The Making of the 'Most'
By Susanna French
From a Pearl Harbor tugboat to Colorado mining towns
to the entire state of Vermont, when a historic place
is threatened, the Trust revs up the 11-Most publicity
machine.

Stevens Creek settlements,
Lincoln, Neb., on
2001 "11 Most" list
Even J. Edgar Hoover couldn't stop
the vandalism; of course, he was dead at the time.
In the decades after the nation's No. 1 G-man
passed away in 1972, Congressional Cemetery in Washington,
D.C., had gone forgotten by all but miscreants. Congressional,
the last resting place of Hoover, John Philip Sousa,
Civil War photographer Mathew Brady, Choctaw Chief
Pushmataha, and Elbridge Gerry (Declaration of Independence
signer and the "gerry" in gerrymander),
was a mess. More than two thirds of its tombstones
were broken or damaged.
Then, in 1997, the National Trust named Congressional
Cemetery to its list of America's 11 Most Endangered
Historic Places. In the wake of the ensuing media
attention from newspapers, wire services, and the
likes of NPR, the BBC, and even Japanese Public Radio,
good things began to happen: More than 1,000 volunteers
signed on for a two-day cleanup, and Congress appropriated
$1 million in matching funds for the cemetery's
preservation.
Such stories are no longer unusual. Announcements
of America's
11 Most Endangered Historic Places, made every
summer for the past 13 years, are the most powerful
public-education implements in the Trust's toolbox.
"The list does wonderfully well because when
you put a tangible object in front of people, there
is immediate impact," says Trust President Richard
Moe.
So what does it mean to be on the list? Although
it offers no legal protection or financial support,
a listing can generate substantial publicity, as in
the case of Congressional Cemetery. In some instances,
the public pressure of the listing can influence lawmakers'
policies or owners' demolition plans; the publicity
can also help to raise money to preserve a site.
It all started in 1987 in the fertile brain of Ian
Spatz, the Trust's then-director of public policy.
Deeply embroiled in a struggle to defeat plans to
develop a shopping mall near Manassas National Battlefield
Park in Virginia, Spatz needed a way to publicize
the issue. It occurred to him that the FBI's
list of the 10 most-wanted fugitives might be a model
for bringing public awareness to the threat at Manassas
and to other threatened sites.
"We decided to put out a 10 Most Endangered'
list, but then we came up with all these great ideas,"
Spatz says. "We narrowed it down to 11 places
and sent a memo up to [J. Jackson Walter, then-president
of the National Trust] with a list of all 11, assuming
he'd want to take one off. But Jack writes me
back on the top corner of the memo, Great, okay,
the 11 Most list.'"
"I said 11 to be puckish," Walter recalls.
"People would say, Man, that's a little
weird!'" Also on the first list were the
Little Big Horn Battlefield in Big Horn County, Mont.,
Christopher Columbus' landing site in the Virgin
Islands, and the Vieux Carré Historic District
in New Orleans. All faced encroaching development.
The Trust stayed with the 11 Most idea the following
year, deciding that sites should remain listed until
out of danger. But in 1993 the policy was abandoned
on the theory that a new list every year would have
greater public impact. Today, previously listed sites
remain priorities in the organization's six regional
offices until the sites are out of danger.
The list of possible threats has grown. A place
may be endangered by demolition, such as Tiger Stadium
in Detroit (1991); deterioration from weather, as
is the Manuelito complex of archaeological artifacts
near Gallup, N.M. (1994); and neglect, such as the
tugboat Hoga, the last surviving vessel from Pearl
Harbor (1995). Other problems include lack of funding,
such as at Wheelock Academy in Millerton, Okla., a
19th-century Choctaw Nation school (2000); and laissez-faire
public policy, as in New York's Hudson River
Valley (2000), where industrial development proliferates.
All of these sites remain endangered.
Landmarks of the recent past are appearing on the
list more often. The world's oldest surviving
McDonald's, in Downey, Calif., was listed in
1994 because the company planned to demolish the unprofitable
store. Public support generated by the listing helped
persuade McDonald's to reverse its decision;
now, the store is a popular museum and gift shop.
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| CIGNA building |
The precedent-setting Connecticut General Life Insurance
buildings in suburban Bloomfield, Conn., erected in
the late '50s and early '60s, were named
last year and are still in the way of plans for a
hotel, housing, and a golf course.
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Mapes Hotel
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The list's first total loss was the 1947 Mapes
Hotel, in Reno, Nev., which sank to the ground on
Super Bowl Sunday 2000. The nation's first hotel-casino
and famous Rat Pack hangout had been the focus of
a fight waged by the National Trust and local partners,
some of whom were developers with viable reuse proposals,
but Reno's city council approved demolition anyway.
Two years later, the Mapes brouhaha has led to stricter
protections for Reno's remaining historic buildings,
but no final plans have been announced for the site
where the Mapes stood.
A 1990 amendment to Colorado's constitution
allowed limited-stakes gambling in two towns, Black
Hawk and Central City, as a way to revitalize the
local economies. Instead of the mom-and-pop slot shops
envisioned, large downtown casinos sprang up. Historic
sites around the state have benefited from the fact
that 28 percent of Colorado's gambling-tax revenue
is earmarked for a preservation fund, but one state
preservationist calls the situation "feeding
off the carcasses of two towns to save the others."
Central City's casinos have since gone bust,
and the town is debating whether to move its state
preservation allotment into the general budget just
to make ends meet. The Trust named the towns to its
1998 list.
The prognosis has brightened for other sites. Erosion
threatened to topple Southeast Light, on Block Island,
R.I.; its 1990 and 1991 listings helped a volunteer
foundation raise the $2 million needed to move the
lighthouse back from a cliff and restore it to working
order. Historic buildings in the Gulf Coast states
went on the 1997 list because of a growing threat
from Formosan termites; that citation helped cities
in the region enlist public support to fight the pests.
Prairie churches in North Dakota made last year's
list because the state's declining population
means that many tiny rural parishes are disappearing;
several congregations have even burned down their
churches rather than see them deteriorate. The listing
helped preservationists promote alternative uses as
libraries, museums, or as a last resort, homes.
Several trends, not individual sites, have made
the list, and sprawl is at the heart of each of them.
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| Kirk Middle School, Ohio |
When America's historic neighborhood schools
were listed in 2000, preservationists suddenly had
a stronger case for persuading their local officials
not to build megaschools on the edge of town. "We
still continue to get calls or e-mail virtually every
day from communities that have heard about [the issue],"
says the Trust's Constance Beaumont. "Across
the country there's been a groundswell from parents
and educators for smaller, community-centered schools."
A similar case was made last year for the nation's
historic theaters (2001), whose advocates blame the
proliferation of multiplex theaters for the demise
of old movie palaces. They encourage equitable movie-distribution
policies so that independent theaters have a fair
shot at first-run films.
The entire state of Vermont made the 1993 list because
its rural character and historic downtowns were threatened
by big-box retailers. Before its listing, Vermont
was the only state in the nation without a Wal-Mart.
Although that's no longer true, the listing may
have helped influence Wal-Mart to recycle a vacant
Kmart in downtown Rutland instead of sprawling over
undeveloped acreage outside the city. "I don't
think that would have occurred without the 11 Most
listing," Beaumont says.
The Trust annually casts a wide net for ideas; last
year, for example, it received 105 nominations. Anyone
or any group can nominate a site, but the Trust's
regional offices and statewide and local preservation
groups help determine its listworthiness. Ultimately,
the Trust's president approves the selections.
The format of the 11 Most is intrinsic to its success.
"For one thing, everybody loves lists,"
says Dwight Young, the Trust's senior communications
associate involved in the program. "The concepts
are easy to convey and understand. The lists have
variety, geographic distribution, and something for
everybody."
The World Monuments Fund biennially names 100 endangered
sites, and preservation organizations in at least
15 states and in countless communities across the
country make their own lists.
In Colorado, for example, a five-year-old endangered-list
program run by Colorado Preservation, Inc., is the
focal point of the group's fieldwork. With a
good budget, a dedicated staffer, and currently 42
statewide volunteers, the program attracts more than
60 nominations yearly. Lists have included Denver's
1969 Currigan Exhibition Hall, demolished this year;
Camp Amache, a WWII Japanese internment camp; and
the Red Mountain Mining District near Telluride. Unlike
National Trust 11 Most sites, Colorado sites remain
listed until saved; accordingly, the size of the list
varies from year to year.
"Nominations come from every corner of Colorado,
from all walks of life," says Linde Thompson,
a member of the group's board. "We're
seeing a lot more recognition of the program; sometimes,
just getting the word out can help find a sympathetic
buyer to save a threatened property."
As for Congressional Cemetery, last year Congress
made a second $1 million appropriation for its preservation,
and the cemetery association, the National Trust,
and Congress are working together to finalize the
site's long-term plans. Volunteers such as congressional
pages and a local dog-walking group maintain the grounds,
and the cemetery association is already making plans
for 2007, the graveyard's 200th-anniversary year.
Susanna French is a freelance writer in Arlington,
Va.
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