Preservation Gospel

Tomorrow the architects and owners of the Gospel Press building will present their rehabilitation plan to the Cleveland Landmarks Commission. This is an amazing event and one I thought might never happen. For years the building has sat empty or near empty. A succession of artists, bohemians and developers had had their dreams dashed in their dealings with previous owner Joe Skully, who was smart like a fox and good at dangling people's hopes just out of reach. At one time, the building was going to be the Tremont Cultural Center, a grand live/work project. A group of artists lived within the cold, dank walls of this mausoleum, working for free for Joe to try to salvage the decrepit yet beautiful building. Nothing much ever came from it except bitter feelings and dashed hopes.

Now someone with the capacity to take on a project of this scale has done so - a developer who is willing to work within the confines of Historic Preservation. There are tax advantages to this, and a project of this scale will need subsidy of some type to make sense. It is simply too big, and the building needs too much work, to go about it any other way. I hope the project is successful.

If you love old buildings, you will likely have your heart broken more often than not. Many many beautiful buildings from Cleveland's past are destroyed - from the humble Carpenter's Gothic farmhouse (c. 1840s) that was torn down (in the dead of night without a permit) on W. 25th St. to East Cleveland's gorgeous Kirk Middle School - one of the finest public education buildings I have ever been in (marble floors, murals, brass ornamentation, sculpture - and columns that one of the E. Cleve council members said reminded her of slavery). And many others. I have literally lost sleep worrying about buildings that were to be demolished.

Recently I took an online poll which was meant to determine the polltaker's level of mental health. In the category of 'Obsessive Compulsive Disorder' I scored high under the heading of "an unwilliness to let go of the past, even if the object no has a purpose for you." I have no idea why these things correlate, but I think it is interesting. And I can tell you that many of the staunch historic preservationists I have met are - well, a bit odd. OCD would likely show up in their mental profile. But then I suppose I am a bit odd myself.

Some people are completely unsentimental about old buildings. They make good developers, because they see a building in terms of financial yield, and they understand that historic 'charm' is one of the possibly marketable commodities that can help sell a project. But they have the ability to step back and be honest, because charm is only one many characteristics that can make a project economically viable. To the dyed in the wool historic preservationist, each building has a history, a story to tell, a personality - a soul. So a demolition or a terrible renovation is a shock, a kind of a murder.

Architecture is as trendy as clothing, and as fickle. Victorian homes were considered 'ugly' and 'grotesque' in the tract house era of the 1950s and many were torn down or 'modernized.' 1950s aluminum siding makes way for vinyl siding in the 1980s that now steps aside for Hardie Board or galvanized metal. Entire neighborhoods become 'obsolete' only to become fashionable again. The 1950s ranch home that I disdained is now 'mid-century modern' and desirable. And of course, American society is so mobile that entire states can suffer a net loss of population yielding a surplus of unwanted housing (hello Ohio).

I have hardened my heart to the loss of buildings. I try to look at them as just a pile of sticks and stones, without souls. They have utility or they don't, and the market will determine that. It's the American way. But still, I cheer when a victory is won, and a building that might tell a good story - and maybe has a soul - is saved. You go, Gospel Press.