The Sum of Its Parts

The building above, shown in Christopher Fryer's photograph, remains a structure in jeopardy.
When I was a child, my father, my uncle and my grandfather referred to this neighborhood tavern as Dorothy's. That may or may not have been the name of it. But for some reason, unfathomable to me, and now known only to those long-departed souls, going to Dorothy's was a special gustatory treat.  If my father and I dropped in at my grandfather's house, where my uncle also lived, for a Saturday afternoon visit, my uncle would occasionally announce with glee, as though it were a good thing, "Dorothy's made liver and onions". And off we would walk, from Elm Street to the building pictured above. An unspoken deal let me substitute a coke and potato chips for the offal and onions. We went there other times, besides these sterling occasions, and had things I considered food, open-faced roast beef sandwiches, mashed potatoes, all drowned in gravy. It was a good neighborhood spot. It was one of many neighborhood taverns in New Albany. It was a part of the fabric of the community.

Today, that fabric is soiled and frayed along with that part of our community. The causes of deterioration in this and other parts of the inner city are, to be sure, numerous and difficult to turn around. Disengaged, greedy, slumlords can claim some of the credit for the shape of inner city New Albany. Macro trends, such as chain restaurants, long ago doomed neighborhood taverns, which were not simply beer joints, but were also family restaurants spread through neighborhoods across town. People were lured out of the inner city by modern houses in outwardly spreading developments. National economic trends since the seventies have put in place stagnating wages, lowered expectations,  a dwindling middle class, and a class stratification unknown since the early part of the Twentieth Century.

All of these, and other factors add up to a sad situation in which New
Albany and countless other cities, large and small, find themselves. Inner city neighborhoods are deteriorating, while distant, greedy, rapacious, banks hold key pieces of real estate which they allow to deteriorate further, taking with them the hope of revival of the inner city. According to a Tribune article, dated April 1, 2014, the Wells Fargo banking chain owns the building I refer to as Dorothy's. I don't know how it came to own this particular piece of property, although I know that when the de-regulated banking industry inflated the housing bubble, along with its profits, the bursting bubble inflicted financial damage on many cities and towns in the U.S..  Wells Fargo has no stake in this or many other communities in which it holds under-water properties. Wells Fargo sees no percentage in trying to help those interested in saving Dorothy's. It probably sees the building as a distressed building with no prospects for rehabilitation, in a distressed neighborhood with little prospect for what it recognizes as prosperity.

Dorothy's is certainly in a bad situation. It sits within a neighborhood that has seen some attempt at revival, and yet the evidence of the multi-million dollar attempt (the Neighborhood Stabilization Program NSP), is often lost within the remaining sub-standard housing stock. Quite a few people don't see the value in what the NSP has accomplished. A common refrain from those unimpressed by the NSP's results is, "the best thing you can do for those places is bring in a bulldozer and clear the lots"; presumably those places are the ones that didn't make the NSP cut, the ones which remain un-rehabilitated.

Faced with all of the force pushing against the neighborhood at Tenth and Culbertson, I believe the last thing that part of town needs is a vacant corner lot.

The second to last thing the neighborhood needs is an abandoned, dilapidated, visual insult, such as that seen in the current condition of the building.

I'll leave it to others more versed in historic preservation, to detail the significance of this building. My primary concern is the inclusion of a minus sign in the equation of neighborhood, and citywide, renewal, and New Albany's tentative steps toward walkability. Another equation worth remembering when considering the future of historic buildings:
gone=gone=gone forever.

There are few buildings in New Albany that deserve help and protection more than this forlorn structure. It dominates a corner within a distressed neighborhood. Prior to the loss of the canopy over the sidewalk, it was an even more impressive structure. Between the time it ceased to be a bar, it went through many years as a disgraceful excuse for living quarters. A slumlord milked the building for  all it was worth, while putting little or nothing back into preserving it. Years of neglect were either ignored or allowed, until we have now reached a crisis point which is likely to result in tearing down the building.

I believe that building can again be a jewel in that neighborhood. Once it is lost, it will not be replaced by anything with as much potential to save and add to the character of the neighborhood. I don't have any idea of what could eventually go into building, if rehabilitated, I do think it should be of a commercial nature, though. But, I have seen cities across the United States where off-the-beaten-path places survive and serve as anchors to revived neighborhoods. There is no reason that can't be the case with New Albany, unless of course we take the easy way out and simply scour the neighborhood of our past mistakes.

Getting that building back on its feet needs to be an effort with backing from City government. Direct involvement by government is not necessarily called for, but help in protecting the building from the wanton disregard of Wells Fargo, until help from private individuals can be marshaled is completely appropriate. This would be an excellent opportunity for the Horseshoe Foundation to fulfill its mission of historic preservation. Saving that building will not be easy. We've already had easy: easy enforcement of regulations, take it easy attitudes toward slumlords. The hard work of saving one important structure is crucial to preserving a neighborhood trying to get back on its feet.

Will we muster the effort to rebuild a neighborhood with a walkable, sustainable future? Or, will we, taking the easy way out, pocket the dividends of decay, and tell Dorothy's goodbye?