Seattle's 'civic dementia,' and how to cure it
We are losing our historic brain cells, one bungalow at a time. Much of what needs to be preserved isn't architecturally special by itself, but it has earned a right to stay with us, and the civic cost of wrecking and replacing is often too high.
Wikimedia Commons
Editor's note: This speech was given last week at the 35th anniversary celebration and awards banquet of Historic Seattle.
It's great to be here with you this evening under the stained glass of the Arctic Club Hotel. This historic building looms large in my mind because of its walrus "gargoyles," the faces that line the outside of the building and look like Mike Holmgren.
These made a great impression on me as a child, and I think they made an impression on my father. He was born and raised in Seattle too, the second of four Knutes. As a young boy, his family lived on the east slope of Queen Anne Hill above Lake Union, in a bungalow on the edge of the woods right near where Aurora is now. My grandfather, bestafar, was a tough Norwegian, and did what most Scandinavians do. At bedtime, he read stories to my dad — stories that scared the living daylights out of him.
Yes, my father's lullabies were terrifying tales of trolls and witches and monsters of the dark forest, a most Lutheran preparation for life. As a result, my father was reluctant to walk through the woods to school at the top of the hill having become convinced that a giant walrus lay waiting for him. Nothing his parents could do would shake him of this belief. I am sure this idea must have been put in his head by the walrus totems decorating this building, as walruses are not native to this area. My ability to be here is testament that a bloodline can overcome its fears of rampaging forest walruses, with the passage of time.
The subject of time brings me to what I want to talk about, which is the battle we fight against "civic dementia."
That's not an easy fight in Seattle. "Civic dementia" is everywhere. We're losing our historic brain cells one bungalow at a time. How can this be happening in a city that became a national model for proving the economic vitality and value of saving historic neighborhoods, in a town that rescued Pioneer Square from decay and the Pike Place Market from being converted into a parking lot?
It's because Seattle is a city that is actively engaged in forgetting who it is. We may dream of being a big city, a green city, a world-class city. But we are still a city of the far West, a frontier city. As such we're restless, utopian, future-focused, money-crazed, and our town is filled with newcomers and short-timers. We attract many people who believe Seattle is the place you come to to escape the past.
Historian and novelist Wallace Stegner once wrote that the hallmark of the West was its transience. He wrote that the West invented ghost towns, dust bowls, and motels. Our obsession with the new and with change is, ironically part of our past, and part of our discontent. You build something in the West, then you move on. Psychically, we're not the Arctic Club Hotel. We're a motel on Aurora, a city of one-night stands.
Just look at our shifting identities. Seattle's founders dubbed us New York Alki, and our first real tourist attraction was, appropriately, Madame Damnable's, a brothel. We soon became the Gateway to Alaska. Just in my half-century of life we've been the Queen City, the Jet City, the Portal to the Pacific Rim, the launch pad for Century 21's Space Age, the capital of Pugetopolis, the Emerald City, and the Silicon Forest. Tacoma claims to be the City of Destiny but Seattle is Sybil, the city of multiple personality disorder.
This is what makes the work Historic Seattle does — and the accomplishments of tonight's award winners — all the more significant. Because while you and I cherish Seattle's up-and-down, back-and-forth history, while we relish finding a new use for an old house or church or school, many of Seattle's citizens view historic preservation as holding us back, as an exercise in nostalgia, as something only old people and rich people care about.
They have a point.
Historically, preservationists have often been biased toward saving the homes of the wealthy or large public monuments. They've shown a tendency to reward architectural virtuosity, anything with spires, cupolas, or gingerbread. The rap against preservationists is that they don't like change and want to turn back the clock. And we all know a few moss-covered souls like that. Although, the amusing thing is that the critics of preservation are also often people who tout things like streetcars, small neighborhood shops, walking, cycling to work. This fall I saw two downtown Seattle policemen on horseback wearing capes. Giant wooden nutcrackers stood outside downtown shops, like cigar store Indians of old. Now, just who is turning back the clock?
Many citizens are happy to allow historic preservationists their snobbery — to allow granny and grand dad their bottle of sherry now and again. Let them save a few mansions if they must, but the rest of the city is ripe for erasing. Keep the bar high on historic landmarks, and keep the bar low for developers who are eager to swing the wrecking ball, in the name of progress.
Seattle is filled with people who act as if we were a blank slate.
And it's not just developers. It's those of us who worship nature too. A professor I know said the reason so many Seattleites don't go to church (we are among the least religious, least churched people in America) is that we have never been able to build a sanctuary that comes close to matching the awesome magnetism of Mt. Rainier. By that measure, our built environment will always seem second rate. We'll rally to save a forest before organizing to create a new historic district.
My current interest in historic preservation was sparked when I wrote about the impending demolition of the Ballard Manning's/Denny's restaurant a couple of years ago. The argument was over whether this 1964 roadside diner was significant enough to save. Most experts and the city's landmarks board thought that it was.
But many people thought the whole idea was preposterous because it was a Denny's, not a grand hotel or theater. When built, it was called the Taj Mahal of Ballard, which says more about Ballard than the building. It was touted as a unique example of "Googie" architecture. One architect dubbed its style as "Scandagoogienesian." The press coverage was extensive. Channel 9 called it the battle as "Googie versus Goliath."
What really struck me, though, was the hostility the effort to landmark the diner engendered. I was told by people that Seattle "has no history." Another wrote "There is NOTHING worth saving — blow it up." But you can't really blame these people: we are the city that built the monumental Kingdome at public expense, then blew it up before we'd even finished paying for it. That sent a message: Seattle is disposable.
The problem with viewing the city as a blank slate is that it is not. We call this landscape "Metronatural" but it has been extensively altered to suit our needs. We washed away hillsides, changed river courses, built canals, pushed the sea back. The last 150 years of extensive development and settlement has created not only manmade landmarks, but a living fabric that has bound us to this place. The natural and built environments are inseparable really. Together they help form civic memory, embodied values, our very sense of reality. And it's literally how we find our way around. Who here has not given a direction like, "Go down the the Pink Elephant sign and turn right?" We all know you never ask a native Seattleite how to get somewhere by naming the streets.
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Comments:
Posted Sun, May 24, 8:50 p.m. Inappropriate
This is a great article that will truly resonate after your intelligently designed visionaries and urban hobbyists have destroyed your viaduct.
Klaatu barada nikto
Posted Mon, May 25, 8:10 a.m. Inappropriate
Well done! A nicely done article (and speech). Its all so very true. Everytime we rush to tear something down....we will never have our 300 year old building. Besides everything being disposal, we also seem to have the sense that once an individual owns property they have the right to do with it whatever they want. The battle for preservationists is changing the mindset from sole ownership to we all own our history...it doesn't just belong to one person at a time. When someone owns a historic property they should consider taking care of it a responsibility to the community as a whole.
Posted Mon, May 25, 9:48 a.m. Inappropriate
"We also need to stand up to free market arguments by recognizing that the dynamics that drive development are not free. They are the products of specific tax and land-use policies. They are the outgrowth of federal and state decisions, incentives, and mandates."
That is exactly right. And those decisions are made "by the people who show up", as a friend of mine says frequently. So historic preservationists, show up, in force. You can't influence policy or the decision-makers if you buy into the rationale of folks who don't care about your concerns or values.
"It is no more interference to pass laws to protect our built environment than it is natural to allow it to be bulldozed."
Perhaps the argument needs to be turned on it's head.
Perhaps it is development, and a current lack of policy, that is "interfering" with establishing a sense of permanence, continuation, a series of landmarks or buildings that recall an era, and/or something worth remembering over time, reminiscent of European cities.
Consider that the reason that older citizens may be overrepresented re: HP concerns may be NOT that younger folks don't care about historic preservation concerns if asked, but that they are busy raising children, or trying to get ahead in their careers; seniors may have more time to invest to make things happen. The wheels of "progress" and policy move quickly and silently while the young have other concerns.
Posted Mon, May 25, 7:02 p.m. Inappropriate
Judging from people I know, the general populace values the old buildings and regrets their destruction.
However, the investor class does not seem very concerned, even though it is their money which is paying for the nationwide frenzy of overbuilding, and even though they are in the process of losing their money in the aftermath.
This includes investors in mortgage-backed securities and S&P; 500 stocks (financials being an ever-increasing share of the S&P;, and many of these companies being in denial about their insolvency). Stop being such a patsy, you are causing untold waste and destruction over and beyond the loss of your money.
Posted Mon, May 25, 9:31 p.m. Inappropriate
Disconnect:
1. Don't need history, the future will be totally different
2. Explain away overbuilding as:
a) increasing supply to regain lost affordability,
b) rebuilding mega dense to regain lost affordability,
c) being green.
Produces Corrective History Lesson:
1. Booms mess up affordability and minds
2. Busts regain affordability at huge cost to resources and lives
3. The hardest part? Owning up and not repeating the same mistake
4. The scariest part? Really might have just one, maybe even no, more changes to get it right.
Posted Tue, May 26, 8:31 a.m. Inappropriate
As to Mossback's parting shot- "During the Ballard Denny's controversy, one of the people arguing to demolish the diner told me he had just come back from Europe, from Prague, and that there was a city with real historic buildings worth saving, they were hundreds of years old. Of course, I helpfully explained that the reason he could gush over 300-year-old buildings is because when they were as old as the Ballard Denny's, no one tore them down.", simply put- Denny's never was a "real historic building worth saving" (from day one). JG
Posted Tue, May 26, 8:32 a.m. Inappropriate
Skip- Does Crosscut have any [b]codes?[/b]J-
Posted Tue, May 26, 10:44 a.m. Inappropriate
"But the carbon footprint of new construction is huge. As they say, the greenest building is one that is already built."
Classic example: The new, $72 million Seattle City Hall at 600 Fourth Avenue. The first thing one notices is the "Stairway to Heaven" hillclimb entrance - a looming monument to the increasing inaccesibility of government. As Seattle's population ages, how many will be able to make that climb to the top, and then ascend even higher to where the Seattle City Council meetings are conducted in their penthouse chamber beneath a titanium dome?
According to the Seatle P-I, the new "green" city hall is considerably smaller than the 1960s-era building it replaced. It houses far fewer employees, while the utility bills are $3,000 to $5,000 higher per month than in the old utilitarian building, and energy use is higher. (See: "Seattle's new City Hall is an energy hog," Seattle Post-Intelligencer, 07/05/2005)
Posted Tue, May 26, 12:16 p.m. Inappropriate
What a great speech, thanks for sharing it with those of us who didn't attend.
I love the Ivar's anecdote, it's spot on. Preservationists, rather than making formaldahyde immersed exhibits, need to find a way to make delicious jams and jellies. Make things relevent, sure, but if you don't make them fun and make people love them, they won't survive the generation after you.
The note about the Smith Tower is important to me, too. The new Selig building half obscures the view of the Smith Tower and the Salish Sea from Yesler Way. We need to pick our most important visual landmarks (I'll nominate for starters Mt. Rainier, Smith Tower, Space Needle, Marine/Pacmed/Amazon on Beacon Hill, dt Bellevue, ferry routes) and then next make a list of the best places to see them - and not let anything encroach on that. We should take a photo there today, and in 100 years people will be amazed at how little it's changed, and they'll continue to treasure those vistas.
I wonder how we can ever turn the tide on the way our tax system is laid out. It should have happened this year with the economic downturn and new leadership, but there was no mention of reform. Europe rewards homeowners who restore existing structures. We reward purchases but not rehabilitation, and the industry has exploited that by pushing ever out and up with new construction. The recent US tax relief went towards salvaging the old, over-extended system and trying to encourage young people to jump into purchases too early. We could have worked towards encouraging a new model.
I'll go another direction, just to make my post totally schizophrenic like my city. We can't save everything. If we're trying to save the "Seattle spirit", perhaps we shouldn't save anything at all - this city has been about manipulating nature, separating a man from his money, and tearing down anything with moss on it. Where's the right line in between? Do we measure what people care about now, and what people cared about in the past, and save those (and allow anything else to be replaced)? Do we determine a new vision of a future Seattle, and save the things that fit with it most?
I don't have any answers, but here's a crazy idea. Maybe we can combine concepts. What if history in our built environment is an ecosystem? Just as Olmsted's "green rings" spread healthy vigor through the city (these are our greenbelts, boulevards, large parks), maybe a "brick ring" (??) of historic structures and environments should be established? A continuous string of historic businesses, homes, warehouses, extending through the city. There's no particular time period preserved, which means that we also intend to preserve now and the future - additions need to feel representative of now or like exceptional examples of the ideology of now. This isn't all about architecture - we'll have to find a way to encourage historic use, whether chicken farm, vaccuum cleaner repair, flophouse, real estate office or cafe. The street itself will change in character, a range of brick, streetcar rails, various types of asphalt and concrete, steel construction slabs, various gas and electric lamps, overhead wiring of all varieties, wood, concrete and steel poles, street signs of current and past vintage. Like the large parks, we have entire districts or neighborhoods occassionally preserved. Whether you're on it for just a few blocks or for a long trip, the brick ring gives you a sense of grounding, of the repercussions your life will leave for the future of our city. We care about nature outside of the green rings, and we'll grab the best examples outside of the brick ring as well.
Thanks for letting me share!
Posted Tue, May 26, 2:34 p.m. Inappropriate
"Seattle's founders dubbed us New York Alki, and our first real tourist attraction was, appropriately, Madame Damnable's, a brothel"
So is your point that we should bring back the brothels? Or to save climate-destabilizing land-use patterns (aka "bungalows") so that we can push the sprawl to the mountains and finally get some hot weather around here. So what if we have to kill a few million bangladeshi children to do it. We're talking BUNGALOWS!!! The symbol of working class Seattle (tm) that only a Microsoft millionaire will be able to afford. Up with bungalows! Down with Bangladesh! Say it with me now, Knute. To hell with Micronesia, SF 5000 is more important.
Posted Tue, May 26, 3:21 p.m. Inappropriate
[virtual standing ovation]
I love this speech. Why doesn't Seattle try creating something like Tacoma's North Slope Historic District (the state's largest historic district) to preserve a few bungalow neighborhoods? Tacoma's NSHD formation came a bit late -- a handful of beautiful old buildings were already torn down to make room for cheaply built apartment buildings -- but the neighborhood is still a real city treasure.
In fact, one thing I think Tacoma has going for it is that it was so undervalued as a commercial hub for so long that no one was interested in investing the money to tear down old buildings and build new. As a result, Tacoma has some real architectural history to be proud of -- far more than Seattle does on a block-by-block basis.
I really couldn't believe reading all those comments about the worthlessness of the old Ballard Denny's. So much support for tearing down a building oozing with character to build yet another generic box. I read somewhere -- I think in a column by The News Tribune's Peter Callaghan -- that we treasure our grandparents' era of construction and ridicule our parents' era. I'm 32 and that Denny's was of my grandparents' era. I bet most of the people who wanted to see it destroyed were a bit older than me. Those 45-65-year-olds are of prime developer age and us 20-30-somethings are a bit powerless to stop their drive for profits. I only hope that they'll leave some of my grandparents' architecture alone until they retire and my generation can value them!
Hey, the Kalakala is still available for saving! Talk about an awesome-looking boat. Of course, my parents and aunts and uncles hate it. I've read it'll be pretty darn expensive to rehab as a boat, but why someone hasn't pulled it onto shore and made a cool building out of it is beyond me.
Posted Tue, May 26, 3:41 p.m. Inappropriate
@jk: Can you say "sin tax" ;)
Do you have any ideas on how to preserve character in Seattle, or do you think the whole effort is a waste of time?
You seem to support only saving the things we care about right now (well, the things *you* care about ;) . Would the last bungalow in Seattle be worth something to you? The last complete street of bungalows?
Posted Fri, May 29, 1:19 p.m. Inappropriate
@jk: Seattle's small urban bungalows are not suburban sprawl. They're century-old transit-oriented development, small homes on small lots with small yards, often without on-site parking, producing a density that used to support streetcar commuting.
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