It is if you value the wildly diverse landscape of NYC architecture. I recently attended a fundraiser for the LGBTQ Historic Sites Project, an organization co-founded by a friend of mine. The organization was started about 10 years ago with a mission to broaden people’s understanding of LGBTQ history by exploring the places where that history was made. As the lead advocate for LGBTQ history in NYC, the project team prepares nominations to the National Register of Historic Places and testifies in support of local landmark designation. The presentation of important sites at the event was incredibly moving!
One of the best known sites, the Stonewall was the home of the turning point in the gay-rights movement. The site achieved landmark status about 10 years ago and is certainly a highlight of the LGBTQ Historic Sites Project. Is the building a gorgeous, historic beauty? No. Have I spent a lot of time there personally? No. But the story warrants the preservation, and I would be truly sad if it was demolished.
By the same token, a few blocks north on West 18th Street, a nightclub I used to frequent quite often in my 20s and 30s — The Roxy — was leveled to make room for a new upscale condo development called Lantern House. I have many fond memories of hanging out at The Roxy either dancing or roller skating (yes, on Tuesday nights), but was I sad to see it go in favor of a condo? Nope — even a luxury condo, which itself is architecturally significant and adds to the increasingly interesting architectural landscape of West Chelsea.
The point is that I am someone who is pro-development — especially considering the housing shortage we are struggling with in New York (and elsewhere). But I am equally compelled by preservation. I live in a classic 6 room apartment in a historic, prewar building by choice. I cherish the layout, which can only be found in grand prewar buildings uptown. It doesn’t exist in new buildings, but we also don’t have a pool, large gym, pet spa, or golf simulator in our beautiful coop. There is always a tradeoff between old and new.
New York’s embrace of preservation is not accidental. It grew, like many things in NYC, out of a rebellion of sorts. The demolition of Penn Station in the 1960s galvanized public outcry when New Yorkers realized that profit-driven development was erasing irreplaceable architecture and cultural memory. As a result, the Committee for the Preservation of Structures of Historic and Esthetic Importance was formed by Mayor Robert F. Wagner Jr. in 1961. Then, in 1965, the city formally enacted the New York City Landmarks Law. That legislation gave the Landmarks Preservation Commission the authority to designate and regulate not just individual buildings but entire historic districts — requiring review before any significant alteration or demolition. The first historic district was Brooklyn Heights, designated in 1965. In the 1970s, the scope expanded to include historic interior landmarks and scenic landmarks such as parks and certain public spaces. Can you imagine development in Central Park?
Today, the Landmarks Preservation Commission oversees a vast portfolio: tens of thousands of landmarked properties, grouped across individual landmarks, historic districts, interior landmarks, and scenic landmarks. The purpose of all this — as enshrined in the Landmarks Law — extends beyond pure nostalgia. The law was written to stabilize and improve property values, foster civic pride, safeguard cultural memory, bolster tourism and the city economy, and create spaces for education, pleasure, and public welfare.
For many New Yorkers, landmarked buildings are more than pretty bricks. They are anchors — for memory, identity, and community. And the data supports the value: studies show that historic-district designation correlates with higher and more stable property values and offers insulation against the boom-and-bust frenzy that affects non-landmarked zones. Preservation has also helped transform formerly gritty or overlooked neighborhoods into vibrant, desirable areas — without sacrificing authenticity (think, Times Square).
However, preservation can also create real constraints — especially in a city facing a chronic housing shortage. Critics argue that strict protections in historic districts can block new development, including the dense, mixed-use or multi-family housing the city certainly needs. By limiting building height, restricting demolition, and imposing costly regulatory hurdles for modifications, landmark laws can make certain types of housing-supply expansion impractical.
The bottom line is that preservation and progress are not mutually exclusive. Preservation can embrace ideas like adaptive reuse, which we’re seeing in office-to-residential conversions in New York (not necessarily historic buildings, but the concept applies). Preservation needs to evolve to meet 21st-century housing needs without erasing the past.