Posts about Historic Preservation

Dozens of comments were submitted in opposition to the proposal as part of the Historic Preservation Act's Section 106 public review process. The bulk of the comments aren't necessarily anti-change: Many express a desire to return the floorplan to one that recalls the station's appearance in the 1940's. This would require the complete removal of the Center Cafe and would move all ticketing to the Great Hall. The oft-repeated refrain in the public comments is that that's how Union Station was intended to be laid out, similar to other train stations of the era.

But, I think Union Station's redevelopment is a prime opportunity to seize hold of an innovative design, while integrating some of the space's more traditional aspects—and the USRC plan for the Great Hall's floor does just that. Train stations across the country look as they did in the early 20th century. Why does Union Station need to be just like Philadelphia's 30th Street Station, Denver's Union Station, or Los Angeles' Union Station?

This proposal retains most of Union Station's original qualities, such as its vaulted ceiling, vendor stands, and benches, while giving the center of the space a considerate and timely upgrade.

All of the proposed changes for the Great Hall are well within the "non-historic floor". The glass structure will visually and physically open the space: It's slimmer than the existing Center Cafe platform, which should open up sightlines in what's currently a low-feeling, harsh space. The current Center Cafe doesn't draw a viewer's eye toward the vaulted ceiling, but a glass column probably would. It will improve handicap access and promises better signage. And, the glass and light should certainly enhance what's currently a rather dismal dining experience in the food court.

Though the DC Preservation League has taken Union Station's redevelopment plan as an opportunity to publicize their fundraising efforts via a contest with the National Trust for Historic Preservation's This Place Matters campaign, DePillis reports that the League doesn't have any plans for how they'd spend the money (and that they might spend it on projects unrelated to Union Station). Essentially, their campaign for the $25,000 unlimited grant is based on the fact that Union Station's growth and change should be stuck in the 1940s and 1950s.

Preservation does not need to be a process that relegates spaces merely to the way things once were. Instead, it should be a chance to smoothly combine what we do now with the way things once were. This "pit"—which bears little resemblance to the 1970s-era audio-visual display "pit" that the DC Preservation League and others operate in fear of—could give Union Station truly unique qualities that would stick in its visitors' heads.

A building's physical characteristics don't deserve to remain stagnant; preservation should be reflexive, honoring our past but incorporating the change of present. Union Station is a real, living space, not a memorial, and thousands of users engage with it daily. Instead of giving those users what any other train station could give them, why not take the opportunity to create a brand-new experience and an individual identity for Union Station?

Most importantly, that such a successful public space should not be torn up on a whim. Union Station is the most visited destination in Washington. By any measure it is a place that is working tremendously well already, and if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Unnecessary changes that don't benefit anything important threaten to make things worse rather than better.

Beyond that, there are good preservationist reasons not to change the Great Hall in this manner. The hall's elegant classicism is fundamentally incompatible with a mundane food court. They're both valuable and worthwhile spaces, of course, but making the Great Hall more like the food court inherently intrudes upon the elegance of the Great Hall.

Finally, there's the small matter of this having been tried once before, and having failed miserably. In the late 1970s Congress spent more than $100 million on a pit in the middle of the Great Hall. It was so unpopular that it was filled in by the early 1980s. While that 1970s boondoggle is only barely comparable to the current proposal, it is nonetheless instructive: Turns out magnificent classical spaces are not appropriate places for large holes in the ground.

In the City Paper comments thread, some responders suggest that opposing changes to Union Station is just like opposing overhead streetcar wires. Nothing could be further from the truth. The streetcar plan promises to greatly benefit the city by virtue of better transportation and revitalized neighborhoods. This Union Station plan offers no such benefits, and as described above, it involves real risk. I oppose it for the same reason that I support streetcars: I want the city to be vital and prosperous. Streetcars would make Washington more so; ripping a couple of holes in one of the city's best spaces wouldn't.

At best, this proposal is a solution in search of an imaginary problem. Even if you think it's harmless, it doesn't solve anything that needs to be solved. At worst, it could ruin one of Washington's most magnificent public gathering places.

Why take the risk?

Cross-posted at BeyondDC.

The charming little building, erected in 1886, has a bit of eclectic architectural flair--some interesting Romanesque Revival touches, such as are more often seen on larger structures. It's likely that little of this building's history is known, despite its prominent location on a busy corner opposite the Raleigh Hotel and across from the Old Post Office building, where the source photograph for this view was taken.

A hat store operated by James Y. Davis' Sons was our building's first occupant on the ground floor. The Davis hat firm had been in operation at other locations since 1830, making it one of the oldest in the city. On the second floor a jeweler by the name of Joseph Drukker set up shop. Drukker's upstairs business must not have done too well. In January 1903, he declared bankruptcy, his debt of $6,095.72 apparently being insurmountable with assets of only approximately $3,700.

As reported by Benjamin Forgey in The Washington Post in August 1997, the building had many other tenants through the years, including the United Cigar Stores, an Arthur Murray Dance Studio, the Raleigh Gift Shop, and Samuel Saidman Men's Furnishings.

As we all know, downtown hit a particularly bleak stretch in the 1960s and 1970s. By then, Washington Wine and Liquors was on the ground floor and the upper floor was vacant. The Avenue at that time was lined with a scattered and largely unsightly potpourri of randomly-surviving buildings of differing scales and quality, punctuated by equally random parking lots.

President Kennedy famously had wanted "America's Main Street" to be more dignified and stately. After various commissions and studies weighed in, Congress set up the Pennsylvania Avenue Development Corporation in 1972, and it submitted its plan for redeveloping the Avenue two years later.

The plan seemed to reflect mixed feelings about historic preservation; some old buildings were saved, others not. The corporation had been charged with the "preservation and rehabilitation of of important structures that contribute to the Avenue's ceremonial, physical, and historic character," as asserted in its 1979 annual report. Accordingly, the corporation encouraged restoration of the Central National Bank building at 7th Street, the Fireman's Insurance Company at 7th and Indiana Avenue, and the Jenifer Building at 7th and E.

It also promoted restoration of the great Willard Hotel at 14th Street. But other historically significant buildings got little love from the PADC. The Munsey Building, for example, where the J.W. Marriott Hotel is now located, was sacrificed, perhaps because officials were afraid of saddling developers with the expense of preserving it.

Likewise, Kann's Department Store, which was actually a collection of 15 structures built between 1885 and 1900 that had been grouped under a single modernist facade in the 1960s, also met an ignominious end. The company went out of business in 1975, and the PADC acquired its building with the intent of demolishing it so that a new "superblock" multi-use housing complex could be constructed.

Preservationists succeeded in delaying demolition of the old structure for a time as they struggled to find ways to save it, including through a developer's proposal to incorporate the facades of the old buildings into a new housing complex. As the struggle went on, however, the abandoned building caught fire dramatically in April 1979, destroying much of its interior. The PADC took this as a final excuse to raze the remains of the structure, saving nothing.

In contrast, the little storefront on the corner of 12th and Pennsylvania met no such dramatic end and was not completely annihilated. Instead it was marked for semi-preservation, as it were. It was carefully taken down in June 1979, and pieces of its facade were numbered and put into storage. The PADC didn't really have any idea what it would do with these pieces, but they would be available for reuse somewhere else.

Construction then began at 12th and Pennsylvania on the $30 million Heurich Building, designed by Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, which was completed in 1981 and now fills much of the block. The deep setback of the new building means that the old storefront's spot is actually now part of the sidewalk.

Meanwhile, the pieces of the store's facade languished in storage for more than a decade. Then, in one of its last acts before being dissolved by Congress in 1996, the PADC worked with Pepco to use  the stored facade elements, along with those of several other buildings torn down in the PADC's realm, to mask the blank wall of the electrical substation on 8th Street.

In his review of this pastiche of building parts, Benjamin Forgey observes that "as a serious strategy for historic preservation the wall is negligible--a mere curiosity," but also notes the irony of their appearance here "flattened like a butterfly in a book" when they were supposed to have been reused as elements of new buildings. This obviously was a wholly unrealistic expectation, as PADC officials apparently were left scrambling to find some use for the best of these saved materials before the corporation went out of business. The row of ghost-like building shards is certainly a better outcome than if all this material had been completely lost. On the other hand, it is also a perennial reminder of how hard it is to find ways to integrate our historic heritage with our aspirations for the future.

Cross-posted at Streets of Washington.

Under Lisner's leadership the store proved very profitable. Lisner emphasized low prices and operated a cash-only business when most other dry goods stores offered credit. The reputation for quality merchandise at a low price built sales steadily, although Lisner was not immune to missteps.

One dramatic incident occurred in March 1880 when Lisner accused his head clerk, Annie M. Nixon, of stealing a pair of kid gloves. Lisner seems to have confronted Miss Nixon in front of customers and had her arrested. Not a good idea, as it turned out. The Washington Post, not yet by any means a world-class newspaper, reported that the police officer at the local precinct station declared the whole affair a "put-up job" and let Nixon go with a "small collateral" for her appearance in police court the next day.

The Post also said it had interviewed Lisner, who "told a voluminous story with evident delight" about how he had suspected Nixon of stealing items from the shop and had instructed another employee, Issac Teeney, to watch her. Teeney had subsequently found the purloined gloves in Nixon's coat pocket. The problem, however, was that Nixon was "a pretty brunette" and Teeney an African-American porter.

The police court quickly absolved Nixon the next day. Teeney was presumed to be lying—heck, he probably stole the gloves himself. As soon as Judge Snell pronounced his verdict there was "prolonged applause, which the bailiffs could not control, and the young lady was immediately the recipient of congratulations." Lisner, in contrast, was "already unfavorably regarded by the general public," according to the Post, and was now reviled (at least for the moment) for making such a false accusation about the pretty brunette.

The next day the Post ran a piece entitled "Lisner's Abject Terror," in which it described how Lisner had summoned the police to his store after having his life threatened by a man who had come in off the street. Lisner asked the officer who arrived to stay and protect him, but the policemen insisted he had to keep to his beat. "'But,' said Lisner, 'what if I am killed?' 'Well,' coolly retorted the officer, 'then I will find your body.'" Such was the life of a Jewish shopkeeper in 1880 Washington.

That incident was probably soon forgotten, but Lisner continued to face difficulties due to his poor health. In 1884 he took a trip to the spas at Carlsbad in what is now the Czech Republic, but he did not think it did any good. He returned to New York City deeply discouraged, and his brother George induced him to stay there awhile.

One afternoon, Abram borrowed $10 from his sister-in-law and went out to a buy some ice cream for her children. He also bought a handgun. The New York Times reported that, after regaling the children with the ice cream, he went upstairs and shot himself twice in the back of the head. Fortunately, the attempt was not successful; Lisner recovered and soon returned to Washington.

By 1887, Lisner was renting out more and more of the Centennial Building, employing some 250 clerks and steadily expanding his business. The Washington Post described the merchandise in his newly-opened Silk Department:

In evening silks and velvets are shown the richest effects. Plush and challie stripes, also raised freize and plush in tartan plaid effects on a tinted ground of plain crepe de chene or faille francaise are very beautiful. Moire francaise in light evening colors, shaded with a silver or gold filling attract attention. The new colors, such as mandarin, apple green, heliotrope and deep rose of moire antique have a rich appearance.

Soon Lisner decided it was time for new, larger quarters. A general trend had already been underway in the early 1890s for merchants to move from flood-prone Pennsylvania Avenue up to higher ground along the F Street corridor, which was becoming the new commercial center of Washington. Lisner followed the trend--and pushed it a little--by choosing the site on 11th and G Streets for his new building, a block north of the established commercial drag. Lisner was confident he would do well there, and he did.

The Palais Royal building, completed in 1893 at a cost of $250,000, was designed by Washington architect Harvey L. Page in the Chicago style, a practical design vocabulary for high-rise commercial buildings that stressed large windows and restrained neoclassical trim. It was reportedly the first building in Washington designed specifically as a department store.

As seen in the picture above, the building originally topped out at five floors, with two grand, arched entrances positioned squarely in the middle of the facades on 11th and G Streets. Beginning with an additional floor and new roof in 1910, the building was expanded not only upwards but also on its east end in 1911 and to the north in 1914. The result was a much larger edifice, but with its grand entrances no longer in the middle of each side, as seen in the circa 1914 photograph below. The building's resulting asymmetry would ultimately be used as one of several excuses to tear it down.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. In October 1893, the The Washington Post deemed the new Palais Royal building "magnificent" and described its layout in great detail:

The general effect of the building is that of solidity, something after the nature of the older Government buildings, but its high Romanesque arches and arcaded windows combine to give it a grace not possessed by those severely classic structures.

The next feature to strike the beholder is the great number of windows, which occupy fully one-half the front space of the building, making it almost transparent from without, and flooding the interior with the natural light of day. The immense show windows on the first floor are the largest in the city, and their effect is fine.

The interior of the building is finished in hard woods, contrasting very prettily with the cream tints of the walls... In the basement is the engine-room and dynamos, by which the building will be brilliantly lighted by day and night. The cash room, in which centers the pneumatic-tube system, bringing money from all parts of the building and whisking the change back again in a minute, is also in the basement.

The first floor will be devoted to notions and small wares such as are wanted by the casual customer...

The entire second floor will be filled with millinery and dress goods... Here the ladies will find ample room for examining and matching goods, free from the bustle and confusion of the first floor.

Furs, cloaks, and costumes will fill the space on the third floor not occupied by the offices and the clerks' lunch room, while on the fourth floor will be found the upholstery, art embroidery, stamping, pictures and picture framing, toys, and games departments, all complete and up to date.

Two features of the mezzanine story are the ladies' reception-room, fitted up in Oriental style and supplied with magazines, stationary, and all the appurtenances of a woman's club. The manicure department and the mirror-lined dark room for the matching of gowns for evening wear are also unique and popular ideas.

Despite warnings from some quarters that putting the store a block away from F Street would be a bad idea, the store prospered at its new location, benefiting from streetcar lines that ran right past it. By the time of its third expansion in 1914, over 600 employees, mostly clerks, worked there. However, by 1924, Lisner was finally ready to retire from the mercantile business. That year he sold his business to the S.S. Kresge Department Stores Corporation for approximately $5 million.

Lisner increasingly devoted his later years to philanthropic causes, including Georgetown Hospital, Children's Hospital, and the Hebrew Home of Greater Washington. In 1909 he joined the Board of Trustees of the George Washington University, to which he gave money to build the Lisner Library (now Lisner Hall) and, in his will, the Lisner Auditorium.

Meanwhile, the Palais Royal continued to prosper as a part of the Kresge empire. Even as the Great Depression set in, the Palais Royal weathered the storm well. A large new warehouse was constructed in 1931 on 1st Street NE, near Union Station, which was called "Evidence of Our Belief in the Return of Prosperity" in the company's ads.

In 1933, the store ran a promotion for Ford V-8 automobiles, with a contest whereby patrons were to guess how many times the wheel in a car on display had turned. Fifteen lucky winners were given Ford V-8s on Thanksgiving Day. The following year a slogan contest was held. Mrs. Marie Rector reportedly won first prize--a new Marion electric range—for her winning entry: "The Palais Royal sells the best: everything will stand the test," which must have sounded much more fetching in 1934 than it does today.

By 1943, the Palais Royal had three suburban branches, one in Bethesda and two in Arlington. But its days were numbered. Kresge sold the business to Woodward & Lothrop in 1946 for approximately $5.7 million, only slightly more than it had paid for it in 1924. Woodies began picking apart the assets it had acquired, closing the branch stores.

The main Palais Royal store became the Woodies North building, creating a truly sprawling retail complex that covered a block and half of downtown real estate. You could take an escalator down from the G Street side of the main Woodies Building and walk through an underground passageway across G Street to the Woodies North building. When the Metro Center subway station was built in the early 1970s, it was designed so that its mezzanine connected directly to this passageway, providing ready access to either Woodies building.

By the early 1980s, Woodies was ready to downsize, and it sold off the North building for redevelopment. A large complex was then planned to fill the entire block, including a hotel on the north end to serve the Convention Center and a new office building where the Palais Royal building stood. Despite the fact that the Palais Royal had been designated as a D.C. "Category III" landmark in 1964 and again in 1973, the developer decided that saving it "would be a pain," as summed up by Mark Jenkins in the May 22, 1987, edition of City Paper.

Today a developer would be crazy to even think about completely demolishing a designated historic landmark like the Palais Royal, especially given that its facade could be incorporated into the planned office building. But at the time the D.C. Preservation League fought a losing, uphill battle to save it.

Michael Quinn testified on behalf of the League before the DC Historic Preservation Officer in 1984. As summarized in the City Paper article, Quinn argued that the building represented a transition point between traditional masonry construction and the iron-skeleton approach of modern skyscrapers. Further, it's Chicago style had no other representative in Washington and thus was clearly significant. But it was no use; the League was outgunned. The director of the Office of Planning, the deputy mayor for economic development, the convention center general manager—all of them testified that it was necessary to tear down the old building.

To mollify preservationists, the developer had agree to save the handsome but much smaller McLachlen Building (1910), designed by Jules Henri de Sibour and located on the southeast corner of the block. A consultant's report prepared at the time praised the McLachlen Building ("a particularly fine expression in Washington of the combination of Classical Revival and Chicago Style") while heaping scorn on the poor Palais ("does not have sufficient architectural merit today to warrant its preservation").

The report concluded that "the demolition of the Palais Royal is justified and necessary to permit the proposed Square 345 development which will provide important public benefits including the preservation and restoration of the highly significant and essentially unaltered McLachlen Building." The demolition was approved and took place in 1987. In 1989, the Washington Center office building was completed and opened on the Palais's old site.

Cross-posted at Streets of Washington.

Razes of entire structures would be prohibited without approval from HPRB. The same criteria should apply to razes in a conservation district as in a historic district.

Additions not visible from a public street, like rear wings, porches, or the addition of extra floors set back sufficiently that a person standing on a sidewalk or in a public street could not see them, would be allowed provided they comply with zoning and any other regulations. HPO would sign off on permits to ensure that changes are not visible from the street, but if they are not they would not have the authority to restrict them.

Additions visible from a public street would be allowed (again assuming they comply with zoning and any other regulations), but HPO and HPRB would have approval authority to ensure that the modifications use materials and workmanship compatible with the character of the district the buildings are in. For example, top-floor additions would need to use similar materials as the rest of the building, and the Board could require roof styles, shingles, and cornice detailing to match that in use elsewhere in the particular district.

Modifications to the street facade(s) would be allowed without historic review if they are minor, with standard review if they are more major. HPO would have the ability to review these permits, but there would be restrictions on which types of changes it can exercise review over. A more detailed list would have to be developed.

For example, changing the material of windows would be allowed, but replacing a number of smaller windows with a large picture window would require historic review. Changing materials on front stairs would be fine, but removing front stairs entirely would require review. Repainting or repointing (the replacement of mortar between bricks) would be automatically approved without the level of scrutiny of the contractor in a historic district, but redoing a facade in a different material from the original would trigger historic review.

Modifications to non-street facade(s) would not be subject to historic review as long as the facade fronts onto an alley or another lot, even if that is visible from a public street. In other words, if the back of a house is visible when someone stands on a public street and looks down the alley, that wouldn't count as being a street facade, but if the rear of a property faces a river, large public park, or other significant public space, the same rules as for a street facade would apply.

Construction of new buildings on empty lots would be subject to limited design review. That review could not dictate size and massing beyond the dictates of zoning, or materials and styles, but could request urban elements common to the area, like street-facing entrances instead of rear-only entrances. As with facade modifications, it would be necessary to flesh out more details to avoid this turning into design police dictating architectural choices, but it's worth some role to ensure that a building isn't actively hostile to the urban fabric of its area.

Under these rules, many old DC neighborhoods ought to become protected, and there's a good chance they would be willing to. There could, and probably should, be conservation districts Barney Circle, Trinidad, Truxton Circle, Eckington, Bloomingdale, Columbia Heights, Park View, Pleasant Plains, Petworth, Brookland, and Chevy Chase DC. There are many other neighborhoods where they could also gain support in the many low-density areas toward the edges of the city.

Would you like to see this in your neighborhood? What do you think of these guidelines?

Update: Added mention of the San Jacinto, TX district and Housing Complex's research.

Most blocks in the area have larger apartment or commercial buildings at the corners, or else grander rowhouse-sized buildings whose longer sides form the main, front entrance (like the southwest corner of 17th and S). When the entrance is on the short side, the building is often still more distinctive, taller, or otherwise anchors the row.

1641

1641

The property owner proposes to add a similar mansard roof, but with more curvature. She also wants to remove some of the rear addition to get the property down to the allowed lot occupancy, but extend the second and third floors to the rear to match the size of the first.

She would also add a bay along the 15th Street side, add windows, redo the wall along the rear yard to include brick, and rebuild the garage as an office, removing the vehicular entrance to 15th.

The house currently has multiple kitchens to allow being used as multiple units, but the owner says she and her family will occupy the entire house. She has elderly relatives she takes care of, and wants the space to accommodate them as well.

Houses of 3 stories plus a basement are very common in the area and allowed by zoning. Should historic preservation forbid the addition anyway? Is this house historically low?

Some argue it is. The third floor would not be original, and therefore not historic. This view of historic preservation holds that whatever has been, is historic, and the job of preservation is to keep historic things the way they are ("preserved.")

The HPO staff report comes down against the addition on the grounds that HPRB has traditionally not allowed additions that modify the roofline. And, in fact, HPRB has not.

Should that be an absolute rule? The Conservancy members didn't think so. In a resolution, which I wrote, they said,

While we feel that a third story addition visible from the street should only be allowed in extraordinary circumstances, the role of this building in the larger historic district and in relation to the other corners as an anchor building justifies an exception. We feel that this project would enhance the overall character of 15th Street and therefore support the project as presented.

I and other supporters argued a different view from "historic is what's existing, and preservation is about keeping what's historic the same." Instead, look at the spirit of the historic district. The U Street Historic District (which this property is in, though it's in the Dupont Circle neighborhood by most measures), as well as the adjacent Strivers' Section and Dupont Circle districts, are characterized by 2- and 3-story brick row houses and elegant corner buildings.

Right now, this house looks to be an anomaly, a missing piece in the historic fabric. If this project went forward, the historic district would seem more complete. It would fulfill what seems to be the original architectural intent of the area. And passerby would assume that this house originally had the third floor, if it's done right.

This isn't like the vinyl pop-ups of Petworth which clearly look to be incompatible. This makes the house appear more compatible.

That requires high quality materials and good workmanship. It's appropriate, and necessary, for the Conservancy, HPO, and HPRB to carefully monitor plans as they progress toward being final to ensure that this addition is of the highest quality and does look compatible with other, similar historic roofs.

DC's preservation movement has been declining in numbers and strength. The citywide historic groups do not get the numbers they once did at their events. Yet historic preservation is a valuable part of DC and shouldn't fall by the wayside. Instead, we need to redefine it in a way that works with, instead of against, sustainability, urbanism, Smart Growth, and the overall value of growing DC.

These needn't be mutually exclusive. Allowing a third floor on this house while requiring the strictest adherence to architectural quality and historically compatible materials is a great way to advance all of these goals, and to improve the overall look of the neighborhood at the same time.

In particular, there are no residents on this corner and very few anywhere nearby. According to DePillis, Carney (whose district I live in) argued that the hotel patrons across the street need quiet too, but Will Stephens, whose district encompasses the commercial area on 18th Street between S and U, suggested that the hotel patrons might also want a place to eat and drink late at night after a late flight or a long day of meetings.

In fact, one adjacent hotel told Wexler that they actually have soundproof windows because of the existing volume of emergency vehicles on both 16th and K. No hotel asked the ANC to oppose the liquor license application.

The Dupont Current's Katie Pearce wrote recently (enormous PDF) about a shift on the ABC Board under new Chairman Charles Brodsky. Previously, the Board would acecpt and enforce virtually any VA. Now, it seems to be taking a skeptical view of all VAs.

Perhaps some VAs were too restrictive in the past. In some cases, small groups of residents pushed for strict restrictions and restaurant owners felt blackmailed into accepting them. However, many other VAs are entirely appropriate, as the law's one-size-fits-all rules allowing establishments to stay open until 3 am on weekends may be right for some areas but not for others.

When an ANC takes a knee-jerk position against a liquor license with no adjacent residents and no opposition from the adjacent hotels, it potentially weakens the case for VAs more broadly. The Dupont ANC would have more credibility with the ABC Board if it pushed for reasonable restrictions but restrained itself in other cases.

Even the Dupont Circle Conservancy, the neighborhood's historic preservation organization, supported the cafe, which will take up some of the green space along 16th. Some have argued that this green space is "historic," though the official description of the 16th Street Historic District doesn't list the green space as a contributing element. (Disclosure: I am a member of the Conservancy but did not vote on the resolution concerning this property as I had missed the initial presentation by the applicant.)

The Conservancy split the difference to some extent, supporting the cafe as long as it left a substantial green buffer and emphasizing that it didn't want this to set a precedent for every other establishment adjacent to 16th to get a cafe. (Personally, I wouldn't mind if other cafes appeared as well.)

As I wrote in the past, the Conservancy has generally eschewed the "allow no change" view of preservation and instead diligently differentiated between what is estimably historic as opposed to just long-standing. Of course, there's always plenty of room for debate about where to draw that line.

The more neighborhood organizations try to truly balance the issues at hand instead of being absolutist for or against anything, the more effective they are. Just look at the ARTS Overlay committee of ANC 2F, which spent months researching the zoning issues along 14th and U Streets and produced an excellent report which has gained substantial acceptance from the Office of Planning and Zoning Commission.

That's a model other groups should emulate. Instead, Dupont's ANC took a small step backward for VAs everywhere and neighborhood group credibility with their fierce defense of nobody at all.

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