Preserving Our History

When I moved to Knoxville from Los Angeles 10 years ago, I chose Fort Sanders as my home because of its unique historic character. Since the time that James Agee lived here, it has been a unique neighborhood, later becoming a home for artists, students, and people who enjoy an urban residential environment.

In that time, I have seen the neighborhood lose numerous houses to one thing or another—usually replaced by a parking lot or lost to some institutional application or to a high-density apartment building.

The latest challenge to the neighborhood is a request for variance by JPI Development to replace homes on Clinch and Laurel with four-story buildings. Not that development, per se, is harmful; on the contrary, I welcome developers that invest in this historic neighborhood and build projects that preserve the basic character of Fort Sanders, like the Grand Villa townhouses under construction on Grand and 15th.

It is important to understand that preserving the history of a community is not a dispensable nicety. Our historical areas are a social and economic asset to Knoxville. Cities with the foresight to preserve such areas prosper (Chattanooga is a convenient example). Their tourism prospers; their downtown areas prosper and flourish; they thrive culturally. Cities that don't have empty downtown districts with boarded-up buildings and failed businesses.

Isn't it time to obtain "historical district" status for Fort Sanders to discourage the further destruction of the neighborhood?

Christian Lange
Knoxville

What Happened to Thoughtful Planning?

I moved to this beautiful part of the world from England a couple of years ago, and I must say that I find it much to my liking; beautiful countryside, a warm climate, and great people, too.

But there is something which breaks my heart that I simply cannot understand. Why is such a wonderful place allowing itself to be ruined by greed?

In my distant home country, the American South is traditionally known for the gracefulness of its architecture and the strength of its communities. I see much evidence of that past (e.g. even the simplest Tennessee farmhouse can be an architectural treasure), but here in the South of 1990s, those attributes seem to have been almost completely abandoned. Each week I see countryside needlessly bulldozed to make way for huge parking lots and ugly flimsy buildings, all strung out along endless strips of road which may force us to drive tens of miles on a simple shopping trip. Why does it have to be this way? Cities in many other parts of the world can make do with attractive, compact centers that are a pleasure to walk or cycle around—and in which one feels like a human being.

The South needs and deserves to grow economically, but why must this involve turning all its cities into consumer junkyards? Cheap land and bad architecture give the greatest return on investment but at a price for other aspects of the true quality of life. Where are the descendants of all those Southlanders who built and appreciated good architecture, from the simplest farmhouse to the finest antebellum mansion? These were people who surely had pride in their towns and in the coherence of their communities, now fragmenting fast with the rise of the all-car culture. Are there no voices at all to point out that a city actually needs thoughtful planning and some minimum standards set? As possible inspiration, I leave you with the Web site address of some folks in a Northern city who are beginning to confront such problems; http://www. roadsidemagazine.com/wormtown/welcworm.html

J. Adams
Lenoir City