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EDITORIAL
Our View: Building 26 debacle can't be repeated
Sunday, November 11, 2007
The controversy over the University of Dayton's plan to demolish Building 26 has painfully exposed how vulnerable the community is to losing historic properties.
Yes, the volunteer organization Preservation Dayton has a catalog of endangered landmarks.
Extras
But there's no list that's been widely debated and that ranks structures in terms of their importance, the urgency of saving them, their economic development potential and the feasibility of preserving or adaptively reusing them.
Isn't it in the interests of the Dayton Development Coalition, for instance, to know about these assets?
Shouldn't it lead, or be part of, a transparent discussion about Dayton's treasures, so it can support things that set the community apart and celebrate its distinctiveness?
Without practical context, a list is nothing. Not everything can be kept. No community has enough money to do that.
But if there were such a list, surely Building 26 would be on it.
It's where UD graduate Joseph Desch directed the now famous "codebreakers" project that helped hasten the end of WWII, saving conceivably thousands of lives. It sits on land that UD wants to develop as a gateway to its campus. And it meets the urgency test, what with Dayton so desperate for development on a prime piece of real estate.
If there were a consensus about what history the community absolutely can't let go, very possibly UD wouldn't be in the position that it's in today — locked in a public battle about its decision to bulldoze the building.
Building's history
is new news
In defense of the university, knowledge about Building 26's history and NCR's contribution to helping end the war is — relatively speaking — new news.
The information has been gradually declassified only since the 1990s. Mr. Desch's role was disclosed in a 2001 series in the Dayton Daily News by Staff Writer Jim DeBrosse and subsequently in his book with historian Colin Burke.
Since then a documentary has been made that is frequently shown on public televisions nationally.
(There's obvious good — and bad — in this attention: the more widely known the Desch story becomes, the worse Dayton and UD will look if the building is torn down, especially if the work done there eventually is memorialized across the street at Carillon Historical Park.)
When UD bought the building in 2005, NCR was paid well and it unloaded an environmental liability.
UD is more likely to get federal and state money to clean up the site than a profit-making corporation — it, after all, didn't make the mess and is trying to do a good thing by developing a fallow brownfield.
In other words, it's been wholly in NCR's interest to have the university making that argument and asking for taxpayer dollars.
NCR also handed off a public relations problem. The company's not the one taking heat for pulling down the building.
Formal process might have prevented all this
NCR has consistently said that the historic integrity of Building 26 was lost long ago. That view has been credibly disputed, but the mantra has been repeated so often that many people just accept it.
If there had been a formal process and a place for Dayton's preservationists to elevate their beliefs about the need to save Building 26 — before people were so entrenched — maybe it would not have come to this. UD has the permits to tear down the building; it's readying the site to do so.
The failure to create consensus about Building 26's history has created other problems. The City of Dayton is so hungry for any economic development that it hasn't dared to challenge UD's decision. (Two city commissioners, Dean Lovelace and Matt Joseph, are UD employees.) And Montgomery County commissioners have been silent, too.
Only Congressman Mike Turner has objected publicly. But he has basically said that he's not going to be the only one challenging an institution that is important to Dayton's economic future — even if he believes it's wrong.
Meanwhile, Dayton History, the region's premier organization dedicated to telling Dayton's history, has been totally cowed. No resolutions, no nothing from it about the need to bend over backward to save Building 26. Dayton History can't be fanatical, but it does have to show passion for Dayton's treasures.
There has to be a way to encourage genuine public debate about issues of this magnitude — like the meeting Congressman Turner demanded that UD call last spring. And there has to be room for public disagreement without fear of recrimination.
It's the mark of a small town and small institutions if legitimate disagreement gets quashed. Dayton and UD are both bigger — and better — than that.
Abundance of history worth protecting
Dayton is lucky to have so much history that's worthy of protection. From the Wright brothers' shop to Paul Laurence Dunbar's home to Sunwatch Indian Village, there is magnificent history here that's worthy of sharing with future generations. And communities across the country are using history of far less consequence to drive economic development.
To be rich in something and not know or appreciate it is a tragedy.
Until UD has a plan for the property where Building 26 is, demolition is premature. The community needs to hear from a developer why the building can't be adaptively reused or the space celebrated creatively; why doing so would cost too much; and, importantly what specific project the building stands in the way of.
There's a long-term lesson arising from the Building 26 saga.
Dayton's dogged preservationists, the region's elected leaders and those who care about Dayton's past — and future — have to get together and figure out to prevent another situation where there's arguing among so many — all of whom want and need Dayton to do well.
