Alone in a room with these guys

What do you think it would be like to be alone in a room with these guys? Yesterday I found myself in just that situation - almost. It was me, a few others, and them.

So who are these people who call themselves SACHP and SHPO?

Well it turns out if you or anyone else wants to nominate anything in Oregon to be listed on the National Register of Historic Places, you have to go into a room with these guys and plead your case. They will have read your nomination weeks before you meet, and you can bet they've gone over it with a fine tooth comb. A few of them may have even visited the place you are nominating.

When it's your turn, you may say a few words, the SHPO staff person will have said a few words, and then you sit silently while the SACHP member chosen to be the lead on your nomination proceeds to offer their assessment. Page by page, line by line, it becomes clear they have read every single word. And you can bet they have suggestions to make it better.

In our case, there were extensive suggestions. So many in fact that our nomination was tabled. That means we have to go back to the drawing board - well not a blank drawing board, but we certainly have a lot of erasures, research and rewriting to do. Then we can try again.

Now I will be honest with you. I do not relish the prospect of going back to the drawing board on our nomination. We've been working on it with varying degrees of intensity over the past 3 years. We will need professional help – again – and we will need money to pay for it.

But I will say this. Despite the fact that the outcome was not at all what I'd hoped for, sitting in a room with these guys, even though they were dissecting our nomination, made me feel good about people.

Why? Because here they were, all alone in this room, charged with an obscure mission that no one but us knew or cared about - and not one corner was cut. Each member of this board did their utmost to fulfill their mission. They could have taken the easy way out - been less than rigorous and no one would have known.

But they weren't. They took their job seriously and did it as though it were the most important thing on earth. And actually, right then and there, it was.

State Advisory Committee on Historic Preservation (SACHP)

(updated 10/13/2009)

Appointed Members

Dr. William Willingham, Chair

Architectural Historian, Portland

Term(s): 5/1/2002 – 4/30/2010

5/1/2006 – 4/30/2010

Mr. John Goodenberger, Co-Chair

Architect, Astoria

Term(s): 5/1/2006 – 4/30/2010

Mr. Robert Hadlow

Industrial Historian, Portland

Term(s): 8/1/2008 – 7/30/2012

Mr. Jeffrey LaLande

Historical Archaeologist, Ashland

Term(s): 12/6/2008 – 12/5/2012

12/6/2004 – 12/5/2008

Mr. David Liberty

Cultural Anthropologist, Hood River

Term(s): 2/1/2009 – 2/2/2013

2/1/2005 – 1/31/2009

10/11/2004 – 1/31/2005

Ms. Judith Rees

Community Historian, Portland

Term(s): 5/1/2006 – 4/30/2010

Ms. Gail Sargent, AIA

Architect, Hermiston

Term(s): 5/10/2008 – 5/9/2012

11/1/2007 – 5/9/2008

*Two positions are currently vacant

State Historic Preservation Office (SHPO)

Ian Johnson - National Register / Survey Coordinator

Cara Kaser - National Register / Survey Coordinator

Roger Roper - OPRD Assistant Director, Heritage Programs/Deputy SHPO

Christine Curran - Associate Deputy SHPO

The end is near!

It's downright apocalyptic what's happening in the garden right now. We've had our first freeze here in GroveAtopia, and although the weather has been exceptionally fine for the past few days, the garden has taken its hit and responded accordingly.

What's left is a Darwinian freak show consisting of only the hardiest survivors and twisted mutations of what was meant to be.

Look at these tomatoes. Despite the death of the foliage, the green ones continue to ripen. In another patch, a bunch of volunteer tomatoes escaped the freeze and are just finishing their bloom. In mid-October. What fools!

In preparing the beds for their winter slumber today I discovered all manner of freakish vegetables. Besides the silly tomatoes still acting as if it were summer, there was broccoli that was oddly twisted and yellow. Gigantic garlic cloves overlooked during the harvest that took place months ago. One last hearty cucumber, misshapen, but still entirely edible. Green beans, as thick as your thumb, nearly as long as your forearm and tough as nails. A single carrot, the texture of rope.

Only the parsley, green onions and lettuce seemed happy and normal.

If it weren't for the freakish malformations left in the garden, you might almost convince yourself it was spring. But one glance upward at the blazing red maples and brilliant yellow walnut tree and you know. This is not the beginning that spring brings.

Clearly the end is near.

Yellow

It has hasn't been that long since I drove down Main St., but when I did early this morning here is what I encountered.

It was the usual Main St. scene, except that sometime over the past day or so the trees all got together and whispered to each other, "it's time" and they all turned yellow.

Now by looking at this picture you might think it was chilly when I took it this morning but it wasn't. It was actually quite warm, and gray and misty. The whole scene was as if a very soft, weightless blanket had alighted upon it. It was downright cozy.

I have been down Main St. a zillion times, but it can still surprise me. The yellow trees were today's surprise. It sounds silly I know, but as I rounded the usual corner, expecting the usual view, I gasped a little when I found this yellow and gray scene instead.

Clearly the autumn fairies are out in full force in GroveAtopia. Each day reveals yet another tree, or group of trees or bushes they have touched with their color wands.

We thought we had grown accustomed to the bursts of color that create the hot brilliance of summer, but suddenly here is autumn. Just a few short weeks ago we never thought it could happen, but now summer pales in comparison.

30 copies and a dozen eggs, please

We are lucky to have a full service print shop here in GroveAtopia. It's not a Kinko's or other chain copy shop. This one is locally owned. We share it with Springfield, where the other shop is located.

But the big shop is here in GroveAtopia and it truly is The Best Little Printhouse in Town. They sell signs, banners, business cards, books, brochures, cookbooks, flyers, door hangers, and regular old copies. And eggs.

What?

Yep. You can walk into the Best Little Printhouse and for $2.50, get a dozen eggs along with your print order. Or you could get 18 eggs for $3.75. It says so right there on the door.

Apparently they do a lively egg business because when I was in there today, they were fresh out of eggs. Someone had just come in and bought several dozen.

Now I don't know about you, but I like it that these two incongruous items co-exist in this store. It doesn't make a bit of sense from a marketing point of view, but that doesn't seem to matter. People come to the Best Little Printhouse in Town to buy their eggs, and I say, why not?

Pretty as a Privy

When new public bathrooms were built in the embattled little Opal Whitely Park, people worried.

Public restrooms are indeed a much needed public work, but making them freely available comes with its own set of worries.

Drugs, odors, sex, filth, graffiti, germs, vandalism. Most of us simply want to go to the bathroom, but some of us see the restrooms as a place to do much more than that.

There are all manner of solutions that attempt to help avoid these and other problems associated with public restrooms. The American Restroom Association has all sorts of advice.

But here in GroveAtopia we had our own solution and I think you will agree it is the kindest of all. To discourage would-be vandals from ruining these public bathrooms, the Art Guild took a few afternoons and painted pretty little pictures all the way around each restroom.

You can only see a few of the pictures in this photo. Each restroom has about 15 pictures, each one bright and unique, each one hand painted by one of several artists.

The restrooms were painted back in June when the Garden Club was busy making the park look pretty. I wrote about it then, but I think you'll agree the real test with a project like this is how it looks months later. I am happy to report that 4 months later, the privy pictures remain untouched.

Painting these pictures in the bathrooms was really a dare. Their pretty little designs, the fish, the bluebird on a fence post, the iris, are more than just that. What they are saying in their quiet, pretty little way is, " Go ahead. I dare you. Deface me. Scrawl your graffitti all over me. I bet, big and tough and defiant as you are you can't bear to harm pretty little me."

How annoying that would be for the person hell bent on saying what they must in this most public way, to encounter this row of quiet beauty and find out they just can't do it. They can't deface this work.

I like to think after the annoyance and perhaps anger has passed, that the would-be vandals have at least a moment of pause where they ask themselves why, and realize they do have a limit and these little pictures have shown them just that. That in the face of human effort and beauty, even the most angry heart, even as the spray can is raised, finger on the button, will lower the can, take the finger off the button, and toss the can in the trash.

It doesn't always happen this way, but it sure is nice when it does.

Sometimes beauty wins.

Pride and protest

What do you think when you see a plaque like this somewhere?    

I don't know about you but I have always thought this plaque was an honor and bestowed a certain amount of prestige on the place the it was hung.  

Well what if you had a chance to live in one of these places, and what if that place was part of a whole neighborhood of others like it?  What if it turned out that not only your house, the very one you live in right now, the one you fell in love with and bought because it and others around it were from a time gone by, qualified for one of these plaques and all that it stands for and all that it entitles you to?  

It would put your house in the same company as the White House, the Statue of Liberty and the Lincoln Memorial.  Wow.

But here in GroveAtopia, the reaction of some to this prospect is exactly the opposite of wow.  I'm not sure what that word is so I looked it up and here are some from which you may choose:  anger, irritate, upset, depress, disappoint, dismay, distress, pain, trouble, displease, offend, repel, repulse, turn off, disenchant, disgust.  Take your pick.

If you are like me you are saying to yourself, "Really?"  There are people who are angered, irritated, upset, depressed, disappointed, dismayed, distressed, pained, troubled, displeased, offended, repelled, repulsed, turned off, disenchanted and/or disgusted by the National Register of Historic Places?

In a word, yes.

I know, I was as flabbergasted as you.

It turns out that some people think that being on the National Register of Historic Places is nothing more than an example of government telling us what we can and can't do with one of our most sacred possessions - our property.

Never mind that we worry endlessly about what our neighbors have or may or may not do to their homes and how it might affect ours.  Thus far we have relied upon hopes and prayers and when they fail us we live with the fallout, although we may grumble.

So if your neighbor, who lives in the farmhouse built in 1905 decides to add a dome shaped second floor, strip off the porch and replace the beautiful curved bay windows, the ones you have admired through your own front window for years and years, there's nothing to be done.  It's your neighbor's right because it's your neighbor's property.

The National Register of Historic Places attempts to help people avoid doing that.  It offers incentives and through tax breaks, freezes and restoration loans to help people maintain the historic qualities of their homes. 

But it turns out some people view that as intrusion.  They would rather we trust in hope and prayer, and should things not turn out well, well that's just how it is.

So you see, some view the National Register as a source of pride, others see it as something to protest.   We don't know how it will all turn out. 

But here's what I do know.  I'd be honored to see my home listed on the National Register of Historic Places.  It would inspire me to do all I could to live up to it.  

So I guess I land on the side of pride.  And you may protest that all you want.

A lot of culture

This is not the first time you've seen a picture of this building.  Way back in March I wrote about it under "Needs a Paint Job."  

Now looking at this picture, you might say yes, it still needs a paint job.  In fact it looks worse than it did in March.  What could have happened to hasten this sad situation?

But this is actually a happy situation because the building is not in fact peeling at an alarmingly fast rate.  Instead, our wish has come true.  The building is being painted.

It's been quite a job.  First there was the money.  The museum, which is housed in the building, needed $15,000 of it.  That's a lot.

But a series of fortunate events came together.  The money effort was jump started by a handsome $5,000 grant from the Oregon Cultural Trust.  Next came $2,500 from our each local foundations, The Faye and Lucille Stewart Foundation and the Woodard Family Foundation.  Both the Stewarts and the Woodards made their money from the lumber industry, but, there being basically no more lumber companies owned by identifiable people in GroveAtopia, neither family is in that business any longer.

But like other timber money families, they have chosen to do good with their earnings, and they have indeed done that.  This paint job is just one small case in point.

The other $5,000 came from museum coffers - a fund based on a major endowment bequeathed to the museum years ago.

So what about the culture part?

Well, as I mentioned, this whole project was jump started by a $5,000 grant from the Oregon Cultural Trust.  And today was Oregon Day of Culture day - sponsored by the Oregon Cultural Trust.   And the museum was open specially this afternoon to help celebrate Oregon Day of Culture day.  

Furthermore, and as fate would have it, the  Lane County Cultural Coalition, the county arm of the Oregon Cultural Trust, has two members from GroveAtopia.  And the Lane County Cultural Coalition  just had an guest column in today's paper.  

So there I was, visiting the museum housed in the building being painted by a grant from the Oregon Cultural Trust, on a day it was open because today was Oregon Day of Culture day sponsored by the Oregon Cultural Trust, having just read an article about culture written by the Lane County Cultural Coalition.

Now that's a lot of culture.