the rational and predictable, but that it can gracefully handle the unpredictable. As preservationists and planners in the Pacific Northwest, the most important task for us now is not just the single-minded identification of old buildings, but the development and establishment of a standard public process for reaching consensus about what we care about in our built environment and then moving forward to recognize and protect these resources.
Cities and towns looking to avoid contentious battles over their community icons must proactively identify important historic resources and take concrete steps to protect them. Historic Resource surveys are the simplest way to begin such an effort, but the results of such studies should be influenced by and shared with the public in an effort to generate pride in the locality and interest in maintaining a unique sense of place.
Once captured, interest in historic resources can be focused on the places, objects, buildings, and structures that best reflect the important aspects of a community’s past. While such an approach will not save every landmark, it will direct limited resources to those places that matter most by providing a public forum to make those decisions. If this process fails for whatever reason, our local communities must be able to adapt and provide a forum to hear the voices that are expressing their concerns. In the case of Thomas and Riverdale schools, the loss of this fair and open public forum has become a greater failing than the loss of the buildings themselves.
Our nation’s public buildings are important tangible connections to our communities’ important events, persons, and architecture. We all deserve the opportunity to decide what parts of that rich past should remain a part of our lives.
About the Authors: Ian P. Johnson is a Salem-based historian who currently works for the Oregon State Historic Preservation Office. Kimberli Fitzgerald is a preservation planner who currently works as a Senior Historic Planner for the City of Salem and also does historic preservation consulting throughout Oregon. You can reach the authors by emailing the editor at editor@northwesthub.org.
