Crown Jewel or Rhinestone?
According to The Frederick News-Post archives, a group of Frederick citizens first asked the Board of Alderman to consider forming a Historic District Commission on January 5, 1967. By 1968, the HDC was in place, and the group began working to designate parameters of a historic district, although the commission had been active in an advisory capacity before that. A historic district of just a few blocks—mostly on 2nd and Church streets—had been originally outlined in 1952, but less than 20 years later, it was clear that wasn’t enough. The heart of the area in consideration in 1969 was Market Street from Mt. Olivet Blvd. to Seventh Street.
Determining the boundaries was challenging, but the underlying spirit of the task was broad. The Frederick Post on Wednesday, January 8, 1969, reports: “While the main concern has been revitalizing downtown Frederick, the members urged that the commission also examine the remainder of the city.” Some turn-of-the-century buildings—about 70 years old at that time--were included in the historic district.
It was just in time. The 1970s were a pivotal point in American culture. “New” and “modern” were buzzwords of the day, and “vintage” was not yet a term of endearment. Frederick Towne Mall opened in 1972, signaling a new era of merchandising and luring shoppers away from downtown. Luckily, concerned residents and city officials realized that something had to be done to save Frederick’s historic buildings. It’s hard to conceive now that even Schifferstadt, built in 1758 and recently named a National Historic Landmark, was headed toward demolition during the 1970s to make way for a gas station. That treasure was rescued in 1974 with a last-minute purchase by the Frederick County Landmarks Foundation.
It was also in 1973 that the HDC issued its first denial of a request to demolish a building in the historic district. The building was a small automobile business, Roney Motors, in the 600 block of North Market Street. That same year, right across the street from Roney Motors, the Groff Mansion was demolished to make way for a medical center. Capt. Joseph Groff, a prominent member of the Frederick community, built the huge Victorian home in 1884 and lived there with his family for years. Later on, it became the landmark location of WFMD. After the demolition, the medical center never materialized. All that remains of the Groff mansion today is its large fountain, and a parking lot. Ironically, the Groff home apparently sat just outside the historic district when it was demolished, but the parking lot in its place today has been included as a small jut on the map of the district. It was clearly too little, too late.
Without the HDC, it is very possible that many of our old downtown buildings would now be gone forever, especially after the extensive damage caused by the flood of 1976. Our city simply would not be the same today without that streetscape.
We are grateful that downtown is stabilized, but it doesn’t end there; now is not the time for any of us to relax in the satisfaction of a job complete. We are now more than two generations beyond the 1970s and while those days may seem very long ago, culture is often cyclical, and we seem to be entering another era where modernity and current life trends trump history. Now, we are faced with an entirely new group of vulnerable historic homes.
As the downtown flourished, the next chapter of Frederick City was written by those who moved to the “suburbs.” The first houses in the Baker Park area were considered to be out in the country, far from town. Today they are a vital part of the city, and deserve their own protection from demise. The groundwork was laid by those fledgling HDC members of the 1970s, and now you, the current members of our HPC, are this generation’s stewards of the heart, the spirit and the charm of our city.
The historic district now includes a section of Baker Park where the Carillon sits. The current Frederick Town Historic District Design Guidelines call Baker Park “the crown jewel of Frederick’s park system,” and “an important historic landscape in the district.” Baker Park opened in 1928; the Carillon was built in 1941. It surely wouldn’t have occurred to city fathers in 1952 or even in 1969 to include a structure built in 1941 in the historic district, but here in 2017, it seems more than appropriate that the Carillon is a protected part of our historic district.
Also in 1941, according to the Frederick News-Post archives, the first house on Magnolia Avenue south of Rosemont Ave. was completed. Many more were added a few years later. So of course, it didn’t occur to city officials to include these homes in a historic overlay in 1952 or 1969. But today, in 2017, a home built in 1940 is nearly 80 years old and certainly has earned its place in history.
What HPC decides will impact Frederick’s future forever. If this demolition goes through, it secures a foothold for more. Many of us could not have envisioned that this destruction could happen here. Where once it was Frederick’s greenspace that was considered most vulnerable, now our very streetscape is at risk. Quoting again from the Historic District Design Guidelines, the HPC protects properties in its district against the threats of “continually escalating value of real estate, a desire for large-scale buildings, and a quest to develop lots to their highest potential value.” This is precisely what is at stake again here. We have protected the first chapter of Frederick’s story, but the thriving history of our city didn’t end there. Nor should our efforts.
In considering a structure’s significance, factors such as whether a significant person lived there, or whether the home is part of a larger significant group are taken into account. Magnolia Avenue residents have a history of speaking up about what they feel is best for Frederick. History is about the story, and the one that follows illustrates the significance of the Magnolia Avenue story.
In the early 1960s, a group of citizens from Magnolia and Lindbergh Avenues and Grove Boulevard succeeded in influencing a change to the city’s layout. At that time, West Second Street went only a little further than Culler Lake. Fairview and Magnolia Avenues dead-ended in grassland at what is now West Second Street. In order to reach the new Westbrook neighborhood across Carroll Creek, motorists used a wooden one lane bridge in what is now Baker Park. The bridge was owned by Asa Watkins, but the city maintained it, and it was in need of major repairs.
City officials had planned to build a new bridge at a cost of about $50,000, and the money had been allocated in 1959. But there was public outcry about this proposed bridge. Westbrook residents, who presented a petition with 222 signatures, wanted to see the old bridge repaired rather than a new one built. They worried about the amount of traffic a new bridge would bring to their neighborhood.
The small group of residents from the Magnolia/Grove/Fairview neighborhood on the other side of the bridge rallied for a modern bridge on Fairview Avenue, in conjunction with the extension of West Second street to Rosemont Avenue, and the opening of the Magnolia Avenue dead end. Discussion ensued for years. The Frederick News-Post of April 5, 1963 reports that the heated “battle of the bridge” went on for about three hours that night, ending in a 3-2 vote by the alderman. The News-Post called the meeting “one of the most vocal examples of democracy in action.”
In the end, the Magnolia Avenue group succeeded in convincing the city that the new bridge should be built. In the heat of the debate, Mayor E. Paul Magaha warned the group that if the decision wasn’t made that night, “I have no intention of ever bringing up the Westbrook bridge again as long as I am in office. You can get there by boat or build a tunnel until you get rid of me in three years.”
These are the kinds of stories that will be handed down to Frederick’s next generation. Frederick has always been a diverse city where people can speak up, share their opinions, and be heard. Those of us who live on Magnolia Avenue today still appreciate the opportunity to be heard. It is imperative that we honor the stewardship of those who made decisions for us in the 1970s by continuing to take a hard look at demolishing these newly vulnerable homes.
While I understand how the rules work, it is hard to reconcile the fact that a house built in 1940 and now in deteriorating condition within the historic district should be more valuable to protect than a house of the same vintage just a few blocks away, in excellent condition, that adds to the streetscape. The time has come to take a step back, take a hard look at those rules and make some adjustments for the 21st century.
The Baker Park neighborhoods between the Carillon and Schifferstadt are a vital piece in the tapestry of our city. Many significant members of our community made their homes, raised their families, and lived their lives in those neighborhoods. Demolishing one house here, two there, and several more on the next street over will significantly change the historic texture of the whole in both tangible and intangible ways.
Please help us safeguard Frederick’s vintage charm, and consider this final question: if Baker Park itself is worth protecting, why would it be beneficial to start demolishing the homes that surround it? What good is it to save the “crown jewel” if everything around it is rhinestone?
