Not Every Old Building is Worth Saving: A Framework for Thinking About Historic Preservation
The debate is a familiar fixture in cities and towns across the country: a developer proposes a new project on the site of a dilapidated or underused historic structure. Immediately, battle lines are drawn. One side champions progress, housing, and economic growth. The other rallies to save a piece of history, identity, and character from the wrecking ball.
The conversation often devolves into a binary shouting match: "Heartless Developer vs. Obstructionist Preservationist." But this false dichotomy ignores a more nuanced and critical question: How do we decide what is truly worth saving?
The truth is, not every old building is historically significant. Applying a thoughtful framework, rather than pure emotion, is essential for making smart decisions that honor our past while building a functional, living future.
Moving Beyond Age: What Actually Makes a Building "Historic"?
Age alone is a poor criterion for preservation. A building constructed in 1920 isn't automatically more worthy than one from 1970. We must dig deeper to assess its value. Here are the key criteria that separate the merely old from the truly historic:
1. Architectural Significance: Is the building a rare or exemplary example of a specific architectural style, designed by a notable architect, or featuring unique craftsmanship? A pristine Art Deco office building or a rare example of a pre-Civil War construction technique has inherent value as art and artifact.
2. Historical Significance: Did a genuinely important event happen here? Did a truly significant person live, work, or die here? The bar for "significant" should be high. A building where a community's first mayor briefly lived is different from one that served as a critical stop on the Underground Railroad. We must distinguish between local nostalgia and national history.
3. Cultural & Social Significance: Does the building embody the story of a community? This is often the most powerful argument for preservation. A modest synagogue, a union hall that organized pivotal labor strikes, or a music venue that launched a cultural movement tells the story of everyday people and is often more worthy of saving than a mansion of a wealthy industrialist.
4. Contextual Value: Does the building contribute to the overall character of a historic streetscape or district? Even if it's not a standalone star, it might be a crucial "supporting actor" that maintains the aesthetic and historical integrity of a neighborhood.
The Case Against Preservation: When Saving a Building Costs Too Much
Preservation is not without its costs—financial, social, and environmental. Ignoring these realities can freeze a city in time and stifle its ability to evolve.
1. Economic Viability: Can the building be adaptively reused in a way that is structurally and financially feasible? The cost of bringing a crumbling structure up to modern safety, accessibility, and efficiency codes can be astronomical. If adaptive reuse is not economically viable, the building will likely continue to decay, becoming a blight on the community.
2. Opportunity Cost: What is the community giving up by preserving this specific plot of land? In a housing crisis, is preserving a single-story, vacant warehouse more important than building a multi-story residential building that could house hundreds of families? Preservation decisions must weigh the benefit of saving the past against the pressing needs of the present.
3. Structural Integrity & Safety: Is the building simply too far gone? After decades of neglect, water damage, and rot, the cost of stabilization can be prohibitive, and the final product may retain very little of the original historical fabric, creating a replica rather than preserving history.
4. Environmental Sustainability: This is a complex factor. On one hand, the "greenest building is the one that is already built," as demolishing a structure creates immense waste and new construction has a high carbon footprint. On the other, an old building with poor insulation, inefficient windows, and outdated systems can be an energy nightmare. A true analysis must weigh the embodied energy of the existing structure against the efficiency of a potential new one.
A Framework for a Smarter Conversation
Instead of arguing in absolutes, communities, developers, and preservationists should adopt a framework of questions:
Significance: On a scale of 1 to 10, what is the building's true historical, architectural, and cultural value? Be honest and rigorous.
Integrity: How much of the original structure and character remains? Has it been too altered to retain its significance?
Feasibility: Is there a realistic, economically viable plan for adaptive reuse? Is anyone willing to pay for it?
Community Cost: What does the community gain by saving it? What does it potentially lose by not developing the site?
The Mitigation Option: If the building cannot be fully saved, can we document it thoroughly through photographs, architectural drawings, and oral histories? Can salvaged materials ( bricks, stained glass, signage) be incorporated into the new development?
The Middle Ground: Adaptive Reuse and thoughtful Design
The best outcomes often lie in the middle. Adaptive reuse—repurposing an old building for a new function—is the ultimate win-win. It preserves history while creating something vital and new for the community.
Factories become apartment lofts.
Schools become community centers.
Churches become restaurants or performance spaces.
When full preservation isn't possible, new development can still honor the past. This can mean designing new buildings that reflect the scale and materials of the historic neighborhood or incorporating facades of old buildings into new constructions.
Conclusion: Preservation with Purpose
Historic preservation is a vital tool for maintaining our cultural memory and creating places with soul and identity. But it must be applied with discretion, wisdom, and a view toward the future.
The goal shouldn't be to save every old building. The goal should be to save the right ones—the ones that tell our most important stories—and to ensure that our cities remain living, breathing, and evolving entities, not simply museums frozen in time. By moving beyond simplistic arguments and embracing a more nuanced framework, we can build a future that respectfully carries its past forward.
