Preservation is Patriotic!

Recently, City Council voted to approve the designation of the Paramount Pictures Film Exchange in Pittsburgh's Uptown neighborhood to be a City Historic Landmark. The vote was 8 in favor, one opposed. The Councilman opposed to the designation was Councilman Rev. Ricky Burgess.

There's nothing wrong with exercising one's democratic right to made independent decisions, even if they are unpopular. But his comment during the preliminary vote, that such designations are "unpatriotic" and "undemocratic," strikes us as being, well, a bit unpatriotic.

We're not sure what is so unpatriotic about protecting the last physical remnants of America's proud historic legacy. The Film Exchange served as the sole distribution point for all of Paramount's films into local theaters. The only way that Pittsburgh audiences could see and enjoy such movie greats as "Cleopatra," "Sunset Boulevard," "The Ten Commandments," and "Breakfast at Tiffany's," not to mention Popeye and Betty Boop, was the film exchange system.

Film exchanges were more than just "warehouses" for films. They served as offices, meeting places, and had screening rooms. In fact, every local theater owner was required to pre-screen every movie before offering it to local audiences. Movie stars, producers, and directors, such as Paramount's Cecil B. DeMille, came to Pittsburgh's Paramount Pictures Film Exchange. DeMille himself was in town in 1947 for the filming of "Unconquered."

Unlike today, where filming on location is relatively de-centralized, back in the 1930s through the 1960s, film exchanges in various cities were the place to meet. Built in 1926 by R.E. Hall Associates Architects, Pittsburgh's Paramount Pictures film Exchange ceased to be used as such in 1968. It was occupied by Allegheny County from 1968 until 1993. Then, it sat, owned as an unproductive asset by Mercy Hospital until 2009. Mercy was acquired by UPMC in 2008, but the film exchange building continued to sit, empty.

So, let's see: for 42 years, it served as the sole distribution point for some of America's most popular (and profitable) films. For 25 years, it was an office. And for 17 years, it was empty.

Funny thing about this nomination is that Duquesne University wrote a letter in opposition to the nomination (UPMC had already stated their opposition to it). They claimed that it "would have a negative impact on the surrounding neighborhood" and suggested it would unsafe to their students. Well, we are glad that they came to this conclusion after 17 years!

Yet, the Uptown Community Partners, the local community group, is on the verge of creating a critical mass of new businesses, new housing, and new hope in a neighborhood that desperately needs it. From the new coffee house, Asylum, to the old Fifth Avenue High School about to be converted into apartments, Uptown's revival is being built on historic preservation. The restoration and reuse of the Paramount Pictures Film Exchange, then, represents an extension of this revival.

But back to the "unpatriotic" remark. If we adhere to this notion, then perhaps Paul Robeson, who was questioned about his patriotism during the House Un-American Activities Committee investigations in 1946, is not really a patriot. After all, he died defending civil rights.

He said, “Through my singing and acting and speaking, I want to make freedom ring. Maybe I can touch people's hearts better than I can their minds, with the common struggle of the common man.”

Without Robeson, we may not have had Barack Obama... ah, such is the life of an "un-American."

There are many examples of patriots right here in Pittsburgh. Martin R. Delany, an outspoken African American abolitionist who lived Downtown (when there were still houses) and authored "The Mystery," an anti-slavery newspaper. In 1850, he was accepted into Harvard Medical School, but faced such rabid racism on campus in just his first few weeks there, he returned to Pittsburgh to continue his training with a local doctor. A historical marker at PPG Place denotes his service to our country.

Or how about that patriotic author who challenged the status quo and became one of the world's most revered playwrights, August Wilson. His house stands n the Hill District as a proud testament to his life and work. Isn't his house worth saving in the name of "patriotism"?

Another patriot is Mary Cardwell Dawson, who not only challenged white society about the acceptance of black opera stars, but challenged male society. In 1941, she started America's first opera company for African Americans, called the "National Negro Opera Company," right here in Pittsburgh. The house where she started the company is in Pittsburgh's Homewood neighborhood, right smack in the middle of Councilman Burgess' district. So, by his rationing, should we tear that gorgeous house down in the name of "patriotism"?

Historic preservation was created not just to save old buildings but to preserve and reinforce the very notion of America: the values, the struggles, the victories, and defeats--from battlefields to Underground Railroad sites, to relics of our mighty industrial past. These all tell a powerful story of who we are, what we have accomplished, and how far we still have to go. But if we tear down the last remaining physical manifestations of our history, we are in essence tearing down America.

We have already seen what happens when we do this: urban renewal. It was one of the most destructive forces for old buildings in our nation's history. In Pittsburgh's Lower Hill District, for instance, the city forced out more than 8,000 families and ripped down thousands of old buildings--the businesses, homes, places of worship--that told the story of Pittsburgh's past. Lost was Pittsburgh's oldest black church, Bethel AME, among other one-of-a-kind landmarks.

The result: people left the city in droves, African Americans were forced to scatter about the city, and we all were left with indelible physical and psychological scars. Mindy Thompson Fullilove tells the story brilliantly in her book, "Root Shock."

Pittsburgh's historic preservation code was created in 1979 in response to this irresponsible destruction of history. It gave people a voice in how they should be able to shape their communities. There's nothing more democratic--and patriotic--than allowing people to forge their own destinies, rather than have it done for them by Big Government or Big Corporations.

Urban renewal was forced upon a vulnerable population from a top-down, elite led effort to impose values upon a neighborhood. Historic preservation, on the other hand, is an effort to empower people, to provide them with an important tool to help shape their future as they want to see it, not as someone else prescribes. For more than 30 years, Pittsburgh's preservation law has been used responsibly as a way to enhance the value of our neighborhoods.

Today, historic preservation remains a critical tool for urban revitalization. Thousands of communities all across America have utilized historic preservation as one tool, but one very important tool, to reinvigorate their economy--from Manchester and the South Side here in Pittsburgh to the 2,300 Main Street communities all across the country. It reinforces the local tax base, restores local pride, and creates jobs that cannot be outsourced.

Seems to us that this is the whole point of a participatory democracy: allows people to control their destiny and remain as committed as ever to the patriotic ideals that are America.