Abel Dunning

Landmark Design In 1853, one of Madison's first settlers, Abel Dunning, built a Greek Revival farmhouse at what later became 3535 University Ave. He had arrived in Madison the year it was founded, 1837, and helped write the state constitution. Known as "Mapleside," Dunning's graceful home had 18.5-inch-thick walls made of sandstone quarried nearby. The floors were oak, as were the 7.5-inch square beams, some of them 33 feet long. There was also a tunnel that connected to the barn, to hide from the first Madisonians: American Indians. It was replaced by a Burger King. But Mapleside left a legacy of martyrdom. Incensed over the 1970 destruction of the home for a fast food franchise, and by the demolition of the historic Vilas family mansion downtown, the city of Madison afterward created its Landmarks Commission, charged by ordinance to "safeguard the city's historic and cultural heritage," but also to "strengthen the economy of the city." Since then the commission has tried to balance those priorities, working with citizens to name 160 local historic landmarks ranging from American Indian mounds to a 1949 house. The city has also named five historic districts, inside of which only the smallest exterior changes may be made: Mansion Hill, University Heights, Third Lake Ridge, First Settlement, and Marquette Bungalow. The Landmarks Commission, part of the Department of Planning and Development, has saved countless cultural treasures for generations to come. Or is it an obstacle to economic revitalization? "I think the landmarks ordinance in Madison is one of the strongest in the state," says Rick Bernstein, historic preservation "smart growth" coordinator for the Wisconsin Historical Society. "I think that there's a proactive role they can play that they probably haven't fully exercised yet." "When I first started here, Landmarks was nothing but obstructionist. We're in a different time and place now," says Kitty Rankin, who has been the city's preservation planner since 1979, and who serves as the commission's staff. History, she says, has arrived. "We're in a time where people value all of what downtown has to offer - including its older buildings." If the Landmarks Commission gets a bad rap in the media, she says - hesitating and trying to be nice about it - a big part of the problem has been the media, which have invented simplistic either/or dramas where none exist. The truth about historic preservation and its many possible values is far more complicated, she says. Rankin, a native of Thiensville, near Milwaukee, has a bachelor of arts in art history from UW-Madison, and she attended graduate school at the University of Delaware. She comes to historic buildings almost dispassionately. "Until recently, new buildings in general were uglier than old buildings," she says. "In the desire to keep what's beautiful about Madison, that meant we should keep some of our older buildings. That's the reason I'm into it - for aesthetic reasons." Historian David Mollenhoff, author of "Madison: A History of the Formative Years," agrees as to the self-evident beauty of history. "If you drive through the older parts of the city, and the historic districts, you will see the very clear importance of historic design." But, he says, the Landmarks Commission's greatest contribution to the city has been, "on a cumulative basis, the public consciousness of history in our midst. That's a major achievement." Rankin recognizes that, for some, history is an end in itself. "Tearing down all your old buildings is like getting rid of your grandma," she observes. "You might be able to live without your grandma, but you don't have that whole sense of background, that sense of our community." Whatever your perspective, Rankin says, the risk is that as more and more people are interested in living downtown, in the new, upscale high-rises, both new and longtime residents "are finally reacting to the fact that if you do too much development, you're not going to have what you like. You're not going to have your neighborhood anymore. "Right now that's the huge issue in this city. And it has to be worked out." In other words, success could kill what is making downtown a success.

The Landmarks Commission has seven members appointed by the mayor. The commission, which generally meets twice a month, must include a historian, alderperson, architect and licensed Realtor. The thinking, says Rankin, is that it's good to have "someone who knows their economics of whether or not a building or a neighborhood is worthy of being preserved." Developers regularly make headlines decrying the abuses of preservationists; and sometimes the press has editorialized over a presumed Madison "anti-business" climate. Rankin points out that Landmarks is a public body and merely carries out the public will. Sometimes, however, the public will is thwarted. Last July, the 140-year-old building housing Ken's Bar, 117 S. Butler St., was razed without a demolition permit, which a contractor would need even if the building were not in the First Settlement Historic District. Penalities, if any, are still to be worked out, but Rankin recalls a similar story. "It was not a landmark, but it was an interesting old farmhouse. The contractors got wind that people were interesting in saving it, and went and tore it down real quick. And they were fined about $10,000, which they thought was incredibly too much, and we thought was not enough." And then there's "demolition by neglect," when owners purposely let properties run down to the point where they think they can get around preservation law. And developers who announce demolition/development projects for historic properties they don't even own. But in the current building boom, they can hardly be faulted; it is a fact that the city has no comprehensive development plan for the isthmus, though efforts have begun. What studies have been done urge greater population density, though there has been no study of the effect of that density, even on city services. In the welter of conflicting visions, then, we get real-life incidents such as downtown condos "accidentally" built one story too tall, and two 12-story apartment towers approved over the objections of the city's own planning staff. Against that background, the occasional howl of history buffs is not exactly the most pressing issue of the day. Oddly enough, there are plenty of official preservation-related planning documents already on the books, and they have nothing to do with landmarks or historic districts, and everything to do with economic development. "Isthmus 2020" recommends reinvestment and renovation of turn-of-the-19th-century housing, and emphasizes "historic character and design," "architectural continuity" and "traditional neighborhood attributes." "Downtown 2000" recommended "rehabilitation of buildings with historic interest" and even asked for "a grant or loan fund . . . to provide financial incentives for the exterior renovation of older residential buildings." Mark Olinger, the city's director of planning and development, says, "I have never seen an urban renewal tool more effective than historic preservation." Rankin points out, "History is the second highest tourist attraction in the United States, the reasons for people to go places. "And for our downtown neighborhoods, given how much people want to move down here, there's obviously a high quality of aesthetics and livability. "New development should be welcomed - in places that will not harm the very quality that makes people want to live here in the first place." She recommends that those with interest join the Madison Trust for Historic Preservation (www.madisontrust.org), a private nonprofit advocacy organization. "Or write a letter to the mayor and say, 'I'd be interested in serving on the Landmarks Commission.' And it would be really nice if people would once in awhile show up at a Landmarks Commission meeting. They don't have to say a lot. All they have to do is show their concern." Oh - and remember the fast food restaurant that was responsible for the demolition of 117-year-old Mapleside? Rankin notes the Burger King is history itself, about to be replaced with a Starbucks.