protecting
place
Sunday
N O V E M B E R 3 0 , 2 0 0 3
Which
place are you protecting?
There are so many places,
and they are all right here,
in the same place.
***
write this from my house, from my second floor desk, at the front
of the 1893 Italianate I have lived in for the past five years. Protecting
my place has a different meaning tonight, as my car sits in its garage,
at the back of the house, with a bullet hole through the garage door
and through the front bumper and through the radiator and possibly beyond.
The
neighborhood is an old one, immediately east of Columbus’ downtown.
Before the interstates tore through in an immense destruction of place
(houses upon houses demolished; streets, connections, sidewalks severed;
deep trenches filled with speed, noise, and exhaust ripped through the
gaping void), it was part of the “Silk Stocking” district,
home to the grand houses of the city’s elite. Now, it is home
to a very heavy concentration of dedicated Section 8 (low income, government-subsidized)
housing, and pockmarked by properties small and large that can, by deed
restriction, never be utilized for anything else. The participants in
last night’s shooting both emerged from an apartment in the Section
8 complex across the alley from my backyard.
Conservationists
wish to protect the historic architecture, and the feel of a neighborhood
with small commercial stores right up against the sidewalk where walking
can accomplish more than just “exercise.”
One
of the principal streets, Bryden Road, is governed by a Historic District
code; homeowners must request permission for nearly every alteration
-- even to repaint in the exact same color.
Most
of the rest of the area is ungoverned by any restrictions, and beautiful,
unique structures are often lost to expediency and ugly, unremarkable
replacements. Or vacant, neglected lots of weeds and overgrowth.
Not
everyone is a conservationist. Other people, such as an African-American
artist residing for many years on Bryden Road, don’t accept the
historic district code, believing that it is used not to protect, but
to destroy their place, their neighborhood, and make it anew in someone
else’s vision.
White
flight had left this a predominantly African-American neighborhood by
the 1960s. Columbus has a German Village, an Italian Village and a Victorian
Village, but there is no African Village; mandates focused on 1900 seem
to debase, if not ignore, the history of the area under its later, African-American
residents.
Some
want to protect the diversity of the area, and worry that the continued
renovation of historic homes will drive up property values and displace
the poorer residents, college students, and artists. These people are
renovating themselves, but were drawn to the area by the many divergent
experiences it encompasses and wonder if it is possible to retain that
breadth even as it seems that the barriers to entry, in the form of
income and wealth, may rise and rise.
To
anyone hit by crime and reminded of fear, as I was last night, that
continued renovation seems less certain than before. (I attend Blockwatch
meetings -- I know that there are problems and dangers and guns and
vicious dogs nearby. They have never come so close.)
There
is very little left to protect in terms of businesses. The Main Street
Business Association has determined that in order to attract them back
to its boarded up storefronts (there are not very many that aren’t
boarded up), the area must have more residents with incomes above the
poverty level; this assessment appears to be in line with U.S. Housing
and Urban Development guidelines which discourage high concentrations
of low income housing.
Should
someone worry that so many factors conspire to keep so much Section
8 housing in this neighborhood that its viability to businesses is compromised?
Should someone worry that these high concentrations might preclude a
safe, economically viable community?
An
active religious organization, BREAD, comprised by Christian, Muslim
and Jewish congregations, wants to protect the availability of low income
housing. BREAD is concerned by housing codes, including historic districts,
which drive the cost of homes ever higher. Some Columbus suburbs mandate
such large lot sizes and expensive siding materials that the working
poor are excluded from residence by the cost of building within these
cities. In historic districts, materials required for period accuracy
(multi-paned windows, prohibition of chainlink fences) can add considerably
to the cost of maintenance.
BREAD
has also aggressively lobbied the city of Columbus to tear down vacant
houses to prevent their use in drug crimes, leading to conflict with
conservationists.
(Above)
Police tape across the alley next to my house marks the area as a "rough"
part of town.
love this
neighborhood. I love the diversity. I love the very different people
I can meet just by walking down the street -- a man from the homeless
shelter around the corner to a university president to a local artist.
I love the people who want to make it better. It has color and texture
(right now (though not usually) it strikes me as a “rough”
neighborhood; perhaps see the “Photographing
Place” topic for this fortnight) and history, and has been
shaped by so many amazing and individual people I can never know.
Each
house on each street was one in birth, and has grown more individual
through its age and the habitation of the people who have lived inside
its walls.
The
physical imminence of Columbus’ history is worth protecting. Affordable
housing is worth protecting. Interesting and individual architecture
is worth protecting. A living neighborhood is worth protecting.
But
tonight my thoughts of this individual place are shaped by:
Who wants a house with a bullet hole in the garage door?
Who wants to live in a house, fearful that the next bullet may tear
through something living, something less easily dismissed than a garage
door?
I
am getting married next July. We will live in this house together. The
room we have tentatively planned for her study is 10 feet above the
bullet hole.
This
neighborhood, this place, is worth protecting -- it is worth finding
and working out compromises between the many different people who find
it their home and their place and want to protect that sense.
But
I will need a home that will protect us. Once that sense of security
is breached, it can be very difficult to get back.
--
John.