Editor’s note: This commentary is by Alex Tolstoi, who is a preservation consultant and carpenter, and is the founder of Vermont Property Preservation Consultants.
A recent op-ed in the New York Times and articles in several other publications have called into question the value of historic preservation in cities and residential neighborhoods. Their arguments can loosely be boiled down to the belief that historic preservation and the laws and municipal councils that protect historic communities are blind to the immediate need to combat climate change. They argue that the requirement to replace damaged wood windows with new wood windows is too much to ask of homeowners. Statutes that disallow the installation of solar panels on the roofs of historic buildings are indifferent to the fact that all neighborhoods will be underwater unless renewable energy takes precedence over old buildings. As a preservationist, in every sense of the word, I take issue with these arguments and feel there is ample room for preserving our built and environmental surroundings.
There are many reasons why buildings and neighborhoods are deemed historic. While some designations may be obvious, like the Statehouse, the home of Sen. Justin Morrill or the Hubbardton Battlefield, there are places of lesser prominence that also deserve our recognition. Burlington’s Old North End may not have the honor of being home to a great statesman, but its history as a perpetual home to Burlington’s immigrant population is equally as significant. The same is true of a row of workers’ housing in North Bennington, a group of summer bungalows along Lake Caspian, or granite sheds in Barre. The designation of these neighborhoods as historic districts indicates and codifies the communities’ commitment to protect the legacy, context, and narrative of their unique environment.
The designations and the local ordinances that protect the integrity of historic neighborhoods simply indicate that the buildings, the streetscape (fancy word for what you see when you walk down the street), and the overall style and scale of the neighborhood are worth preserving. So, what about them is worth preserving? Maybe it is the fact that the small workers’ houses reflect the lives of the blue-collar inhabitants of the community. Maybe the detailed woodwork over the entrances shows the attempts to mimic the architectural fashions of the time, even if the buildings were modest and owned by factory workers. Maybe the tight streets and building frontage indicate the change in road sizes and the density of the neighborhood. When combined, these details, which on their own may seem insignificant, begin to tell a story.
Historic preservationists are interested in preserving these stories. We believe that these stories are important, because they tell us something about who we are — they provide context to our lives. Aside from the social and cultural values, however, we believe that there are also economic benefits to preserving communities. Numerous studies show that rehabilitation creates more jobs than new construction, preservation raises property values, federal designation allows access to funding sources, and heritage tourism supports local economies. These social and economic benefits of historic preservation are the reasons why towns, states, and the national government have established legal protections and incentives for saving our built heritage.
I am not arguing that preserving historic buildings should take priority over environmental concerns, but that we, as concerned citizens, should all come to the table with an understanding of the benefits and values of each other’s perspectives — an outlandish idea in these times. I am asking that preservationists, of both buildings and the natural environment, work together to create initiatives that are founded on best practices and widespread social benefit.
Historic preservationists may ask that you don’t install new vinyl windows but replace in kind. Studies have shown that a building loses only 10%-25% of heat through windows and doors. The better answer might be to save the windows with reglazing, installing storms, and adding insulation in your attic. You might consider installing an efficient heating unit rather than solar panels on the street side of your roof. Refinishing or repairing building materials can keep them out of the landfill. There are endless possible solutions when we work together towards compromise.
We as historic and environmental preservationists should at least acknowledge that we have a common enemy, let us all say it together — sprawl. None of us wants to see more additional new construction than is needed. We all want to see redevelopment in established village centers and downtowns. Preservationists simply ask that it be done in a way that respects the historic integrity of our neighborhoods and significant buildings. The combined efforts of Preservation Trust and Vermont Land Trust to save the farmland around the I-89 exit in Randolph is a prime example of what is possible when we work together.
The science of embodied energy is one way to calculate the environmental value of historic preservation. Embodied energy is the calculation of the amount of energy that goes into the production of materials. Measured in megajoules per kilogram (MJ/kg), concrete, one of the most common materials in new construction, is 5.6; clay bricks in 2.5; glass is 12.7; kiln-dried hardwood is 2.0; PVC (vinyl windows) is 80.0, and plywood is 10.4. When you combine the embodied energy of these materials, you begin to see the true carbon footprint of new buildings. To limit the amount of energy that goes into construction, it is advised to build with light materials like wood as opposed to concrete and metal, build smaller buildings, and build long-lasting and durable buildings. Small wood buildings that are built to last — I think Vermont already has a few of these environmentally conscious buildings. Let us work together to ensure Vermont’s architectural history has a part in preventing climate change.
