Modern regulations make it expensive to fix up Knoxville's old buildings. Are they too strict?
by Jesse Fox Mayshark
There was irony in the air last fall when Mayor Victor Ashe and sundry besuited officials and civic boosters gathered on the corner of Gay Street and Union Avenue to inaugurate the restoration of the Miller's Building. Even as most in the small crowd applauded the old department store's restoration—starting with the stripping of its 1970s mirrored paneling—a separate, more casually dressed cluster stood quietly to the rear, holding protest signs.
The demonstrators, mostly young downtown professionals, weren't upset about the Miller's project but about another building altogether—the long-vacant S&W Cafeteria just a block down the street, which was (and remains) slated for demolition as part of Knox County's new Justice Center plans. The contrast between preservation and eradication highlighted the difficulties Knoxville and many cities face in rehabilitating old buildings. Both Miller's and the S&W had been the subjects of abortive revitalization efforts over the years. But while the Knoxville Utilities Board had finally agreed to take on the massive Miller's overhaul, the art-deco cafeteria had attracted admirers but no buyers.
"I don't know how many scenarios I've been through with the S&W," says Charles Cummins, the city of Knoxville's chief building official. "At least 10. But nobody could ever come up with a use for that building that would make the numbers work."
What put off potential investors most was the thing Cummins is charged with enforcing: building codes. Bringing an old structure up to modern standards is an expensive proposition. As city officials and would-be developers look for ways to save more of Knoxville's historic buildings, the codes issue comes up again and again. But while there's a general sense that it's time to do something differently, there is as yet no consensus on what that should be.
"It's going to be a critical factor if we expect the private sector to really engage in rehabilitation of buildings downtown," says Pete Crow- ley, director of central city development for the Knox Area Chamber Partnership.
The problem is easy to explain. As building materials and technology have changed over the years, along with societal standards for things like disabled access, building codes have changed too. There are only a handful of comprehensive regulations in the U.S., bulky volumes of specific criteria dealing with safety and structural integrity. Knoxville, like most cities in the Southeast, has adopted the Southern Building Code.
Not surprisingly, most old buildings don't meet modern requirements. That's all right if they're kept in continual use for their original purpose. But if a developer wants to convert an old factory or department store into a restaurant or offices or condominiums, the renovation has to abide by the new codes.
"It is very prohibitive when it's applied to existing structures," says local businessman Rod Townsend, who bought two early 20th century buildings on Gay Street in hopes of selling them to redevelopers. "It adds a great deal of expense."
In some cases, it can be cheaper to demolish an old building and build a new one than to retrofit existing structures.
The biggest obstacles revolve around fire safety. Buildings are generally required to have two fire-safe exits from each floor, which usually means insulated stairwells. In a lot of cases, the codes also favor sprinkler systems. In old, narrow buildings, either of those dictates can be a challenge, both structurally and financially.
"Most of those upper floors were storage," says architect Jennifer Martella, who has worked with old commercial buildings on Gay Street. "They didn't need the stairs and elevators and everything that they need now for a multi-use building. And that, unfortunately, is a tremendous cost."
Doug Berry, Knoxville's director of development and Cummins' boss, is sympathetic to the concerns. He promised when he took his post last year to look at making the codes and/or their enforcement more amicable to redevelopment. But the flood of other city projects has forced the issue to a back burner.
"We're looking at it," Berry says. "Have we found a model yet in another city that we say, 'Oh, this is it'? No, we haven't. Our biggest finding is it's a philosophy that evolves in the department."
Cummins himself acknowledges the city's current philosophy tends toward strict interpretation, which he says protects both a building's occupants and the city. If Cummins' inspectors signed off on an unsafe building, the city could be held liable in the case of a fire or other disaster.
"I guess you could say we've been conservative, only because the codes are conservative," he says. "It's written with certain minimum standards."
At the same time, Cummins—a straight talker who's been through efforts to address this issue "no less than four times" in his 27 years in the department—says he tries to work with building owners individually and make reasonable concessions when possible. In general, local developers back him up.
"If you sit down with them, they will usually find a way to let you do something that will work," says Kristopher Kendrick, who refurbished much of the Old City. "They will not let you do something unsafe, and that's right. I've done this now for 26 years, and I just sit down and say, 'Tell me what I can do and tell me what I can't do.'"
"The general perception is that the code book is black and white, it's a formula," says architect Buzz Goss, another active preservationist. "But in fact it's not, it's more subjective. And there's a lot of interpretation that goes on."
Goss cites his renovation of the Jackson Avenue building that houses JFG Coffeehouse. Because of its narrowness, it was almost impossible to put separate stairwells in far enough apart to meet the codes. But because of other safety features, including a sprinkler system, Goss successfully applied for a variance.
However, for those without as much experience—the kind of would-be entrepreneurs the city ostensibly wants to encourage—codes can be a pitfall.
"I've heard a lot of people complain about the codes officials, and I just haven't had that [problem]," Goss says. "But then, I've seen a lot people who have gone out and just tried to do it, and they get in over their heads. And then the codes officials don't have any choice but to make them stop."
Still, Goss sees room for improvement. In cases where multiple codes cover the same issue, as is true in some fire safety situations, he says the city tends to stick with the more restrictive regulations. "If the least restrictive is deemed safe by a governing board, why should we have to meet the most restrictive?" he asks.
David Dewhirst, who lives in a renovated condominium on Gay Street and owns buildings on Gay and Market Square, says the codes create disincentives to redevelopment. Because doing any improvement at all often means the whole building has to be brought up to code, he says owners sometimes choose to do nothing—leaving vacant buildings vacant and creating both eyesores and fire hazards.
Developers can apply for code waivers from the Board of Zoning Appeals, but Dewhirst says that's more red tape than many want to deal with—"Who has time to go through all those hoops for getting a landing on a stair?"
There are two possible solutions to the problem: greater flexibility in enforcement of current codes, or adoption of separate codes for older buildings. Both have their detractors.
"I'm hesitant to say we ought to do a new code," Goss says. "More often than not, those things become convoluted in themselves."
Cummins has talked to officials in cities like Charleston, Savannah, and New Orleans, and he says most tell him separate codes can create as many problems as they solve. "They said, 'We tried it, it doesn't work.' You can't write a document that applies to every building."
On the other hand, Dewhirst says, clear guidelines for rehabilitation would take a lot of the uncertainty out of the process. "If the road was a little easier bureaucratically," he says, "I think more people would go down it."
Berry isn't committed to any single approach, but he says the issue is still on his priorities list. He envisions calling together a community board of developers, contractors, and preservationists to explore the options. Still, he says, there will always be lost causes.
"I think there are some buildings that because of their configuration and because of the needs of our society will not be able to be re-used," he says. "I'm one who believes not everything can be preserved. There are some obsolete structures in our downtown, I'm sure."
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