A bit of roadside architecture love this week: the giant peach water tower in Gafney, South Carolina. Photograph taken while driving by on I-85, March 2009.
By Kristine Chase
I was reminded of a project my friend and I did in order to procrastinate from writing our theses when I read Kaitlin’s post about homemade bread with the Kinks’ lyrics.
While I was procrastinating on finishing up my master’s thesis, I got an idea in my head about soundtracks and songs about preservation. As a graduation gift for all my fellow class mates, I made CDs of songs I had found that dealt with preservation, old buildings, development and downtowns. A book of Historic Preservation cartoons is in existence so why not a CD of preservation songs? I’m surprised someone hasn’t come up with this before- Folk music is largely about social activism. Why hasn’t the National Trust come up with a preservation anthem?
So these are the songs I found and it’s still a work in progress. My favorites are Developer’s Lullaby, Queen Anne Front, Gentrification Blues, and The House. Enjoy!
Developer’s Lullaby by Bank-B-Gone Compilation
Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
Houses in the Fields by John Gorka
This Old House by Loretta Lynn
Little Boxes by Malvina Reynolds
Industrial Park by the Mammals
Daddy Won’t Sell the Farm by Montgomery Gentry
My Town by Montgomery Gentry
Wal-mart Associate’s Mandatory International Anthem by Paul Kotheimer
Queen Anne Front by Pete Seeger
Downtown by Petula Clark
Gentrification Blues by The Shakes
Jesus of Suburbia by Green Day
A Song is Not a Business Plan by The Rocket Summer (discovered after taking a class on non-profits)
Hey Levittown by Bob Koenig (he has a couple of albums about Levittown)
Village Green Preservation Society also done by Kate Rusby
The House Song by Peter, Paul and Mary
Is that an old house? Is that a historic house? Is that the same question?
Well, they are often used interchangeably in passing, casual conversations, but actually there is a definite distinction between the two: old & historic.
Work in historic preservation is defined from the National Historic Preservation Act (NHPA) of 1966 (since amended) (legal code 16 U.S.C 470). In the law, “historic property” or “historic resource” means any prehistoric or historic district, site, building, structure, or object included in, or eligible for inclusion on the National Register, including artifacts, records, and material remains related to such a property or resource. In other words, a “historic” house would be one only if it is on or eligible for the National Register of Historic Places. Historic means “historically significant.”
The brief explanation of how properties are eligible for the National Register of Historic Places is that they (generally) must be at least 50 years old and they must have contributed to or played a significant role in national heritage. The longer explanation involves four criteria for evaluation and seven criteria considerations, which can be read here or in National Register Bulletin 15. A side note, most houses are not on the National Register, although they may be listed on a local or state register.
What about the definition for old? That can be a house that has reached the 50 year mark, but is not historically significant. Of course, that is not the say the house is insignificant to its occupants, but in terms of the National Register and the NHPA, it doesn’t count. The distinction is made to assist rulings of the NHPA as well as to assist with tax credits from the National Park Service.
While “old” and “historic” could certainly be discussed more, those are the easy definitions. Still, old houses, even if not historic by NHPA standards, are still important to our heritage and deserve to be loved and maintained. A building not on the National Register doesn’t necessarily mean it’s not eligible – maybe it hasn’t been nominated. If research reveals arguments for national significance, give it a try!
Any other thoughts on the definitions of old or historic?
The Kinks – “The Village Green Preservation Society”
Historic preservation can play many angles because its definitions vary according to individuals and organizations. There tends to be no limit on its tangential factors, something that makes preservation ideals understandable and applicable to anyone. This might be more apparent to me since moving to Vermont – I haven’t quite decided yet. However, consider Jennifer Parson’s article from the latest PiP Newsletter which talked about preservation in the sense of agricultural preservation, not like preserving vegetables for the winter, but continuing to use heirloom seeds, thus preserving the variety of agriculture, whether vegetables, fruit, or larger crops.
Vermonters* seem to take pride in self sufficiency and of course, environmental friendliness (one bumper sticker claims Vermont as being green before green was cool). There’s definitely a different vibe in Vermont. Or maybe this vibe is everywhere now and I’ve only noticed it here. That’s sort of beside the point. People I have met here, including the above mentioned Jen Parsons, have inspired me to take on more traditional tasks as hobbies. One recent endeavor is bread making. There is nothing better than fresh bread, right? And in the vein of finding ways to save money, attempting to not support giant food distribution companies, and figuring out how to avoid preservatives of our current food supply, bread seemed like an easy first step. I also love to bake.
Bread and preservation, huh? Really? Yes, it’s relevant. No, I’m not using a historic recipe (unless Fannie Farmer counts!) or an old oven of any sort. Learning to bake bread is easiest by attempting regular white bread. But something about it is just so satisfying. Perhaps it’s kneading the dough or considering that maybe one day I will not have to grocery store packaged bread. It’s just a basic food source that people have been making and eating for centuries. And the house I live in is old enough that many owners and tenants have probably made bread by hand more than a few times.
I think part of appreciating historic preservation in all of its form comes not only from studying dwellings and the surroundings and reading the environment, but by participating in history in some manner. And the process of bread making: mixing ingredients, letting the dough rise for hours (in some recipes), kneading the dough, watching it bake, smelling the delicious scent of fresh made bread, and sharing it can connect you to everyone in history. So by learning to make homemade bread, I feel as though I can pass on a time honored tradition, and that has immense value on its own.
Additionally, since beginning this learning process of bread making, I have discovered that many friends also bake their own bread – perhaps there is a resurgence of bread making. What a pleasant discovery! I wonder what else people are producing on their own in small attempt at self sufficiency (or health or economics).
*Disclaimer: I cannot yet claim to be a Vermonter. Actually, being named a true Vermonter takes about seven generations so there goes my chance. Still, I love Vermont, even if I’m labeled a “flatlander” or “white plater.”
By Nicholas Bogosian
“Why in the world would you move here?” This is a question I get all too often. They can’t understand why someone would move to the Ohio Valley. Most of them are younger and can’t wait to get out. Columbus lies two hours to the west – a bustling college city with enough to keep you busy for weeks. Pittsburgh, PA offers the same advantages an hour northeast. Wheeling, WV (the closest city) lies ten miles to the east and offers an impressive collection of Victorian architecture, no matter if any preservation effort exists to keep it alive. But St. Clairsville, “paradise on the hill,” gets squashed between the three.
In answering the question, I subdue my glee and explain to them that I’m here for school – that I’m studying building preservation at Belmont Technical College. I explain that there’s only a handful of preservation trade schools in the country and that Bel Tech’s program is the only one of its kind, with a pretty stellar reputation. Never mind trying to comprehend somebody studying building preservation, they still seem surprised that “little ol’ St. Clairsville” and that “little ol’ Belmont Tech” has a nationally recognized preservation program. In past blog posts, the issue of the preservation trades as a sort of “secret field” has been brought up. It seems the same is true for its training institutions.
For somebody wanting to study historic preservation with a trades/technology emphasis one could seek out any of the following programs: College of the Redwoods (Eureka, CA), Colorado Mountain College (Leadville, CO), Belmont Tech (St. Clairsville, OH), SCAD (Savannah, GA), American College of the Building Arts (North Charleston, SC), and North Bennett Street School (Boston, MA).
Belmont Tech’s program, established in 1989, was the first preservation trade school in the United States and a few of the later programs have been loosely modeled on Belmont’s. Most of these programs, however, are still in their infancy, with the exception of North Bennett Street School & SCAD. Despite the common thread of “preservation trades” in these institutions, each have their own distinct way of doing things and none are exactly the same. The primary factors that attracted me most to Belmont when researching these schools were:
– national reputation (high job-filling rate upon graduation)
– intensive hands-on focus on all basic materials of buildings (masonry, plaster, metals, wood, ceramics, wall finishes, etc )
– rigorous academic parallel in curriculum to preservation theory and history as well as historic research, field documentation, and the history of American architecture.
– focus on building pathology and available technologies to conserve structures and their materials.
– ample opportunities for field labs including four quarters of mandatory field labs at local sites (run in conjunction with Allegheny Restoration)
Examining the curriculum at Belmont, I got a true sense that the program embodies the interdisciplinary nature of historic preservation and that it acknowledges preservation as an act that is theoretical, scientific, and artistic.
The BPR (Building Preservation & Restoration) program is housed on the second story of the Science & Engineering building on the Ohio Eastern University Campus. I don’t have an exact count, but the program is relatively small – roughly forty students. The program’s only form of major publicity is an ad every month in Old House Journal. But the name seems to get around otherwise. Students arrive from “all over.” A map of the United States hangs in the lounge with a cacophony of multi-colored pins marking their hometowns. Recently, a map of Croatia was added as an addendum with a single blue pin.
I feel inclined to give the reader a James Agee approach in documenting the annals of the program and what it symbolizes in minute detail. I want you to smell the wood shop and the saw-burnt poplar, to feel the exothermic heat rising off of curing plaster, to hear the planer in its glorious mechanized chipping upstart, to hear the clinking of the Mexican Coca-Cola bottles when anyone opens the mini-fridge, the smell of the soldering metals permeating from downstairs, the tidy and almost choreographed way in which the stained glass students maneuver around the lab with monk-like focus. I want you to sit through a week of Dave Mertz’s lectures and see that a whole hour can be devoted to pigeon crap. I want you to peer deep into his eyes as he simultaneously laughs at and laments the common roofer’s default obsession with roof tar.
Ruskin’s words beam in the industrially-lit stairwell.
The library has over 1,000 volumes of books, videos, and magazines pertaining to the preservation field at large. This resource has been an immeasurable blessing. There is always research to be done. The St. Clairsville Public Library just wouldn’t be sufficient in this case.
The draft room is where a lot of projects take their shape.
The plaster shop, displaying medallions. Model & Mold Making class meets here as well as Plaster class and Chemistry for Conservators labs.
The wood shop is where I’m spending most of my time this quarter. Between Material Science of Wood class and Building Carpentry class I’m reconstructing a bracket, doing Dutchman and epoxy repairs, traditional and modern joinery, lathe shaping, wood carving, and marquetry. Students have access to a wide variety of hard and softwood species.
The paint and glazing lab houses the Stained Glass, Material Science of Paint, Wall Finishes, & Historic Interiors classes.
Lab spaces also include a darkroom and a metals shop. Off-site field lab classes are in pretty constant rotation. The surrounding area is graciously in the habit of donating jobs which need to be done on historic sites, but would otherwise not have the funding to go about such repairs. We, of course, are happy to have the opportunity.
Dave Mertz, the director of the program, has been here since the beginning. He has shaped the program into what it is today and has developed a national reputation and a great list of contacts as we begin to network in the field and ultimately graduate to our first job.
In short, Dave Mertz is my hero. I was wary in the beginning about entering a field so blindly, having no previous formal exposure to the field. I was concerned about the “movement” status of the field. In my case, I was not interested in becoming an “advocate,” per se. Rather, I was more compelled by the natural and concrete rationale behind preservation and conservation. Material objects have no value besides the value we place on them, and people have a tendency to change their tastes over time. Like Ruskin proclaims: “let us not build for present delight…” What lasts is intention of design and quality of craftsmanship.
Ironically enough, a large part of our jobs as preservationists is to fix mistakes of the original builders, or the mistakes of the handymen which followed them. Granted, we are often dealing with natural deterioration processes as well and, if we are so blessed, even buildings of exquisite craftsmanship and high art. Unfortunately, the preservationist is a separate entity from the building construction force in society today. This wasn’t always the case. Would we even need “preservationists” today if modern builders commenced with Ruskin’s ethic to build for posterity? Would we even need “preservationists” if modern builders had the knowledge of building materials to effectively maintain these structures?
Dave Mertz is not a preservation hobbyist. He is more than talk. I am happy to say that a large part of his focus is teaching us the correct way of dealing with a plethora of preservation related problems and simply how to be good workers. In the age of the “Millennial,” this concept seems somewhat rare and admirable.
In addition to Dave, Jeff MacDonald joined the faculty this quarter after serving as the Lead Preservation Specialist to the Montana Heritage Commission. His specialty lies in the decorative arts and crafts and is passionate about the development of preservation education worldwide.
The BPR program is typically a two year program. The degree earned is an Associates of Science in Preservation Technology. The program attracts students with all sorts of academic backgrounds: fresh out of High School to full-out Master’s degrees. Many continue their education beyond Belmont. The great thing about the program, as already mentioned, is the wide scope of focus. While the trades are key, so is preservation philosophy, architectural history, historic research, and design. Graduates find themselves in all sorts of preservation related jobs around the country – whether they be working for a State Preservation Office or as a masonry conservator at the Lincoln Memorial.
So while the Ohio Valley is a completely new world to me (i.e. frigid winter weather, a desperately struggling economy, and largely rural) I have come to find a home in the BPR program. The high quality of work that is expected from us and the amount of critical thinking involved in the preservation trades can seem like an overload at times. Not to mention the excitement of learning new things every day. I have to stop myself from investigating things beyond the depth that I have the time for. Other students struggle with this problem as well. It’s just impossible to do thesis-level research on every single thing we come across day to day, though whole theses could indeed be devoted to the evolution of the wrought nail, the damaging Deathwatch Beetle, Copper cleaning, and Histoplasmosis. In reality, this is just preparation for our jobs at large. The learning process does not end when we are handed our degree. It is something we will take with us.
For more information on the BPR program, please visit: http://www.btc.edu/bpr/