Would You Wear Jewelry Commemorating a War or Battle? (The Somme of All Fears)

A pretty pin marking the proverbial bloodiest day in British military history. Would you consider it strange to wear jewelry commemorating a contemporary war or battle, say, the Iraq or Afghanistan wars? the battle of Falluja? Or maybe 9-11.

Probably. But when we stop to think about it, is it really so foreign to us? The American penchant for populism has produced countless t-shirts and bumper stickers marking military campaigns and national tragedies--including 9-11. Military veterans often sport baseball caps noting their units, ships, or the wars they served in. President Clinton and other dignitaries even wore rather incongruous-looking commemorative baseball caps at the signing of the Israel-Jordan peace treaty.

 

Over on the Tumbler, a look at this Artifact of the Moment involving World War I and soldiers' gifts to loved ones:

Battlefield Bling From the Bloodiest Day in British Military History: The Somme

Stripping, vomiting, and drinking themselves unconscious...Amherst and the culture of problem drinking

"Stripping, vomiting, and drinking themselves unconscious...•Undergraduates seen urinating in the flower beds •Revellers vomited just metres away from where young children played •Blood shed between rival college drinking societies •Girls held upside down as alcohol poured into their mouths"

A typical bad weekend in Amherst as chronicled in Larry Kelley's blog?

Nope, just what one of my tweeps called: "The perennial Cambridge 'students get eye-poppingly drunk and do awful things 'newspaper story (Telegraph edition)" (h.t.: S.J.)

But it could in fact describe our worst fears—and, on at least one day this year: realities. In March, when customers traditionally line up early in front of several downtown bars on one of the weekends around St. Patrick's Day, both we in Town government and the newspapers received multiple complaints about shocking behavior that ranged from the distasteful (vomit on the sidewalks) to the disgustingly dangerous (alleged attempt at molestation of a young girl).

The Gazette editorial—"Darkness Before Noon at Barney Blowout" (good title, though I doubt many readers got the Koestler reference)—lamented:

The reports are sadly familiar in Amherst: young people throwing bottles, picking fights, vomiting and urinating in public. "Drunk kids everywhere," one Amherst police officer noted. The chairwoman of the Select Board observed: "It's appalling to be downtown and to see that happening."

Familiar at night, perhaps.

But the middle of the day? With St. Patrick's Day still a full week off, students engaged last weekend in what was billed as the 13th annual Blarney Blowout.

And in the words of The Republican:

Officials here described a weekend bacchanalia that made downtown Amherst seem more like a town ransacked by barbarians than the proud home of the state's flagship public university and one of the nation's top private colleges. [evidently Hampshire College is unknown in Springfield; JW]

Not for that reason, but also not unaware of this larger picture, the Select Board has subsequently twice voted to deny liquor license applications from convenience stores.

It has long been clear that antisocial student behavior, much or most of it associated with consumption of alcohol, is a real problem for the town. It is a problem in two ways: the bad behavior, as such—which, we should stress, most rational observers attribute to a small minority of the roughly 27,000 students who learn and work here—and the fears arising from actual or potential misbehavior. Concerns over what was invariably referred to as "student housing" helped to sink even the heavily revised rezoning proposal for North Amherst village center at this spring's annual Town Meeting. Addressing the cause is more difficult than recognizing the symptom.

Representatives of organizations concerned about alcohol abuse who come before the Select Board invariably make the argument that there is a correlation between availability of alcohol (density of sales points plus low price) and alcohol abuse. I don't doubt that. But if it is plausible, it is also neither very interesting nor totally compelling. Stuff that's easy to get is, well, easy to get, and thus more easily abused: this is not exactly sophisticated social science. By that measure, we could "solve" the problem by just reducing the number of liquor licenses. The Commonwealth of Massachusetts gives us a quota of 40, though we are under no obligation to fill it (at the moment, we are using only 34). And of course, the US still has a great problem with illegal drugs, which, by comparison, are neither widely available nor cheap in comparison with alcohol.

When we on the Select Board debated, or rather, shared our ideas on the issue—for we unanimously opposed both applications—I expressed the view that the problem was ultimately one of culture rather than the market. That is: the Town may regulate licenses to the maximum possible extent, but people are allowed to buy and consume alcohol, so what matters in the end is how those consumers behave, which is in turn a matter of how the community expresses its social norms, and how the authorities enforce our legal norms.

I can illustrate that on two levels, historical and contemporary.

As a historian, I can assure you that the levels of alcohol consumption today are nothing like those of the past (a description, not a judgment).

As the late great historian of modern Europe Eugen Weber noted in a bestselling textbook, the eighteenth-century author Samuel Johnson once drank thirteen bottles of port without rising from his chair: a notable feat, Weber said, in more ways than one.  Still, it was not in other ways atypical. It wasn't just a British or continental thing, either. In The Alcoholic Republic, (Oxford University Press, 1981), a study of American habits between 1790 and 1840, W. J. Rorabaugh notes that, even as the Founding Fathers condemned alcohol abuse, they drank heavily. Our own staid and conservative John Adams consumed "a tankard of hard cider" at breakfast every day, while worrying about "this degrading, beastly vice of intemperance" (p. 6).

Others didn't seem to worry much at all:

New York Governor Georg Clinton honored the French ambassador with a dinner at which 120 guests downed 135 bottles of Madeira, 36 bottles of port, 60 bottles of English beer, and 30 large cups of rum punch. Even in staid New England the upper classes continued to imbibe; at one Congregational minister's ordination in 1793, the celebrants consumed dozens of bottles of hard cider, wine, sherry, cherry brandy, and Jamaica rum. (48)

As Weber put it, the decent folk of that time were drunk all the time, dead drunk most of the time, and apparently none the worse for it except in the long run, and perhaps not even then.

This is not to say that we should drink like Johnson and Adams, and the cautionary message of Hogarth's "Gin Lane" remains relevant. But we need to remember that Hogarth contrasted the depravity of "Gin Lane" with the salubriousness of "Beer Street" (it was moreover a contrast between "foreign" and "native" beverages). Early Americans took a similar view: a famous "temperance thermometer" (still sold in reproduction at Colonial Williamsburg) contrasted supposedly healthy low-alcohol beverages such as beer, wine, and cider, with dangerous distilled ones. A prominent physician considered one bottle of wine per evening moderate (32), and he was not unusual. Of course, as Rorabaugh observes, it may be that early Americans were simply, let us say, in training:

As a shrewd Scot by the name of Peter Neilson pointed out, the nation's citizens were 'in a certain degree seasoned, and consequently it [was] by no means common to see an American very much intoxicated.' In other words, as a result of habitual heavy drinking Americans had developed a high degree of tolerance for alcohol. Even so, in the opinion of Isaac Candler, Americans were certainly not so sober as the French or the Germans, but perhaps,' he guessed, 'about on a level with the Irish.' (7)

We drink less today, and that's probably a good thing. Whether we handle our drink any better is another matter.

I can affirm, however that mere availability of alcohol and presence of large numbers of students does not have to mean that the barbarians are at the gate.

As chance would have it, we left Amherst the week after the "Blarney Blowout" for a long-postponed cultural tourism vacation that took us to Savannah and New Orleans, American cities distinguished as leaders in historic preservation.
Among other things, I was interested to study the workings of two of the most famous American local historic districts (1, 2) as we were in the process of trying to create one here in Amherst. As it also happens, these are two cities whose tourist trade is for better or worse closely tied to a public party and drinking culture.

One automatically associates that with New Orleans but it had barely crossed my mind in the case of Savannah, for we chose to travel on March 18, a day after the biggest event of the year. Perhaps because we live in the northeast, in the shadow of Boston and Holyoke, and not all that far from New York, I had only recently learned that Savannah claims the second-largest St. Patrick's Day parade in the world. Founded by the nucleus of what became a thriving Irish community, it dates from 1813 (Boston claims the first in the New World: 1737).

 

Irish-American Monument, Emmet Park: decorated for the start of the holiday

We didn't know what to expect, for upon arrival, we heard that the parade had attracted a record-breaking 15,000 participants and, according to parade organizers, 1,000,000 visitors—many of them students—for the spring weekend. It turned out: nothing out of the ordinary. The cleaning crews had hit the streets of the festival area at 3 a.m., so the thoroughfares and "squares" were spotless, the lingering green dye in the public fountains the only clue as to the previous day's activities. City spokesman Bret Bell said, "I call it the St. Patrick's Day miracle that every morning it looks like there has not been a quarter of a million people there."

It was the more remarkable given that Savannah and New Orleans are among the few cities in this country where it is legal to carry an open container of alcohol in public. I was of course particularly intrigued by the fact that Savannah allows this only in the historic district: any beverage of up to 16 ounces is permitted. We saw people of all (legal drinking) ages calmly and contentedly strolling the streets and parks with beers, Bloody Mary's, and other libations in hand. Just to check things out (it was, after all, a local historic district), we tested the custom ourselves, and can affirm that it was safe and enjoyable. (No worries: not part of our own local district bylaw.)

This was more or less the mood throughout the entire holiday weekend. One bar served over 3,000 customers and reported that its only alcohol-related problem was that the green Bud Light sold out by 9 p.m. "City Embraces St. Patrick's Day, sets record," "St. Patrick's crowds mostly tame," and "St. Patrick's Day brings well-behaved spenders," read the story headings in the Savannah Morning News.

In the words of Savannah-Chatham Police spokesman Julian Miller, "People behaved. They just had fun. They did what they were supposed to do." Just compare that with Amherst's talk of "appalling" "barbarians" and "bacchanalia." In Police detective David Foster's lament, "There were drunk kids everywhere. It wasn't a pretty sight."

The statistics convey the contrast, too. On the notorious weekend of the Blarney Blowout, tiny Amherst, with a population of under 38,000, registered, according to Larry Kelley's blog:

• 14 Noise Bylaw tickets
• 12 Noise warnings
• 7 Nuisance House violations
• 12 open container infraction arrests

By contrast, in Savannah, with a population of nearly 135,000 and a million visitors, there was a total of only 31 arrests over the entire four-day festival (down from 190 the previous year):

• Disorderly conduct 9
• Battery: 7
• Public urination: 5
• Obstruction: 3
• Reckless conduct: 1
• Criminal trespass: 1
• Larceny from a building: 1
• Marijuana less than one ounce: 1
• Open container: 1
• Begging: 1
• Striking a law enforcement animal: 1

[nice name-and-shame slideshow here]

The stupidest one was of course the latter: a 24-year-old Duluth resident slapped a police horse on the rump and was moreover dumb enough to flee, resist arrest, and injure an officer (thus earning an additional two charges of obstruction as well as some bruises). This one brainiac alone therefore accounted for nearly 10 percent of the citations. The Police Chief observed, "I'm surprised that somebody would slap one of my horses." Perhaps he should not have been totally surprised, for the print report goes on to note that someone pulled the same stunt last year. (What is it about these horse's asses?)

Clearly, alcohol alone is not the problem. In fact, in Savannah, it wasn't much of a problem at all.

Rules and warnings help, but they are only as good as the will behind them. That's what I meant when I said that ultimate solution to the problem in Amherst lies in changing the culture.

So why did I vote against granting liquor licenses to both convenience stores? (1, 2) Because they served no clear useful purpose. In both cases, the stores were moreover in the immediate vicinity of other businesses offering alcohol for sale: in the former, across the street from a liquor store noted for its extensive wine and craft beer selection, and in the latter, located next to a craft beer pub and across the street from a liquor store.

As I put it in our Select Board discussions, the town would not gain appreciably if we added these new licenses, and the chain store franchises, which had other specialties and were already prospering, would not materially suffer if we denied them. Simply put: there was no compelling need for another outlet offering cheap run-of-the-mill alcohol. Ensuring that we do no harm is often a good starting principle in politics as well as medicine.

The same studies that warn against proliferation of liquor stores and low alcohol prices generally also stress the need for a comprehensive policy including education and enforcement. We are not going to eliminate the drinking and the party culture of student life; they have a long tradition as well as contemporary causes. As Savannah shows, even public drinking is not necessarily problem drinking.

When push comes to shove, a reasonable person can generally tell where harmless boisterousness ends and unacceptable boorishness begins. And in the case of those who cannot, is up to the community to delineate and reinforce that boundary. That's what changing the culture means: sending a clear signal as to what we—residents, government, and public safety—will or will not tolerate. If Savannah can handle the problem, we should be able to, as well.

In an online Telegraph poll, votes cast on the British student behavior described at the beginning of this post split almost eventy between "Yes, it is bad for the reputation of Cambridge University and a nuisance for locals" (50.86%) and "No, students should be allowed to let their hair down after working so hard" (49.14%).

Just so you know.

I think the numbers would be rather different in Amherst. That's a start.

Amherst Historical Commission and the Demolition Delay: The Devil Incarnate, or Just Doing Its Duty?

proposed demolition of Clark (Hitchcock) house fence: 

the devil's in the details

The editorial painted a frightening portrait of an out-of-control organization that “does not have a sense of proportion in exercising [its] power,” and, having “tested the boundaries of common sense,” is “overstepping its authority.”

The Nixon White House in 1972? The Bush war cabinet in 2002? No, Amherst local government in 2010.

It was only to be expected: Having boldly spoken out against the school system and Jones Library Board of Trustees, it was time for the editors of the Daily Hampshire Gazette and Amherst Bulletin to turn against the most dangerous body in town: the Historical Commission. Yep, we’re Satan’s legion.

The editorial was so ill-tempered and ill-informed that it was hard to know where to begin: with the lack of basic understanding of preservation philosophy and practices (much of the latter anchored in local, state, and federal law), or with the willful distortion of the context, which attempted to stir up controversy by tarring us with the brush of an anti-“development” ideology that had nothing to do with our decisions.

Since the piece appeared, other preservation issues have made the news here, as they have been doing elsewhere in the state: in North Andover and Salem, for instance. Back in Amherst, a couple of irate and misinformed residents took the editorial as an invitation to denounce our work toward creation of a local historic district ordinance, even though it is mandated by the town's new Master Plan.

The editorial really deserves a good fisking. As I’ve mentioned, I also have in mind a longer piece on the more general question of preservation policy and demolition delays. For now, I’ll just post the original piece and the various responses without commentary. The rest will follow in due time. These issues are not going away. I wish one could say the same about our historic structures.

The editorial [1]

In Our Opinion: For love of a fence
By Daily Hampshire Gazette
Created 08/27/2010 - 04:00

The Amherst Historical Commission tested the boundaries of common sense Monday when it ordered Amherst College to wait a year before it demolish an old wooden fence around one of its buildings.

Last month, the commission imposed a similar delay on demolition of a century-old barn in North Amherst that is leaning to one side and is at risk of collapse. With more owners of old structures applying for demolition permits, the commission needs to be realistic about what should be preserved and use its power to order delays more judiciously.

The commission seems to be overstepping its authority in the case of the Amherst College fence. This is the first instance of the commission ordering a delay in demolishing anything other than a building. And while the purpose of the bylaw giving the commission this power is to provide an opportunity to preserve a structure, Amherst College has made it clear it has no intention to do anything other than demolish the fence.

So why did the commission order the delay?

Chairman James Wald said it was a matter of principle, noting, "We're making a statement that preservation is important." Another commission member called it "a handsome, handsome fence." We think that when a public board has the power to stop a private property owner from doing what he wants, it needs a better reason than that.

Amherst College does not need to be told historic preservation is important. It is spending about $14 million to renovate the Lord Jeffery Inn, and has spent about $5 million since 2002 on the Emily Dickinson Museum. It has also undertaken the expensive renovation of the 1790 house on the corner of South Pleasant Street and Hitchcock Road.

The fence in question is about 80 years old and is rotting in several places. It is not representative of the era in which it was built, because at the time it was intended to look older. The college plowed a lot of money into it 10 years ago and it needs more attention. Now that the commission has declared it to be "historically significant," it will continue to deteriorate over the next year.

The maintenance costs are not the only reason the college wants to remove the fence. It believes that college buildings should be integrated into downtown and wants to remove overgrown vegetation between the fence and the building, which is used for offices and classrooms. The college views the fence as a vestige of the time before 1966, when it was a private residence.

The college has offered to dismantle the fence and find ways to reuse it elsewhere.

The bylaw giving the commission this power says that if it is clear that there is no possibility that a building will be salvaged, it can recommend issuing a demolition permit.

We think that's what it should have done in this case.

Amherst's demolition delay bylaw can have a useful public purpose in encouraging the preservation of historic buildings that contribute to the town's cultural heritage. But if the commission does not have a sense of proportion in exercising this power, it is merely promoting the notion that Amherst is hostile to business without achieving anything in terms of historic preservation.

* * *

The Responses [2]

Protecting history a must
By LOUIS S. GREENBAUM
Published on September 10, 2010

Regarding your editorial "Historically significant fence continues to decay" (Bulletin, Sept. 3), your attack on the decision of the Amherst Historical Commission to save a historical fence in the town center and a barn vitally linked to the history of the street railway of the Amherst region is misguided. Your assertion that somehow this is proof that "Amherst is hostile to business" is laughable!

Anyone with an appreciation of historical architecture knows that since the time of the Renaissance buildings and fences were inextricably linked -- the latter meant to enhance or complete the spatial aesthetic. Bernini's colonnade of St. Peters is perhaps the most dramatic example. All over America in the Georgian and Federal periods ornate fences meant to frame the design of the building were commonplace. (The fences of architect Samuel McIntyre of Salem were widely copied.)

The earlier owner of the Amherst fence in question, obviously influenced by the Colonial Revival, correctly believed that his fence was appropriate to the classicism of the building.

Far from the Historical Commission "overstepping its authority," it judiciously and responsibly executed its statutory obligation to protect Amherst's historical assets and monuments. During the past three years the Commission has granted innumerable requests for demolition to properties of little or no historical import. Was the Commission's refusal several years back to approve the demolition of the brick Federal mansion at 575 North East Street the right thing to do?

That decision -- enthusiastically received by Amherst townspeople -- appears to be in conflict with what the Bulletin laments -- "to stop a private owner from doing what he wants."

Unfortunately Massachusetts law limits the rights of the Historical Commission to a one-year reprieve during which Amherst College and the owners' of the North Amherst trolley barn might have time to reflect that ownership of historical properties carries the responsibility for their maintenance. Both barn and fence are restorable. The Commission found no structural engineer who agreed with the owner's warning of the barn's imminent collapse. Nor does investing millions for the expansion of the Lord Jeff Inn count as spending for historical preservation.

Owners have no moral right to degrade, and, yes, even to demolish historical property of value to the community because they are unwilling to pay the cost of maintenance or choose a more lucrative use of the land. In that sense Jim Wald and his colleagues of the Historical Commission are absolutely right in advocating preservation for the common good.

At no time in Amherst's history has preservation been more important. Amherst citizens are reminded every day of the possible demolition of not merely buildings but of whole neighborhoods for the sacred cause of economic development -- the Patterson fields, Gateway project, Atkins and North Amherst Village Centers and widespread rezoning to attract business.

Many citizens have already spoken out to defend the integrity of our neighborhoods and the way of life that old barns and fences symbolize the beauty, charm and continuity of community culture, and a shared respect for public artifacts that should not be ravaged for the sake of the Almighty Buck!

Louis S. Greenbaum of Amherst is a former member of the Historical Commission.

* * *

Letter:  Dickinson Museum raises all its own funds
Published on September 17, 2010

To the Bulletin: An editorial in the Gazette (Aug. 27) and Bulletin (Sept. 3) concerning historic preservation stated incorrectly that Amherst College has provided $5 million to the Emily Dickinson Museum since 2002. Although the Museum is owned by the Trustees of Amherst College, it is overseen by a separate Board of Governors and, by formal memorandum of understanding, charged with raising its own operating and capital funds.

Since its creation in 2003 the Emily Dickinson Museum has taken this responsibility very seriously, and has earned or raised independently of the College most of the funds needed for its operations and restoration projects. For example, the recent restoration of the hemlock hedge and decorative fence fronting the Homestead and Evergreens was funded entirely by private contributions raised specifically for that purpose.

Amherst College is an encouraging parent to the Emily Dickinson Museum and does much to enhance its standing as one of the world's most significant literary landmarks. However, the site of Emily Dickinson's poetic genius thrives because of the generous support of friends in the local community and around the world. We hope to count on their continued support.

Jane Wald
Executive Director
Emily Dickinson Museum

* * *

Panel is acting prudently
By JAMES WALD
Published on September 24, 2010

Members of the Historical Commission were dismayed to find their actions caricatured in your recent editorials. You charge us with "test[ing] the boundaries of common sense" and "overstepping [our] authority" in imposing demolition delays on a barn and a fence. The baseless accusations rest on a misunderstanding of both our official role and the two cases.

Under Massachusetts General Law (Ch. 40 ﾧ 8D) historical commissions are responsible for protecting local historic and archaeological resources. Article 13 of the Amherst Zoning Bylaw, which -- following established state and national policies -- allows us to impose a delay on destruction of such resources, is the only real preventative tool. As I make clear at each hearing, we take the interests of property owners seriously and, even when we find a structure historically significant, we impose delays with equal seriousness: which is to say: rarely, and in hopes of finding a mutually satisfactory solution.

If the "century-old barn in North Amherst" were indeed "at risk of collapse," we would have voted for immediate demolition, as we did in another case earlier this month. The commission imposed a delay for the simple reason that this may be the unique surviving example of a wooden trolley-car barn -- reflecting a crucial phase in our economic and technological history -- in the commonwealth. The Cowls Company had no plans for immediate new construction and the delay sensibly allows time for further research and consultation with parties interested in restoring or relocating the structure.

You also chide us for the unprecedented application of the bylaw to an "old wooden fence" and mock a commissioner's description of it as "handsome." The U.S. government has long listed fences as key features that contribute to the integrity of historic structures and cultural landscapes (see the 2004 Dept. of the Interior handbook). Aesthetic value is moreover a legitimate criterion affirmed by federal court decision and enshrined in our own Demolition Delay Bylaw.

You further complain that the 80-year-old fence "is not representative of the era in which it was built because at the time it was intended to look older." The same could be said of the house itself as it now appears. In the 1930s, the owners remodeled this fine Italianate structure by famed architect William Fenno Pratt (who also designed Austin Dickinson's "Evergreens" and the two Hills mansions on Main Street) in the Greek Revival style of a century earlier. The imposing 310-foot fence erected at that time was an integral aesthetic and historical element, one on which the builders clearly lavished particular attention. It is perhaps the only example of such in town, a more complex and elegant cousin of the one in the North Amherst Cemetery.

In imposing a delay, we both affirmed our role as guardians of the public interest and sought time in which to forge a compromise with Amherst College, with whom we have always had a congenial and productive working relationship.

In both cases, then, the commission exercised its authority legally and prudently. What is most regrettable is that you chose to portray our decisions as emblematic of some anti-business and anti-development ideology. They were no such thing. The government offices and citizen bodies trusted with protecting our historic, environmental, and agricultural resources work hard and responsibly to balance the public and private interest. As the chair of the Comprehensive Planning Committee, I was proud our diverse membership was able to forge a consensus on the future direction of the town. Facile judgments such as yours divide us just when we should instead be uniting to address the real crisis of economy and resources that we all face.

James Wald is the chairman of the Amherst Historical Commission.

* * *

And, finally, there was this piece by frequent commentator Richard Bogartz.

A Sideways Glance: Preserve the fence, but let it rot
By RICHARD S. BOGARTZ
Published on October 01, 2010

Some advocate historic preservation. Anything old should be saved, they say. That way we preserve the tokens of our culture and so we better know who we are by knowing who we were.

Lately it has even been claimed that preservation promotes sustainable development which benefits the environment. The argument goes that the reuse of buildings successfully reduces pollution and promotes the conservation of nature. (For more, put "Renovating vs. Building New: The Environmental Merits" in a Google search.)

I never got it. In my view the rotting and decaying of old buildings was just an instance of the general rule that changeables change. Other familiar instances are that breakables break, ageables age, spoilables spoil, stainables stain.

The world is constantly subject to change. So buildings get old and fall down. What's the big deal? You put up new ones, fully knowing that they will fall down in their time. (full article)

In the end, he comes around to supporting us, . . . er, sort of.  Because I have no idea what he is really trying to say (confusing the Historical Commission with the Historical Society doesn't help) I'll let you struggle with the rest yourselves, if you are so inclined. I think he was trying to be philosophical and humorous at once, or something of the sort.  Dunno, though Immanuel Kant never tried to pull that off.

* * *

For what it's worth, the fence controversy has been generating some interest in and questions about historic preservation.  Several town residents have told me how much they valued the fence as part of a familiar viewscape.  Some students, after reading the exchanges in the paper, even reported that they made a special trip or detour to see what all the fuss what about.

The fence was one of the stops on the tour that I led as part of the lecture series that my colleague Max Page organized in conjunction with the new historic preservation initiative in the architecture and design program at the University of Massachusetts.

Students from Max Page's UMass graduate course on public history and historic preservation examine the notorious fence.

* * *

[1] The version published in the Bulletin was entitled, "'Historically significant' fence continues to decay."

[2] The titles of the responses are the creations of the paper's editors, not the authors.

Stop random neighborhood violence: regulate pugilism through historic preservation!

Do good historic preservation bylaws good neighbors make? (with apologies to Robert Frost)  Several residents have already called this passage in a current newspaper article to my attention, and it immediately caught my eye, too, so I can hardly allow it to pass without comment:

"If established, a locally appointed Historic District Commission would review any proposed changes to the exterior of buildings as viewed from public ways and would have to issue certificates of approval for property owners proposing any altercations."

Whoops: little typo there, Scott (or whoever did the data entry).

Still, far more embarrassing typos are possible, even in historic preservation stories.  I came across this naughty little howler recently while reviewing coverage of the controversies surrounding Edith Wharton's The Mount. But I digress.

Actually, the typo is inadvertently appropriate in its way:

Local historic districts exist in order to enforce the public interest in protecting historic resources.  However, they also serve to maintain historic neighbor character in the broadest sense. Even if a given homeowner dutifully preserves his or her property in the appropriate manner, there is, absent such regulation, no guarantee that a neighbor or new property owner will do likewise. So, in that sense, a local district ordinance, developed on the basis of residents' preferences and duly approved by local government, could actually help to resolve conflict and preserve neighborhood peace.  Nonetheless, a local district commission can regulate only proposed changes to architectural features of buildings visible from the public way.  Residents will still have to organize fights on their own.

Daily Hampshire Gazette, 15 June
"Forum tonight targets Dickinson area"
[also published yesterday as "Forum to be held Tuesday in Amherst in historic district surrounding Dickinson homestead"]
By Scott Merzbach

AMHERST - A public information forum about a proposed Local Historic District surrounding the Emily Dickinson Museum and Homestead will be held tonight from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Amherst Woman's Club at 35 Triangle St.

The Local Historic District Study Committee is encouraging residents, especially property owners, to attend the session.

The forum will include presenting material outlining the historical significance of the Dickinson National Register Historical District and the Main Street neighborhood, the process to establish a local district and the sets of rules and regulations accompanying such a district.

Jerry Guidera, a member of the committee, said in an email that this would be the first local historic district in Amherst

"If the Dickinson neighborhood local historic district is adopted by Town Meeting next spring, there would likely be efforts to establish local historic districts in other areas of town," Guidera said.

The Select Board created the study committee in fall 2008 after the Historical Commission brought it forward. If established, a locally appointed Historic District Commission would review any proposed changes to the exterior of buildings as viewed from public ways and would have to issue certificates of approval for property owners proposing any altercations.

Amherst has nine historic districts and buildings on the National Register of Historic Places, but these don't offer the same level of protection to structures that a local historic district would.

A handout at the forum will ask property owners to provide feedback on the historical character of the neighborhood.

For more information, call Nathaniel Malloy in the town's Planning Department at 259-3040.

Having announced the process here at the outset, I'll continue to provide updates as it unfolds.