CITYBUILDING | Positive-Sum Historic Preservation
Embracing good development doesn’t have to mean abandoning the places we love.

Written By Adeleine Geitner
Old buildings have always held a special place in my heart. I am a sucker for aging chimneys, sinking front stoops, and paint-peeled porches; the crumblier the brick, the better. I spent my middle- and high-school years reading and re-reading the historical society’s books about my city’s old homes, shops, and mills. Those old buildings were vessels of local lore and structural grace. They still are. And while I was a steadfast youth proponent of historic preservation, I have come to advocate for policies often at odds with local landmark associations and historic building standards. In the last year, I shifted my view on the need to protect every old home—without giving up my affection for them. Because when it comes to a love for historic neighborhoods and a will for growth, it is possible to hold both values in one hand.
Oftentimes, historic preservationists are on the front lines of the fight against new development. I understand how they feel, as I am sure many urbanists do to an extent. Historic homes and neighborhoods are not only beautiful—they emit an invisible warmth, and they harbor a treasured archive of stories. In years past, I would have perceived efforts to build large new developments, seemingly devoid of this charm and building integrity, as a breach against everything that makes a place meaningful. Yet in the past year, I have seen the ways communal transit and mixed-use development create, and even preserve, this same sense of meaning.
It is natural to be resistant to change. In the abstract, I am comfortable giving up a block of older housing for new development. Still, when I narrow in on specific buildings (like the 1920s bungalow made of my favorite crumbly brick that happens to be my family’s home) I admittedly have a more difficult time convincing myself. But by making a change in perspective—understanding that it is rarely drastic and absolute, that the natural course of history is one of constant change, and that new development can hold the same charm as old—hope replaces fear.
With proper code reform, it is possible and realistic to preserve the places we love while creating more housing.
Should an old home I treasure succumb to redevelopment, I will still let myself mourn its loss. However, I know it could always be worse. Unlike a majority of the homes lost during my city’s “urban renewal” period of the 1960s, that old home won’t turn into a parking lot with the right zoning code.
In other words, change must be put in perspective. Approving an upzoning policy does not mean your house will be snatched up and razed. Updating regulations on density and land use allows a neighborhood to grow gently over time. Upzoning can be necessary to allow a neighborhood to maintain its character, while accommodating more people who want to keep it alive. Far from destructive, the incremental growth encouraged by zoning reform follows a tried-and-true pattern observed throughout nature and history.
The preservationist may argue that development is okay, as long as it doesn’t replace the historical, low-density core. But centralized density follows historical precedent. Strong Towns founder Chuck Marohn uses the term incrementalism to describe how cities developed before the depression. The wooden pop-ups that made up the original town square were eventually replaced by more formidable wooden buildings, and after time, brick and granite structures eventually replaced those. A few blocks in any direction from those newer structures, and buildings are once again wooden, eventually to be rebuilt once the city had sufficiently grown.
If we limit dense, multi-use development using strict standards, forcing them onto lots on the town’s periphery, our perception of new development will, unsurprisingly, be incompatible with our idea of a “historic” city: They will be unwelcoming, monochromatic structures sprouting out of vast parking lots. Alternatively, if we allow cities to incrementally grow outward, creating a dense core that gently expands, we can maintain and grow the most productive and accessible part of our cities. And, we can do this without sacrificing the historic charm of the developments that came before.
This is key: With proper code reform, it is possible and realistic to preserve the places we love while creating more housing. Aaron Lubeck, author of Green Restorations: Sustainable Building and Historic Homes, is an active proponent of this harmony. As he says, “The zoning code we have today just lists everything that’s gone wrong in the past and puts a bandaid on it.” To rectify these misguided rules, Lubeck has created a proposal of ten code reforms that could make it possible to build more livable spaces in the historic neighborhoods of Durham, North Carolina. Those reforms would add housing and local retail while keeping the bones people hold so dear. The plan includes setback reduction and other “anti-teardown” measures, which will make it easier for homeowners and small developers to add housing to a lot without having to remove the existing home. It also introduces measures to support neighborhood commercial districts and reduce parking minimums, making it possible for a local entrepreneur to utilize an old corner store without being forced to tear down the surrounding structures for a parking lot. “Throughout the twentieth century, planners didn’t know how to use both sides of the pencil,” Lubeck says, “but with a few tweaks, it is possible to create common-sense zoning code that allows cities to pick up where they left off a hundred years ago.”
Charm and age are not inextricable concepts. Throughout the US, cities are building new developments on a human scale. These projects are charming while still paying careful attention to increasing density, affordability, and walkability. Developer and urban observer Coby Lefkowitz has documented these examples thoroughly. Meeting Street in Prospect, Kentucky, North Barrett Square in Rosemary Beach, Florida, and the rows of infill buildings in Downtown Senoia, Georgia, are just some examples of handsome and well-integrated new development. Moreover, these developments can be enjoyed the way housing and shopping were enjoyed throughout history—by foot. What good is a row of two-story Tudors when you breeze past them in a car? When provided with proper support, new development can return a neighborhood to the scenic, neighborly, bustling distinctiveness that it strives to maintain through preservation.
Throughout history, cities were built for people, not cars. To the extent that “simpler times” is a meaningful term, it describes an era when cities were made for people to live, work, and socialize an easy walk away from each other. By resisting change, neighborhoods are left to regress. Yet by embracing good urbanism and, yes, a little change, we can watch our cities flourish as they once did. We can guarantee rich, connected cities for future generations. We can build good places.
Adeleine Geitner is the Spring 2023 Duke Initiative for Urban Studies Fellow on Sprawl Repair and Nodal Development.