There goes the neighborhood

This week’s  New  York Times featured two disturbing articles that reinforce points made in earlier posts on this blogsite. Both suggest that the built environment of New York City, its wonderful urban fabric and historic neighborhoods, is not getting the attention it deserves from those who design and govern it. Santiago Calatrava’s transit hub for the World Trade Center site, years in design, has been beaten to death by bureaucrats eager to cut costs and improve anti-terrorist features. The Spanish architect works best when he is given relatively free reign, and this work shows him at his worst (as Nicolai Ouroussoff rightly points out). Give the Port Authority and the city government an “F” on this one. The WTC/Ground Zero site was the last best chance for the city to create a significant urban design with monumental features and parks. That chance is gone now.

On the other side of Manhattan, the neighborhoods that comprise an expanded South Village historic district bordering the Lower East Side, have fared no  better in the hands of the Landmark’s Preservation Commission. For two years the LPC has dragged its feet on scheduling hearings to designate the new historic district. Meanwhile, at least three of the area’s most important historic structures have either been demolished by greedy developers or renovated unsympathetically, voiding their significance. Robin Pogrebin has been following the controversy, and her story paints a depressing picture of the machinations of the one civic organization that is supposed to protect the neighborhoods of America’s greatest city. The LPC is letting the foxes in the henhouse; be afraid.

Mortars, pestles and limes

Since readers seem to have liked my last post on preservation issues, here is another pet peeve of mine. I have worked for years with historic masonry and, like many architects who appreciate the best craftsmanship, have been consistently frustrated by the poor quality of re-pointing in many restorations. Even when the mortar used is a so-called “soft” or “historic” mix of Portland Cement, sand, and lime, the resulting mortar never looks as beautiful as the historic example that is being “replicated.” My colleagues in the field explained years ago that it was impossible to duplicate these natural lime and sand recipes because they were weak and would never stand up to modern codes. Besides, where was one going to get old fashioned slaked lime?

Well, after years of wandering in the wilderness, preservationists have a saviour. Virginia Limeworks is a company that believes in old fashioned construction techniques and has backed up their preference with products that perform beautifully and have been tested to modern standards. I have used their products and swear by them. Mix’n'Go is a premixed mortar containing only sand and natural lime. It is a mason’s dream, according to tradespeople I’ve talked to. The advantage to lime mortar is twofold: 1) the resulting mortar is completely breathable, just like the stone and brick it complements; and 2) the natural color of the sand stands out as in no other mortar mix. One never has to use a colorant or admixture. Simply get the local sand that the original masons used and combine it with lime for a beautiful wall.

Check out Virginia Limeworks when you do your next repointing project, or insist that your mason call them up. And if you are a purist, simply buy their natural lime and mix everything yourself. No need to slake the lime or grind the mortar with a pestle. Unless of course you want to risk burning your eyeballs out.

Preservationists Don’t Do Windows

As one who has spent his career trying to convince others of the value of historic buildings, I am amused by the new alliance between the green energy folks and the National Trust for Historic Preservation. The Trust has its purpose in this democracy–mainly to remind civic minded people that “heritage” matters–but it often sounds as if it is preaching to the choir rather than leading a new movement. The Trust is always behind the curve, proclaiming yesterday’s news to people who love the past enough to tolerate a little deja vu.

The most recent issue of Historic Preservation magazine, the Trust’s main mouthpiece, featured another “green” issue, close on the heals of the first one issued last year. Not much has changed in a year as far as preservation technology is concerned, but one or two things emerged that caught my attention.  Articles on the adaptive re-use of historic buildings started to make sense as models of energy efficiency, not because the buildings were better insulated or more advanced than new structures, but because they maintained their “old” materials and technologies. It turns out that when considered holistically, older structures often make sense as examples of environmental conservation even if they haven’t been modernized.

To an architect who lived through the first energy crisis in the 1970s, and saw the preservation movement through its highs and lows, this revelation was not news. Many traditional buildings use passive heating and cooling, clever means of ventilation, and inherently sustainable materials. One bugaboo, however, has existed since I began restoring houses 30 years ago–the question of what to do about “leaky” single glazed windows. Conventional wisdom was to throw them away in favor of double glazed sashes that would seal the house and keep heat and cold inside in hostile climates.

Finally the tide has changed and preservationists have started to look at windows as pieces of the treasured fabric of older buildings that don’t need to be sacrificed to the altar of sustainability. It turns out, according to recent research, that a well-made wooden double-hung or casement, equipped with tight-fitting wood storm sash, can perform almost as well as a double-glazed unit in terms of thermal resistance and infiltration. Moreover, the cost of replacing beautifully-crafted wooden sash continues to rise, increasing their potential “embodied energy.” There is really no compelling reason to remove character-defining wood windows from any historic structure, if storm/screen units can be installed outside.

Though this may not sound revolutionary, it frees preservationists from one of the most vexing problems in building conservation. If one wants to be green, don’t install windows made of green wood. Why? The seasoned, old-growth wood in most historic windows will continue to perform better than either new wood units or comparable synthetic or metal sashes (metal conducts heat faster than wood). It turns out that when it comes to windows, they really don’t and can’t make ‘em like the used to.

From now on my answer to clients who tell me their energy bills will be intolerable if they don’t replace their “leaky” windows will be: it’s not easy being green; add some foam to the roof deck.

LPC on Trial

The New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission is one of the most successful preservation agencies in the United States, if not the world. It has saved tens of thousands of buildings in a great city, and continues to do excellent work. Unfortunately, its reputation has been tarnished in recent years by an autocratic, politically motivated chairman, commissioners who are too ready to approve questionable projects,  and a mayor who likes to pull strings for developers.

An excellent series of articles by Robin Pogrebin in the New York Times has exposed the workings of the Bloomberg era LPC.  Pogrebin skillfully chronicles the tortured process under which developers and preservation advocates battle for control of land and buildings in the city. Ever since the New York City Planning Commission abrogated its power to actively create a vision for New York, the city has been in the thrall of developers like Donald Trump and Stephen Rattner, who press for deals with the mayor with little public scrutiny. Out of frustration the neighborhood boards have turned to preservation as a means of slowing growth–hence the present contentious atmosphere.

The LPC is overburdened with applications for minor alterations to the thousands of buildings in its care. It has a staff of only 17 researchers and operates under a tiny budget. Adding another layer of oversight to its already beleaguered staff has nearly broken the back of a once proud organization. To make matters worse, under Robert Tierney’s direction the commission has neglected to examine questionable development proposals and has permitted the demolition of many eligible buildings, leading many to question the political motivations of the chairman. His close ties to Mayor Bloomberg and the mayor’s pro-development stance leave the impression that his agenda is hardly pro-preservation. Moreover, his commission has been lax in permitting radical modernist proposals, like the addition to the Harvard Club, to go forward, damaging precious landmarks and delicate streetscapes.

The Times has taken on a powerful political constituency in the real estate and development interests by publishing this groundbreaking series of articles. It is now time for New York’s citizens to demand a change in LPC leadership, and for the preservationists to take back the ground they have lost under Mayor Bloomberg, especially as he pursues his bid for a third term.