Postscript to "What Does Green Mean"

The demolition of several houses in Squirrel Hill prompted me to write a lament on April 15th about the continued destruction of Pittsburgh's built fabric, its authenticity, its identity.

Well, the good news is that most of the construction waste from the demolition site is being recycled by a local nonprofit, Construction Junction, as reported in the Post-Gazette on April 17th (http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/10107/1051075-30.stm).

If only more demolished properties could be salvaged in such a way. Thousands of properties all across the Pittsburgh region have been torn down and sent to the landfill. Some of these properties had identifiable historical or architectural significance. Many did not. But all of them added up to create a unique identity that is Pittsburgh.

As Pittsburgh tries to forge a new future for itself, as many cities do, it should consider demolishing less; for those buildings which must come down, recycling more.

Much of the demolition has occurred in low-income communities. But nearly all communities, rich and poor, have lost historical treasures and a part of their identity. These before-and-after photos of the Samson Funeral Home is from Shadyside, a high-income Pittsburgh neighborhood. The unique Queen Ann building was representative of Shadyside's early years as a streetcar suburb. The box that replaced it is more reminiscent of, well, anywhere.

Other properties throughout the region were simply demolished. Mann's Hotel, an 1803 wooden structure in McKees Rocks, had sat vacant for years and had been condemned by the city. Instead of selling the property or having it salvaged, the owner simply demolished it in the fall of 2009. Gone is one of the oldest structures along the Ohio Valley.

Demolition, demolition everywhere. In nearly every town, nearly every neighborhood, southwestern Pennsylvania is losing its soul. From steel mills to historic inns and theaters, to plain old houses, are being ripped down and sent to the landfill. Only a tiny percentage are being salvaged and recycled. This isn't green; it's destruction at its worst.

And yet, the region continues to lose people--especially young people--and along with it, its identity, as more and more buildings get torn down.

I'm not against demolition--for the right reasons: to build something great and needed or as an absolute last resort when all options are exhausted. But when it becomes endemic and widespread, like a disease, one must ask the question, when will it end?

One might make the conclusion that demolition is necessary to deal with the contracting population. Some would argue that the population does not exist to support these obsolete structures. I would argue that we as a region are perpetuating the population loss with all the constant demolition. It presents a very unwelcoming sight--vacant buildings uncared for, piles of rubble, or a vacant lot.

What happens if we as a region start to grow again? What will be left upon which to build? What will become of our identity once we rip it all down? What kind of a message does that send to young people in this region?

Demolition, as an option, must be pursued carefully and with proper planning. An inventory of vacant properties must be taken. Thought must be given to what will happen to the property once it is gone. Salvage must be given more consideration. Design standards should be put in place to ensure that new construction is sensitive to the surrounding fabric. And young people as future investors in the community must be engaged.

The unfortunate thing is that few communities have any plan for their future. History is snubbed, buildings get demolished, and young people continue to leave southwestern Pennsylvania. So far, we aren't on the right track.