American cities have undergone a remarkable deconstruction and rebirth over the past 70 years or so.
Fueled by urban renewal efforts that trickled forth following World War II and began in earnest in the late 1950s — along with development of the interstate freeway system — significant portions of urban neighborhoods were paved over or repurposed for commercial enterprises. The result was to draw residents and vibrancy away from the core of cities.
In the past two decades or so, urban leaders have figured out how to reinvigorate their cities through robust public transit and mixed-use development. While debate about whether this has been beneficial or detrimental is a discussion for another time, the issue also leads to questions about what has been lost.
“Once the house is demolished, the records disappear,” Alexander Gall, a volunteer with the Clark County Historical Preservation Committee told Columbian reporter Scott Hewitt for a recent article. “As if the property never had any history at all. Erased. Poof. Gone.”
Gall is working with Brad Richardson, executive director of the Clark County Historical Museum, to improve the documentation of structures throughout Clark County. They note that, barring an official historic designation, the demolition permit application calls for precious little information about a property. Once a building is gone, the Clark County assessor’s office deletes all historical information, including a photograph of the building and other details.
In most cases, all that is lost is a glimpse into the county’s past — a glimpse that has different value to different people. But the issue harkens back to the urban renewal efforts and brings to mind questions about America’s changing landscape.
The paving of cities and the development of an extensive freeway system still generates debate a half-century later. While that freeway system made travel more accessible and was crucial to building a modern economy, in most cities it was built at the expense of disenfranchised communities. In urban areas, freeways often were constructed through neighborhoods that had little political power.
In Portland, the northern end of Interstate 5 removed homes and businesses through the Albina neighborhood — primarily inhabited by black residents because of redlining practices — while physically dividing the neighborhood. As Portland State professor Karen Gibson said about a series of urban renewal projects in the city: “Black people saw it as ‘Negro removal.’ ‘Time to go, we need this land.’”
With a smaller minority population, the racial element of urban renewal in Vancouver was not as profound. But there remains a sense of loss and a lack of knowledge regarding what the city looked like prior to modern development. Pondering a neighborhood map from the 1940s, Richardson said, “This is amazing. … A ton of houses. So much was lost.”
Preserving historical information about properties seems a worthy endeavor — and one that should be relatively simple. The county’s historic preservation committee has formed a committee to explore the idea, and Gall mentions a state database that possibly could be expanded to include essential information, including photographs.
Such information would be helpful for future generations in understanding Clark County as the region continues its inevitable renewal. As Gall said, “You can’t preserve everything, but what’s wrong with documenting everything?”
