the Aztecs are like the Derek Jeter of ancient architecture.

It’s hard for me to justify that in an area that is being hit so hard economically. The money could be better spent.

Whose money are you speaking for? If you can’t justify it, then don’t. No one asked for your cash.

I just have books a couple books in front of me, so there’s no link. I’ll remember this thread, and if and when I start a locally oriented architecture blog I’ll tip you off.

Fortunately there are at least two other Burnham & Root towers of a similar character downtown, and of course the ‘Great Plan’ ie The Mall is a Burnham project.

This is grey territory. But no, most of us can’t collect comic books. The current system-where nerdy advocacy groups rally behind threatened structures to stall action long enough to get the attention of the public-isn’t so bad. But advocates should be mindful of the risk of backlash of preserving old for the sake of old.

Please, not Omar! Anyone but little O! He’s the greatest! Shapiro, you bastard! We stink.

Historic preservation is largely a recent, postmodern phenomenon, so the long-term credibility of the movement isn’t on the sturdiest of foundations… a lot of times the public might be asked to “take our word for it”, so our word must be good.

Shoot, I pulled a mauichuck. Did I say One Columbus Circle? I meant Two Columbus Circle.

The comic book analogy is a little insulting, but I’ll let it slide (I just hope that I’m not setting a bad precendent).

Jay,

I get it. Not to sound facetious, but I couldn’t tell this was a question at first. I wish I could’ve gotten to this sooner, before this thread essentially died. It killed me to not be around much this weekend. I’ve fallen behind. Casey has been traded. There are other things we’d like to discuss. And I’ve fallen behind in this argument. I hope that Andrew sees this, because he was closely engaged in the conversation and he deserves more of an explanation for my earlier attitude—even if we’re just not able to agree on this particular issue.
I cannot answer this question succinctly, and in any event I won’t be satisfied until I cover each dimension of the problem. I accept the challenge, but it will take me a little while to meet it. But I’ll begin just enough to—I hope—separate the case for buildings from the case for comics. Also, I’m writing a mini-essay in a text box, so forgive me that I break from academic protocols.
One part of the answer leads to another. For example, many of the buildings I listed were once designated as "Cleveland Landmarks". Some were even on the National Register—(because of this talk, I’m in the process of consulting the code and literature of the National Register). Not coincidentally, many if not most Great Buildings are also Landmarks. But what is a landmark? Who decides what is and isn’t a landmark? Why are landmarks important? I’ll get to that in a moment, but these are things that the public defends even if it’s impractical. There’s a very real emotional connection that people have with their environment, and we’re willing to pay a price for it.
This question is also about city life. Most buildings are in cities, of course, and because of the inherent dynamism of a city its buildings are the more susceptible to change than buildings that aren’t in cities. There’s a lot of literature about the importance of landmarks in the "imageability"—Kevin Lynch’s famous term—in the way that we use a city and in the mental life of its citizens. This is one of those questions for which Jane Jacobs is really at her best. I’m quoting from "The Death and Life of Great American Cities". This isn’t yet getting into the nitty-gritty analysis, but hers is a classic text and a good starting point.

She has a chapter titled the Self-Destruction of Diversity. A couple of the key concepts she discusses in this chapter are "zoning for diversity", and "the staunchness of public uses" (this closely relates to controls against demolition of historically valuable buildings). Many historic buildings are zoned differently from those around them, but there is sound logic to breaking up the unbridled duplication of uses. Historic resources give people another reason to enjoy and use a space. When we invite more kinds of uses, we make these places safer. It’s also about money. Jacobs writes, "the New York Public Library, on an immensely valuable site, contributes more of value to the locality than any possible profitable duplication of nearby uses"254. This is about avoiding the tragedy of the commons effect. The theory is that a city’s territorial qualities are improved by diverse uses, creating better neighborhoods and a stronger city magnetism that actually enhances its tax base in the long run. If the NYPL were not there, the magnetism of the area would likely decline.
Jane believes we can plan for these kinds of qualities. She writes, "the purpose of zoning for deliberate diversity should not be to freeze conditions and uses as they stand. That would be death. Rather, the point is to insure that changes or replacements, as they do occur, cannot be overwhelmingly of one kind"253. She wrote this in the 60s, before the term sustainability came en vogue, but that’s what she’s really talking about. As it turns out, preservation is often a sustainable choice. Density—not just physical density, which sometimes is in play here—but density of uses is also a sustainable choice, and protected structures create opportunities for diversity against economic pressures. Furthermore, homogeneity of land use is inherently fragile. It invites domino-ghettoization—look at the effect of the erosion of the automobile industry in Detroit, and how it has distorted the form of that city. There are abundant examples of this kind of thing. Land use patterns and economic quality of cities are related, and there are social implications as well.
In this chapter Jacobs goes on to talk about the importance tax adjustments as a method of resisting duplication. I know about New York, but does Philadelphia have rent controls? Would you not agree that having these types of programs are important, that we’re better off with them? This is not unlike historic preservation. This costs the public too, you know, but it improves the life of the city.

Here’s Jacobs’ answer to why Landmarks are important:

People become deeply attached to landmarks that occur in centers of activity that occur in centers of activity and in this their instincts about city order are correct. In Greenwich Village, the old Jefferson Market Courthouse, now abandoned as a courthouse, occupies a prominent site abutting on one of the community’s busiest areas. It is an elaborate Victorian building, and opinions differ radically as to whether it is architecturally handsome or architecturally ugly. However, there is a remarkable degree of unanimity, even among those who do not like the building as a building, that is must be retained and used for something. Citizens from the area, as well as architectural students working under their direction, have devoted immense amounts of time to detailed study of the building interior, its condition and its potentialities. Existing civic organizations have put time, effort and pressure into the job of saving it, and a new organization was even started to finance the repair of the public clock on the tower and get it going! The Public Library system, having been shown the architectural and economic practicality, has now asked the city for funds to convert the building to a major branch library.

Why all the to-do over a peculiar building on a centrally located site which could
make a lot of quick money for somebody and some extra taxes for the city, if it were used for commerce and residences, like most sites around it?
Functionally, it happens that just such a difference in use as a library is needed here, to help counter the self-destruction of diversity. However, few people are aware of this functional need, or conscious that just such a building can help to anchor diversity. Rather, there seems to be a strong popular agreement that visually the whole busy neighborhood of this landmark will lose its point—in short, its order will blur rather than clarify—if this landmark is replaced by a duplication of the uses that already exist around it.
Even an inherently meaningless landmark in a center of activity seems to contribute to the users’ satisfaction. For instance, in St. Louis there stands a tall concrete column in the middle of a down-at-heel commercial center in declining, gray area surroundings. It once served as a water tower. Many years ago, when the water tank was removed, the local citizens prevailed on City Hall to save the pedestal, which they themselves then repaired. It still gives to the district its name, "The Watertower," and it still gives a bit of pathetic distinction to its district too, which would otherwise hardly even be recognizable as a place388.

So part of the answer is, we just want them, and it doesn’t always make sense. Sometimes there might be very logical reasons, and other times it’s simply because the place wouldn’t be the same without it. Robert Moses has a great quote along the lines of, "If you’re on the side of parks, you’re on the side of angels". The same can often be said about preservation, I believe. It’s not just building enthusiasts who feel this way.

This is not enough, I realize. I’m only drawing from one source here. This is just a preface. I am by no means a strict preservationist—as in preservation solely for the sake of history and living memory. I am on the side of adaptive-reuse and sustainability. I’m an Urbanist, a city person first and foremost. If my city, or any city, is improved by the demolition of a building, then I’m inclined to strongly favor the new. Usually this is not the case. Would we rather have great building in our town, or another parking lot, even if we need parking and the owner of the profit stands to benefit? Hell yes we would.

Oh yeah, I forgot about the exterior of the bar that was used as the exterior of Cheers for the TV show of the same name. That’s a huge historical attraction in Boston.