StructureHub

Apart from delivering the welcome news that Manhattan’s West-Park Presbyterian Church was recently awarded landmark status, ArchPaper’s review about how the building averted demolition also alludes to a interesting - but by no means unprecedented - strategy for generating public support to destroy (inconveniently) historic structures. 

Back in 2003 (before being landmarked), the West-Park congregation proposed replacing the 1880s church building with a strikingly modern church and luxury residential tower designed by Franke, Gottsegen, Cox Architects.  The congregation justified the proposal as a means to preserve the congregation’s religious and charitable missions.  The strategy - coming up with an excellent design to entirely replace an old structure - deservedly failed in all respects. 

To begin with, backers of the proposal seemed to forget that historic preservation is about “preservation” - not “preservation, unless a good alternative is made, in which case, demolition.”  The fate of an indisputably historic (albeit, non-landmarked) structure should be unaffected by the quality of a proposal for future use, if the proposal involves complete demolition of the historic structure.  This is certainly true when, as here, the historic structure is not beyond the point of repair. 

Unfortunately, designating Leopold Eidlitz’s Richardsonian Romanesque church may force the dwindling congregation to move, since it may not be able to afford the necessary renovation and maintenance costs.  But as one member of the Landmarks Preservation Commission rightly noted, “We know that, but that’s not under our purview….We’re looking at this in terms of its architecture and its significance to the city, and that’s our responsibility.” 

Moreover, the avalanche of local opposition to the congregation’s initial proposal to completely demolish the church could have been averted.  If the congregation proposed either its second or third proposals first (both of which would have preserved most of the original structure), it would’ve addressed predictable concerns about preserving the neighborhood’s architectural charm while also preserving the congregation’s ability to fulfill its religious and charitable missions.  

Instead, the congregation’s demolition plan energized locals to the point that subsequent proposals, however palatable (as I’d say they were), were opposed with as much fervor as the first, worst one.  It was inevitable that all that local opposition would then lead to an application for landmark status.  Since the church is historic by any measure, the LPC had little choice but to grant landmark status when the application finally came up for review. 

Image courtesy of how long it takes.