Historic Districts in The Rust Belt

New Models — Where Less May Add Up to More

A little over 30 years ago, I bought a home in the original Goodyear Heights allotment, which was developed by Goodyear beginning in 1913 and was completed, in two phases, by the end of the First World War. Having grown up in a newer area of the Heights, about a mile away, I was happy when we were able to purchase a well-maintained 4-bedroom, 1 bath stucco-and-shingle English cottage — one of the original houses built by Goodyear in 1914.

It seems laughable now to think that in order to buy the home, I had to wait in line all night in front of a mortgage company office to take advantage of an Ohio First Time Home Buyer program that offered a bargain loan rate of around 11.75% (standard rates were around 18.25% at that time). My wife and I also had to use every penny of savings for the down payment and closing costs on that $29,000.00 house.

We were happy. The house had been owned by the previous occupant for over 50 years, had seen some electrical updates, and had a kitchen and bath remodeling sometime during the late 1940’s-early 50’s. We quickly went to work stripping off old wallpaper, painting, redecorating and making some other minor repairs over the next few years.

As for the neighborhood, we felt comfortable and safe. Most homes were well-maintained and owner-occupied. We could walk two blocks to church on Sunday, and the old maple, oak and catalpa trees made the streets shady and inviting. We had just enough backyard to enjoy, including a garden of old-fashioned hollyhocks and four-o’-clocks, a rhubarb patch (we used to tell our kids that’s where we “found” them) and best of all, a comfortable front porch to sit upon. There was also a one-car garage; originally built to house a Model-T, my Oldsmobile would not quite fit.

A new family. An old house. It happens everywhere in America.

But that’s just part of the story. As time went on, I dug deeper into the history of the neighborhood, and found that it had a great deal of historic significance.

PROPOSING A HISTORIC DISTRICT

In reading a wide range of books and articles, I discovered that Goodyear Heights, originally developed by Goodyear founder Frank Seiberling, was one of America’s best examples of what has become known as the “Anglo-American Garden Suburb”. Laid out by one of America’s foremost landscape designers, Warren Manning, the neighborhood’s significance and historic value — on a national level — had been well documented. Though there had been changes over the years, the original development still retained enough of its original character to warrant preservation.

Because of this, I became interested in the possibility of seeking designation for the area, which seemed pretty straightforward, since there were original allotment maps, sales brochures and other information that would make determining boundaries for a historic district fairly easy.

That interest stimulated meetings with some others in the neighborhood, the city councilman, and a representative from the Ohio Preservation Office. We toured the neighborhood, took photos of the houses, and even discussed the possibility of setting up a non-profit group to help direct the effort. Then reality set in.

HISTORIC DISTRICTS: 1986

To study what happened (or more accurately, what didn’t happen) next, we have to look back on the early days of historic preservation and how historic districts came into being in the first place. There’s not enough time or space to recount all the history, but the concept of having an area or a neighborhood placed onto the National Register of Historic Places was not a new concept at that time. By the early 1980’s it had been well established, and it was often seen as the first step in expanding the concept to include the more critical component — the local historic district and its attendant local preservation ordinances.

This was important to remember, since placement on the National Register (or state registers, for that matter) includes no specific protections for buildings at all. There were tax credits, of course — but no restraints on what an owner could do to a structure unless they had actually taken advantage of the tax credits. That job was left to the local ordinances, which clearly identified the boundaries of a district, specified design guidelines, set up restrictions and approval mechanisms, and identified some authority for oversight.

At the time, Akron had no local ordinance covering historic districts, and the outlook for passing one was rather daunting, since the local government was well behind the curve in terms of historic preservation. That said, there was some recognition of the value of preservation; someone in the planning department published a free book, Rehab Akron, which offered a number of helpful guidelines for owners of old homes who wanted to make sensitive, historically-appropriate improvements. We thought there might be an opening.

Thus, we were looking at two efforts — identifying and designating a historic district, and then writing and passing an ordinance to protect, preserve and manage it. Here we came up against a couple of obstacles:

Size of the Area / As it would have been proposed, this was a very large area. Even limited to the original allotment, we were talking about a neighborhood with several hundred homes. National Register and state applications demanded that every site, structure, building or object in the district be assessed. This held the possibility of years of research and documentation for a National Register listing that may have offered some prestige, but no real protection.

Of course, this kind of lot-by-lot analysis makes sense if you were asking every homeowner to be subject to a new ordinance that established control over how they could alter or improve their property, but at the time, there was no existing ordinance in place.

Political Obstacles / Historic preservation was a growing trend 30 years ago, but its acceptance was slow in many places, including Akron. Preservationists were still seen as “those people” — meddlers who were opposed to progress and change. Also, Goodyear Heights was a working class neighborhood; a preservation ordinance was most likely seen as an intrusion on property rights, with some highbrow commission insisting that people only make “historically sensitive” repairs or alterations — often with materials and labor that they could not afford anyway. In addition, with a soft housing market, some homeowners may have been unsure whether they could recoup the investment in faithfully restoring a historic home. It was a tough sell, on a large scale, at a bad time.

I discussed proposals, did more research, and gave presentations at community meetings. There was some interest, but not the kind that results in volunteers offering to do block surveys or write up an ordinance.

After a couple of years, it became clear that the effort was well beyond my capability and that of the few people who had expressed interest. Besides, I was commuting back and forth from Shaker Heights every day, and the lure of building a new, larger house grew over time. Again, the soft real estate market was a disincentive to “adding on” to the Goodyear Heights house; we wouldn’t recoup our investment for years. If you say I gave up, you’re right. Eventually, the decision was made to build a “new” old house, in a new in-town allotment a couple of miles away. I still visited from time to time, and helped build a gazebo in the neighborhood “square” a few years ago, but I figured the long term fate of the neighborhood was in the hands of others.

HISTORIC DISTRICTS: 2016

With a new city administration (after almost 30 years) and a renewed interest throughout Akron in improving and preserving our neighborhoods, I’ve come back around to the idea of trying to get some type of historic designation for the old neighborhood, even though I don’t live there anymore. Some things have changed for the better in Goodyear Heights. Some, not so much.

For the better, the neighborhood does have a strong base of leadership; the R.I.G.H.T. Group (Residents Improving Goodyear Heights Together) continues to do great work. They’ve had great attendance at many of their neighborhood events — the attendance at the neighborhood’s 2015 National Night Out event was perhaps the best in the city. Also, the intervening years have uncovered more information about the neighborhood, and there have been additional books published over the last 20 years that make significant reference to both Goodyear Heights and the work of Warren Manning, its designer.

On the other side of the equation, there has been some ongoing deterioration in the older sections of the neighborhood. A handful of vacant lots can be found there now, and some houses are not being kept up as quite well as they had been in the past. While there is still a large percentage of owner-occupied housing, the ratio has slipped downward. The two primary commercial areas in the neighborhood are clearly in transition, though there does remain potential and opportunity for re-envisioning. Also, while CBDG grants provided some need street improvements (and low cost rehab funds for homeowners) during the intervening years, it also resulted in the removal of many of the mature street trees, which added so much to the character of the area.

But that’s just part of the preservation landscape we have to deal with in 2016. Beyond the neighborhood itself, we can see that the city has a historic district ordinance in place now, and even has one historic district, the Hall Park Allotment, a group of about 40+ homes on Oakdale and Woodland Avenues on West Hill.

As I reviewed the ordinance and the National Register nomination documents, which were assembled about 15 years ago, it was interesting to note how little the whole proposition had changed from the mid-1980’s. There it was; the architectural analysis of each house and pages of documentation (24 pages for 44 houses, not including copies of congratulatory letters to district homeowners) — clearly helpful and needed, but I wondered again what effort would be required for several hundred houses. I noted that the Hall Park applications had been prepared by a consultant, something no one had considered or suggested back in 1987.

As for the local governing ordinance, it is pretty bare bones, specifying typical oversight, approval mechanisms, and consulting authorities — pretty much what you would expect from the majority of historic preservation ordinances across the US, and maybe now — an even tougher sell to resident of Goodyear Heights.

In reviewing this, what occurred to me is that our concept of historic districts — how they are identified, designated, preserved, utilized and encouraged may not reflect the changing nature of our post-housing-crisis market. In particular, it does not reflect the needs or challenges faced by Midwestern cities that have lost significant population, and which retain significant amounts of older, vacant, underutilized and transitional housing stock. What we need is a fresh look on how, and why these districts can be used to help some of our neighborhoods.

WHAT IS THE PURPOSE?

Clearly, the purpose of establishing a historic district is to preserve (or conserve) a part of local history that has been deemed significant. This included houses, commercial buildings, streets, landscapes and other visual elements that contribute to its historic fabric and sense of place. But the initial purpose and ultimate end of those efforts can vary widely.

Today, we tend to forget this, but originally, historic districts were created to protect these valuable areas from encroachment and insensitive development. Neighbors became concerned when the “nice old mansion on the corner” was demolished to make way for a bank branch, or when a fine old house that had fallen into disrepair gave way to a box of an apartment building. When this trend continued and it became apparent to residents that the fabric of their neighborhood was deteriorating, they often banded together to figure out how to best preserve what was left. Historic districts were the result.

But we also have to look at the cities where this movement started. Often in the East and Northeast, or anywhere where there was a combination of older, architecturally significant buildings and the most critical element of all — development pressure.

Where was the pressure coming from? Booming economies — in cities and regions where jobs and development were ongoing. Rising populations — where employment remained strong, and where housing and new commercial development was in demand. Active real estate markets — where developers and speculators were always seeking land to build on or make a profit. All these forces made it more and more likely that old houses worth saving would fall victim to the march of progress. What was true back in the 1970’s or 80’s is just as true today, especially in the cities that serve as today’s tech and research hubs.

A tool was needed to help protect these historic neighborhoods, and establishing a historic district and a meaningful preservation ordinance fit the bill — especially if the ordinance had real teeth. Over the years, preserve mostly meant preserve as-is; and the result could be pretty restrictive.

Yet they were not so restrictive as to put a meaningful hardship on property owners. Where these types of districts became common, so their impact provided a financial benefit to residents. For those who made appropriate improvements, their property values increased. For those who could not make improvements, rising values offered them a solid profit when they sold to someone who could. For many years, the best argument for establishing a historic district was an economic one.

Today, this trend has become so integrated into the preservation culture that some have reacted by twisting these benefits into something bad; arguing that historic districts mostly lead to increased gentrification and skyrocketing property values. Thus, people of modest means are often shut out of the picture, since they may only be able to afford to live in a historic district if they inherited their grandpa’s house.

That’s one side of the story, and it’s the side you might see in Oak Park, IL, Boston’s Back Bay, Hyde Park in Cincinnati, Park Slope in Brooklyn, or German Village in Columbus.

THE SAME. BUT DIFFERENT.

In a city like Akron (or Dayton, or Youngstown, or Cleveland) the ultimate purpose of establishing a historic district is generally the same; we want to protect and preserve an area that has architectural and cultural value, and maintain the identity of a neighborhood. In many Midwestern cities, however — those that people often referred to as comprising the Rust Belt — we are operating under are completely different set of parameters:

There is little or no development pressure. Land is not in high demand; in fact, there may be little or no demand at all. Developers aren’t attempting to assemble large parcels or even vacant land for development, and there is little incentive for commercial development.

Soft real estate market. Housing prices are low. Demand for housing is low, since there is an abundance of low-cost housing stock due to long term population loss. The investment made in restoring a historic home may not result in significant equity gains for some time.

Soft economy and job growth. Many residents, even if desirous of making improvements in a historic property, may have limited means to do so. They may have more pressing issues, and in places where preservation has never been a priority, there may be little awareness of its social or economic benefits. There is no “preservation culture.”

Neighborhood gentrification is not an issue. Many historic neighborhoods would actually benefit from a modest increase in demand and rising housing values. Unless a city sees a significant population increase, these areas are years away from experiencing possible gentrification issues. Furthermore, the pace of change in these neighborhoods would be expected to be so slow that any such economic transitions would be handled smoothly, with little disruption, and in a way that benefits low-to-moderate income residents.

Ongoing deterioration, loss of identity/integrity is the real danger. There is little worry that a developer will bulldoze a few houses to put in a fast food restaurant or apartment building. What is more worrisome is that buildings will become victim to lack of maintenance, houses will be razed due to vacancy or code violations, or that inappropriate “improvements” will add to the number of non-contributing structures and affect historic character of the neighborhood.

Clearly, a different type of tool may be needed when it comes to establishing and nurturing historic districts in places like Akron. While the traditional methods we have been using over the past 30 or 40 years have served well in some places, they may not be appropriate in others, considering current conditions involving the economy, population, housing, geography and demographics.

ANOTHER MODEL

Looking at existing practice, I think the challenges of today might be better met by some adjustments — some major, some minor — in how we approach the question of designating and managing historic districts. One major theme, which cuts across all elements, would be flexibility.

In an earlier essay, LITTLE BIG TOWN: How Akron’s Unique History Has Impacted its Architecture, I made the argument that we need to streamline the designation process:

Rather than demand a strict house-by-house assessment as was required for Hall Park, the city should just require an overall visual assessment and use the original allotment boundaries (with possible adjustments) to identify a district, without requiring any initial homeowner stipulations or restrictions. This, combined with some effort at homeowner education, would offer a “fast track” toward protecting and preserving these important neighborhoods.

Demanding that National-Register level requirements and documentation be met to designate historic areas that are already well-known and easily identified as a whole (the “tout-ensemble”) raises significant obstacles, deters citizen involvement and delays meaningful progress. Moreover, it is unnecessary where there are no legally binding requirements, ordinances or tax benefits involved. Simply recognizing these neighborhoods for what they are, providing guidance and letting the real estate market work is a good start. Later efforts can be devoted to more detailed documentation, and more formal preservation-related ordinances or legal restrictions, if needed or desired by residents.

In terms of local district designation, what we are saying here is not that well-researched and documented study and justification should not be required in the assessment of a given neighborhood, but only that the rigorous, time-and-resource consuming effort to document every single house and structure in said district should be set aside for later, should a National Register Designation be pursued. Certainly recording the addresses within the proposed district seems reasonable, and documenting contributing/non-contributing structures would be useful as well. But in the case of a large neighborhood with several hundred houses, writing up an individual architectural analysis is probably overkill; all the more so in the case of Goodyear Heights, since we may be talking about a large number of minor variations on perhaps two-or-three dozen basic house plans.

The primary reason for this is simple expediency. In many ways, current practice is often ass-backwards. Great resources of time (a year or two, perhaps more) effort and money are expended to obtain a National Register level approval, which, in the end, offers little benefit other than a modest level of prestige and a tax credit that may not even be used by the homeowner. The standards for a National Register listing are fairly rigorous, and will probably not be changed any time soon; yet they have served as a convenient template for many local governments to authenticate their own designations, i.e. if it’s good enough for them, then it must be good enough for us. As a result, there was little incentive for communities to develop their own standards or criteria.

The problem is, many of the Midwest neighborhoods that may benefit from a historic designation simply do not have the time to invest in this long, drawn-out process. They needed this tool yesterday; indeed, Akron is probably twenty years behind where we should be in terms of neighborhood preservation, maybe more.

The additional point that can be made is that — since the local government is providing by far the most benefit, oversight and management of a proposed historic district — why should they not develop their own criteria for designation? I would suggest that much of the criteria actually would be identical, only that some visual assessments and other types of documentation could substitute for the relentless detail and in-depth documentation required by the National Register.

In reality, local governments have always had the authority to do this (and some do) but through laziness or misunderstanding, many have made National Register approval a de facto prerequisite to their own local designations. While this is not an obstacle in all cases, and may work well much of the time, it is an approach that cannot always be recommended for large districts in need of timely assistance or where resources are not up to the task.

The second point made above is more controversial, and will surely be met with derision by many preservationists — and that is the proposal to establish local historic districts without any invasive or restrictive ordinances that require permission for homeowners to make changes or alterations to their house.

As a substitute, I would offer a range of notification tools, educational programs and sponsored subsidies that would work in combination — along with the local real estate market — to create awareness of historic preservation, sympathetic repair and alterations, and demonstrate the economic and qualitative benefits of preservation. In short, more carrot and less stick.

The reasons for this approach are based on several observations. First, it is a fixture of our modern society that many middle-class Americans have little appreciation for government authorities telling them what to do — particularly when it comes to their own property and aesthetic sensibilities. Admittedly, this is what most historic preservation ordinances are all about, regardless of the fact that such restrictions “may be for their own good.” Developing guidelines and approval/appeal processes, and beyond that, selling those proposals to residents is probably harder now than it has ever been, despite all the economic benefit data you might care to roll out. Convincing people can be very time consuming — and again, it’s time we don’t have.

Moreover, some of these control and management mechanisms can be unwieldly and expensive. Hearings can go on and on. Lawyers can get involved. Control comes at a price.

Another issue is that, after the most recent economic downturn, many residents may not have the means to fully comply with the restrictions and requirements involved in historic preservation, and may feel that these ordinances place an undue burden upon them. Even if they believe that designating a historic district is a good idea and may offer long term benefits, they may see themselves as being forced to make more expensive repairs or improvements than they might otherwise undertake.

What’s the alternative? An ordinance with no teeth? That’s’ no protection at all, many will say. Left to their own devices, people will always make bad choices.

Maybe, maybe not.

To those who say such a proposal offers no real protection, I admit, it still leaves homeowners free to make inappropriate changes, use the wrong materials, or do something dumb. However, I believe that given good information, offering some educational programs and providing some incentives and possibly improvement subsidies, they will more consistently make the right choices.

To increase the chances that residents will begin to care more about their neighborhood and make smarter choices is a much better alternative than what we have now, which is nothing at all. Even a modest improvement can be significant to the pride and character of a neighborhood.

The program can be comprehensive and effective through a few simple (and automated) mechanisms. Informational material about the historic district can be made available to realtors, and other promotional opportunities can be developed using neighborhood groups. New home purchases and building permits within the district would automatically generate a volunteer contact or a mailed information package about the district, home improvement suggestions and resources, and contact information for advice. If incentives could be developed to encourage people to invest in sensitive and appropriate repairs, these could be promoted. Also, public and private sources might be found to help set up a revolving fund that could help subsidize “correct” repairs and improvements, perhaps enough to make up the difference between a good repair and a bad one.

Some of these materials could be created and distributed for what it costs the city to tear down one old house. And what might we get in return?

This approach may not be perfect, but it’s perfectly feasible, affordable and pro-active. Since there’s no legal restrictions placed on residents or their property (other than what current zoning and housing codes require) there is probably little or no need for majority resident approval, though hearings on the establishment of such a historic district ordinance would surely be in order.

MARKETS AND ATTITUDES

The real estate market has a role to play as well. We have seen that in high growth cities, where housing is in great demand, local real estate markets may have contributed to rapid price inflation as well as gentrification in some historic neighborhoods.

But that is unlikely to be the case in Midwestern cities where there may be little or no growth. In those places, historic designation would most likely result in some level of price stabilization (something these neighborhoods desperately need) and perhaps some long-term appreciation. That would boost homeowner equity and benefit local governments, through increased tax valuation.

Indeed, historic district designation is a valuable tool that can be thoughtfully used in order to help level the playing field; protecting neighborhoods that should be preserved and helping to spread out demand across the city. This ensures that development and demand does not become overly-concentrated in some areas. Indeed, some popular and stable neighborhoods would not need this sort of help — or at least, not need it right away — allowing other neighborhoods to have something unique or different that they can offer residents.

In terms of economic development, we all know that the physical improvements made to properties offer an opportunity for more jobs, sales of home improvement and building materials, visual and neighborhood enhancements and the possibility of new business opportunities. Neighborhood pride, an increased “sense of place” and long-term viability for these city neighborhoods are all worthy results that can be enjoyed through historic district designation and management.

It may also be important to note here that the approach to historic districting that I have advanced here may be more in line with less traditional views on preservation. Again, from an earlier essay:

There has begun to be a discussion in some circles as to whether efforts focused on protecting our historical built environment should be characterized as preservation or conservation. Some have begun to see the traditional concept of preservation as appearing restrictive and generally unwelcome by the public at large — who often view it as a bar to progress, an invasion of property rights, and an unwelcome government intrusion. While many of us who are familiar with the aims of historic preservation know better, one only has to go into an old neighborhood and start asking people about establishing a historic district to see what I mean; the looks on peoples’ faces and general wariness will often make this plain.

Though it may simply be a matter of semantics, proponents of conservation seem to feel it is more readily accepted; recognizing that not every single old structure is able to be preserved, and that age alone does not make a building historic. To some, heritage conservation also denotes an emphasis on local tradition and a community’s shared memory, and that focusing on these elements enables people to more readily get behind efforts to save old structures.

Perhaps this is why I feel a slightly looser, more resident-driven and more flexible approach to protecting historic neighborhoods may offer a more workable model, at least here in the Midwest, where cities and neighborhoods face some unique challenges.

Trying to identify and conserve what we have left as quickly and as best we can, rather than trying to rigidly preserve or try to re-create something that existed in the past is a more expedient and efficient route to neighborhood improvement. Once we are successful with the first approach, we can always expand into the other later, with the benefit of time, resources and experience.