Twelve years ago Anthony C. Wood
began to think about preserving the history of historic preservation,
and initiated a series of most interesting interviews, some
of which were published in Village Views in 1987. This Pioneers
of Preservation series began with the recollections of
Geoffrey Platt, founding chairman of the Landmarks Preservation
Commission, of his successor, Harmon Goldstone, and of Adolf
Placzek, who, as Avery Librarian, had been close to Talbot
Hamlin and Alan Burnham. In this issue, Mr. Wood brings us
the surprising story of Otis Pearsall--surprising because
the facts run counter to so many misconceptions defended by
both friends and foes of historic preservation.
In Brooklyn Heights in the 1950s, a wave of young professionals moved
into what was then a somewhat declining neighborhood convenient to Wall
Street, learned to love it, and organized to demand its preservation--years
before New York City had a landmarks law, years before elite Manhattan
civic organizations-which sometimes take credit for establishing historic
preservation in New York--had thought of asking for historic districts.
Enemies of preservation sometimes say
that historic district designation--engineered by preservation elitists--causes
gentrification
and ousts the ordinary man from hearth and home. The Brooklyn Heights
story shows the exact opposite: an influx of small investors, who became
frightened of losing their stake in a historic neighborhood threatened
by "urban renewal," sought protection for their district, but
found that their cause was ahead of its time, when they received a "dusty
answer" from the Manhattan preservation elite.
Ultimately, the young activists won stability
for the Heights, in a political battle that pitted homeowners, small
businesses and brokers--those who could profit from the incremental growth
of an existing neighborhood--against speculators seeking quick rewards
from an assemblage and demolition scenario. And already, then, non-profit
institutions and government initiatives were also primary threats.
In Mr. Pearsall's account, we read of intriguing
figures; Mrs. Darwin James, who called in her chips to persuade Robert
Moses to spare Willowtown; Borough President Cashmore, who wanted to
build the Champs Elysees of Brooklyn outside his office window; Arden
Rathkopf, author of a textbook on zoning, who quietly drafted a first
landmarks law that shaped the one we have today and in some ways went
beyond it. But Mr. Pearsall will speak more eloquently of the ins and
outs of this history. |
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