Are historic districts the solution to Philadelphia’s preservation crisis?

Give Jim Kenney this much: He was the first — and maybe the last — mayoral candidate to take up the cause of Philadelphia’s beleaguered architectural heritage. Once in office, he convened a promising task force to come up with better strategies for protecting the city’s gorgeous old buildings.

So, it’s been frustrating to watch as Mayor Kenney has struggled to convert his good intentions into effective policy. Yes, he did manage to beef up staffing at the woefully understaffed Historical Commission. He also introduced some modest incentives to encourage renovations. But nearly five years after the historic preservation task force issued its final report, his administration still hasn’t completed the top item on the group’s to-do list: compiling an inventory of preservation-worthy buildings.

In the meantime, it’s pretty much been business as usual. Beloved buildings continue to disappear as they always have, casualties of flagrant neglect and a zoning code that favors new construction. The Historical Commission, always deferential to real estate interests, continues to allow developers great leeway. Despite all Kenney’s talk about respecting the city’s treasures, we saw the commission’s board cut a deal with developer Leo Addimando in 2020 to significantly modify International House on the very day it placed the award-winning student dormitory in West Philadelphia on the city’s historic register.

Even worse, the board allowed Harvey Spear, who had already razed one historic building from Philadelphia’s early 19th-century maritime heyday, to demolish a second one at Front and Chestnut. Like the first casualty, it had been deemed structurally unsafe in 2020 after years of neglect. For decades, the city’s building officials have been largely incapable of policing owners who let their historic buildings fall apart.

And then there’s the crater on Jewelers Row, where a hive of artisan workshops once stood. Kenney publicly decried the decision by Toll Bros. to demolish five buildings in the middle of that storied Sansom Street block and even spoke with company executives. Then things proceeded as they always do.

Philadelphians like to proclaim, “It’s a Philly thing” when our city behaves in a way that is authentic and counters the homogenizing trends in American life. There is no doubt in my mind that the origins of our quirky municipal spirit are rooted in the city’s unique physical form — its tight blocks of rowhouses, its dense, but cozy, neighborhoods that orbit around familiar churches, firehouses and local shopping streets. If that form disappears, so does the “Philly thing.”

What keeps me from despairing over that possibility is the change in public attitudes toward preservation over the last few years. Kenney and the Historical Commission deserve some of the credit for the shift. But so do members of City Council.

For a long time, Philadelphia’s preservation battles centered primarily on individual landmarks, such as the Boyd Theatre, St. Laurentius Church, the Frankford Chocolate & Candy factory. There’s no doubt those glorious buildings were familiar touchstones that resonated with many Philadelphians. But in a city distinguished more by ensembles of buildings and the cultural memories embedded in them, it’s not enough to fight for stand-alone monuments; it’s more important to concentrate our efforts on protecting places. The way to do that is by creating historic districts.

The Historical Commission did a pretty good job of designating those districts in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Yet some neighborhoods resented that approach. The push for districts happened to coincide with the beginning of the city’s building boom and, by extension, an acceleration in gentrification. Historic districts were seen as harbingers of neighborhood change. Fearful that a historic designation would increase the cost of home repairs, and eventually force them out of their homes, residents fought against the creation of historic districts, sometimes going as far as deriding preservationists as “Nazis.”

As a result of that backlash, some district Council members at the time, including Curtis Jones and Jannie Blackwell, shut down plans for more historic districts. Efforts to protect Spruce Hill’s spectacular Victorian townhouses and Overbrook Farms’ grand stone homes were suspended. So were plans for a district around Washington Square — a designation that might have saved Jewelers Row. Between 2011 and 2017, not a single historic district was approved in the city.

It soon became clear that blocking historic districts did nothing to put a brake on gentrification. Instead, it simply freed developers to scour neighborhoods for unprotected buildings that could be replaced with larger structures. The leafy northwest neighborhoods Roxborough, Wissahickon and Mount Airy took an especially heavy beating.

So did the neighborhoods around Drexel and Temple Universities. It got to the point where perfectly good, fully occupied, three-story buildings were being torn down so developers could build four-story ones. And the rents in those new buildings were nearly always higher than before.

Jones was the first Council member to have a change of heart about historic districts. The breaking point came after a developer knocked down a fine Victorian apartment house on Ridge Avenue in Roxborough to build a Wendy’s drive-thru. Jones introduced a moratorium in 2018 on further demolitions to give preservationists time to create the Ridge Avenue Roxborough Thematic District. A year later, Jones finally green-lighted the long-delayed Overbrook Farms District.

The loss of that Roxborough building, known as the Bunting House, “was like having a family member taken away,” Jones told me. Shortly after the demolition, he came across James Howard Kunstler’s classic The Geography of Nowhere, a screed against the rise of sprawl and the loss of authentic, walkable towns, and he realized his district was becoming more generic. Over time, he came to see historic districts as a tool to manage change and preserve neighborhoods.

Since then, other Council members have come around to Jones’ way of thinking. Kenyatta Johnson, who represents the neighborhoods south of Center City, including Graduate Hospital and Point Breeze, helped create a historic district for Black Doctors Row, a stretch of Christian Street that was once a mecca for Black professionals and intellectuals.

Despite the celebrated figures who lived there, the row’s contribution to Philadelphia history had never been fully acknowledged. Using cultural history — rather than architectural quality alone — as the supporting basis for the nomination was a watershed moment that made preservation in Philadelphia more inclusive and meaningful, says the Preservation Alliance’s Paul Steinke.

As is often the case, it can take a brutal demolition to change people’s minds about preservation. Powelton Village, another elegant Victorian neighborhood, had been clamoring for district protection for years. But it wasn’t until a developer extracted a pair of townhouses from an intact Lancaster Avenue block — one designed in the Italianate style in 1875 — that the momentum picked up. After Councilmember Jamie Gauthier, who defeated Blackwell in 2019, gave the effort her blessing, residents pooled $45,000 of their own money to fund the research that led to the creation of a historic district last year. George Poulin, a member of the civic association, says the district would never have been possible under Blackwell, “despite the overwhelming desire of neighbors to pursue designation.”

All told, the Historical Commission has approved the designation of 25 new historic districts during the Kenney years. Just 16 were in place when he came into office. The number of new districts could have been even greater, but the commission still does not have enough staff to vet the requests.

Some will argue that historic districts are a stealth way to stop new development and thereby limit the supply of housing. But the districts should really be seen (and used) as a mechanism to manage changing neighborhoods in a more thoughtful way, especially given the anything-goes aspects of Philadelphia’s zoning code.

One of the advantages of historic districts is that they are still flexible enough to permit construction of new buildings. Developers can insert new buildings on empty lots and replace undistinguished buildings, such as gas stations and garages, with larger structures.

Overbuilds are also permitted. When Jones helped establish the Overbrook Farms historic district, the boundaries were drawn to ensure that high-density development could still occur on Market Street. It makes sense to concentrate dense construction on wide, transit-oriented streets such as Market, while protecting the more intimate feel of rowhouse blocks.

Another way to gain flexibility would be to create a less restrictive type of historic district, known as Neighborhood Conservation District, which would permit more latitude with renovations. Establishing a tiered system was one of the task force’s top recommendations. Although working out the details has been tricky, city planners could produce new rules before Kenney’s term expires.

While the issue of historic preservation has hardly rated a mention during this mayoral campaign, that doesn’t mean the public isn’t interested. It’s clear that housing affordability and gentrification are very much on voters’ minds. They may not use the word preservation, but their concerns are deeply intertwined with the fate of Philadelphia’s architectural heritage.