Making Sure Windows Look Right

These people are the volunteer members of the St. Paul Heritage Preservation Commission:

Barbara Bezat (Vice Chair)
Richard Dana
Robert Ferguson (Secretary)
Steven George
Michael Justin (Chair)
Teresa Kimker
William Lightner
Stuart MacDonald
Joseph H. Peroutka
Casie L. Radford
Steve Trimble
David Wagner

Unelected, they are responsible for approving or rejecting maintenance, repairs or modifications to residential properties in historic districts of St. Paul, Minnesota.

 
Michael Justin, Chair of the St. Paul Historic Preservation Commission

 

Barbara Bezat, Vice Chair of the St. Paul Historic Preservation Commission

 
Robert Ferguson, Secretary of the St. Paul Historic Preservation Commission


This article from the local paper details the efforts that a homeowner in an historic area of St. Paul has gone through in order to replace the decayed windows on their home.

This small, seemingly insignificant incident is a dramatic example of the total madness of minor-league elites in positions of power that aren't occupied with finding food and shelter. Since their own existence is secure, their leisure hours are spent attempting to maintain their own world view, regardless of the rights of others. In doing this, of course, they're simply following the guidelines of the National Park Service.

The whole concept of "historic preservation" has zero validity. In the case of the Minnesota capital, most of the buildings deemed historically significant were built in the latter half of the nineteenth century. They were built when St. Paul already existed as a bustling river port and railroad center on the upper Mississippi. There were buildings in St. Paul.

Existing residents could have easily looked at the plans for buildings that were to be constructed during the Grover Cleveland administration and rejected these imposing brick and stone structures because they didn't fit in with the local architecture, the log cabins and tar paper shacks that made up much of the city. They could have required that those cabins and shacks be maintained in such a manner that no one would know that 1920 had arrived. Fortunately, there were no federal programs to encourage historic preservation, no local commissions to compromise land owners' property rights, and no crazy people that wanted to keep residential real estate embedded in amber.

So, when does history begin? Not so long ago, geologically speaking, Wabasha Street in downtown St. Paul was covered in ice about a mile thick. It's probably not practical or even possible to return to those golden years. Later, both sides of the river were dotted with the homes of native Americans. Although present-day Americans would have a difficult time replicating those homes, their supposed simplicity disqualifies them for historic preservation. An Eco-Lab teepee also wouldn't be large enough to house the employees of the small soap empire.

The above linked article points out the most salient fact in this unfortunate circumstance: Realtor John Loban: "I’m of the opinion if something can be reversible — like driveways — and it’s not a major structural change, let the homeowner have their way. The average person is looking at your house, not your driveway.” All of this is meant to placate "the average person", a total stranger that's walking or driving (in perhaps a new Tesla) past the house for which the occupant is paying the mortgage and taxes.